THIS IS SO BABYGIRL OF HIM WHAT THE FUCK😭

"shower punishment" reupload from littlesoulshine

that puppy, ugh...you're going to have to chain him up, because does he really think the water will hide him?

does he thinks the steam curling off the mosaic tiles and the hiss of the showerhead will muffle the soft whimpers in his thick throat, the slap of skin on skin as he fists his big cock like a filthy little secret. his forehead’s pressed to the wall, panting. he’s quiet, he’s trying—he’s so fucking desperate. he hasn’t come in a week, and your rules are eating him alive.

but your rules are rules, and for some reason, he breaks them.

you open the bathroom door like you own it, and you hear it the second you walk in. the low moan, all the slick, rhythmic sounds of a man touching what doesn’t belong to him. you’re on him before he even notices. the glass door yanked open, and he jolts, mouth dropping open, eyes wild.

his hand freezes on his cock. “did i say you could do that?”

he stutters, no words, just the look of a dog who knows the leash is coming out.

you reach in and grab him by the wrist, yanking him out of the water like trash. the cold air slaps him in the face. he almost slips on the mat, barely catching himself, hard dick so big it's bouncing on its own and leaking as the rest of him trembles.

“i asked you a question.”

“n-no, baby” he whispers, head down, water droplets sliding off his body. you shove him against the wall, hard enough to make him gasp. you look down at his cock, swollen and twitching. it's disgusting and shameful. he’s lucky you haven’t slapped it yet (even though it will make him cum).

“what do we do to sweet boys who don’t follow rules?” you murmur, leaning in close, lips brushing his ear.

“we…we punish them.” his voice is so small it barely counts as sound.

you cup his balls, firm and unforgiving. his knees bucking as you squeeze—not the sweet 'making him cum squeeze' but a mean squeeze. just enough to make his eyes snap wide, breath hitch. “that’s right. and do you think i’m going to let you cum tonight?”

he whimpers. “please—please, i was just—I needed—”

smack. your palm slaps the tip of his cock. he screams into his own shoulder, teeth bared, and body curling in. it jerks so hard you think he might cum untouched just from that. but he doesn’t. not yet, because he knows you won't let him. “you needed permission. and you didn’t have it.”

he’s nodding, frantic, lips bitten raw.

you drag him to the bedroom by the ear like a child. he doesn’t resist, he just follows, wet footprints on hardwood, and the sound of his shame echoing behind him. you push him down to his knees at the foot of the bed. still dripping and humiliated.

“hands behind your back, baby.” he obeys. “and open your mouth.” he obeys that faster.

you settle into the mattress like a queen preparing for a foot rub. and that’s exactly what he becomes. not a husband or a man. just a warm mouth and a lesson waiting to be learned. you slip one heel off. press your bare foot against his lips.

“you want to touch your cock again?” he nods, eyes wet. you smile, cruel and soft. “then you’re going to earn it. with your tongue. and if you cum without permission?”

your toes slide along his cheek, his breath catches. “i’ll edge you for a month.” he whimpers at your response. you press your foot harder, making him moan. his tongue is out before you even ask.

on his knees, he's soaking wet, hair dripping into his lashes, cheeks red, and mouth open around your foot like it’s his last meal. his cock’s flushed dark and bobbing helplessly, twitching with every breath, leaking like it knows it’s in trouble.

his tongue moves in slow, strokes. “mhm,” you murmur, watching him through lazy lashes, heel tucked under your thigh. “look at you. just a stupid little mutt who can’t go a day without needing to hump something.”

he whines around your toes. mouth wet, eyes glimmering.

you lean forward, spit in your hand, and start stroking him—so slow he sobs. long, cruel pulls from base to tip. not even for him. just to watch him fall apart.

“ma’am—fuck, mommie, i-i’m gonna—i can’t—”

smack. your palm hits his thigh. he jerks, hips lurching, mouth still kissing your foot like it’s sacred.

