st4rymoon

[st4rymoon]

I can definitely see I have a type…

[st4rymoon]

As you guys noticed from my inactivity I’m having a writers block and just not finding the motivation to write… but I have things in the works 😳🤫

[st4rymoon]

the autopsy team in every hannibal episode:

will graham:

[st4rymoon]

I need him to do something inappropriate to me…

New Leto behind the scenes photos?!

[st4rymoon]

not to alarm anyone but is anybody else worried about how everybody is fucking stupid

[st4rymoon]

𝐂𝐮𝐟𝐟𝐬

✶ 𝘒𝘪𝘯𝘬𝘵𝘰𝘣𝘦𝘳 𝘋𝘢𝘺 4: 𝘚𝘰𝘮𝘯𝘰𝘱𝘩𝘪𝘭𝘢 ✶ 𝘎𝘩𝘰𝘴𝘵 𝘚𝘪𝘮𝘰𝘯 𝘙𝘪𝘭𝘦𝘺 𝘹 𝘍𝘦𝘮 𝘙𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘦𝘳 ✶

Context: You ask Simon if he could fuck you awake but the only thing is it’s on his terms.

Warnings: Dark Themes, Somnophila, Dubcon, unprotected sex!, pet names, p in v, clit! Play, handcuffs, language, very expressive Simon :3

Simon always thought you looked gorgeous as you slept. Your hair messily covers your face, and your mouth slightly ajar as you take shallow breaths. If he stared too long, he'd grow in his boxers within a few minutes.

It was an understatement to say Simon was shocked when you shyly asked him if he could fuck you awake. As you said the words, Simon noticed you began to grow embarrassed. You mistook his shocked expression as disgust.

"We don't have to do anything Si f- forget I even brought it up," you muttered sheepishly. "Lovie, I'm not saying I don't want to do it. I just wanna make sure I heard you right." Simon chuckled as he shifted his body to face you in amusement.

"If I heard right, you said you want me to fuck you awake? Have sex with you while you sleep?" he hummed as he watched you closely. "Yes" you nodded, eyes staring into his with a glimmer of desperation.

"I want you to do it whenever you want. I give you permission to do it. You can wake me up any way you want." You began to coo with far more confidence than before.

Simon was always one to keep his plans to himself, so every night you'd go to sleep, you'd hope it would be the night Simon finally gave in. You could see it in how tense his shoulders were that something was bothering him.

And something was.

You'd walk into your shared bedroom in the tiniest shorts, inviting him to do as he pleased as you slept. But to your surprise, Simon kept his hands to himself.

But as you slowly give up hope and forget about the situation, Simon decides to swoop in and fulfill your desire.

You went to bed in some comfy black panties and a tank top. Simon shuffled out of bed and quietly walked towards his dresser, pulling out a pair of his military-issue handcuffs.

Luckily for Simon, you were a heavy sleeper, which allowed him to gently move you onto your back. A gruntled moan rumbled through Simons's chest as his eyes trailed over your pebbled nipples. Your tits slightly fall out of your think tank top from the position Simon pulled you from.

With gentle, calculated movements, Simon adjusted your wrists above your head and cuffed them together. His movements halted as you squirmed under him, a slight scrunch of your nose from the position you were being manipulated in.

Once the coast was clear, Simon sat back on his heels and admired you as you slept handcuffed and vulnerable under him. He watched your chest rise with each breath and smiled to himself.

He maneuvered himself between your legs, thick fingers curling at the hem of your panties and carefully pulling them down your legs. A desperate moan slipped past his lips as he pressed his thumb against your clit and circled in soft motions.

Simon watched his hand begin to get wet from your slick. Your hands glittered above your head as you subconsciously began to grind yourself onto his thumb. "Needy every when you sleep. Naughty little thing." Simon hummed.

It didn't take long for Simon to grow impatient, and in seconds, he kicked his boxers off onto the ground. He stroked himself a few times before hiking your legs over his hips and nudging at your entrance.

Simon went cross-eyed as he sunk into your warm cunt. Your body jumped at the intrusion as he settled inside you, his hands on your hips in a desperate plea to keep himself from fucking you dumb.

That was until Simon's eyes bolted toward your face and began to notice you coming out of sleep. He decided if he was going to wake you up, he might as well fuck you like he knows you like it.

Calloused hands moved up the back of your thighs and held them wide open to your sides. "S- Siimon." You drunkenly gasped as his hips began to pound you at the perfect rhythm.

"I know, bunny. Jus' take it, yeah?" he smiled as he leaned in to kiss you messily. You whined into his mouth as you began to fully gain consciousness and realized your hands were bound.

You dumbly looked up at your wrist and saw the shiny metal of handcuffs locked around your wrists. "Fuckk" you moaned in bliss as Simon's thrust grew heavy and deep. The look of admiration you displayed while dumbly gawking up at Simon had him fucking you even harder.

You bounced along with his thrust's like a doll as he worked your body like an instrument. "Pussy is made f'me, feels so fuckinggood." Simon rambled on as he watched himself disappear inside you just to come out covered in your pearly cum.

Simon didn't need you to tell him when you were amount to come; the small whimpers and pulsing of your cunt gave him the clear signal that you were close. He's studied your body like a piece of art, memorized every inch.

Your mouth flew wide open as a silent gasped moan escaped your lips, clenching around his length and squeezing onto the pillow above your head. "Thattt's it, honey, that's it" Simon praised as his hands ran up and down your waist reassuringly.

Simon came with a gruntled moan and a smile on his face. Sweat dripped down his chest as he crumbled above you, face instantly dropping to your chest as he squeezed his eyes shut and moaned like a desperate college boy.

Saliva trailed down the side of his mouth as he dumbly kept fucking himself into your messy cunt. His hips only stutter to a stop as you drop your arms from above your head and play with his disheveled hair.

[st4rymoon]

𝐎𝐧𝐭𝐨 𝐘𝐨𝐮

✶ 𝘒𝘪𝘯𝘬𝘵𝘰𝘣𝘦𝘳 𝘋𝘢𝘺 3: 𝘉𝘳𝘦𝘦𝘥𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘒𝘪𝘯𝘬 ✶ 𝘔𝘪𝘨𝘶𝘦𝘭 𝘖' 𝘏𝘢𝘳𝘢 𝘹 𝘍𝘦𝘮 𝘙𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘦𝘳 ✶

Context: After resisting each other for so long, it doesn’t take long before you and Miguel finally give in. 

Warnings: car sex!, unprotected sex!, breeding kink!, creampie, language, 18+, jus two absolutely desperate people <3

You and Miguel were squeezed into the back of his car, your mouths lapping in desperate, hungry kisses. Both of you had made a pact to keep your hands to yourselves, but it was growing harder for you to stand by your word.

There was an ongoing attraction between the two of you, an obvious emotional and physical attraction, but your egos were far more significant. Until…

Until you both were in close proximity to one another with subtle flirtatious coos and smiles. Both of you leaped onto each other at the chance.

Miguel's hands kneaded your hips as he finally tasted your sweet lips. A guttural moan left his lips as you began to grind onto his lap. "You feel so good," you hummed in bliss, his warmth swallowing you whole as he struggled to find a comfortable position that could suit his size.

The reasonably sized car shook as Miguel's behemoth of a body jerked at your touch. You chuckled at his reaction to your lips on his neck; a desperate moan filled your ears as you softly bit into his flesh.

"I'll feel even better once I'm inside you, I promise" Miguel purred as his hand took hold of a chunk of your hair. You purred as he tilted your head to the side and indulged himself with your pretty noises.

"Sit up for me, mami, un poco mas, asi, asi" he cooed as his hands began to tug off your shorts. In one swift pull, he had your denim shorts and panties bunched onto the floor.

"I'm going to make sure you'll never leave me, honey; make sure it takes." He smiled as he wasted no time kicking off his boxers. Neither of you had time for the foreplay; there was nothing but pure agony as you both took in each other's flushed complexion.

