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mermaidgirl30 · 4 months ago

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✨Fall Into the Dark With Me✨

Dark Arts Professor! Joel Miller x Herbology Professor Fem! reader

A/N: I have had this idea for the longest time to mix the two things I love the most together. I hope you love it as much as I do! Hogwarts AU with Joel Miller was the best idea I’ve had in a while. He is an absolute menace in this, and I love him very much 🥰 Thank you to @jennaispunk for beta reading!

Summary: You’ve had your eyes on the new Defense Against the Dark Arts Professor for a while. Just like he’s had his eyes on you. He’s a sly, sneaky, teasing Slytherin, and you’re a shy, meek Hufflepuff. Will your little flirting game suddenly lead to more once he gets you alone in a room?

Rating: Explicit 18+ MDNI

Word Count: 7.9k

Tags: Slytherin! Joel, Hufflepuff! reader, relentless teasing, flirting, pining, Joel is a menace, no use y/n, Hogwarts AU, Joel has a dirty mouth, oral (fem! receiving), unprotected piv, creampie, porn with plot, Harry Potter spells and references, no outbreak au, Dark Arts! Joel

Dividers by @saradika-graphics

August blew in as fast as the hot summer breeze slipped out of reach. No more cozy afternoons curled up on your plush couch with your cat. You were back to big green open lands, back to the scents of willow trees and butterbeer, back to Hogwarts. Home for the next school year.

The thing was, you weren’t prepared for what awaited you behind those grand castle walls this semester, not even a little bit. You weren’t prepared for him.

Joel Miller, the new Defense Against the Dark Arts professor, the absolute bane of your existence. Ever since you locked eyes with him that first time in the Great Hall, you couldn’t get those gorgeous brown irises out of your head.

He was a menace; you could just tell. You knew the moment you saw that smug smirk on his face, those tousled grey flecked curls you could lace your fingers through, that patchy salt-and-pepper beard that you imagined might feel so good trailing down the skin of your neck with plush lips teasing across your body.

It was the way he carried himself. Like he owned every single damn room he walked into. Button-up silky shirts that he rolled up to his elbows, exposing those long, corded veins that skated down his tanned forearms. But let’s not forget the emerald snake tattoo that slithered its way around his forearm, accentuating the tanned skin that glowed almost golden under the warm, sunlit skies. Marking his Slytherin blood with ink. And those hands. Big, thick fingers that he’d wrap around his dark brown dragon heartstring wand as he chanted spells inside his classroom. And the way his eyes always seemed to shift toward yours in a crowded room. Those dark brown coffee-colored eyes that seemed to put you under a hypnotic spell.

He was trouble. You knew it, too.

It all started that first day, after that first heated stare at the sorting ceremony. He couldn’t seem to keep his eyes off you for the entire night. He didn’t hide it either. And then it was the casual grazing of hands in crowded halls, the flirtatious smiles and winks across the dining hall, the small conversations in the outside gardens as he’d slip a green apple from his pocket and slowly take a bite out of it. His eyes never leaving yours as they devoured you. Just like you’d wish he’d do to your skin, your lips, your flustered core.

He knew what he was doing, he knew damn well.

It was just a flirtatious banter between a tall, handsome Slytherin and a shy, gentle Hufflepuff. One a Dark Arts professor, the other a Herbology professor. It was only casual conversations and the occasional grazing of hands. Until it wasn’t.

No. Then he started taunting you, playing petty games. The hard-to-get kind of games.

One of the assistant professors, Priscilla Wilson, would always try to get attention from Professor Miller. Finding any reason to reach over and brush her fingers over his broad shoulders. Flip her long, fiery red hair, bat her long eyelashes, giggle every time he gives in to her flirting and winks over at her, making her nearly fall out of her seat. And every single time he’d entertain her, he’d look your way and fucking smirk at you.

Fucking smirk.

Smug bastard. You just want to slap the stupid smirk off his face, but you also just really want to fucking kiss it off.

You’re so royally fucked.

He loves to tease you. Loves to put you right on the edge where you’ll either lash out and call him on his bluff, or just scoff and brush it off your shoulder like a Cornish Pixie.

He knows damn well it gets you all flustered. Cheeks red, hot breath blowing from your mouth, pursed lips as he smirks your way while other women fawn over him. Drool practically hanging from their gawking mouths. You can practically feel the pride he wears inside that broad chest of his. Brown eyes narrowed while he dares you to do anything about it. He knows you won’t. Knows you’re better than to give in to his little tricks. So you just take it and stomp out of the room. Every single time while his devious chuckle floats through the room, right into your ears.

Well, he’d gotten into your head long ago. You gave in to the temptation of his smoldering brown eyes, the playful smirks that curl across his plush lips, that fucking Southern accent that drives you up the walls when you’re in your bed late at night.

He’s poisoned you. Enchanted you with his cunning Slytherin ways. Handsome, ambitious, prideful, strong, mischievous, smoldering. That’s exactly why you slip your hand under the cool sheets night after night. Fingers curling up inside you, thumb stroking light circles over your needy clit, moaning his name, pretending that it’s him under your sheets taking you over the edge.

His hands, his fingers, his filthy words, his mouth, his cock, his everything giving you orgasm after orgasm. And when you’re finished, sweat coating every inch of your skin, you feel breathless and dirty.

This is what he wants. You all hot and bothered for him. Well, he won because you’re already completely smitten for the Slytherin man.

And one day, he’ll give in to you, too.

The cool air whips past your hair as students shuffle by in the busy hall, rushing so they won’t be late to their classes. Large, cascading open windows filter sunlight through the massive hallway, historical paintings fill the stone walls, towering archways pave every corner, wafts of autumn leaves and pumpkins marinate through the air.

Hogwarts is peaceful, and this place is magical.

As the last of the students disappear down corridors and hurry into classrooms, you’re suddenly alone in the hallway. No noise except for the classroom in front of you. But it’s not just any classroom.

It’s the Dark Arts classroom. Joel’s classroom.

You lean against the stony wall, wait until all the students quiet down. Eventually, Joel shuts them up and then there’s nothing but his deep, Southern drawl filling the room, filtering out just enough in the hall for you to sit and listen.

You do this often. More like every other day. Sitting outside his classroom, listening to his melodic voice teaching about his passion. He’s always had a love for the Dark Arts and now, so do you.

As you lean against the edge of the doorway, back against the stone-covered wall, you seem to get lost in the deep drawl of his voice like an enchanted siren. You could listen to him for hours on end. He’s good at what he does. Smart, cunning, brilliant.

And by brilliant, you mean he’s wiser than some of the ghosts that lurk these castle corridors. Some people even whisper that he can speak Parseltongue. And you don’t doubt it for one second. The man would open the Chamber of Secrets if someone would let him.

But Joel doesn’t need permission from anyone. He does what he wants, when he wants, and who he wants. You just wish that someone was you.

You sigh as you lean against the wall, panting every time he starts lecturing on different subjects about the Dark Arts. Today, he’s teaching about werewolves. And that is a subject you happen to find quite fascinating.

“Miss Flora, can you tell me how—.”

You shift your weight and lose your balance, almost tumbling to the polished floor until you grab ahold of the silver-edged door and stop yourself.

The classroom grows silent and so does Joel’s bravado voice.

Shit. You just got caught red handed.

“Think we’ve got a straggler out in the hall. Think they should come in. Don’t you, students?” You hear the smirk in his voice. Like he knows it’s you. But how would he know…

Oh, right. Because he’s the smartest fucking professor at this school.

When he clears his throat, you know you won’t be able to weasel your way out of this one. So, you take a hesitant step into the entrance of his classroom, and there he is. Big brown eyes narrowed just slightly and a smug smirk pulling at the corners of his mouth.

God, he’s so good looking.

“Ahh. Professor. Care to join us?” he asks, stepping around his mahogany desk, tapping the tip of his dragon heartstring wand against the top of his thigh.

That’s all it takes to have you weak in the knees. Because the way he’s looking at you tells you everything you need to know. He wants to pull your strings, make you shiver, make you pliable. And now’s the perfect opportunity where he can fluster you up without even fucking touching you.

Shit.

“Take a seat,” he says, nodding to an open seat at the back of the room.

You shake your head and take a step back, careful not to look straight into his brown eyes. “Oh, no. I shouldn’t interrupt. I was just—.”

“Sit. Down.” It’s not a question but a demand.

You purse your lips and take the empty seat while several of the students snicker and whisper to each other.

Great. Now you’re really blushing.

You take a look around the classroom while Joel continues his lesson, flicking his wand to turn to the next slide overhead. The room is dim, curtains drawn so only the floating candles and twinkling lights from hanging lamps fill the room. A dragon’s skeleton is displayed in the back of the room, his mahogany desk covered in neat papers, dark artifacts, and ink quills. Banners of the forbidden forest and creatures of the black lake are spread high across the elegant stone walls. A dusty chandelier with glittering crystals tops off the room, painting golden sparkles on the ceiling.

The room is very him. Dark, divine, mysterious, gorgeous. It even fucking smells like him. Cedar wood, mahogany, green apples, whiskey. The room has his trademark all over it.

You sit back against the wooden chair and watch the way he commands a room. The slight flick of his wand every time he paces back and forth, his rapt attention each time a student answers or asks a question, the way his thick fingers glide through his tousled curls, the way his gaze always seems to come back to you.

Werewolf facts slip from his tongue. Their history, their patterns, their targets. One of your favorite creatures to learn about. Especially when it’s coming from him and his deep, magnetic voice.

It’s like the room turns ten degrees hotter with every minute that passes. Sweat pricks behind the back of your neck, your thighs warm as you cross a leg over your knee, your black skirt of your dress hiking up a little too high, your heart thundering against your chest.

You’re a fucking mess because you’re watching him. Twitching, jittering, and shifting every other minute in your seat. He fucking loves to watch you squirm, too. You can see him smirking from the front of the classroom, and it’s all for you.

“Can anyone tell me what’s the cure for a werewolf bite?” he asks, pacing the room back and forth, eyeing each student with a patient glance.

His footsteps echo around the cascading room, his hands behind his back, a slight tick in his jaw when no one answers.

“There’s a cure?” one of the students questions, heads whipping around to face the baffled third year with confusion written all over her innocent face.

“Yes,” Joel says with a clipped tone. “C’mon. Think. What two things can cure a werewolf bite?”

Nothing. Not even a peep comes from the copious amount of students in the room. Just eyes to the ground and awkward shifting in their seats. None of them know.

“Collin?” Joel asks, standing in front of the blonde boy’s chair. His scared blue eyes give away that he’s intimidated and doesn’t know the answer.