“you can’t until i say,” you snap, voice low and sharp. “you even think about coming again without permission, i’ll shove your cock in the freezer.”

his head drops, forehead hitting your knee. “i’m sorry—please—please i’ll be good—i swear—”

you push him back, flat on his back like the pathetic mess he is. you climb over him slowly, knees on either side of his face, your bare cunt glistening inches from his mouth.

his breath hitches and his eyes go wide.

“you want to make it up to me? make it to your wife?” he nods so fast it looks painful. “then you’ll keep that mouth busy. and if you even look like you’re getting close?” you glance at his cock, throbbing in the air. “i’ll ruin you so bad you’ll cry every time you get hard.”

you sit, full weight, right on his face.

his moan is muffled under your cunt. tongue eager, sloppy now, desperation leaking out of every pore. you grind down slowly, letting him breathe through your slick, using his nose like a toy. you don’t hold back. because why would you? he doesn’t deserve soft. he deserves to be used. your thighs clamp around his head. you reach down and slap his cock. not too hard though, just enough to remind him it’s yours.

he bucks. his moan is so loud your clit pulses. he begins to cry, tongue trembling, hands still behind his back like you told him. he’s trying so hard to focus on your pleasure, to not think about his own, but he can’t, it’s too good.

you ride his face harder, letting yourself enjoy it, hips rolling, grinding down until your thighs are soaked and his lips are red and raw. you lean forward, panting. “you close, baby?”

he nods frantically, muffled under your cunt.

“don’t you dare.” he whimpers into you as his cock twitches, pulsing, begging to let go. you grab it—tight—and hold it at the base. he thrashes. you don’t let him come yet.

you keep riding his face while you ruin him. stroking him too light, too slow, until he’s trembling, sweating sliding down the sides his temples, lubing the inner parts of your thighs.

you clench around his tongue and cum—grinding down, back arching, moaning loud enough to drown out his begging.

he’s moaning under you, sobbing, cock bobbing helplessly in the air. you let him edge there, cock twitching, balls tight, muscles locked. you reach down again, fingers wrapping around his shaft.

he gasps. “you want to cum, my love?” he nods, eyes wide, wet, desperate. you start stroking him quickly.

“then cum,” you whisper. “but don’t you dare enjoy it.”

he explodes. spilling over your hand, sobbing like it hurts. his whole body spasms—hips bucking, mouth still lapping at you like a good boy while tears spill down his cheeks.

you ride his tongue until he’s done whimpering. you climb off him slowly, standing over his ruined body, watching the way his cum drips down his belly. you wipe your hand on his chest.“next time?” you say, voice like ice. “ask.” he nods, broken, blissed-out. you peck his red lips, and step into the shower. he crawls after you without a word.

retags: @inbred-eater @faiszt @cherrygirlfriend @nemesyaaa @tinythebunni

inspiration ➳ my lovey @rafesplaymate

۶ৎ dbf!joel miller’s sweetheart 🍓🍥

moodboard made by me 🍓

۶ৎ special tags: @littlemillersbaby @lowrisemiller @cherrygirlfriend @travismrrtinez @heyyitscate

Hi lovely person ! Could I request an angst to fluff piece with Joel miller? So I was thinking.. we always see Dbf! Joel smut, but I would really like something angsty with that trope. Maybe something along the lines of the reader and Joel being together in secret because you know being scared of judgment because of the age gap and stuff and not the father finding out. But then there's this woman, more to Joel's age coming into the picture, making reader insecure thinking she's not enough and too young and naive but in the end all turns out good? I'm a sucker for angst loll"

a/n: hi! it's posted here! i hope you like it 💗

— « he looks like he works with his hands and smells like Marlboro reds. »

PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE

just one bite omfg 🙏🙏🙏🙏🙏

ᥫ᭡ about me — mari (friends call me mar), 21 (my b-day is march 23), aries, black/native, sentimental, hopeless romantic, flower child, lover, old soul, avid dreamer, spiritual!

ᥫ᭡ i love — reading, drawing, sleeping, vanilla and cherry, milkshakes, silk pjs, dark and milk chocolate, wedged heels, jensen ackles, fruits, lace clothing, tea, fries, walking, pinterest, necklaces, dramas, posters, driving with the windows down, drew starkey, nature, wellness, learning random and new things, meeting new people, pizza, new and different cultures from my own, learning new languages.