You watched as Miguel's mouth fell open with a raspy moan as you sunk onto him. Both of you let out curses as you shakily managed to fully take his size. "Feels even better, doesn't it?" He chuckled as his eye bore into yours with admiration.

You nodded in bliss and began to sway your hips at the perfect rhythm. Your hands planted onto his shoulders as you started to ride Miguel for all he's got.

This was the longest you've heard him say nothing, only moans, and desperate whimpers as you bounced onto his lap. All Miguel did was gawk up at you with his eyes almost rolling back.

But even if you were fucking Miguel stupid, he still knew exactly what to do to make you break. You went cross-eyed as Miguel's hips shifted and began to match your pace.

Miguel was sliding down the back seat as he fucked you at a deeper angle. He had your chest to his lips, the desperation more prominent than ever as you hugged onto him, his warm tongue now lapping at your nipple.

Tears began to spill down your cheeks as you felt the knot in your stomach about to snap. The pathetic moan that spilled from Miguel's lips as you suffocated him in your chest is what did it for you.

You came the hardest you ever had as his hips continued to snap onto yours as your cunt spasmed around him. Pornographic sounds echoed through the car as the lewd noises of his cock fucking your slick back into you filled your ears.

"M- Migg O- Pl-please" you sobbed. Once that desperate plead left your lips, Miguel was cumming in a matter of seconds. Vulgar moans Spilled from Miguel as he squeezed his eyes shut.

The thought of you finally being his forever making him even louder as he came.

[st4rymoon]

𝐎𝐛𝐬𝐞𝐫𝐯𝐢𝐧𝐠

✶ 𝘒𝘪𝘯𝘬𝘵𝘰𝘣𝘦𝘳 𝘋𝘢𝘺 2: 𝘙𝘰𝘭𝘦𝘱𝘭𝘢𝘺 ✶ 𝘚𝘵𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘯 𝘎𝘳𝘢𝘯𝘵 𝘹 𝘍𝘦𝘮 𝘙𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘦𝘳 ✶

Context: Steven can’t help but give into your school girl outfit

- Warnings: Role-play (professor Grant x fem reader), f!ngering, pussy! fiend Steven <3, praising, soft dom Steven!

It all started when you strutted into Steven's apartment in a grey skirt, knee-high socks, and one of his hoodies. He was sitting at his desk, glasses sliding down the bridge of his nose as he watched you kick off your shoes.

"Hi baby, how's the reading going?" you hummed, your arms wrapped around Steven's shoulders, and a kiss met his cheek. Steven almost choked on his saliva as he glimpsed at your knee-highs over his shoulder.

"It's going well, love! H- How was class?" he muttered, cheeks flushed pink as he felt guilty for getting so turned on by you.

The small changes in Steven's voice didn't go unnoticed by you, and you soon realized it was your outfit that had him so flustered. You decided to leave it until it happened a second time.

"You look so handsome, Steven. You look like a sexy professor" you purred while running a hand down his messy hair. "Oh yeah?" he chuckled as you perched onto his desk. "I'd be quite a rubbish professor if I let a pretty girl in a skirt sit on my desk like this" Steven added as he shifted in his chair and scooted between your legs.

You let out a small laugh as Steven's hands ran up your thighs. "Not if I'm the only student who gets this treatment," you cooed. "The one and only love" Steven moaned as his fingers slipped under your skirt.

"Such a handsy professor you are, Mr. Grant" you hummed as you felt fingers start to tug at your panties. Steven chuckled at your words. "You walk in with this on. It's bloody impossible not to be handsy."

And handsy Steven was as he buried himself in your cunt. You didn't process him taking off your panties until you were tugging at his hair and clawing at his arms. Your eyes rolled into the back of your head as Steven lapped at your puffy folds.

Moans of pure pleasure escaped you as Steven's hands trailed up your thighs and stopped at your waist. All the while, he moaned and huffed into your messy cunt.

"O- oh my god Steven" you choked out as his soft tongue expertly swirled at your clit. The noises coming from Steven had you gasping for air. Animalistic moans spilled from his lips as your thighs suffocated him. "Naughty little thing, you are love; you know I can't help myself when you're near me." Steven purred.

You babbled incoherent words while Steven continued his movements. But the second you felt two of his thick, calloused fingers spreading you open, a blissful moan spilled your lips. You gawked at Steven as his hungry, hooded eyes peered over your skirt and gazed into yours.

You could see his eyes crinkle, letting you know he was smiling at you. Knowing Steven, that smile was one of pride and satisfaction, knowing he was making you go stupid.

"Mmh- Plea- please, Steven! Stevennn" You sobbed as you felt yourself clenching around his fingers. Your body shook in overwhelming pleasure as Steven's tongue came to a halt. His soft tongue now licking down your folds and sucking on his fingers clean of your slick.

"Look at you, lovey, aren't you gorgeous?"

[st4rymoon]

𝐁𝐨𝐝𝐲 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐒𝐨𝐮𝐥

✶ 𝘒𝘪𝘯𝘬𝘵𝘰𝘣𝘦𝘳 𝘋𝘢𝘺 1: 𝘝𝘪𝘳𝘨𝘪𝘯𝘪𝘵𝘺 ✶ 𝘑𝘰𝘦𝘭 𝘔𝘪𝘭𝘭𝘦𝘳 𝘹 𝘍𝘦𝘮 𝘙𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘦𝘳 ✶

Context: Losing your virginity! to older bf Joel Miller <3

- Warnings: 18+, smut, unprotected sex!, soft dom Joel!, readers first time, loss of virginity, pet names, Joel goes a little dumb :3, teasing

Your glossy eyes gawked at Joel as his hands ran down your plush thighs. You were out of breath and needy, but his gentle touch soothed your nerves.

"Don't worry, darlin', I'll take good care of ya'. Reall good care of ya' bunny" he cooed as he tugged your messy pink panties to the side.

You'd been dating Joel for almost 9 months now, and your lack of experience became prominent to Joel within a few months.

When he heard you say you'd never had sex before, Joel felt a little guilty knowing a man his age would be the one taking your innocence way.

But that didn't stop him from giving into your constant begging and pleading for him to fuck you.

"Member' if you want me to stop, use our code word" he cooed as he hiked your legs over his and stroked himself with his free hand.

"I remember, cherry, it's cherry," you moaned in desperation.

You were hypnotized by the look on Joel's face, a look of desperation and need. His dark eyes were hooded and mouth agar as he fisted your panties to the side and fucked himself through your sticky folds.

Both of you let out a guttural moan at the contact. "She's all nice n' wet for me, ain't she?" Joel cooed as he pumped himself through your cunt, gently nudging at your swollen clit at a painfully slow pace.

"Joel! Please, please don't tease" you cried. "'M not teasing you, honey. I'm working you up, savoring the moment." The tone of Joel's voice had you clenched around nothing.

His movements were slow and calculated, each touch making you shiver and needier than you were seconds ago.

You were sprawled on your back for god knows how long as Joel fucked himself through your sticky cunt, the lewd sounds coming from between you were downright sinful.

"Think you ready f'me now, bunny? I've worked up my poor girl enough," Joel cockily smiled as he held the now transparent thin cloth of your panties with a grip that turned his knuckles white.

You let out a satisfied whimper as Joel plunged his meaty cock into you for the first time. You watched Joel go cross-eyed as he settled into your tight cunt; the thought of him being the first and only man to experience this type of pleasure caused his lips to curl up in selfishness.

Your nails dug into his thick arms as you gasped at the stretch. Tears built at the corner of your eyes in a mix of pain and pleasure. "You okay?" Joel's soft voice echoed from above.

His calloused hand cupped your cheek in reassurance, his thumb rubbing your cheekbone as he waited for your response.

"I'm good, keep going." You nodded up at him.

You could feel Joel all over your body as he thrusts in and out of you carefully. You began to grow impatient at his gentle thrusts, but instead of letting you know, your legs wrapped around his hips and pushed him forward.

Joel choked on his spit at the action, his body jerking in pleasure as he savored the moment. "If you want more honey, you have to ask for it. Remember?" he chuckled.