“Umm. I—ugh. Gillyweed?” he guesses, lifting his hopeful eyes when he thinks he may be right.

“No,” Joel snaps. “Gillyweed allows you to breathe underwater. It does not cure a werewolf bite. Maybe read the text next time before class and then you’d know.” Joel narrows his eyes at Collin, and the scared third year looks down in shame.

God. He really intimidates everyone. Doesn’t he?

“Think. What. Cures. The. Bite.” He accentuates every syllable, draws it out with a deep growl, narrows his eyes into thin slits when nobody can answer. He looks like he’s about to snap with how tight he’s holding his wand. But before he does, you decide to answer.

“Silver and dittany,” you respond, and then the students turn with wide eyes. Right in your direction. You slide down in your chair just a little to alleviate the embarrassment of all eyes on you.

Joel turns to you and smirks, his eyes turning darker with every second that ticks by. It’s like he’s staring right through your soul, sucking it out until every single bit belongs to him.

“Clever girl,” he whispers. Just loud enough for you to hear because it was meant directly for you, not the class. His eyes flash onyx as he stares your way, heat rising in your cheeks. But in the next second, his eyes are elsewhere.

“Could learn a thing or two if you paid attention to your professor in Herbology,” he growls, the closed windows rumbling as his deep voice booms through the large corridor. It’s enough to make goosebumps prickle down the length of your arms.

The students shake and quiver in their seats, eyes casted down to the dark material of the floor. And in the next five minutes, Joel’s dismissing them.

“Remember, read chapters ten through twelve before the end of the week. And for the love of Salazar, pay attention in your classes. All of them. Class dismissed,” he clips, teeth bared and jaw clenched.

The students hurry and filter out of the classroom, black robes flying as they scurry off out of the wrath of Professor Miller.

As you get up to make your way out to the hall, he stops you. “Not you.” His deep voice sends shivers down your spine.

You freeze, just a few feet from the doorway. And then he takes his wand and shuts the heavy doors with a bang that makes you jump from the sound.

Alone. You’re alone with him. In his classroom, on his free hour. And suddenly, the room is stifling.

“So. You like to listen in on my lessons now, don’t ya?” he asks, crossing his strong arms over his broad chest, large biceps clinging to the white button-up shirt, his green striped tie loose around his neck.

“I—uhh.” You’re all of a sudden completely speechless as he stands in front of you, his woodsy scent making you dizzy with need.

“You don’t gotta play coy, sweetheart. Know you sit out there listenin’ all the time,” he smiles, flashing his white teeth and making you blush at the name sweetheart.

His Southern drawl always made you a little worked up.

“Why didn’t you say anything then if you knew?” you ask, eyebrows threaded together, lips pursed tight.

“Figured I’d jus’ let ya indulge. If you know what I mean,” he smirks, giving you a seductive wink that sends heat to your cheeks.

He’s always so fucking cunning. Quick comebacks that could send you down to your knees. Maybe that’s what he wants.

“You’re unbelievable. You know that?” you spit, hands on your hips, waiting for him to say something smart back.

“Am I?” He quirks a brow, steps closer where you can practically taste his strong cologne. And that’s it. You’re so done for.

“Yes.” You stand your ground firm. Eyes icy as you look at his fiery ones.

Jesus. The man could burn this entire castle down with one stare.

“How so?” he asks curiously, eyeing you with heightened interest.

“Why don’t you ask Priscilla? You know, since she’s always hanging around you.” You roll your eyes, shake your head, and throw your hair behind your shoulders with a glare. Like that’ll show him you mean business.

“Don’t do that,” he says quietly, brown eyes trained on you.

“Don’t do what?” you ask, anger boiling on the back of your tongue.

“Stop bein’ fuckin’ jealous,” he growls, his large hands hovering over yours, heat simmering between the small space between the two of you. Just like a sweltering sauna. You can practically feel the flames licking at your skin. All over you.

“Then stop flirting with her right in front of me,” you glower, eyes narrowed and teeth bared. He just laughs at you like you just said the funniest joke in the world. He can’t be fucking serious.

“You know I only do it to get a rise out of you,” he smiles, painting your cheeks crimson at how smitten you feel when you see that deep dimple appear in the corner of his left cheek when he’s smiling. But nevertheless, he’s not getting off that easy. Not today, at least.

“Oh, don’t I fucking know,” you scoff, your heel digging into the hard surface of the floor. Showing just how much he’s getting under your skin.

“You know, you’re pretty adorable when you’re all flustered. You know that?” He brushes the back of his palm against your jawline, barely touching you but setting you completely on fire.

You bat his hand away, fix him with a tight-lipped scowl. “Flustered? That’s why you torture me day after day?”

He nods his head and smirks, letting his big ego fly around the room like a barn owl. “Mhm. Like you all worked up. Probably makes you all hot and bothered, doesn't it? Bet you touch yourself at night jus’ thinkin’ of me.” And there’s that damn smirk. The one that’s got your stomach all tied in knots.

“You’re such an asshole,” you scoff as you push at his broad chest, but he barely moves an inch. He’s like a thick brick wall that you just can’t seem to penetrate. No matter what you do.

“You fuckin’ love it, though,” he challenges, brown eyes turning into dreamy bedroom eyes.

No, you’re not doing this. You’re not playing his game.

“No. And I’m leaving.” You turn with the flip of your hair, stomping your way up the row of empty desks. And when your hand wraps around the gold-threaded doorknob, you feel the faint buzz of power permeate around your body.

“The hell you are,” he growls. “Accio!”

It feels like an invisible string wraps around your entire body, and suddenly you’re being pulled back by a sharp tug. Your body whisks through the air, and you have no power to stop the force.

He snakes his arms around your waist, tugging you against his broad chest, catching you before you go flying into his lavish desk. You gasp, the air knocked from your lungs as his warm breath fans over your lips. Green apples and whiskey serenade your senses, and suddenly you’re a ragdoll in his arms. There at his beck and call, whatever he needs. You’re done for.

“That’s cheating,” you whisper, voice barely audibly as your throat closes up the closer he brings you against his large body.

“It ain’t cheatin’. It’s called magic, sweetheart,” he winks, making an exaggerated groan pull from your lips.

He’s always so smooth. Like a cold glass of neat whiskey that runs straight to your stomach, ending in your core.

“What are you doing, Joel?” you sigh, giving up the fight. You stop shoving against him and relax, your body still against his.

“Givin’ in,” he smiles, wrapping his arms tighter around your waist, one hand hovering against your lower back. Right at the end of the zipper of your dress.

“Like you gave into Priscilla?” you spit out, narrowed eyes trained right on him. You’d love to give him a taste of his own medicine one of these days. Drive him crazy like he drives you mad every single fucking day.

“Now hold on there,” he says with a pause, sliding one of his hands up to your wrist, holding it tight against his chest. “I never even laid a finger on Priscilla.”

Your jaw drops, and you wag a finger at him. “You sure about that? Because she has a pretty loud mouth.”

“She ain’t the one I want, sweetheart. And you should know that.” He fixes you with a deep stare. His eyes look like glowing, syrupy orbs. You’re pretty sure you want to get lost in them. Let them drag you down into their dark depths where you’ll never see daylight again.

“Oh? And who is it that you want?” you whisper, voice suddenly shaky and nervous.

When he nods down toward you, you nearly crumble at his feet. “The only woman I wanna be touchin’ is the pretty Hufflepuff that’s all flustered in my arms.” His smile makes you lose your balance, but he just holds you tighter. Fingers curling against the soft cotton of your dress, burning your skin even from the layers that cover you.

He might as well cast Incendio on you. You’re already burning.

“You’re such a tease,” you giggle, pushing him playfully in the chest, letting the soft fabric of his shirt cling to your skin.

“That I am,” he chuckles, making you nearly hyperventilate at his cocky demeanor. He knows he’s slick; you’ll give him that.

“I need to get to class,” you sigh, trying to break free of his grip, but he only holds you tighter. No escaping him.

“No, you don’t. You don’t have class for another hour. And neither do I.”

The sudden realization hits you like an oncoming train. He’s got you trapped in his web, ready to sink his teeth in you at any second.

The dim lights seem to darken even more as the thick tension blows through the classroom. Silence takes over, and you’re left with nothing but your racing heartbeat and his shallow breath. Warmth pools through your core as you watch those smoldering brown eyes light your skin on fire.

You’re wrecked.

“Well, I just—.” You try to take a step back, but then his hands run down your arms slowly, goosebumps taking hold in every single place he leaves his mark.

“Why don’t you jus’ relax here for a bit? Can think of somethin’ to unwind that pretty mind of yours.”

He starts slowly circling you. Calloused fingers running over your back. Warm breath blowing down the base of your neck. Lips brushing against the shell of your ear, causing you to gasp at the contact.

“I don’t think so, Joel. I—.” You stop talking the moment he moves your hair across your right shoulder. His lips drag down the side of your neck, barely grazing but enough to make warmth flood through your lace.

“C’mon now. Know you want this. Know you want my touch.” He takes a hand and moves it around the front of your waist. “My fingers.” He brushes his hand lightly down your leg, dangerously close to your inner thigh. “My lips.” He molds his mouth around your collarbone and sucks, eliciting a moan from your lips.

“Oh. That’s… oh.” He nips at your shoulder, pulling your sleeve down just enough to make contact with your skin. And fuck, it feels good.

You want to run, say no, give him hell for the hell he’s given you. But you’re a moth drawn to the flame. And you have no will to say no to him.

“Give in, sweetheart. Give in to the dark side. Know you want to,” he whispers in the shell of your ear, leaving you breathless as the sweet incantations put a spell on you.

“I uhh—yes…” you lull as he turns you around and pushes you back into the front of his desk. His large stature towering over you. Hands on either side of the desk, caging you into him.

“Say it. Say you want this. That you want me.” His mouth hovers over yours, blows hot air where you can basically taste the whiskey that encompasses his tongue. And you feel it then. That thick bulge against your thigh. Letting you know just how hard he is for you. And fuck, you think you might pass out from how stifling the room is now.

“I—.” He slowly cups the back of your thighs and lifts you up, right on the edge of his mahogany desk, legs dangling from the position. He takes his wand and starts spreading your legs until he’s standing between them, one hand skimming over the top of your shaking thigh. Then he throws his wand to the side of the desk, uses his hands to undress you. Starting with your skirt. He lifts it slowly over your hips, leaving you with your white lace panties exposed to the cool air, completely soaked through.

He rakes a hand heavily down his mouth, eyes wide as he stares at the mess you’ve made. “Look at you. Fuckin’ soakin’ for me, sweetheart. This all for me?” he asks, his thumb brushing over your wet center, pressing against your slick-clothed folds.