ᥫ᭡ tv shows/films — supernatural, new girl, monte carlo, uptown girls, coyete ugly, burlesque, outerbanks, rebelde, friends, wildfire, girls next door, girlfriends, gossip girl, one tree hill, the o.c., i love lucy, revenge, h2o: just add water, saved by the bell, found, fresh prince, i dream of jeannie, virgin river,…etc (will be adding to this!).

ᥫ᭡ music — anything lana, tyla, pop, xtina, tate mcrae, marina, sabrina carpenter, FKA twigs, no doubt, hailey knox, janet jackson, nessa barrett, SZA, leon bridges, ALT, kacey mustgraves, leAnn rimes, indie, madison beer, jennie, JMSN, newjeans, leigton meester, aaliyah, sarina, britney spears, beadoobee!

"good boy!" reupload from littlesoulshine

for being a good boy, you decided to give arty a little treat. you set the table—linen, crystal, and a single candle lit, flickering low; around it roast chicken, green beans, and a perfect glass of red wine, his favorite. you wear something sheer with no bra or panties on. art walks in, wearing his gym clothes, and freezes like a deer in headlights.

“shorts off,” you say, without looking up. he obeys instantly, dropping like he’s allergic to disobedience. you tilt your head just slightly, pointing to the chair at the head of the table. “sit.”

he moves fast, you straddle him before he’s fully settled, one slow grind of your hips as you guide his cock inside you—bare, of course. no prep or foreplay. he gasps, hands flying to your thighs like he might hold on—

“no,” you say, catching his wrists. “hands in your lap. or i stop.”

he obeys, trembling already. you can feel every twitch of him deep inside you, stuffed full, throbbing against your walls. 

you pick up a bite of steaming hot chicken, blow on it, and bring it to his mouth. “open, baby.”

he does—lips parting, tongue just barely peeking out. you feed him. as you stare at him, he chews slow and swallows hard (moaning as you softly tighten around him.)

you moan low in your throat—not from pleasure, but from power he’s giving you. he’s shaking under you, hips pressed against the chair, your cunt keeping his cock soaked and tight. he wants to thrust, wants to fuck up into you. but he knows he can’t (only on his birthday, new years, or any time you tell him to).

he gets a bite of green beans next. his lips brush your fingertips and he moans.

“you love this, don’t you?” you murmur, picking up your own fork. “sitting still like a good boy, stuffed full of my cunt, while i feed you like the dumb little pet you are.”

“yes, ma’am,” he breathes. “i love it. love being inside you—so warm—so tight—fuck, i can’t—”

“you can.” your voice cuts sharp. “and you will.”

he bites his lip. his cock twitches inside you. you feel it—so fucking desperate, pulsing with every heartbeat. you take a sip of wine. press the glass to his lips next. he drinks, soft whimpers caught in his throat, neck flushed and glossy with sweat.

the sight makes you clench and he choke from the pleasure. “mommy—please—please just let me move, just once, just a little, i’ll beg—i’ll do anything—”

you cut a piece of meat. feed it to him. “no.”

his eyes flutter, while he continues to pant with his cheeks red and balls tightening.

you lean in, lips brushing his ear, giving him little kisses. he makes a incoherent sound, somewhere between a sob and a moan. his hands tremble in his lap, making him cry all soft and wet, with pretty glassy eyes.

you press your hips down just a little. his hips jerk up and you instantly slap his thigh. “sit still, baby.”

he nods as you feed him again, but he’s so far gone by the time you’ve finished your meal, his cock was soaked, balls super heavy and lips shining with spit, wine, and your praise.

you set down your fork and look down at him. “you want to come?”