"More Joel, please, need it please" you moaned. You didn't have to ask Joel twice as he picked up the pace.

The once soft, gentle thrusts now grew into heavy, drawn-out pounding as he sloppily sucked at your nipples. Pleasured coursed through you as Joel's weight pinned you under him as he broke you in.

You could feel every vein and twitch of his cock as you clenched around him. "Ohh m- my good," You whined out as Joel expertly kept your panties to the side while keeping your leg wide open with the same hand.

"Feelin' me real deep, aren't ya' darlin'? Jus' feels so good, doesn't it?"

You nodded with tears as an unfamiliar feeling built in your tummy. The constant nudging at unreached places your fingers could never reach and Joel's pubic bone grinding onto your swollen bud was like a match made in heaven.

Your pretty moans filled Joel's drunken mind as you came around his meaty dick. The thick white slick forming at his base now stuck to his legs and pubic bone as your messy cunt gushed around him.

Heavy breaths and unsteady moans spilled from Joel's lips as he watched your body glow under him in a layer of sweat.

It was an image he never wanted to forget. The image of you spread nice and wide with your hands to your head, tits bouncing at the perfect rhythm, with his beefy cock fucking you onto his sheets.

"Love you so mu- much, Joell" You dumbly spoke with spit dribbling down your chin. With that, Joel went completely stupid.

He was muttering nonsense as he pumped you full of his seed. You admired him with teary eyes and took in the look of utter pleasure coursing through him.

"S- soo oh my- love you, love you so much" Joel seethed as his hips came to a halt with one final thrust.

Once Joel returned to earth, he was faced with everything he'd ever wished for.

[st4rymoon]

⁺‧₊˚ ཐི⋆ 𝐊𝐢𝐧𝐤𝐭𝐨𝐛𝐞𝐫 𝟐𝟎𝟐𝟒 ⋆ཋྀ ˚₊‧⁺

𝑊𝑒𝑙𝑐𝑜𝑚𝑒 𝑡𝑜 𝐾𝑖𝑛𝑘𝑡𝑜𝑏𝑒𝑟 𝟐𝟎𝟐𝟒🕷️ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁🦇 𝟏𝟖+ 𝐎𝐍𝐋𝐘

𝐼'𝑙𝑙 𝑑𝑜 𝑚𝑦 𝑏𝑒𝑠𝑡 𝑡𝑜 𝑢𝑝𝑑𝑎𝑡𝑒 𝑠𝑡𝑜𝑟𝑖𝑒𝑠 𝑑𝑎𝑖𝑙𝑦 .ᐟ

𝐃𝐚𝐲 𝟏: 𝐕𝐢𝐫𝐠𝐢𝐧𝐢𝐭𝐲 | 𝐉𝐨𝐞𝐥 𝐌𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐫

𝐃𝐚𝐲 𝟐: 𝐑𝐨𝐥𝐞𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐲 | 𝐒𝐭𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐧 𝐆𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐭

𝐃𝐚𝐲 𝟑: 𝐁𝐫𝐞𝐞𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐊𝐢𝐧𝐤 | 𝐌𝐢𝐠𝐮𝐞𝐥 𝐎' 𝐇𝐚𝐫𝐚

𝐃𝐚𝐲 𝟒: 𝐒𝐨𝐦𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐡𝐢𝐥𝐚 | 𝐆𝐡𝐨𝐬𝐭 𝐒𝐢𝐦𝐨𝐧 𝐑𝐢𝐥𝐞𝐲

[st4rymoon]

I may have been MIA for a while but don’t worry my children…. You will be fed. 🍎

[st4rymoon]

I think I’m going to pass out

OSCAR ISAAC for Brioni

Fall/Winter 2024

[st4rymoon]

Oh I'm listening….

Ok, so follow me for a second…

Can you see my point?

[st4rymoon]

[st4rymoon]

My genuine reaction when he came onto the screen like boy I’m about to busssss

I almost came when I saw Oscar Isaac on this ride today

[st4rymoon]

Oh my god.

i might say something stupid | joel miller

pairing/AU: joel miller x brat!female!reader – no outbreak

summary: joel is continuing to have a brat summer.

warnings: this is an 18+ fic so mdni! age gap, enemies to lovers vibes? swearing, use of pet names, smut, brat taming?, dom!joel, some daddy!joel, manhandling, some light bondage, a little exhibitionism? a little dacryphilia, praise, degradation (whore, slut), some sub space territory, edging, creampie, unprotected sex (don’t do it!!), no use of y/n

a/n: ok, so a part two to this!! i’m giving reader a backstory in this so if that’s not your cup of tea and prefer the reader to be a blank slate, then maybe this isn’t for you. as always i wanna give a little shout out to @dustydaddyyy for always helping me when i'm stuck! <3 i know it's demure fall soon, but there's still some brat summer left, so happy reading! 💚

main masterlist / ao3

from the river to the sea, palestine will be free 🇵🇸 this account stands with palestine. the creator of tlou is a zionist, and the second game is largly based on israel/palestine. please, everyone who interacts, educate yourself about the genocide happening right now, and support/donate.

Joel.

Joel. Joel. Joel.

Joel Miller.

Miller. Miller. Miller.

The cicadas rattled in the breeze coming through the window of your childhood bedroom. It was hotter than Satan’s ass crack, and sleep couldn’t pull you under. The hem seam of your ratty sleep shirt was fraying, and you couldn’t keep yourself from picking at it – pulling at the threat.

Pull, pull, pull.

Joel Miller. That was his name on the mailbox, but he’d only told you Joel. Just Joel.

Yes, sir. Please, Daddy. Bye, Joel.

With a huff you sat up, your back resting against the headboard as your eyes rolled over the darkened room. The shadows shapeshifted before your eyes like ghosts, and you wondered if you deserved to be haunted.

It hadn’t even been twenty-four hours.

You could still feel the phantom stretch of his cock inside you, and your cheeks were sore from his spanking, but it was nothing compared to your thoughts plagued by him.

God, you felt crazy, like a little girl with a school crush on the teacher.

Except, you didn’t have crushes, didn’t like, or fall in love, with anyone. People had a crush on you, people fell in love with you, people liked you.

Biting down on the soft skin of the inside of your cheek, you ripped away the thin blanket covering your bottom half as your feet touched the cold hardwood floor.

The switch on your bedside lamp clicked as the warm glow seemed to scare the ghosts away. The ratty shirt fell over your knees as you walked across the room and flung open the door. A triangle of light cut the hardwood floor in two as you made your way down the hall and stairs. The slapping of bare feet against wood echoed against the tall ceiling, and eyes followed you from the faces on the wall.

Stepping into the kitchen, you were alone. Pierre had left right after dinner, and Eva had left early with her daughter. You didn’t like to keep them longer than needed, especially on weekends. Your father would pay them the same, anyway – and it was just you here.

You hated the other house. It was no place to live, it was a place of business, for politics. You hated this house too, but for other reasons – too many memories, plastered on smiles and lies. The dentist had told you to start wearing a night guard when they divorced, but you’d stopped wearing it when you went to college.

Grabbing a glass from the cupboard, you made your way over to the fridge. Your whole body felt heavy, your head rolling off your shoulder when something caught your eye in the backyard.

It was gone.

“Shit.”

An ice cube escaped the rim of your glass and split into a thousand pieces on the tiled floor. You pulled your glass from the dispenser in the fridge, and hunkered down, ice melting between your fingers.

With a sigh you watched the splintered ice vanish, dripping in an erratic rhythm that added to the small puddle on the floor. You didn’t want to feel like this. Why were you feeling like this?

You left the glass of ice on the counter– let the ice melt on the floor and escaped through the sliding doors into the backyard. The sky was bright with light pollution over the trees, and everywhere the buzzing of cicadas filled your ears. With a sigh, you fell into one of the chairs, the cushion stiff against your back as your eyes landed on the large oak. You trailed your eyes over the branches, the one’s you’d known every crook and cranny of when you were a child.

It was gone.