“Yes,” you whine as he slowly unzips the back, pushing the dress down until it’s a messy pile on the floor. He unclasps the matching lace bra, throwing that to the side, leaving your perky breasts on full display for him to indulge in.

He licks his bottom lip seductively slow, practically drooling as he takes in the sight of you all sprawled out and bare for him. He’s never seen anything more beautiful in his life than the vision of you open and ready for him.

His mouth drags down your throat, down your chest until his lips suctions to your breasts, tongue flicking the pebbled nipples, eliciting more slick in your lace panties.

“Say you want this, sweetheart. Say you want me,” he breathes, slowly dropping to his knees like he’s worshiping a goddess, hands roaming up your inner thighs, teasing you relentlessly. He slips under your lace, one finger brushing over your clit. You’re a writhing mess beneath him at this point.

“Oh, fuck. Yes. Want you. Need you, Professor Miller,” you mewl, bucking your hips up to get the friction you so desperately need.

“Good girl,” he praises, slowly dragging your ruined lace to the floor, leaving you open and bare and dripping for him.

“Fuck,” he curses, raking a hand down his scruff, eyes lust-blown as he takes you in nice and slow. He’s mesmerized by the beauty before him, and he’s memorizing every single detail about your glistening body. He thinks you’re a fucking angel. All pliant and ready for him. He’ll have you screaming his name in no time.

From the carnal, possessive way he’s looking at you, you’re pretty sure he’ll save this memory for another time. Bottle it up so he can go back and watch it over and over again, until he sees nothing but you with every waking breath he breathes.

He materializes in front of you, casting dark shadows all over the silhouette of the walls, tongue dragging up your inner thigh, his thumb teasing the outer edge of your drenched folds.

“Fuck, Joel,” you mewl, bucking your hips up in the hopes of his lips landing on your mound.

“Patience, baby. And call me Professor Miller. Love how it sounds falling off your pretty lips,” he chuckles, tongue barely scraping over your needy clit.

You suck in a breath and grab the crown of his head, locking your fingers in his soft hair. Tousled sandy locks and glittering greys catching the light of the twinkling lamps floating in the room. He looks like a masterpiece.

“Please, Professor Miller. Need you,” you beg, his hot breath fanning across your aching core. You’re burning for him.

“Yeah ya do. Dirty little Hufflepuff,” he chuckles, blowing a puff of warmth over your mound. Slick runs down your inner thighs, and his eyes blow into deep pools of black lust. “Think you might have a little Slytherin in you after all,” he smirks, gliding his thumb through your slick folds and eliciting a high-pitched whine from your mouth.

“Slyther—ohhh,” you groan as he licks a thick stripe up the entirety of your core.

Suddenly, the room is spinning, and you can’t find your balance. You’ll just fall off the edge as long as Joel catches you. You think he will.

“That’s right. Take it. Let the temptation consume you. Let me slither in and make you come undone,” he drawls out in a husky breath, making you moan at the sound of his deep timbre.

It’s like you’re cast under a deep spell. Pulling you under, consuming you in copious amounts of pleasure, starlight flashing as your eyes roll back with every flick of his tongue to your puffy clit.

He tugs you to the very edge of the smooth desk and wraps his arms tightly around your thighs, stretching you open as he ravishes and drowns in the slick of your core. His experienced tongue lapping at your folds. His lips suction around your mound as he pulls you into his warm mouth, sucking and groaning with every taste of you.

You drag your nails over the wooden desk, throwing your head back with every lick, every taste he gives you. And God, you feel like you’re flying. His mouth, his tongue, his dirty words, his whole entire aura make you want to lose control. He’s everything all at once, and you don’t know how you’ll ever get enough of him now.

He coaxes you on, filling your ears with delicious praises. “Atta fuckin’ girl. Yeah, you like that. Don’t you, filthy Hufflepuff?”

“Yeah…” you choke out, voice raspy as you delve into the feeling of his smooth tongue igniting a wildfire in your core.

“Don’t be shy then, sweetheart. Let me hear you,” he demands as he lets go of your puffy clit with a pop, his tongue generously lapping at your drenched folds.

“The door—we can’t…” you whine.

He lifts off his knees, hovers his body against yours, and starts to work you as he slides his middle and ring finger inside your dripping hole.

Oh, fuck.

“Door’s locked tight, sweetheart,” he smirks, lust-blown eyes locked on you, his lips brushing over yours.

“They’ll—ohh. They’ll hear us.” His free hand slides up your waist as his body leans against the desk, his mouth roaming up the crook of your neck.

“Nah, they won’t. Not when I placed a silencing charm on the room,” he chuckles as his tongue traces the slope of your ear, sending more slick down your thighs.

Of course he fucking did. You didn’t even hear him cast one. He’s just… that good.

“C’mon, messy Hufflepuff. Want you to come for me,” he drawls, his fingers tantalizing and penetrating as he works them nice and slow inside you, knuckles deep in your slick.

Fuck.

Squelching noises fill the room each time he works you over, searching for that one spot that’ll send you over the edge. But God, he found it. And now, he won’t fucking stop hitting that spongy wall that makes your legs shake and voice cry out in orgasmic pleasure.

“Joel, I’m…”

“Professor,” he whispers in your ear, his enchanting voice floating through your mind, pulling you over the edge.

“Professor—” you hum, your fingers pushing through the sandy hair at the base of his neck, mouth dropped as pleasure starts to rock through you uncontrollably.

“Yes?” he asks with a bite to his deep voice.

“I—I’m…”

His plush lips caress the shell of your ear, his teeth nipping at the delicate skin. “Come for me, pretty girl. Say my name. Tell me who makes you feel good,” he whispers deliciously slow, his melodic voice making you fall apart. “Let go. C’mon, baby. Do it for me.”

One more curl of his fingers and you’re coming undone. You clench around his thick fingers and let yourself spill for him, covering his knuckles in your slick while you moan his name. “Professor Miller!” It falls off your tongue and rings around the room, echoing back as you lose all control.

“That’s my good girl,” he praises as he takes you over the edge, slowly working his fingers up and down, letting you ride out your orgasm as tidal waves collide in your body.

When the room stops spinning and your vision isn’t blurry anymore, you sit back and stare at him in awe. He’s got the biggest shit-eating grin on his face, obviously proud he made you just cum on his fingers. He’s waited so long to do it. All while teasing and tormenting you so he could make it that much better for you.

You should hate him, but you don’t. Oh no. You think you’re addicted to him now.

“That feel good?” he asks. His palm sliding over your thigh, thumb massaging slow circles into the crease of your skin. It feels… good — calming.

He feels good.

“Yeah. That was—nice,” you finish, eyes peeking up at him through your eyelashes. His eyes are nearly dazzling under the dim lights. Almost like there’s stars soaring through those gold-flecked irises.

You stare at each other for a minute, sitting in comfortable silence. And in the next moment, without thinking, you’re grabbing his emerald tie and pulling it toward you. Heat rises in the air as your fingertips scratch down his patchy scruff, indulging in his woodsy cologne. Your lips graze just slightly against his, and flames erupt in his eyes.

“Haven’t had enough?” he teases as he pulls your hair softly, lifting your face up to his. His lips brush softly against yours, and it’s like everything seems right in the world.

Your breath comes out hot and uneven as you stir beneath him, one arm snaking around the back of his neck. You haven’t tasted him yet, and you’ll be damned if you don’t take this chance.

You lift your chin just a smidge higher until you’re practically magnetized to him. “No, Professor Miller. Haven’t had enough yet,” you mewl out, your head dizzy and disoriented.

He cups the back of your head and smiles, that devilish smirk curling against his mouth. “Then let me show you jus’ how good a Slytherin can make a Hufflepuff feel.”

He pulls your lips to his and kisses you fiercely, passion consuming you whole. You kiss him back just as desperate, needing to be as close to him as possible. When you open your mouth and invite him in, whiskey and green apples envelop your tastebuds. And you swear you’ve never tasted a better combination.

As he pushes you down against his desk, papers fly off in scatters, glass crashes to the ground. Never mind that, he doesn’t even seem the least bit bothered. Right now, all he’s focused on is you.

He crawls over you, crowding you with his broad body, his hands roaming up and down your bare skin as if he wants to crawl inside himself, claim you as his own.

You frantically pull at his buttons while he helps you unfasten them, quickly throwing his shirt off and tossing it to the side. Dark hair splatters his tanned chest, his happy trail disappearing beneath his black slacks. And God, he’s as hard as a rock underneath. You can see the massive outline of him.

He rocks his hips against yours, tongues tangling together as you drink each other down. You could get drunk on the sweet taste of him. You’re pretty sure he’s better than any butter beer you’ve ever tasted.

Your body hums with desire, tension coiling in your stomach. You want him, need him like you need air to breathe. You want to feel him inside you. Grinding and thrusting until you combust around him. Until you feel his seed drip down your thighs. You’ve never wanted it this bad with anyone. But with Joel? You’ve never wanted anything more in your life.

“Professor Miller, please,” you beg as you palm him through his slacks, an audible groan getting lost in between kisses.

“Tell me what you want, sweetheart. Wanna hear it,” he slurs as he nips at your lower lip.

You find his top button and snap it open, finding his zipper next as you drag it down slowly. “Want you inside me, Professor,” you whisper provocatively, leaving your shyness behind just for the moment.

He winces as you reach in and start to work his massive cock up and down, spreading precum down his shaft. A quiet groan slips out of his mouth, and it’s the hottest thing you’ve ever heard in your life. “Fuck me. This little filthy Hufflepuff wants it bad, don’t she?” he grins, eyes dancing like moonlit stars.

He’s so fucking pretty.

“Mmm. Yes. Please. I need it. Need you,” you beg.

He shoves your hand out of the way and pins it above your head, shoving his slacks and boxers down until he’s completely naked above you.

You gawk at how massive he is. Thick, beautiful, long. Precum beads his swollen red tip. Large veins spiral like vines on the underside of his cock. He’s so big; you don’t know how he’ll fit. But you know he’ll make it fit. Stretch you until you can’t take anymore.

He’s going to absolutely ruin you, and you’ll let him. You want him to destroy you.

He lines the angry tip up with your sex, stroking it up and down along your folds, gathering your slick on his cock as you purr at the feeling. If this feels good then being inside you might end you.

“Don’t worry, sweetheart. Gonna take real good care of this pretty Hufflepuff pussy,” he smirks darkly, eyes as black as coal.

He teases you slowly, dragging the tip through your folds. And when you’re about to beg for more, he thrusts deep inside with a low growl.