“God—yes—please—i’ve been so good—”

you rise off his pretty cock before slamming down again, and lifting up again that being his breaking point. he screams, high-pitched and all. his cum spurts painting his belly, chest, even his chin. he jerks, sobs, full-body trembles, hands still clasped in his lap. you bend down, scooping a little with your fingers, feeding it to him while trying it for yourself, moaning at how good he tastes. “mhm, this is good.”

retags: @inbred-eater @faiszt @cherrygirlfriend @nemesyaaa

inspiration ➳ my lovey @rafesplaymate

joel miller cum in my mouth

"well hello"

request: hiiii!! saw ur baker fic & loved it was wondering if you could write teacher!fem!reader? like she’s one of the teachers in Jackson and ofc ellie’s in her class and ellie LOVES HER talks about her nonstop and bothers joel. one day at pick up he finally sees her and he definitely understands what all the hype’s about now. It can lead to smut or not whatever you want I love ur writing <333 word count: 1,3k warnings: +18 minors dni, too lazy to write more but there's smut and language!

it’s just past three, and your classroom still smelled faintly of chalk dust and damp wood. ellie was long gone, already bolted with a bounce in her step and a grin that cracked sideways when you reminded her that her essay on pre-fall governance systems still needed citations. you really liked her. she was smart-mouthed, whip-quick, a little feral in that lovable way if there was one.

you were gathering up worksheets into one neat stack when there’s a knock—barely even that, more like a hesitant tap. you look up, and there he is.

joel miller.

you’ve heard of him in bits and pieces, mostly ellie’s flippant mentions. "my old man," she says, or "joel says if you give me homework on a friday he’ll riot." the usual teenager noise. but you’d pictured someone rough, maybe grizzled, but the real thing? no one warned you about those bedroom eyes.

he’s leaning halfway into your doorframe, one hand braced against it like he’s not sure if he’s allowed to come in. you couldn't help but take him in; worn flannel, heavy shoulders. his gaze cuts across the room until it lands on you, then lingers like he’s trying to figure out what to say.

“hey,” he says. voice like gravel, but still warm and apologetic. “uh..i’m here to pick up ellie.”

you blink, “oh, she left ten minutes ago. said she was heading home.”

joel blinks right back, slowly this time. you watch his mouth twitch, not quite a smile, more a grimace of regret. “of course she did.”

“she told me you’d come late,” you add, something about the way he stands there makes you want to offer him anything. a chair, coffee maybe.

he huffs out a breath, rubs a hand over the back of his neck, fingers catching in graying curls. “figures...guess she figured i’d just find my way here anyway.”

“and she was right,” you smile, tucking a stray piece of hair behind your ear, tilting your head. “she’s clever like that.”

his eyes—brown, kind—settle on you again. longer this time. like maybe he’s taking his time to memorize you. your cardigan’s too big, sleeves pushed to your elbows and there’s a bit of pink and orange chalk on your fingers. he sees it all, catalogues it.

“you’re her teacher,” he says, not a question.

you nod, with a small smile. “mhm.. history.”

he nods too, but it’s faint, the air feels weirdly full all of a sudden. he shifts, and you catch the faint creak of leather from his belt. the man is solid. not just physically, though, lord, yeah, that too—but there’s something rooted in him.

“she talks about you,” he says, breaking the silence.“a lot.”

you swallow, “i hope it’s all good things.”

his mouth twitches again, and this time it’s definitely a smile, a crooked one but a smile nonetheless. “she says you’re smart. don’t take her shit. and that you swear sometimes when you’re grading papers.”

you laugh, nodding at the ellie's silliness. “that’s true.”

“she likes you.”

something about the way he says it makes your stomach do a little flip. the way his eyes don’t leave yours. how his voice drops on that last word—like he’s testing the water.

you could say something flirty here..something coy. but instead—

“do you want to get a drink sometime?” you blurt, then immediately feel heat crawl up your neck. “i mean, just, if you’re free..and want to.”

joel doesn’t blink, he just stares for a second at you; you could tell he was wondering if he heard you right.