The small crooked, and probably dangerous, treehouse where you’d spent so many hours hiding away as a child. Not that they ever noticed, your parents, too busy yelling at each other to see where their daughter had vanished.

Of course it was gone.

Gone, like the happy little girl you’d used to be. And what had taken her place? A party girl? A mess of a woman hiding behind the disguise of a sharp tongue?

Jesus Christ, you needed to get your shit together. Distract yourself– pull yourself away from all the feelings you couldn’t control.

Shifting uncomfortably, you fished your phone from where it had drowned in the cushions. The bright blue light burned your eyes as you scrolled, pulling you from everything real to unreality. Plastered on smiles and perfect bodies, sunny beaches, and aesthetic photos. You handed out hearts like they cost nothing, and pretended you hadn’t seen your DMs.

Still, you couldn’t shake the thought of him. The way the weight of him had felt over you, how he’d spoken, voice rough and commanding, but still playful. It was like you were guided by a puppeteer when your thumb hovered over the google search.

Joel Miller.

You didn’t know what you’d expected – Joel Miller wasn’t a one in a million name, and now you were scrolling through every Joel Miller famous enough to throne at the top of a google search. But, you weren’t going to give up that easily. You moved on to Facebook. He was old, he’d have to have one.

Bingo.

There he was. A few years younger, his hair a little messy, smiling bright. His profile was private, and you sure as hell weren’t sending him a friend request, but something inside you screamed to know more about the man you’d let come inside you less than twenty-four hours ago.

You tried to click your way through his pictures, but there was nothing to see. Next, you tried the about page: Lives in Austin, Texas (this you obviously already knew)… born September 26th… Male… Single… You felt a smile tug at the corners of your mouth, as you continued to scroll... Works for Miller Contracting… And finally, his family: Tommy Miller.

His brother’s profile needed a lesson in internet safety. This man shared everything and all for strangers to see. You flicked through photos of neighborhood cookouts, date nights with his soon to be wife, the same graduation pictures of a girl you’d seen hanging on Joel’s wall.

‘Proudest uncle in the world! Congratulations, Sarah Miller! 😄❤️ The smartest and most talented Miller! 🙌’

Your finger hovered over his daughter’s name, curiosity gnawing at your insides. Shaking your head, you clicked away. You could own up to stalking his Facebook, and his brother had basically invited you to stalk, but his daughter? It felt like crossing a line you couldn’t come back from. Back on Tommy’s profile you noticed he also worked for Miller Contracting.

A family business.

Continuing your research, you clicked through to the business’ profile. The profile looked to be run by Tommy, with frequent updates on projects they’d worked on, from renovations to outdoor landscaping, to new condos, Miller Contracting had a broad resume, but the contact person was set to one Joel Miller.

A thought tickled at the back of your brain then, and your gaze flicked from your phone to the low-lit backyard. A smile you couldn’t fight back pulled at your lips.

The sun beat down on the men as they worked. A bright yellow dot in the clear blue sky. From your bedroom window you watched them, how they’d turned the previous green patch of grass into a deep moldy hole.

Convincing your father had been easy enough; he’d shrugged, and given his default answer to pretty much any request you had, which was a bored ‘Yes, sweetie.’ For years now, the rule of thumb with your dad had been: as long as you didn’t bother him and his busy schedule, he didn’t care what you did. 

Well, that wasn’t entirely true. As long as nothing you did reflected badly on him, and especially on the carefully curated image of ‘loving family man’ his constituents seemed to love so much, he didn’t care. The Governor of Texas couldn’t have his daughter’s bad decisions cost him votes, after all.

Your mother had always said it, always complained over her extra dry martinis, that your father only cared about one thing in his life, and it wasn’t his family. Your face soured as you thought about it. 

Votes. 

Your mother hadn’t been right about a lot of things in your life, but she had been right about this. Votes, and power. That’s all he’d ever cared about. It had been like that ever since you were a child, and over time, you’d learned to exploit that fact like you would a weakness, holding it as leverage over his head if he ever told you no, which he naturally never did. The agreement was silent, but clear as day; as long as you got your way, you would cater to his image, and behave. 

And you did; showed up when needed with a smile that hurt your cheeks, kept up his image, and in turn you got your way.

The swimming pool was just another ask in a long line of wishes. He’d questioned you at first, ‘You want to build a pool in the middle of summer?’ The pool you didn’t care for, it was the men who’d build it. You’d given your father your look, the one where you tipped your head down slightly, bit your bottom lip and looked at him with doe-y eyes. He’d had a landscape architect draw up something for you by the end of the week, and by Monday he’d had the city approve the changes to the premises. He’d given you a rise of his eyebrow when you’d pitched the contractors you wanted for the job, but nevertheless, he’d put his assistant on the job right away.

They’d arrived bright and early this morning, their shouts over loud machines pulling you from your slumber. You’d pulled your pillow over your head, dying to catch some more Z’s, it was summer break after all, but the pull of seeing him again was too strong. The excitement bubbled in your chest, and a satisfied grin spread across your face when you’d realized your plan had worked.

Joel Miller was in your backyard, standing under the oak tree with his hands on his hip, as he carefully watched over his crew. His work clothes fit him just as well as the t-shirt and jeans he’d worn at the club, but he looked less polished– his hair messier with a carpenter’s pencil tucked behind his hair. Your eyes trailed over him from where you watched from the house, how he moved about the site, helped his men when needed, evaluating every step, studying the drawings carefully as he ordered his men around with the same authority you’d come to know him for after the night you’d spent together.

If all of this went well, you’d have him again.

“Looking good, guys! But it’s a bit loud,” you shouted over the excavator, one arm raised to shade your eyes from the sun from where you stood at the edge of the veranda.

You watched how the men milled about, squinting up from their work at you. Their gazes lingered over your body, they weren’t subtle about it, and the little outfit you’d thrown together seemed to do its job, a short summer skirt with a matching top– it was hot out in the Texan sun, and you wanted to make it hotter.

“We’ve been disturbin’ your beauty sleep, princess?” One of the men spoke up, and your eyes narrowed at his use of the pet name. His grin was too confident, hiding his laugh between his teeth. You set your eyes on him and gave him a pitying look.

“Yes, actually! It’s hard work looking this good, but you wouldn’t know anything about that, would you?” you snapped back. A sound of snickering laughs from the men at their coworker’s expense could be heard through the yard, and you felt a saccharine smile cover your face.

“So, who’s in charge of all this noise anyway?” you asked, voice bored, when the laughter had died.

“You gotta take that up with Miller,” another one of the men replied, your first victim quickly forced into silence.

“And who’s that?”

The man nodded his head in the direction of the man you’d weaved into your web. He didn’t look impressed where he stood under the shade of the oak tree watching you. He had his arms crossed over his broad chest, the fabric stretching around his biceps, as he shook his head at you as you walked closer.

“Mr. Miller.” You couldn’t help the pleased smile spreading across your face.

Clasping your hands loosely behind your back as you pushed your chest out innocently, you slowly stepped closer, his jaw clenching tighter with each of your careful steps through the grass.

“We’ll try ‘nd keep the noise down f’ya until nine am, Miss, but after that we’ll need to use our bigger tools if ya want this done before the summer ends.” He kept his voice steady and professional, his southern drawl like soft silk in your ears. His eyes never left your face once, even with the deep neckline of your top.

Standing a little too close to him, to be considered appropriate for someone who you’d just met, your teeth caught on your bottom lip coquettishly. “Oh, I want you to use your big tool that’s for sure.” It sounded ridiculous, and you had to bite down harder to keep from bursting out laughing.

Joel didn’t seem to think it was funny. Something flickered in his gaze, before it hardened, eyes boring into yours as he asked you through his teeth, “Whatchu think your doin’, huh?”

You shrugged playfully with an exaggerated sigh, “I don’t know, Mr. Miller, isn’t it obvious?”

“Oh, ‘s obvious alright.” He shook his head in disbelief, and looked away for a beat, before his eyes found yours again.

“It’s so hot out this summer,” you continued your jest with a hooked finger along the hem of your shirt, tugging at it, “I just wanted something to cool down.”