Your mouth drops open in awe as he stretches you to the max, working his thick length inside you over and over again until you start seeing stars in your vision. He’s so fucking big it feels like he’s splitting you in two; his pleasure driving yours to the finish line.

“Professor,” you moan as he thrusts deeper, kissing the back of your cervix. His large hands push your legs back against the wood of the desk, in a twisted pretzel shape. And when he snaps his hips again, you let out a guttural moan that doesn’t even sound like your lilty voice.

“That’s it. Let me hear you. Look so pretty with my cock deep inside you,” he chuckles as he drills into you as deep as he can, digging his way to your release.

“I—I…” Your voice fades off into a garbled mess as he fucks you relentlessly, speeding up his thrusts until the desk is shaking beneath you.

The squelching noises of his cock sliding in and out of your slick and the deep, gruff groans coming out of his mouth are almost barbaric. He’s completely wrecked just as you are. Two souls enchanted to run away in the darkness. Get lost in the indescribable pleasure of each other.

You feel yourself nearing another climax as he licks his tongue inside your mouth, meeting yours in a dance you can’t stop. He swallows your moans with each snap of his hips, his fingers toying with your overstimulated clit until you’re gasping for breath underneath him.

He disconnects from your lips and stares at you with pitch black eyes, ready to consume all of you. “That’s it. That’s a good fuckin’ girl. Come on my cock. Let me feel you,” he whispers against the shell of your ear. And the sound of that deep, melodic tone makes you want to spill right then.

“I—Professor Miller. I’m gonna…”

He drags his tongue along the edge of your ear and leans in close, his voice like silk. “C’mon, beautiful. Let go. Trust me. Feel me. Squeeze me. Show me how much I make you feel good. My pretty little Hufflepuff. My girl…”

That right there sends you over. One more press of his thumb to your clit and you’re falling off the edge. It’s like a choir of angels surrounds the dark ceiling, your ears ringing as you cry his name at the top of your lungs. You can’t think, can’t speak. You can only writhe beneath him as you come back down to earth while he calls you a good girl over and over again. He could say it a hundred times, and you’d never tire of it.

“Fuck. That’s my good girl,” he praises, fucking into you harder. His breath ragged and untame. His curls stick to his sweat-coated forehead, his black eyes widen, and you feel him start to fall apart.

“I’m not gonna fuckin’ last much longer, sweetheart. Where do you want me?” he asks breathlessly.

“Inside me, Professor Miller,” you beg. At the sound of his name, he throws his head back and groans loudly as he spills his warm seed inside you. Painting your walls white with the Slytherin essence of him. Claiming you as his own.

He falls on his back against the side of the desk and pulls you tight against his chest. And then the two of you just breathe each other’s air until one of you is strong enough to push up from the dark mahogany desk. You’re the first one to move.

You quickly throw on your dress and cast a charm to freshen up. You don’t need your students knowing what you and the Defense Against the Dark Arts Professor have been up to.

Just as you start to smooth your hair out, you feel Joel brushing up against your back. His woodsy scent slithering its way down your spine, encapsulating your entire being as you start to fall into a deep trance again. You lean back and let him wrap his strong arms around your waist, his tempting lips kissing their way down the column of your neck.

“What are you doin’ later tonight?” he whispers smoothly, lingering his lips over your smooth skin. You feel his smoldering brown eyes piercing right through you, starting a fire deep in your core.

If he doesn’t stop, you’ll end up right back where you were just seconds ago. On your back with Joel fucking Miller hovering over your body. Pulling you apart thread by thread. And you’d let him. God, you’d burn down this entire room and let him fuck you through the flames that licked at your skin. You’d burn for him.

“Was going to lesson plan and maybe read a book,” you gulp as he spins you around, your speech suddenly slurring as he tempts you with dark eyes. Eyes that’ll swallow you whole.

“Well, how ‘bout you lesson plan from my bed?” He quirks up a thick brow and plants a smug grin on his plush lips. Lips that taste like firewhisky.

“I don’t think I could get anything done there,” you laugh, a crimson blush staining your cheeks.

“Not lesson plannin’, no. Maybe we could open the Chamber of Secrets. Get you moanin’ and speakin’ in tongues before the night is through,” he smirks devilishly, licking his bottom lip enticingly slow.

God, he’s such a tease.

“You’re a bad, wicked man, Professor Miller.” You shake your head and fold your arms over your chest, taking a step back until he wraps a big hand around your wrist and pulls you back into his broad chest.

“Don’t you forget it, baby,” he chuckles, fanning his hot breath over your lips. Drawing you in like a moth to a flame.

“You’re going to make me late for my next class,” you sigh, letting him gather you in his arms as his warmth consumes you.

“Then be late…” he whispers, brushing his lips over yours. Damn him and his plush, tempting lips. He tastes better than any sweet treat you’ve had in Hogsmeade.

“You’re a bad influence on me,” you tsk, throwing your arms around his neck. Screw it. You’re already hooked on him. Might as well just give in to his lustful temptations.

“Tryin’ to be,” he chuckles as he brushes a lock of hair behind the shell of your ear, lingering the back of his hand against your jawline. The tension suddenly thick around the dimly lit room once again. But really, it never left in the first place.

You graze your lips against his and give him a lasting kiss, fingers tangled in the messy curls you so desperately love to lace your fingers through. It feels like velvet as the silvery strands comb through your fingers.

You disconnect from his mouth and smile sweetly up at him, pushing off his strong chest. “Okay, handsome. I gotta go.”

“See you tonight, pretty Hufflepuff.” He lingers his calloused fingers around your wrist and holds you there, just so he can memorize what you look like under the moonlit lamps of his classroom. He thinks you’re absolutely stunning.

“Pretty, huh?” You give him a shy smile and feel your cheeks growing bright red.

He nods, brown eyes alight with wonder. “Baby, you’re the most gorgeous creature I’ve ever laid eyes on.”

Oh.

“You’re not so bad looking yourself, handsome,” you smile as he brings your hand up to his lips, placing a swift kiss to the top of your knuckles. And there you go blushing again like a schoolgirl with a crush.

“Careful now. Start talkin’ like that, and I’ll jus’ have to make you mine,” he warns with a smirk, the crow’s feet making his eyes sparkle like onyx crystals as starlight dances across his pretty eyes.

“So make me yours…” you whisper, hand dropping to your side.

He chuckles and shakes his head, back of his hand skimming down your blush-coated cheek. “You’re already mine, beautiful girl.”

“Yours…” you repeat in awe.

“Mmm. Mine.” He lets you backup a couple steps, reluctant to let you go just yet. “See ya tonight, baby.”

As you pace back to the door and hover your hand over the golden handle, you turn back to him and smile. “Try not to think about me too much until then, Professor Miller.”

He rakes a hand slowly through his tousled curls, adjusting his loose tie around his neck. “Oh, babygirl. That’s the only thing that’s gonna be on my mind till I see you.”

His brown flecked eyes hold yours for just a few seconds and then you turn and walk out of the room, leaving behind the troublemaker that’s got your heart racing a million miles an hour.

You’re thoroughly, completely enraptured with Professor Miller. And you fear you won’t be able to get enough of him.

As you walk down the now stirring hallway, dodging chatty students, you think of those captivating dark eyes. Those smoldering, beautiful eyes. Just a few more hours until you’re in his arms again, until he’s making you come undone all over again.

You’d let him unravel you. Make you his with every touch, every kiss, every breath. You never expected to fall for a Slytherin but here you were. Tripping and stumbling to get one more taste of him.

You’d never get enough. This Hufflepuff belonged to a Slytherin now. Professor Miller. The bad boy who got the good girl.

He was your Amortentia, and you were his.

#Joel miller #joel miller x you #joel miller x reader #joel miller fanfiction #hogwarts au #joel miller fic #joel miller smut #joel x female reader #pedro pascal #joel the last of us #harry potter #harry potter au #dark arts #Professor! Joel #slytherin #hufflepuff

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jawad111 · 10 days ago

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A critical emergency!!!

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alyssamariag · 3 months ago

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Pedrotober 2024 Day 1/31, Mr. Fantastic!

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absurdthirst · 1 month ago

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The Graduate {Professor!Pero Tovar x F!Reader}

Ratings: Explicit

Word Count: 15.9k

Warnings: Insults, rough sex, hate fucking, verbal sparring, power imbalance, age gap (everyone is legal), squirting, fingering, vaginal sex, oral sex (male receiving), slight exhibitionism, threat of being discovered, hurt feelings, angst

Comments: From the very first day in his class, you manage to piss Professor Tovar off. Thinking him antiquated as the history class he teaches. Verbally sparring with him until things turn physical in his office, you start hate fucking your professor every chance you get.

Co-written with @storiesofthefandomlovers

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|| MasterList || Pero Tovar MasterList ||

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

The moment that he saw you in his class, Pero Tovar knew you would be a pain in his ass. You’re obviously older, not the fresh faced idiots that he is used to teaching, there is almost a defiant glint in your eyes. “You have the wrong lecture hall.” He grunts. “This is the introduction to ancient civilizations.”

You frown, confused that the professor would assume you’re not in the right class. You hold up your phone with your schedule to show him that you are indeed in the right place. “Says I’m in the right room on here.” You point to the screen and he narrows his eyes, fumbling to put the glasses that are in his pocket onto his nose so he can make sure you’re right.

“You look too old to be in here.” He hums and you scoff, “with respect, professor, it looks like you could have lived in one of the ancient civilisations you’re teaching about but I’m not rude enough to comment. I’ll take my seat.” You lower your phone and spin on your heel to take your seat in the front row.

Pero growls, not used to being challenged like this by his students and he doesn’t like the way his eyes drop to your ass for a brief second. Finding it to be a nice one before he whirls around and slaps his palm against the chalkboard. He had been asked to replace the board with the one that uses dry erase markers, but he refused. He hated the damn things. “This class will not be easy to pass.” He announces. “You don’t do the reading, you don’t pass. You don’t attend the lectures, you don’t pass.” He turns around the class. “Don’t pass, see if I care. I get paid whether or not you fail and waste your parent’s money.” It’s a practiced speech, repeated every new semester. “The books I require are available in the campus bookstore, but buy that shit from Amazon. It’s cheaper.”

You want to roll your eyes at his heavy handed threat of failure. Some professors like to bully in the first month so people withdraw from the class. You take your laptop out and he turns around to look at you just as you open it. “Pen and paper is preferred. You remember more if you write it down instead of typing it out.” He says, raising his eyebrows at you before he turns back to the board.