“yes,” he says, so fast. “yes, i would love to.”

it was now saturday night at 7:00pm, and you were second-guessing all off it, thinking that you should've canceled.

you tell yourself it’s because of the cold—there’s a chill in the air but not threatening enough to cancel. it’s because you haven’t dated since coming to jackson.

but you show up to the bar anyway. it’s small, just off the main road. the smokey firewood smell clings to the ceiling beams, and old pre-fall songs hum low through restaurant speakers. joel was already there when you walked in, sitting at a corner table, hands curled around a glass of brown.

he stands when he sees you. such a gentleman.

“you came,” he says, and he looks so sincere about it your chest hurts.

“of course i did,” you say, sliding into the seat across from him.

he orders you a drink, and for the first few minutes it’s causal talk: ellie, school, the town, then it starts to slip into something else.

“you always this quiet?” you ask, teasing.

he raises a brow. “you always this bold?”

“bold? please...you should see me on parent-teacher night. i’m a badass.”

he chuckles and it’s soft and full of sweetness. it makes his whole face change. you sip your drink and watch the way his eyes crinkle when he smiles.

“what about you?” you ask. “always this broody?”

joel leans back, one arm slung over the back of the booth. “only when i’m tryin’ to impress someone.”

“you think it's working?”

his eyes flick down to your mouth, then back up.

“yeah,” he says. “think it is.”

later, when the drinks are gone and the once big fire is now burning low, he walks you home. the streets are too quiet while snow comes down in soft flakes. his hand brushes yours once. then again, finally on the third, you just take it.

your fingers tangle easily, like they’ve been doing it forever. at your door, there’s a pause. his breath plumes in the cold. his eyes search yours, asking without words.

you don’t make him ask.

“you want to come in?”

“yeah,” he says again, that same voice, full and sure. “i’d love to.”

the door closes behind him, and it’s like the air shifts with warmth.

neither of you says anything for a second. his eyes are still on you, dark and lustful. you can feel the beat of your heart, too loud in your chest. his fingers twitch like he wants to touch you, but he's too hesitant.

so you take his hand again, lead him inside, past the coat hooks, into the living room. you turn to face him, suddenly unsure. “joel, i—”

he cuts you off by kissing you deeply. you open your mouth under his, and the kiss deepens even more. one of his hands cradles your face, the other grips your waist. he pulls you in as you moan into his mouth.

he groans low. “fuck,” he mutters against your lips. “you feel good.”

you thread your hands into his salt and pepper hair, dragging his mouth back to yours. you break for some air and he chases your mouth, kisses down your jaw, and your throat. his beard scrapes against your skin, making you wetter than before.

“bedroom,” you say.

he lifts his head, eyes blown wide. “you sure?”

“yes,” you breathe. “joel, yes, please.”

you don’t remember the walk to the room. it’s a complete blur, hands under shirts, skin on skin, maybe a bit of grinding.

he undresses you slow, like he’s afraid to rush it. and when he’s finally bare before you—he’s so large, scarred, and beautiful—you pull him down onto the bed.

“look at me,” you say.

he does as he slides into you, slowly and unhurried, one hand pressed to your cheek. the rhythm starts off slow. his breath catching on every thrust as your nails claw at his back. he kisses you and talks you through it. over and over.

“been thinkin’ about you,” he says, voice ragged. “since the first moment..couldn’t stop.”

“me too,” you whisper. “joel—don’t stop..please don’t stop.”

he fucks you so well and lovingly. God, you can't remember the last time you felt so good. and when you both cum, shaking and holding on to each other. you think to yourself, maybe jackson was a good move.

special tags: @inbred-eater , @wintfleur , @lowrisemiller

request: Hi I have another ask for Joel x reader ! if it’s not to much, kinda got inspired by the song ‘Nothing you can take from me’ - Rachel Zegler -The Hunger Games: The Ballad of the song birds & snakes. Reader being the singer of Jackson trying to bring comfort and a bigger sense of normalcy to the town. Joel sees reader performance and just thinks they’re the damnedest sweetest thing that he’s gotta have ;) Please make my visions come true HDJA ty in advance also soz for the double request <3 word count: 1,2k warnings: cursing!