He narrowed his eyes at you, “‘m sure you did.”

Continuing your game, you widened your eyes in an attempt at feigning innocence, “But I don’t mind breaking a sweat if need be.”

“’nd how do you like to break a sweat, princess?” he asked, putting pressure on the nick name his men had given you.

“Oh, I think you already know that, Mr. Miller.”

Joel’s eyes hardened as the flirty words fell from your lips. Shifting his weight from one leg to the other he raised a finger at you. “Listen’ up, brat,” he told you in a lowered voice, “Ain’t nothin’ more happenin’ between us, you understand? It’s inappropriate– you’re my employer and I don’t do that shit.”

It was almost too easy. Biting back a smile, your thoughts wandered back to the last time you’d had him like this; riled up, and willing to put you in your place. A slick wetness coated the gusset of your panties, already, at the thought.

“I understand, Daddy.”

With a sigh Joel turned away from you with a shake of his head, muttering under his breath, “You’re ridiculous.” 

You were, he was right. But it was so fun. 

A smirk tugged at your lips when he turned back to look at you. He wanted to say something, you could see it in the way he shifted his weight from one foot to the other, his hands fidgeting on his hip, but he changed his mind as he shook his head again. 

Victory had never tasted so sweet.

All week you’d played a game of cat and mouse with Joel. One day you’d ignored him completely as you flirted with the crew, exaggerating your laugh at jokes that weren’t even close to being funny, and touching too many sweaty biceps to count. Then the next you never left him alone, buzzing like a mosquito in his ear asking all kinds of silly questions, slipping in an innuendo or two, and teasing him for a reaction other than an annoyed grunt.

He’d have to break at some point. You could see it in his eyes. He might play the annoyance up, but there was a softness to the way he looked at you. It was there– you weren’t making that up!

The sound of the juicer buzzed in your ear as you chewed on your lip. Your hand rested lazily on the kitchen counter as you stole glances out the window as you waited. Pierre was quiet as he worked, only throwing a curious glance your way every once in a while, as he mixed together the jug of lemonade you’d requested.

The day had scorched since early morning, and you’d had no choice but to throw on your skimpiest bikini. A smile tugged at the corner of your mouth at the thought – well, there was more appropriate outfits for this heat, but you didn’t want that.

What you wanted, was to get your brains fucked out.

You’d played all your cards right, but nothing had seemed to make Joel simmer over with a need to put you in your place again. In the need for a new plan, you hoped showing off your body to all his men while serving them a nice cold glass of lemonade would do the trick, hoping he’d get jealous. The pool had already started to take shape, and your time was starting to run out.

“Here you go, ma belle,” Pierre slid a newly filled jug of ice-cold lemonade down towards you over the marble, “let me know if you need anything else, yes?”

Nodding your head in gratitude, you lifted the jug onto the tray you’d prepared, “Merci, Pierre.”

Slipping carefully through the sliding doors you made your way across the veranda to place the tray on the outdoor dining table. The tray was heavy, and you moved fast to make sure you didn’t spill the lemonade all over yourself.

“HEY BOYS!” you shouted over the sound of the heavy machinery, waving a lazy hand at them, beckoning them closer like a siren. “I hope you’re thirsty,” you laughed.

A low whistle could be heard as they came closer. Eyes lingering on your skin, trailing over your body as they gathered around the table, helping themselves to the citrus-y delight.

“If this ain’t the sweetest thing I think a client has ever done for us,” Tommy smiled as he helped himself to a glass, “You mind if I take a picture of this setup? To post on our Facebook page.”

You shook your head, “Take as many pictures as you like,” you told him, but your eyes wandered.

Joel had hung back, walking slower behind the rest of his crew, and was finally walking up the couple steps to the veranda. His work boots echoed over the planks as he walked closer. He didn’t seem happy as he locked eyes with you, his eyes quickly rolling over your almost naked body.

Taking advantage of the opportunity, you poured him a glass; the ice cubes splashing as you poured, cold drops splashing and coating the skin of your exposed chest. Joel pretended he didn’t notice, but you saw the way he looked at you. You’d seen that look so many times, eyes hungry and desperate for something they knew they couldn’t have, shouldn’t have. The only difference this time was that you’d let Joel do whatever he wanted to you.

“Here, Mr. Miller–”

Your voice was cut off by the sound of a phone ringing at the loudest volume. The suddenness of the sound made you jump, spilling the glass of Joel’s lemonade all down your hand and chest.

“Yellow,” you heard Tommy shout into his phone.

“Oh, oops,” you said, your voice laced in an innocent laugh. Drops of sticky lemonade ran down your body, darkening the fabric of your bikini, and making your skin shine with wetness under the Austin sun.

Looking up from your body at Joel, your teeth caught on your bottom lip at the way his jaw clenched, his eyes running down your body like they were drops of lemonade. You laughed again, sugary sweet as you made a show of placing the glass on the table, spreading your arms like you didn’t know what to do.

“Y’need to be more careful, sweetheart,” Joel mumbled as he fumbled for some napkins from your tray.

You shook your head at him when he handed them to you, instead you ran a finger up your chest, catching the drops and sucking the cool drink from your fingers, slowly, licking up every drop. It was bold, and you couldn’t contain your giggle when Joel’s eyes widened at you. It was quick, the wave of shock at how blatantly you’d flirt with him like this, before it crashed into the shore with a stern look. The other men had to be looking too, you could feel the way their eyes burned your skin, but you only cared about one man’s warm eyes on your body.

“That was so clumsy of me,” you giggled, the laugh forced and too sweet, but it didn’t matter, Joel didn’t buy it either way.

“’m sorry ‘bout that,” Tommy’s voice boomed, as he hung up the phone, “It was the missus– or soon to be missus.”

“Oh, you’re getting married?” you queried, the lemonade soaking you forgotten now that the moment had been ruined. Beside you, Joel picked up the glass you’d tried to hand him, drying the sides with the superfluous napkins.

“Yes, ma’am,” Tommy beamed, “tyin’ the knot this Saturday in fact.”

“Oh, that’s wonderful,” you smiled, an idea popping up in the back of your head, “Congratulations!”

“Thank you, thank you,” he beamed, taking a big gulp of the lemonade.

“So…” You stepped closer to Tommy, leaning your hand against the table. Joel’s eyes followed you, you could feel it, so you sneakily popped your hips out, giving him a nice view of your ass. “What’s the plan? Big church wedding?”

Tommy laughed, “Don’t know ‘bout big– we’re doin’ one of those barn weddings, you know? Out on a ranch and everythin’, they got it all on those big ranches nowadays.”

“Really?” you smiled, “Which ranch?”

“Oh, it ain’t far! Only ‘bout a fifteen-twenty minutes’ drive from downtown. Pecan Grove Ranch it’s called. They even got these nice cabins on site, for accommodation– which is nice for close family and those who’ve traveled far. You know, Maria’s family ain’t from Texas, so we got lots of folks flyin’ in.”

“Is that her name? Maria?” you asked. The way Tommy’s face lit up when you mentioned her name made your heart squeeze.

“Yeah,” he nodded, “love of my life she is!”

“I need to talk to you.” Joel cut your conversation off while his hand snaked its way around your upper arm, tugging you lightly towards him. When you turned your head to look at him, one eyebrow raised, his face shifted into a deep frown. “’s ‘bout the tiles,” he grumbled.

A smile tugged at the corners of your mouth. Finally.

You excused yourself to Tommy, and let Joel drag you with him. Throwing your head back you watched how the rest of the crew enjoyed their small break in the shade sipping on Pierre’s lemonade.

Joel crossed the yard in big steps, making a beeline for the shed tucked away in the back corner of the yard. He pulled at the door harshly, like it couldn’t happen fast enough, and pushed you inside. The door to the shed slammed shut behind him and covered you both in a cool darkness. Your eyes relaxed as you adjusted from the bright daylight to the dim lighting – the only light coming through a small window almost completely overgrown with climbing vines. Joel’s grip around your arm loosened as he pushed you deeper inside.