You don’t close the laptop, but you do call him an asshole under your breath. A few of the other students hear you and giggle. Making Pero pause again and turn around to glare at you before beginning to speak again. Making you roll your eyes as he starts outlining the course syllabus and telling everyone to take note of his office hours. “Jesus Christ.” You snort, finding him to be boorish and it’s a miracle he’s stayed employed by the school. His demeanor is horrible.

Pero doesn’t pause for anyone’s benefit as he outlines his expectations and the syllabus. When he turns back after writing everything on the board, the class looks half confused and half bored. He chuckles under his breath, knowing that half the class will be gone before the end of the month. He has to maintain his reputation as one of the toughest classes to pass. You close your laptop and Pero removes his glasses, dismissing the class with a grunt and a wave of his hand. You gather your things and stand up, walking over to him. “Is there anything online for the syllabus?” You ask and Pero snorts, picking up a piece from his desk and handing it to you. He typed up the syllabus on his typewriter and Xeroxed it to get copies. “Here you go.” He smirks slightly and you huff, taking the paper. “Welcome to Introduction to Ancient Civilizations.” He declares and you snort, “more like welcome to 1985.” You wave the typed paper and stride past him, making your way to your next lecture where technology is appreciated.

Pero hates you already. Scoffing as he looks down at his syllabus, several other students skitter by him and grab a paper. He doesn’t need to have his work online, there’s a better way to do it. He huffs as he looks at the roster for the class. You are going to be a pain in his ass and he’s hoping you are one of the ones that drops out.

****

It’s not an easy class to pass, that’s for sure. Professor Tovar is ruthless, allowing only typed and printed essays, quizzes are done by hand. Notes taken by hand. Your poor hand is exhausted. You know you’re the oldest student in his class. The classic return to school to finish your degree after your divorce story. Tovar hands you your paper back and you frown when you see “C” on the form. “Uh, what is this?” You demand, pointing at the paper.

Pero glances down at your paper and then back up to you. “I thought you were smart enough to understand that is your grade.” He snarks and a few of the students around you shift and cough to cover up an embarrassed laugh. “For future reference, I will mark the score you receive on the top of your paper in red, like this.” His tone is dripping with condescension, his attitude towards you not improving in the least when you sass him and give him snark every chance you get. It’s a fucking shame you’re attractive.

“I know it’s my grade. I’m questioning why it’s not an ‘A’” You ask and he snorts, remembering your paper more than most. “You cited the incorrect sources.” He almost smirks and you chuckle, reaching into your bag to pull out the book you need to return to the library. “That’s funny because the source I used is a book written by you.” You point at the book and his name on the front cover.

Pero rolls his eyes and flips over the paper to the reference page. “All your sources are websites.” He points to the online addresses. “I don’t accept those.” He knows what you are trying to do and it pisses him off. “Next time, if you have a problem with your deserved grade, speak to me during office hours.” He growls.

You clench your jaw, knowing his office hours are after your next class. You shake your head when he continues walking down the row to hand out the papers. He is infuriating. Your essay was good. Excellent really. It hit all the key points and you know half the kids are using Chat GPT to write their shit nowadays. You huff and gather your things to head to your next class, not looking back at him when you leave his lecture hall. After your next lecture is finished, you head to his office to protest your grade. Knocking on the door, he calls out for you to enter, and you storm in, paper in hand. “I demand to know why this paper got me a ‘C’.”

“Because the paper is worth a ‘C’.” He quips, barely looking up and dismissing you with a glance. “Anything else? I have a lot of other papers to grade.” He doesn’t care for you and has no interest in debating your pointless position of deserving a higher grade. He shuffles to another paper and starts to read while you stand over him.

You narrow your eyes at him, “I do not understand why online sources can’t be used when they are citing your book. I didn’t cite the page but the website. All the other professors allow it because they live in the 21st century.” You seethe, pointing at the sources at the bottom of your essay.

Pero slaps the pen down onto the desk, his chair scraping the floor as he shoots to his feet. “Because I don’t have time to check one thousand websites to make sure the little brats aren’t cheating.” He growls. “Putting in the work to research proper sources is good for you. Do some work for once.”

You shake your head, “maybe if you used technology you would find it easier to see if your students are cheating. There are programs that check sources and wording. You’d know that if you didn’t live in the dark ages.” You roll your eyes at him, “I mean, you’re older than me but I didn’t realize you’re that old.”

His brows lower and he curls his lip. “Not too much older.” He sneers. “Shouldn’t you be looking into your retirement packages rather than hounding my classroom?” He shoots back. “You are a little past your prime, eh?”

You gasp, rearing back from him, and you feel your stomach twist. “I - you’re a fucking asshole.” You hiss, uncaring if you get a bad grade or he targets you. He needs to be told.

“And you are a stuck up, know it all, bitch.” Pero growls back, leaning forward and glaring at you. “You should do us both a favor and drop my class.”

You glare at him, stepping closer to him, his eyes burning into you, and you don’t know who moves first. When you think about it later, you’ll say he made the first move but it’s hard to figure it out when your lips crash with his.

Pero Tovar has prided himself on never being inappropriate with a student. He’s made them cry, he’s made them angry but he’s never kissed one. You….you, he devours. Trying to establish dominance over your willfulness through sheer force as his tongue slides against yours and he swallows a gasp. Spinning you around and pinning you against his desk, pressing his hardening body against yours.

You moan unconsciously into his mouth. Despite him being an asshole as a professor, he’s a sexy man and you can’t help but lust after him. Those broad shoulders, dark eyes, and the scar on his cheek have you thinking about him late at night. Okay, so sometimes it’s thinking about his demise but sometimes it’s about him wrecking you on his desk. You are ashamed to admit it to yourself. You whimper into his mouth, shifting up onto his desk, papers flying everywhere as you kiss him back just as eager and hungry.

His hands slide down to your ass, squeezing it as he pushes your thighs open to step between them. Hungry and unable to think of anything but fucking the attitude right out of you, he slides a hand under your skirt to dive beneath your panties.

You gasp into his mouth when his fingers press against your clit through your panties. His teeth are crashing against yours until you tangle your fingers in his hair, keeping his head still. His glasses knock against your nose so you reach up to take them off, tossing them onto his desk before pressing your lips back to his. A moan vibrates against his lips when his fingers rub your clit.

Your moans are pretty and he’s desperate to hear more of them. Effectively putting your normally smart mouth to better use as he makes you submit to him. One hand squeezes your breast as he rubs your clit, twisting his wrist to press his thumb to the bundle of nerves before he pulls them away and starts to rip his belt open.

You should push him away, tell him no, but this energy between you fizzles and has you wet for him. The raw need between you is like nothing you’ve experienced before. His thumb against your clit has your fingers digging into his shoulders while he pulls his cock out. There’s no questions about birth control, no words as he pulls your panties aside and lines up. You close your eyes and take every inch with a gasp as he pushes into you in one thrust.

Pero hisses out your name, low and almost spitting it as he drives into you. Jaw clenched and holding onto you tight while your walls pulse around him. He's broken every rule he's set for himself and the school's faith in him, but he can't think about that. Not when you are so tight and hot around him. "Pain in my ass." He growls, pulling back to start hammering into you roughly.

You know that anyone could walk in the door right now and see you like this but you don’t care. You cry out and he lets go of your hip to cover your mouth. You reach up to grip his wrist, keeping his hand on your mouth as he starts to fuck you in earnest. It’s so good. The way he stretches you out is slightly painful but this gives way to the conflicting emotions you’ve had. The hatred and anger you’ve felt towards him warring with your attraction to him. This is the explosion of those feelings and he seems to be on the same page as the desk sways beneath you.

It’s fast and harsh, your body taking every thrust and your pussy gripping around him like a vice. It’s intoxicating and he leans in to press his lips to yours again after pulling his hand away. Knowing he would rather keep you quiet with his tongue than his hand. Grunting into your mouth as he continues to work in and out of your tight cunt. He would deny ever thinking about you with his hand around his cock, but he would definitely be thinking about this the next time he jerks off.

You lift your thighs to wrap your legs around his hips, moaning into the kiss as your hands come up to tangle in his hair, pulling on the dark locks a little too hard. He hisses into your mouth and you smirk against his lips, loving his reaction. He’s infuriating and so sexy. A deadly combination. “Look at you, taking my cock like a good girl.” He coos against your jaw and your eyelashes flutter in bliss. “Fu-fuck you.” You choke out, walls gripping his cock as he pushes you closer to your orgasm.

“You are.” He grunts, his hips slapping against the desk painfully, but he doesn’t care. All he cares about is burying his cock inside you. “Fucking me like a needy little whore.” He chuckles. “Jumping your professor. Still won’t get you an ‘A’, no matter how tight your cunt is.”

You pull on his hair and he hisses again. “Don’t need you to increase my grade, just need you to - to do your fucking job.” You moan when he slides his hand down to rub your clit. “Yes. Just like that.” You pant, “and I - I didn’t jump you. You - you kissed me.” You defend yourself poorly, knowing you jumped at him with as much need. He’s been part of your nightly fantasies no matter how much you’d deny it.

Pero groans, too distracted by how you clench down around him to argue. You did jump him, desperate for his cock. So he’s going to make you cum, have you cream all over him and make your legs shake in pleasure. His fingers circle your clit in tight circles, keeping pace with the hard snaps of his hips. Groaning again as he feels your legs tighten around his hips. “Cum for me.” He demands.

You can’t deny him even if you tried. You gasp before you cry out, his mouth smothering his name as you clamp down on his cock. Your heels dig into his ass while you soak him and your hands slide down to his shoulders, trying to keep upright as he fucks you through your orgasm. “Oh God. Cu- cum for me. Safe.” You manage to choke out.

He pants, twitching violently inside you. Fingers digging into your hips as he holds you in place. Find the energy to increase his pace, barely keeping his hips from stuttering as he works himself closer. “Fuck.” He spits, biting his tongue to keep from rambling in Spanish as he is prone to do when he is fucking someone. He holds you tighter as his thrusts get sloppy. Grunting again as he pushes deep and paints your walls with hot spurts of his seed.

You keep your eyes open to watch him as he fills you up. His jaw clenched and his fingers digging into your hips. He looks feral and you fucking love it. He rocks himself through it, your cunt full of every drop of his cum, and you let him do it. “Holy shit.” You whisper, your senses returning as you realize what you just did. You fucked your professor.

Pero closes his eyes and sighs softly, pausing for a moment before he starts to pull out of you. Almost ashamed of what he’s done. He just fucked a student on his desk. He steps back and starts to quickly tucks his cock back into his pants.