it’s the third night this week you’ve been handed a mic and was told to “sing somethin’ pretty, sweetheart,” and tonight, you don’t mind it one bit. the bar’s got that soft golden glow around it—the kind that comes after a couple hard days working patrol, long sleeves rolled up, and good drinks already halfway downed before you’ve even picked your song. people here know you, know your voice, and most of the time, it’s just background noise.

but tonight you feel something new in the air. the little thrill when someone glances up from their glass. the warmth that rolls through your chest when a few heads sway, soft and slow, like they can’t help it.

and then—you see him.

he’s leaning against the wall near the bar, boots planted, arms crossed, like he’s still deciding whether or not this was a mistake. worn jeans, a flannel shirt, and pretty, solid, quiet eyes that linger too long but don’t look away when you meet them. he’s older. not in a bad way. just—a couple.. no, a lot years older than you, but that only makes you more attracted.

you don’t recognize him, which means he’s not a regular. and there aren’t many of those left.

you finish your song, and noticed that he’s still watching you. you pass off the mic, thank the bartender, and head toward the counter, a little grin already tugging at your mouth before your shoes even hit the floor. you slide up next to him like you do every night. your elbow brushes his, and he doesn’t pull away.

“haven’t seen you around here before,” you say, reaching for the glass the bartender’s already poured for you. “jackson’s not that big, y’know.”

he huffs something close to a laugh, and it’s so sexy. “guess that’s true.” he looks at you, direct now. “tommy finally wore me down.”

you raise your eyebrows, take a sip.“you’re tommy’s brother?”

he nods. “joel.”

“huh.” you lean your back against the bar, facing him now. “figured you’d be taller.”

he chuckles, this time for real, and it sounds like gravel and something rougher underneath. “you always this mouthy with strangers?”

“only the ones who stare at me for a full song and don’t clap.”

he looks down, like he’s been caught, and lifts one shoulder in a half-apology. “didn’t mean nothin’ by it. you were…real good.”

you tilt your head at him, grin a little. “that sounded like it hurt to say.”

“nah.” he shrugs. “just not used to talkin’ to people who aren’t tommy or my dog or my er—daughter ellie.”

you decide not to question the daughter part and tap your glass against his, a quiet little toast. “well...here’s to expanding your circle.”

he clinks it without hesitation, eyes not leaving yours.

for a while, it’s just back and forth questions. he asks how long you’ve been singing here, you tell him since the walls went up. he asks what kind of songs you like best, you say the sad ones, because it brings out a persons true emotion. just getting to know each other.

“you don’t talk much,” you say after a beat. “but somehow you say the right things.”

“didn’t realize there was a test.”

“you passin’ or failin’?”

“jury’s still out.” you grin into your glass.

the night stretches. neither of you leave the bar, even though the room gets quieter and the last few bartenders are wiping down tables. your legs were pressed to his now, knees brushing every time you shift. it’s so comfortable and electric. you don’t want the night to end, and you can tell he doesn’t either.

so when you stand, a little slow, finishing the last sip of your drink, you glance at him from under your lashes. “you walkin’ me home, joel?”

he sets his glass down, stands too. “was hopin’ you’d ask.”

the night’s crisp when you step out, the wind brushing your skin in cool little kisses. your shoulders touch as you walk. his hand hovers near yours but never quite closes the gap. you make it to your door too fast.

you turn toward him, lean against the frame. he’s standing close now, hands in his jacket pockets, eyes steady on yours. quiet, always. like he’s thinking a dozen things and only says the ones that matter.

“i liked talkin’ to you,” you say. soft. real.

“me too.”

you smile. can’t help it. “are you really gonna make me ask for it?”

he blinks, then takes a small step forward. he lifts one hand, brushes a knuckle along your cheek, gently like you might get startled. his eyes flick from your lips back to your eyes, looking at you like you're the sweetest thing this earth has ever been graced with. “can i kiss you?”

you breathe out, already leaning in. “if you don’t, i’m gonna have to sing about it tomorrow.”

he chuckles against your mouth, and then he’s kissing you, it's warm and sweet, the kind that makes you forget there’s a world outside this porch.

you don’t say anything when you pull away; you just smile, open the door, and let him follow you in.