Taking small steps, you looked around, eyes scanning over the room as a thought of how you couldn’t remember the last time you’d stepped a foot inside the shed crossed your mind. It was hidden away in the corner of the garden, overgrown in a tasteful way, like how you’d see in garden magazines. These days the only person who used it was the gardener, if the miscellaneous tools and garden machines were to be believed.

“Put your hands on the table,” Joel ordered, his voice a low hum.

Outside you could still hear the shouts of his men, laughter, as they lounged about on their break. Every one of his men had seen you step into the shed together, and the thought sent an electric bubbling feeling straight to your cunt.

“Y'got cotton in those ears, girl? Put your hands on the table.”

A shiver traveled through your body, and you had to bite down on your lip to hold back your smile. Finally, finally, finally. With your back turned to him, you shook your head slowly, daring him to put you in your place again.

And Joel took the bait.

His rough hand slid over your waist as he stepped closer. He let it glide across your exposed skin, the dried lemonade sticky as he teased you. His rough hand slid upwards, hooking a finger under your bikini strap, slowly, pulling at it before he unhooked it, letting it fall to the concrete floor.

“Aren’t you gonna behave, princess?” he spat out the new nickname. “Didn’t I teach ya last time what happens when you ain’t a good girl f’me?” The low bass of his voice ghosted over your ear and had your blood buzzing under your skin.

His rough hands continued to explore you, gentle touches over your skin, getting you worked up, but never where you wanted his hands the most. When he pressed himself against you, letting you feel the hard shape of him through his work pants, you let your head fall against his shoulder with a content sigh.

“No, Daddy,” you shook your head.

Joel couldn’t hold back his groan at that word. The gentle hands who’d explored your body, tightened across your chest, pressing you tight into his chest as he bucked his hips harshly into your ass.

“I think I did,” he spoke into your ear, “broke that pretty brain on my cock, didn’t I, and now that greedy cunt wants more, ain’t that right? Can’t get enough of this big cock?”

A breathy gasp escaped you when he bucked his hips against you again, and you shook your head.

“That’s what I thought.”

The speed at which he moved almost gave you a whiplash. He pushed you against the table along the wall, your hands coming down to brace yourself as he pressed your chest down and put your ass, covered only by your skimpy bikini bottoms, on display for him.

“Such a slut for cock she can’t be a big girl and ask for it– no, princess, you’re so desperate for it, you make me come all the way to your rich daddy’s house, bring my crew and everythin’ just so I’ll fuck you again.”

Joel laughed and you couldn’t help but squeeze your thighs together. “That’s ‘nother level of desperate, ain’t it?”

You felt a heat spread across your face at his degradation, but it just turned you on more, and Joel knew it. He trailed a finger down between your cheeks, pressing down to feel how you’d soiled your bikini bottoms in your arousal.

“But that’s just what you are, aren’t you? A desperate whore dyin’ to get fucked?”

The hand between your legs vanished, and you braced yourself for a spanking, holding your breath as the excitement grew, but the slap of his rough hand never came. Instead, he unhooked a rope off the peg board in front of you.

You resisted a little when he grabbed your hands, slipping your hands from his grip playfully, your face turned to watch how his face grew sterner. The tired, disappointed sigh it earned you made you smile.

Gripping both your hands tightly, he crossed one wrist over the other before he tied them together at the small of your back, and you let it happen. Under your skin, the anticipation buzzed. With nothing to help you brace yourself, the hard surface of the table pressed harshly against your naked skin.

“Hey,” Joel’s voice was suddenly gentle as he cupped your face and turned you to face him, “you remember our rules?”

A small ache stung in your heart. Our.

You nodded, “I say ‘red’ or pinch you if I want you to stop.”

A pleased grin spread across his face as he tapped at your cheek gently, “That’s a good girl, baby.”

His hand slid down your body, from your face down your neck, from your neck over your shoulder, and then from your shoulder down your naked back. “How’s this?” he asked, hooking a finger under the rope, “Not too tight?”

You shook your head, or tried to, with the way your cheek was mushed against the table.

“Words, princess, need to hear ya say it f’me.”

The softness in his voice when the pet name left his lips, made a fluttering feeling bubble in your core, and it was hard to fight the grin from pulling at your lips.

“Am I your princess now?” you asked with fluttering eyelashes, “I thought I was your desperate slut?”

Behind you, you could hear Joel let out a deep sigh. A finger traced small circles over your ass, making goosebumps blossom over your skin, before it hooked into the band of your bikini bottoms, tugging them slowly down and exposing your wet cunt to him.

“You know,” Joel sighed again, pausing to let the sound of his fly being undone fill the space between you. You almost moaned at the sound, pushing your ass out, desperate for any kind of friction. “I was plannin’ on bein’ nice t’you, but now…”

The blunt head of him pressed against you, running it up and down your cunt, coating it in your slick arousal, and you almost held your breath. The anticipation like a fist around your chest. Your heart drummed in your chest, almost drowning out the wet slick sound between your legs.

“I don’t want you to be nice,” you almost whispered, your fist tightening around each other at the small of your back.

“I know, princess…” he whispered back, and pushed at your opening, “I know.”

He was too big, the girth of him splitting you in two on his cock. It burned deliciously, and you savored every inch he gave you until he was fully seated inside you. Only then were you able to whimper out a moan, your breath finally released.

His hands gripped your wrists like a handlebar, something to hold on to, something to guide you back and forth on his cock. He pushed himself even deeper, releasing a deep groan in your ear as he leaned over you, the weight of him heavenly as he made room for himself inside you, his heavy balls pressed against you.

This was what you’d wanted. Just to feel him again like this.

“Shit…” you sighed, eyes almost rolling back into your head.

“Yeah, that’s what I thought,” he whispered in your ear, “get a cock in you, and you turn into a good girl f’me.”

You wanted to push back, to give him something to prove him wrong, but you had nothing.

“Please,” you whispered, your eyes squeezed shut tightly.

“Please what, princess?” You could hear the smile in Joel’s low rumbling voice.

“Fuck me, sir,” you pleaded, “Fuck me, Daddy, please.”

“Oh, now she’s askin’ nice.” Joel pulled back and thrusted back inside in one hard thrust, pushing your body against the table, a line surely indented in your skin by now.

A whimper fell from your lips.

Joel started fucking you slowly, but hard, the table rattling with each thrust, one hand wrapped around your wrists to keep his balance. Under him you couldn’t fight back your moans, small content squeaks escaping you when he pressed himself firmly against your ass, burying his cock deeply inside you with every thrust.

“That’s it, slut, that’s a good girl,” Joel praised over you, “takin’ that cock so well, princess.”

The world started blurring around the edges with each thrust, a soft, warm feeling wrapping itself around your heart as he thrusted inside you. You were dying to touch your clit. His cock reached so far, pressing perfectly against your g-spot with each push. You were so close. If you could just touch your clit.

“P-please,” you mumbled lowly, your face scrunched tight as you clenched around his cock.

Joel grunted behind you and stepped away. You could almost cry, and maybe you did because rough pads ran over your cheek as he shushed you.

“No-no-no, it’s okay baby,” he mumbled, “calm down.”

“Please,” you tried again. Please let me come.

“I need you to do somethin’ f’me,” he told you as he guided his cock back to your ruined entrance, slick with want.

“I’ll do anything you ask,” you hurried.

“Anythin’?” Joel rubbed his cock up and down your slit as a slick sound filled the air.

“Anything.”

Behind you, Joel laughed, and pushed inside you again, making a big smile spread across your face.

“Alright, princess,” he said with a hard thrust, “what you’re gonna do f’me is when you feel like you’re close, you’re gonna tell me, tell your Daddy, alright?”

You nodded into the wood, head almost delirious with want, “Okay.”

“You wanna feel my cum inside you, don’t cha, want me to fill y’up to the brim?” His voice was so soft, almost soothing, as he fucked you hard.

“Please, Daddy, want you to come inside me, please.”