You watch his demeanor change and you know it’s over so you pull your panties over the creamy mess he left between your thighs, shuffle off of his desk and tug your skirt back into place. “I- we shouldn’t have - we - shit.” You hiss, scrambling to grab your backpack from the floor.

Pero watches you go, frowning and feeling guilty when you rush out of his office. Sighing as he slowly moves to the door to close it behind you. He didn’t force you, but he can’t help but feel guilty.

****

When you arrive in his class the next day, you scurry to your seat, pulling out your notebook and you avoid looking at your professor as he writes on the board. His back muscles move under the thin white button down and you remember how they felt under your hands while he was inside of you. You stare at him until he spins around and you avert your eyes to the linoleum floor.

Pero glowers when you won’t even look at him. It makes him feel even worse about the fact that he had jerked off this morning thinking about how you had felt. He barks out the chapters he wants everyone to study and sits behind his desk, sulking.

You study the chapters he writes down, a sigh escaping your lips at the scowl on his face. You know you need to speak to him after class to address the elephant in the room. You can hardly concentrate on reading the pages in front of you, your eyes flicking up to look at Tovar every few seconds until he takes mercy on you and dismisses the class. You take your time, slowly putting your things away until everyone has left, and you approach him. "Do you, uh, want to discuss what happened yesterday?" You ask, glancing over your shoulder until you look at him again.

Pero clenches his jaw, stopping himself from being a sarcastic asshole. “We should.” He admits, wanting to hear from you that you regret it. He doesn’t, because he had felt a little softer towards you until you had avoided his gaze in the class today. “You go first.” He walks over to the door to shut it, leaving you alone in the lecture hall with no chance of someone overhearing.

You clear your throat and stand a little taller, refusing to crumble under his dark stare as he turns back towards you. “First of all, yesterday doesn’t change the fact that I think you’re a prick but - but I don’t regret it. I had a good time and I- I wouldn’t mind it happening again but only if - who am I kidding? You’re gonna say no.” You scoff, closing your eyes for a second as you remember why you’re back in school.

“You’re still a bitch, but I would fuck you again.” Pero snorts, almost relieved by your confession. “But we cannot do it in my office again.” He tells you. “Someone could have walked in and there would be trouble.” He tilts his head when you open your eyes, moth ajar in shock. “Perhaps your snotty attitude would improve with a regular orgasm.”

You huff and roll your eyes before you drag your gaze down his body, wondering what he looks like out of the smart trousers and button down shirt. "You want to come to my place?" You ask, "or I can come to yours?"

There’s a small smirk on his face as he appraises you. “I will come to your house.” He decides. “Make you feel better after you kick me out.” He snorts, knowing that after he makes you cum, you will send him on his way. “Such a shame such a nice ass is attached to a sour mouth.”

You scoff, "and such a nice dick is attached to, well, a dick." His chuckle makes your stomach twist and you hate how you want him even now. You walk over to his desk, grabbing a pen and a piece of paper. You make a show of bending over to write down your address for him and your phone number.

Pero watches your ass, grunting to himself as he swears it wiggles just a tiny amount. “You are a tease.” He’s not unhappy about that discovery, although his tone is gruff. “That will just make me fuck you harder.” He warns, chuckling to himself when you roll your eyes. “I wonder if you will be so sassy when I fuck your throat until you cry.”’

You smirk, turning around to walk over to him to hand the piece of paper over. “Maybe you’ll be nicer if you cum down my throat.” You counter, “or perhaps the best plan is to smother you with my pussy so you don’t say something to ruin this between us.” He takes the piece of paper and you step back, “seven tonight?” You ask, biting your lip.

He narrows his eyes at you, more amused than upset, but no one can really tell that. He’s got a face that makes most of the faculty avoid him and students fear him. It’s why your blatant sassy nature rubs him. “Seven.” He agrees, his voice raspy. “This time I want you naked. Not just pushing your panties to the side.”

“Yes sir.” You smirk, grabbing your books from the desk and you stride towards the door, unlocking it to exit into the hallway. You wink at him over your shoulder before you walk out of his lecture hall, inhaling deeply at the fact that you have started an affair with your professor.

****

You exhale shakily, the clock reading ten to seven and you are wearing some sexy lingerie you haven’t worn before that was shoved in your dresser. Your dress is simple but short and you have a glass of wine in your hand to quell your nerves. Maybe he won’t show up. That would be the icing on the cake if he was messing with you.

Pero pulls into your apartment complex, calling himself an idiot as he parks. He shouldn’t be doing this. He shouldn’t fuck a student, but he damn sure shouldn’t fuck a student that he argues with nearly every fucking class you’ve attended so far. Still, he gets out of his car, the bottle of wine something that William had suggested when he rang his old friend to talk. The other man had laughed at him and told him to bring wine or chocolates. He wasn’t going to bring chocolates. This wasn’t that kind of a date. Finding your apartment door, he knocks, knowing he is a few minutes early.

You brush down your dress when you stand up, making your way to the front door, and you swing it open to see Pero standing there with a bottle of wine in his hand. “Hey.” You murmur, taking in his new button down and the jeans that make your mouth water.

“Hey.” He clenches his jaw, biting back a groan over how good you look. “This is for- whatever.” He holds out the bottle. “It’s a wine from my region.” He tells you, having taken the time to find one of his favorites to share with you. You won’t appreciate it, probably hate it, but he would have tried.

Your eyebrows raise at the bottle of wine in his hand, surprised at the gesture. You take it and inspect it for a second. “Rioja.” You hum, “very nice choice. You’re many things but I must admit I’m surprised to see you know your wine.” You step aside so he can walk into your apartment. “Do you want a glass of this? I have a bottle of Cabernet already opened.”

“Whatever you are drinking.” Pero won’t insist on you opening the bottle, not when you have a bottle already breathing. “Why do you think a man born and raised in Spain would not know good wine?” He asks, raising a brow. “My research has taken me all over the world.”

You walk into your kitchen and he follows you, “you seem more like a whiskey man.” You shrug one shoulder, setting his bottle down so you can grab a glass and fill it with the already opened wine. “To fucking in secret.” You toast, holding up your own glass when he takes his from your hand.

Pero snorts, smirking slightly. “To the taming of the shrew.” He grunts, enjoying the way you narrow your eyes at him. Even though he does not like being challenged in the classroom, he finds he likes your wicked tongue and your sharp wit. You aren’t the blockheaded inexperienced dolt like the others in the class.

You take a large sip of wine, setting your glass down after a moment to step closer to him. “You look good in jeans.” You confess, sliding your hands along his chest to play with the buttons of his shirt, “you look good in class. I usually sit there and think of ways to fuck you, after considering how to kill you.” You smirk, looking at him from under your eyelashes.

He huffs, lifting a brow. “I’ve thought about putting you over my knee in the middle of the lecture.” He admits. “But now I don’t know if it’s to beat your ass or finger you.” His cock twitches in his jeans when you flick a finger over his nipple under the shirt. “Did you argue with me because you wanted to fuck me, bonita?”

You scoff, “absolutely not. I think your ways are antiquated at best. Other professors don’t make us use book references, they use a Dropbox for essays. They use computers.” You flick the buttons of his shirt open. “You act like an old man when you’re not.” You admire the golden skin beneath his shirt, caressing it, and you feel his heart thump under your palm.

“Some older ways are better.” Pero protests, his pulse jumping slightly and his cock starting to harden. “Teaches them to think for themselves. Not to accept the first webpage that gives them the information they want. Checking references.”

You scoff, “you think they won’t cheat anyway? They can look up book references online and find the textbook online. Maybe you need to get with the times. Maybe someone younger can help.” You coo, leaning in to kiss his jaw as you slide your hand down to cup his cock through his jeans.

Pero grunts, his cock twitching against your palm. “You aren’t that much younger than me.” He reminds you. “Believe it or not, I know how the internet works.”

You chuckle, stepping back from him to pick up your wine glass. It’s fun to tease him, noticing the furrow of his brow when you pull away. “I am the oldest one getting their degree. That’s for sure.” You snort and take a sip of your wine, “couldn’t find a job worth much more than minimum wage so I had to go back to school.”

He frowns for a moment. “Divorce?” He asks, not sure why you wouldn’t have had an established career, unless you were married and had kids. He glances around the apartment and doesn’t see any sign of kids.

You sigh, nodding, “yeah. I made the mistake of getting married to the guy I met in junior year. He was graduating and told me to drop out of school when we got married. He was from money. Old money. He was spoiled and his parents bought us a house. He had a trust fund so he didn’t care about work but he worked with his father and wanted me at his beck and call so I was a housewife. I would go to Pilates in the morning, decorate the house, cook dinner. God, it sounds boring now. Then one day. I found out that he was fucking his secretary. His young secretary…who he knocked up. She was having a boy so his family made him divorce me so they could have the next heir to the estate. Thank God we never had kids. The pre-nup I signed as a naive girl ensured I got nothing so here I am, back in school and trying to figure shit out.” You hate how pathetic and naive you sound, letting a man control your life like that, but you thought it was true love.

“It sounds like you married an idiot.” Pero snorts, shaking his head. He takes a sip of his wine and wonders if to miss your ex, the life you used to have. “He should have encouraged you to explore your passions. Not….yoga.” He rolls his eyes. “He wasn’t even that good in bed, was he?”

You snort, nodding, “how’d you guess? I wasn’t a virgin when I married him but I wasn’t experienced and he - I didn’t know any better. I don’t miss that life. It lacked purpose. I want to do something meaningful. I want to preserve history for the future generations.” You explain, “and have some good sex.”

Pero chuckles. “My class is a good start for the first, my cock for the second.” He jokes, taking another sip of the wine. “If you pass, you might be a good historian. You are smart if you would stop arguing and listen.”

“Thank you…I don’t take orders very well nowadays.” You confess, taking a sip of your wine. “So…what’s your story? I’m guessing there’s no wife. No kids? No tragically sad story?”

Pero snorts, shaking his head at your sarcasm but he shrugs slightly. “I was married.” He confesses as he stands in your kitchen. “We were young, like you - married in college though we both stayed in class.” It takes him back to a painful time and he scowls as he talks. “We were studying ancient China for our masters degrees. Both of us were fascinated by the legend of the Tao Tei.” He blows out a painful sigh. “Did you know there are still raiders in the most isolated regions of the foothills?” He asks rhetorically. “We were attacked, she was killed, my friend William and I barely survived - and I was left with the scar that makes so many cringe when they see me.” He points to his face.

Your jaw drops, "oh my God. I- Pero - that's - I'm so sorry." You choke, setting your wine glass down. You step towards him and swallow harshly, "that - that is tragically sad." You lift your hands as if to hug him before you change your mind, knowing he wouldn't want your comfort.

“It was a long time ago.” It’s disappointing when you don’t touch him. “None of the staff or students know.” He warns. “Just you.”

You nod, "I won't tell anyone. I- I am so sorry, Pero." You decide to bite the bullet, even if he pushes you away. You wrap your arms around his waist, "you are justified to be a miserable bastard."

“It was a long time ago.” He murmurs again, shifting into you and pulling you closer. He doesn’t mind the feel of your body close to his and your empathy is surprising. “William said that I need to stop living in the past, so he would like you busting my balls.”

You breathe in the peppery cologne he’s wearing, it suits him, and you caress his back. “Yeah, you definitely need to get with the times but I understand why you don’t want to move forward. Something tragic happened to you.” You reach up to cup his cheek, “how about we sit down with the wine?” You ask, knowing that he won’t want to keep talking about his trauma.

You’re being uncharacteristically sweet, or maybe this is how sweet you are when you aren’t butting heads with him. He nods and picks up his wine glass again. “I do not need to be drunk to fuck you again, though.” He promises, smirking slightly. “Even if you are a pain in my ass, I have thought about that interlude.”

You smirk, taking his hand to guide him over to your sofa. “Don’t mistake my momentary lapse of sweetness to be a white flag on our working relationship.” You inform him as you sit down on your sofa. “Now, you mentioned fucking…” You wink and lean in to kiss his jaw.

He huffs, disguising his laugh with the grunt and pulls you into his lap. Your wine almost sloshes over but you manage to keep from spilling it on him. “That is what I am here for, sí? He asks. “You asked me to come over to fuck you. You liked my cock when you were creaming all over it.”

“You seemed to enjoy it.” You grind down onto him, taking a sip of your wine and you lean in, gripping his jaw with your free hand to push his lips open so you can dribble the wine into his mouth before you press your lips to his.

It’s erotic, you feeding him the rich Cabernet, he groans as he swallows and he takes his time sweeping his tongue through your mouth to give you the taste back. Blindly setting his wine down to wrap his arms around you and help you rock on his hard cock as you grind slowly.

You moan into the kiss, setting your glass down on the table behind before you tangle your fingers in his hair. “You’re such an asshole.” You pant against his lips when he pinches your ass under your dress. “You love it.” He chuckles and you want to roll your eyes but his lips are back on yours.

You’re eager for him, pressing your body against his and he squeezes your ass before reaching for the hem of your dress. Breaking the kiss to pull it over your head and tossing it to the floor. Grunting in surprise at the lingerie underneath. It’s sexy and shows that you put some thought into the night. He palms your breast through the lacey cup of the bra and bites your lower lip. “Bonita.” He growls. “You want to impress me?” He chuckles.

You scoff, “as if. I wore this for myself.” You lie and he sees straight through you. “Of course you did.” He snorts and you huff, “it’s new. I’ve never worn it before.” You admit and reach out to work on the remaining buttons of his shirt, wanting to see all of him.

"It is pretty, but you don't need such things to be sexy." He admits, pinching your nipple through the fabric and reluctantly pulling away so you can drag his shirt down his shoulders. He wants to touch you, to make you cry out again - loud this time.

You caress his exposed skin, taking notice of the faded scars, and you lean in to kiss his collarbone, sliding your tongue along the skin and up his neck. You press kisses to his skin up to his pulse and you grind down onto the bulge in his pants. “Good to know. Gonna save me some money on panties.” You tease against his jaw.

He grunts, cock twitching against your core. "Then you won't bitch at me when I do this." He smirks as he grabs the sides of your panties and rips them apart, making it easier to pull them away from your wet cunt so he can touch you.

Your gasp echoes in your living room, and you moan when his fingers slide through your folds, “fuck. Thought about your fingers inside of me when you were writing on the board today.” You confess.

He chuckles, rubbing your clit with slow circles. “You did not pay attention to my lecture then.” He chides quietly, leaning in and biting down on your nipple sharply.

You grin against his jaw, “hard to pay attention when you’re so fucking boring to listen to.” You gasp when he pinches your clit. “You are such a bitch.” He hisses and you giggle, “you love it.”

He scoffs, but he doesn’t deny it. His wife had been a ball buster and he had loved her with everything he had. He slides his fingers up and curls them inside of you, smirking when you moan.

Grinding down onto his fingers, you moan his name and fumble to unbuckle his belt, reaching in to pull his cock out after flicking open the button. “Fuck. You’re so thick.” You coo, pumping his cock while his fingers curl inside of you.

He grunts against your jaw, his teeth scraping your skin. He loves the way you shiver, you’re responsive, sensitive to someone giving you pleasure. This is just sex, you find him attractive enough to fuck, and old enough - considering all your classmates are nearly ten years younger than you.

You pant when he curls his fingers just right, your grip on his cock loosening slightly, and you whimper his name when he presses his thumb to your clit. “Fuck yes, like that.” You moan, unafraid to voice what you want with him.

He takes your direction easily, focusing on the way you want him to touch you. As harsh as he is, as miserable as he can be, he wants the woman he fucks to enjoy herself. He pushes his fingers in to the knuckle and presses them against your spongy walls, seeking that perfect spot to make you see stars.

“Shit. Oh shit.” You cry out, your jaw dropping open and your eyes close as he works you higher on his thick digits. “Pero. I’m gonna - you’re gonna make me - fuckkkkk.” You practically vibrate as you cum on his fingers, eyes rolling back while you soak his digits.

Pero growls, leaning in to kiss along your neck, still thrusting his fingers against that spot as you cum. Greedy for all the gasping, whimpering moans you will give him. “That’s it, bonita.” He coos roughly. “Get nice and wet to take my cock.”

“Yes. Want to - God, want you to fuck me.” You whimper and he stills his fingers inside of you. “But first, I want to suck your cock.” You confess, reaching down to pull his fingers from inside of you and you shift to kneel between his legs. Reaching out to wrap your fingers around his cock, you pull the foreskin down and lean forward to wrap your lips around the head. Your eyes watching him as you kneel between his thighs.

He curses, low and fervently in Spanish. Practically hissing the words as your lips wrap around the sensitive head and he barely manages to keep from rocking his hips up into your mouth. “Hijo de puta.” He clenches his jaw tightly.

You want him to be wrecked by your mouth, to see him fall apart. You take him deeper, hollowing your cheeks as you suck his cock. Your hand rests on his knee and you bring it to his chest, caressing his skin as you love the way he curses.

Giving you another moan, his head rolls back, leaning against the sofa. Enjoying the way you put pressure around his cock. You are eager and he would make a rude comment but he’s smart enough to not want to get bit.

You bob your head a little faster, sucking his cock with enthusiasm. You want him to love this, to feel good. Even if you think he’s a prick, you want him to want you. You pump what you can’t swallow with your hand, letting your spit dribble down into the coarse hair at the base of his cock.

Pero groans your name, cupping the back of your head and panting softly. Your mouth is the perfect combination of heat and wetness, the pressure amazing. “Fuck, you are so good.”

You moan around him, loving the praise, and you pump his cock a little faster, swallowing around him after you push his cock down your throat. Breathing harshly through your nose, you try to not choke.

“You-“ Pero whimpers when you twist your wrist and grabs your chin. “You have to stop. I do not want to finish like this.” He pants, closing his eyes and taking deep breaths to calm himself down.

You pull off of his cock, spit coating your chin as you look up at him, and you smirk. “Don’t think you can last, professor?” You tease, wanting to rile him up. You lick your lips and caress his thighs, “I thought you had more stamina than that.”

“I thought you wanted me to fuck you?” He huffs, thighs tightening under the fabric of his jeans. “If not, I’ll cum down your throat.”

You roll your eyes, shifting to stand in front of him and you reach behind you to unclasp your bra. “I am messing with you, professor.” You tease, leaning over him to hover your lips over his. “Wanna fuck me here or my bed?”

“Bed.” He rasps out, believing that you deserve more than a hurried fuck on your couch. “Take me to your bedroom.”

You take his hand, helping him up from the sofa, and you guide him through your apartment to your bedroom. You turn to face him when you’re in the room, your hands caressing his chest and you push his pants down his legs. “Want you inside of me again.” You demand, watching him kick his shoes off along with his pants.

“Lay down on your bed and spread your thighs, bonita.” He orders, stripping off his underwear and wrapping his hand around his cock and jerking it slowly.

You follow his order, shifting to lay down on the bed. Resting your head on the pillows, you spread your legs as you watch him kneel on the bed, his fingers wrapped around his cock.

“You have such a pretty cunt.” He praises you. “You just need to be fucked regularly and you’ll be sweet, no?” He teases, smirking when you glare at him. “So I will fill you up again and then you can study while you drip my cum.”

Huffing as he shuffles closer to you, you reach down to rub your clit, “you made me cum in your office on your cock but how do I know that wasn’t a one off?” You raise your eyebrows as you look at him, “maybe you won’t get me off and I’ll need to be a bitch again.”

Pero smirks, amused by your taunts and he lifts your leg up to put it on his shoulder. “Don’t worry.” He grunts as he shuffles closer and presses the head of his cock to your wet entrance. “Here you’ll be able to scream my name.” With a sharp snap of his hips, he buries his cock in one thrust.

Your mouth falls open in a silent scream as he pushes deep inside of you, stretching you out. Your eyes closing until he growls, “keep your eyes on me.” You nod, struggling but managing to open your eyes. He starts to move inside of you and the angle has your chest heaving, “fuck, Tovar. That - that feels good.”

He huffs, wanting to point out that you had just challenged him. Told him that he might not make you cum. He has to prove you wrong. “You take it so well.” He hisses, twitching when you clench down around him. “So tight. Needed a good fuck, didn’t you? Those boys in your class couldn’t fuck you like you need, can they?”

You nod, mouth opens as a moan escapes your lips. “They are boys. They can’t satisfy me. I need a man. Someone who knows what they are doing. Is that you?” You challenge, squeezing your tits as he rocks into you. “You feel good inside of me but can you make me scream?”

His eyes are dark, lust filled as he rocks into you as he reaches down to pull your other leg up onto his hip and spreads his knees apart even more. “You’ll find out.” He promises. “How many times have you touched yourself thinking about me fucking you?” He demands.

You want to lie to him, want to tell him you’ve never imagined him while you touched yourself but you can’t lie when he looks at you like that. “A lot. From - from the first day. Imagined you fucking me on your desk in the lecture hall. In the chairs on the back row. Imagined you taking me in the hallway.” You admit, pinching your nipples until you let go of your tits, caressing his stomach as he pushes deep inside of you.