A grumbling laugh escaped Joel as he continued his harsh thrust – your skin clap clap clapping together as he hauled you towards the edge of your orgasm. It built deep in your core, coiling in on itself as he brought you closer and closer and closer.

“Joel,” you gasped, “I’m gonna come.”

Quickly, and without warning, Joel pulled out, leaving you trembling, and on the edge.

“No, you ain’t,” he told you sternly, “you’re gonna hold it.”

A rough hand smoothed over your right ass cheek, small taps to your skin reprimanding you as he rubbed his cock over the other, soiling you in your own desperation.

You felt like you were heaving for breath underneath him, eyes squeezed tight as you tried to stave it off.

“That’s it,” he praised, “that’s a good girl. Hold that orgasm f’me.”

Focusing on the way his hand rubbed over your skin, you tried to calm down and steady your breathing. It could’ve taken a minute or an hour, you didn’t know, but the feeling of falling over the edge of bliss fizzled out slowly. Joel leaned over your body, whispering praises into your ear, telling you how good you were for him. When you’d calmed down completely, you lifted your head to look at him, to catch his eyes.

Blown out and big, the warmth of them looked back, a deepness to get lost in. A small smiled tugged at his lips before he leaned down and peppered a soft kiss to your shoulder. It lasted only a second, but it made fluttering wings expand in your tummy.

When he pushed inside you again, your tied hands reached for his. His thrust came quicker than before, sloppier, as he chased his own high, his hand interlaced with yours.

“God fuckin’ slut,” he rambled.

“Takin’ that cock so fuckin’ good.”

“I’m gonna fuckin’ come– gonna fill that cunt up.”

With a hard slam of his hips against your ass, pushing himself as deep as he could, Joel came inside you with a deep grunt. “That’s it– take all that fuckin’ cum inside.” A warmth filled you from the inside as his cock twitch inside you, coating your walls in thick spurts of his cum.

“Good fuckin’ girl,” he mumbled, as he thrusted his cum back inside you, making sure he’d emptied himself completely before pulling out, sliding his softening cock from your denied cunt.

“Joel,” you whispered, but he didn’t hear you, too busy with tucking himself back into his work pants, and pulling up your bikini bottoms, soiling them in his cum starting to leak out of you.

“What about me?” you asked, confused, as he undid the rope around your wrists.

“What ‘bout you?” he repeated, helping you up and turning you to face him.

A chuckle rumbled in his chest as he took in your disappointed face, a large hand coming up to cup your chin. “What?” he teased, “don’t like your punishment?” He padded your cheek and pulled away, picking up your bikini top from the floor.

“’f you’re gonna act like a fuckin’ brat– havin’ your daddy hire me to have an excuse for seein’ me again, when you could’ve just called, then you’re gonna get treated like a brat, you understand? You gotta earn your orgasm, and you ain’t earned yourself nothin’ prancing around half naked in your garden while I’m trying to work, princess.” 

With that, Joel threw you your bikini top, and you barely managed to catch it between your fingers before you watched him walk out the shed, leaving you half naked, as his cum leaked down the inside of your leg.

hopefully this was okay? please let me know what you thought of the new part! i'm planning on at least adding one more part, so if you have any theories on what's to come i would love to hear them! <3 other than that a comment telling me your favorite part is always welcome, and my ask box is always open to chat <3 and thank you for reading!!

© shellshocklove, 2024 i do not give any permission to repost, translate, feed to AI or redistribute any of my writing, with or without credit!

[st4rymoon]

This was amazing 😳

PROFESSOR’S PET

Pairing: Art Professor!Joel AU x Teacher Assistant!f!reader.

Summary: Professor Miller wants you to teach the class tomorrow morning & you need help being less nervous. What if he’s the reason you’re nervous, though?

Content Warnings: SMUT 18+ only! MDNI. Age gap but not specified, power imbalance (professor x TA, reader stutters when nervous, academic weapon, teasing, fingering, one (1) pair of panties ripped to shreds, oral (f receiving), spitting, pussy slaps, praise kink, name calling (good girl, sweetheart, baby, smart girl), dirty talk, talking you through it, spanking, condescending a little bit, cum eating, face riding, nasty freaky kisses to share your cum, no use of y/n.

Authors Note: Good morning, babies! This is for @studioghibelli & their fantastic writing challenge. This moodboard was absolutely brilliant. As someone who did not go to college & can’t retain information well, I tried to research as much as I could about art so I hope I did it justice! 🩵 || wc: 2.6k || beta’d by @wannab-urs <333 ily sm gin ||

“You want me to do what?”

It came out more as an exclamation rather than a question but you didn’t care at the moment.

He couldn’t have been serious.

“I want you to teach the class tomorrow about your two favorite artists. That’s all I’m askin’” Professor Miller says, stuffing his papers back into the desk drawer for the night.

“B-but you know I don’t talk well in front of them, I constantly stutter and they don’t respond well to me yet, I-”

“Do you need me to help you with the lesson plan for tomorrow? I can come over and help you write down some notes on what you want to talk about, but I need you to get more comfortable around them. We have a long school year ahead of us, and it’s not going to work if you’re afraid to speak up here.”

He was annoyed having to explain his reasoning, but he was right. Even if you didn’t want to hear you were doing a terrible job as a teacher's assistant. Scratching your head and turning so he can’t see the look of shame on your face, Joel shuffles towards you and hands you your coat off the coat rack.

“It’ll be fine. All you need is a push and you’ll do great. Hurry before we miss the train.”

You nod and take your coat to put it on, the tan fabric becoming darker as you step outside and rain starts to pelt off it. Mr. Miller sighs and hoists his briefcase above his head and takes his other hand to the side of him searching for yours until he finds it and grabs it, guiding you through the raindrops until you get under the stone archway to take a brief moment for the rain to calm down.

“Can’t believe I’ve had you as a TA for almost two years now and have never once seen where you live or even know about you outside of this place.” His finger wags slowly behind his head, indicating he was referring to the school.

“I don’t really like to talk about myself, but my parents made a really good name for themselves. I was put through all the good schools they could toss their money at. I was supposed to go to school to be a lawyer, but I wasn’t interested in the slightest. I told my mom I wanted to study visual arts and she wasn’t too surprised, said I always had an eye for that sort of thing. I want to become a professor here one day but for now I just want to learn everything I can, ya know?” You smile at the ground as you think about teaching here someday and hope it doesn’t come off as dorky.

He’s so much older than you and probably knows so much between art and life. You could only hope to have as much knowledge as him when you become a professor.

“I think that’s amazing honestly. I hope to one day see you as a professor here whenever you feel like you’re ready.”

His grin eases your nerves, and you hear the train coming, taking his hand once more to run to the train stop. Your shoes squeak against the vinyl flooring of the moving cabin until you get to a seat by the foggy window, plopping your bag right next to you with Joel sitting across the small white table that was tattered from all the use.

The train ride to your town wasn’t too long and Joel read almost the entire time, asking you every now and then if you were okay. Once you catch a taxi to take you home, it drops you off right at the black iron gates. He steps out of the sleek black car and is a little taken aback by the size of your house.

“What’s the matter? I told you they had money.” You giggle and push the buzzer on the stone post to the left of you, telling them to let you inside. Almost instantly, the gates push open and you walk along the pebble drive, flinging your book bag over your shoulder as he follows a few steps behind you, taking in the beauty that is your house.

Once you get inside and introduce him to the small group of staff working, they tell you your parents went out for the evening to some charity event and there’s food in the fridge if you were hungry.

The nerves about teaching tomorrow overrode the feeling of being hungry, but you still offered Joel anything he could’ve wanted. He settles with water, and you leave him in the study where he’s content with gazing at the walls covered in full bookshelves about any and everything.

You come back in and shut the rosewood pocket doors quietly, careful not to disturb him from the current book in his hand about astronomy. The way his fingers grazed over the corners of the pages made your stomach tingle just a little bit, the dim lighting from the chandelier glowing a soft yellow on his face as he was entranced by the contents.

Get it together, he’s off limits, you tell yourself.

There was no ring on his finger and he always talked about his lonely weekends, but still. You were his teacher's assistant.

You clear your throat and set his water down on the desk before you turn on the green bankers lamp sitting at the edge of the table. Joel closes the red leather book and looks up at you, noticing the water, and he puts the book back where he found it.

“Thank you.” He raises the glass to you before taking a sip, the muscles in his neck contracting as he swallows, and it brings that same feeling as before that you felt in your stomach.

So, give me two of your favorite art pieces and the artist with some facts about them. You don’t have to start from their birth or anything.”

He pinches his slacks right on the thighs to hike them up just a little before he sits down in the wooden chair at the head of the table, his hands on the back of his head as his fingers interlock against his skull.

Focus.

You pace back and forth at the other end of the table, Joel’s eyes on you intently as you fiddle with your fingers, running through the list of artists you tend to gravitate towards.

“I got it. Botticelli.”

“Nice choice. Why him?”

You continue to walk back and forth and sort out which facts about him and his artwork you love to tell people they wouldn’t normally know.

“I love the painting Birth of Venus but um- it’s not technically her birth story, it’s m-more like the story continued after her birth; when she steps off her shell and onto the island of Cyprus. S-she’s being blown onto…” you take a deep breath in and put your head in your hands.

“I’m sorry, Joel.”

You turn away from him and look out the window trying to compose yourself.

“Just take your time, I’ve got all night, kid.”

Turning to face him, he’s sitting straight up now and you can tell he’s listening to every word coming out of your mouth. His dark jacket is tight on his arms and it’s just enough to show the outline of his muscles.

“She’s being blown onto shore by the spring winds which is Zephyr, who is accompanied by his wife, Chloris, who’s also blowing Venus’ shell to shore. Her pose was most likely inspired by an ancient marble statue in the Medici’s collection, which we refer to as the Medici Venus, the first ever nude female sculpture in classical art.”

You manage to recite all of that without stuttering this time and he grins proudly.

“I knew you could do it. Good job. Now, what I want you to do is write down bullet points on this note card with a keyword that’ll spark your mind and draw the facts out of you fluently.”

Your cheeks warm at first and then your brows furrow at his instructions.

“What do you mean, professor?”

“Come here, I’ll show you.”

He scoots his chair back enough so you can stand to the side of him and watch as he scribbles down some words on the lined piece of paper. The red ink flows effortlessly and he pushes it to you, pointing at what he did.

“It’s just a keyword that’ll spark your brain to talk about it. If you write down everything you’re gonna say, it sounds like a robot trying to read it. This way, you won’t get overwhelmed by everything you wanna say and you can sound effortless.”

You nod as the gears in your head turn, the idea making perfect sense now. Reaching out to grab another note card, you bend over to write on it, starting at the top. You feel Joel’s hand on the small of your back very lightly as he watches you write, the pen in your hand moving faster than he’s ever seen.

“The next one is gonna be the technique he used for the painting.”

You write the word ‘technique’ shakily, trying to breathe manually.

“What about his technique?” Joel asks, his hand not moving from your back.

“H-he um, he used the tempera technique, it’s when you d-dilute a raw egg with water and mix watered down p-pigment with it and um-um paint with it.” Your words get breathy and all at once you stand straight up, clearing your throat once more.

“You’re still pretty nervous. Is it me? Am I making you nervous?” The condescending tone in Professor Miller's voice makes the hair on the back of your neck stand up, feeling like you’ve been called out.

“Partially, maybe.” You admit and turn away from him but you don’t move from next to him.

He runs his hand over his scruff and smirks slyly.

“Do you trust me?”

Without hesitation you nod yes.

“Turn around for me.” Joel’s hands grip your hips and spin you around in your spot.

“Now read your little note card for me. Come on, you’ve got this, smart girl.”

That was all you had to hear to make your stomach flip and arousal flood your body. Smart girl.

His hands never leave your hips as he holds you still, subconsciously rubbing the fabric of your skirt on the waistband while you read your notes. You manage to get through half of them before you stutter out and stop again.

“Again, from the top.” He says softly, still holding onto you. Just as you begin to speak, you feel yourself being guided backwards and you don’t stop talking, going with the flow of things.

For the purpose of learning, right?

Joel puts you right against his thighs, his head peeking over the side of your arm to see what bullet point you were on.

“Keep going, you’re doing such a good job.” He whispers as he rubs your back gently.

“Botticelli used the tempera technique, which is when you mix a r-raw egg with water a-and you dilute yo-our pigment with water and mix th-em together.”

His hand ever so slowly moves around the side of your thigh until he’s on the top of it, his thumb dangerously close to the point of no return. Your breaths were getting heavier and you were almost positive he could feel your heart rattling in your body like a caged animal.

“Joel, I-”

“Start it again, and if you stutter I’ll stop.”

His hand dips under your skirt and he nods to your index card, wanting you to restart.

“Well come on, be a good girl for me.” He grunts out and smirks before biting your arm playfully.

You didn’t know how you got here or why he wanted to touch you this way but you weren’t going to stop him. He was a good looking man and god forbid you do something out of your normal routine.

His fingertips dance over your overly excited clit and release some tension for you, and it’s like a key to a gate, your legs spreading more and more with every circle from his middle finger. You continue to talk through his efforts to make you stutter, even when he gets faster and kisses your back.

“Just like that, sweetheart. Next artist, let’s go.” He pushes you up on the desk and splits your legs apart, ripping your panties in two before he takes off his jacket and rolls his shirt sleeves up to his elbows.

“The Swing painted by Jean-Honore Fragonard. It’s said it’s a commission from a man on the court who requested Fragonard to paint him and his younger mistress being pushed on a swing while he watches and admires her-oh my god, Joel, right there, yes, yes.”

His tongue dances against your clit after he spits on it, licking every inch of you just to hear your pretty moans. His hands travel up your abdomen until he gets to your shirt, ripping the buttons apart to see your beautiful breasts. A deep groan against your overly sensitive clit makes your eyes almost roll back into your skull and he slaps your pussy firmly.

“That’s not being a good girl. Did I tell you to stop?”

“No, sir.” You whimper and try to get back on track about the painting you were talking about. His curls tickle against the soft insides of your thighs as he continues, licking feverishly at your clit.

“The brushwork is rapid and it exemplifies the Rococo style of playfulness and elegance” you whimper out and buck against his face, your hand dipping into his hair to tug firmly.

He spanks your ass as he feels your body squirm under him, tugging your legs to rest on his shoulders as he continues to lap up your arousal.

“You’re such a filthy girl, riding your professor's face in your house, naughty naughty girl. Oh, yes, cmon sweetheart, use my mouth.”

You moan his name louder and thank god your sounds are muffled from the rest of the house by all the literature covering the walls. Somehow you finish telling him about the painting and he looks at you as you cry out for more from him, your slick glossing over his mustache.

“Please make me come, Joel. Please, I need you so bad.” You kiss him roughly and try to grab his rock hard bulge but he pulls his hips away and groans loudly on your lips before grinning, going back down to your pussy and moaning against you.

“Come right on my face, right fuckin’ now. Let me taste how sweet you are. I know you can’t handle much more and you don’t wanna disappoint me, right baby?” Joel smirks and flattens his tongue against your clit once more, teasing you and enjoying this just as much as you were.

The burning sensation in your belly starts to spill over and before you can tell him, you grip both edges of the table and come against his face, crying and squirming to get away from him but it only makes Joel pin you down by your wrists and lick harder, tasting every bit you give him.

He licks you clean and kisses his way up your stomach, through the valley of your breasts to your lips, sharing the deliciousness with you. As you come down from your high, the grandfather clock in the corner of the room starts to chime, indicating it was midnight.

“That 7:30 A.M. class is gonna be here before you know it, professor.” You push the damp curls off his forehead and giggle as he stands up tiredly, holding a hand out for you. As you sit up on the table, his hand cups your cheek and kisses you deeply once more.

“You owe me sleep, so much sleep.”