“Mierda.” Pero hisses, the sound whistling between his teeth. His hips rock forward a little harder. “You fought me because you wanted my cock? I could have given it to you sooner if you just told me. You didn’t have to go to such lengths.”

You giggle, “what can I say? I like riling you up. It’s sexy when you get pissed off. You thought I was a bitch so don’t act like you wanted me right off the bat. Did you jerk off thinking about me?” You ask, sliding your hand higher until you pinch his nipple.

Pero growls, his entire body lurching forward as he slams his hips into your ass again. “After.” He admits. “Jerked off when I woke up thinking about you. How you felt, sounded.” He groans when you clench down around him again in pleasure and he reaches down to rub your clit. “Fuck, you take me so well, bonita.”

You choke when he rubs your clit, hitting a spot inside of you at the same time that takes your breath away. “Fuck, Pero. You - you feel so good inside of me. Fucking hate how good you feel.” He thrusts deep again and you moan, “no. I love it. Keep going. Gonna make me cum like this.”

He chuckles darkly, slowing his hips down enough to make you whine and when you give him the sound he wants, he speeds up. Hammering into you harshly as he grunts from the effort

You cry out, your fingers digging into his upper arms as he bends you over, his cock hitting something deep and devastating inside of you. No one has fucked you like this. “Pero. Pero.” You almost thrash beneath him but he keeps you pinned down, “oh God. I - I’m gonna cum.” You admit breathlessly, “it’s - oh shit. I think I’m gonna pee.” You reveal and Pero chuckles, keeping his harsh pace. “Shitttt.” You squeal as you clamp down onto him, a gush of liquid squirting onto his lower stomach.

“Mierda, tan caliente.” Pero groans, slowing down his thrusts so he can feel your juices drip down. You squirted all over him and it makes him growl. “You soaked me, you little brat.” He huffs, proud of being able to make you do that. It’s obvious from the mortified expression in your face, you didn’t know your body could do that. “Do it again.” He orders, starting to rock his hips again.

You moan, feeling overstimulated and embarrassed but he seems to love it. His hips push against your ass and he grabs your leg from his hip, lifting it onto his shoulder to bend you over even more. "Oh fuck!" You cry, thighs starting to shake against his head as he rams into that same spot. "Pero. Oh fuck. That's - I'm gonna do it again." You pant, eyes clenching shut as you fall apart around his cock once more.

He groans your name, listening to the slick, sloppy sounds of your cunt and loving it. Feeling the splash of your juices soaking him even though he’s still not quite ready to cum. “That’s it, fuck, you’re so good at cumming for me.” He growls proudly. “Sleep like a baby tonight, eh?”

You nod, feeling lost in the sensations wrecking your body. "I want - want you to cum for me." You whine, hating how pathetic you sound and you'll cringe when you think back on it, but right now, you are lost in how good he's making you feel. "Want to wreck you. Let me - let me ride you." You demand, knowing you'll need a second to recover.

He doesn’t protest, he pulls out of you with a slight popping sound and lunges forward to press his lips to yours. Regardless of the animosity between you, it turns into raw sexual passion and he is quickly becoming addicted to it. Your legs fall and you push him back to roll him onto his back. Pero groans and reaches for you as you straddle his hips.

It's sloppy how you shift to sink down on his cock. Your hands sliding up his chest when you're fully seated on top of him. "Fuck. Feel even deeper like this." You moan, starting to grind on top of him. You surge forward to press your lips to his again, sliding your tongue against his.

His hands slide up your back and he holds you into place as you kiss him. He doesn’t take over, letting you command the experience right now. He groans into your mouth, flicking his tongue against yours.

Your fingers slide up to tangle in his hair, tilting his head so you can kiss along his neck, biting down on the skin before sucking a mark into his flesh as you rock on top of him. You want him to remember you were fucking him when he looks in the mirror

He almost rolls his eyes, but it feels too good to be too annoyed. Groaning quietly and twitching inside you as you slowly circle your hips. His hands slide up and down your back, gently rubbing and then down to your ass to squeeze.

You pick up the pace, leaning back so you can look at him, and you moan his name as he hits deeper inside of you. "Fuck yes." You moan, leaning back to brace your hands on his knees and you rock forward onto him, his eyes darting down to watch where he disappears inside of you.

Your tits start to bounce as you ride him. Making him look away from your cunt so he can stare at them and reach up to cup them after a minute. “You look so good on my cock.” He chokes out, squeezing your tits harshly.

"Good enough to break the rules." You chuckle breathlessly, moaning when he pinches your nipples playfully. You let go of his knee, sliding your hand down your stomach until you are rubbing your clit, walls fluttering around his cock.

Pero watches you again. “Good girl.” He rasps out, pinching your nipples again and tugging on them. “Make yourself cum again. You’re using my cock, aren’t you? Better than a toy? Or your fingers?”

You nod, "so much better." You confess, rubbing a little faster. "Fuck. I'm gonna - again. Shit!" You squeal, collapsing forward onto his chest as you start to orgasm once more on his cock. By now, you're exhausted but you want him to fill you up so you fight against your body, rocking onto him.

He wraps his arms around you and starts to move under you. Taking control now that he feels how boneless you are. Keeping his feet planted in the bed while he rocks up into you. “You want me to cum now, bonita?” He coos in your ear. “Fill that pretty cunt up so you can keep me inside you longer?”

"Yes. Yes. Please. Please cum. Wanna feel it. Wanna feel you inside of me." You beg, turning your head to press your lips to his, "please cum for me." You plead against his lips while he hammers up into you.

It doesn’t take long. He’s worn you out and that is what he wanted. Grunting and moaning, he works himself into you faster. Feeling the pleasure building up and he gives one final push, his cock painting your walls with hot spurts of cum.

You groan against his chin as he fills you up. You love the hot feel of his cum pressing against your womb, and you moan his name as he rocks himself through his climax. When he's done, you slump against him, kissing along his neck and collarbone.

Panting quietly, the two you lay together and Pero can’t find the strength to push you off of him. Enjoying the moment and sighing softly as he closes his eyes. Still holding you to him as his cock softens inside you

You don't move for a few moments, enjoying the feel of him beneath you, and you whimper when you shift off of him, mindful of his cum welling up inside of you. "Not too bad for an old professor." You tease, shifting to lay down beside him on your pillow.

Pero snorts, rolling his eyes as he looks up at the ceiling fan. “I did the best with what I was given.” He jokes dryly, his fingers brushing your thigh and he feels his heart rate slowing down. “Cardio is good for me, or so I hear.”

"Good for the heart." You hum, caressing his chest as you lean into him slightly. "How'd you get these scars?" You ask, "is that - are they from-?" You don't finish the question, not sure if he wants to answer it if they are from the time his wife was killed.

“No.” Pero shakes his head. “After Maya died, I was angry, vengeful.” He admits. “I did things that you wouldn’t think a professor would do. Until I remembered my wife would have wanted me to finish my degree. To live.”

You don’t ask him to elaborate, certain that it’s things that even your experienced ears would struggle to listen to. “I have no right to speak about what your wife would want but I know you are here and you are functioning. That’s more than most people can say even after that kind of trauma.” You murmur, watching his expressions as you shift to sit up on your elbow.

“What about you?” He asks. “You did not lose your husband like I lost my wife, but it might be worse.” He tells you. “He betrayed you. Made a lie of the vows he took, yet you are still strong.” He snorts. “Maybe too strong.”

You hum, reaching up to trace the length of his aquiline nose, “he betrayed me but he did me a favor. I wasn’t living. I was…I was going through the motions. Now, I get to choose what my life is. I get to be in control. I was so angry with him, upset and betrayed. But now? I thank him. I am free and able to do what I want.” You trace his lips, “my trauma is not like your trauma. I can tell you loved your wife. I didn’t love my husband. Not in the end.”

“You must have at one point.” He figures, wrinkling his nose slightly when you tap the tip of it. “It does not matter, she is gone.” He has grieved her, and he knows that the life he had planned with her will never happen. William likes to say that he is stuck in place, but there has never been a reason to really change.

“Even more reason to live for her then, no?” You ask, tapping his chin as you sit up from the bed. “I gotta clean up. I’m going to shower. You’re welcome to join or you can leave. Whatever you feel more comfortable doing.” You say, waddling slightly into your bathroom to avoid dripping his cum on the floor.

Pero feels guilty as he stands and walks over to his underwear and pants. “I should go.” He calls out as he starts to pull on his clothes, ignoring the little voice that is telling him to stay. You don’t really want him to, you are just being polite. This was an invitation for sex, not a relationship. “I have papers to grade.”

You try to not care that he’s leaving so soon. You know what he came here for and it wasn’t to have a movie night on the sofa and order take out. You grab your robe after you pee and clean up, finding him as he’s putting on his shoes. “I had a good time.” You say as you cross your arms, “maybe…maybe we can do it again.” You suggest, shrugging one shoulder.

You sound unsure, making Pero frown as he looks up from tying the laces. “You decide when you want me inside you again, bonita.” He reminds you. “Let me know.”

You nod, tying the robe around your body as he stands up. “I’ll see you in class.” You tell him, watching him get his jacket and you hate how fucking handsome he looks. This is just sex. He’s an asshole. That’s what you remind yourself of. He nods, “see you in class.” He grabs his car keys and opens your door, turning to look at you one last time before he closes it behind him. You sigh, rubbing your cheek, and you know this just got more complicated…and you need to change your sheets.

The next few weeks are much the same. Pero snarks and spits at you in the lecture hall, while you make his teaching life miserable. Only for him to come over nearly every night to fuck you into your mattress until you are worn out. He still doesn’t stay, but today he had found himself packing a small bag in case he decides to sleep in your bed.

You hear the doorbell ring and grin, not noticing it until you’re unlocking the door. When did you start to grin for Professor Tovar? You force your expression into a softer smile and open the door, “decided to allow my comment today slide or are you going to punish me, Professor?” You smirk, leaning against the door.

Pero snorts and sends you a glare that has no heat behind it. “Why do you always have to be a pain in my ass?” He huffs, shaking his head and grunting his thanks when you push the door open wider to let him in. “You’re sweet when I fuck you, but sour the rest of the time. Should I just have you sit on my cock during class?”

You smirk, “now that would be a sight for your students. What would they think of their scary professor? Reduced to groaning because of my pussy.” You cross your arms and turn to face him after shutting the door. “I still think I earned an ‘A’ on that last test.” You huff but ignore the way he glares at you as he steps into your apartment and sets his bag down. That makes you raise your eyebrows, “want me to cook breakfast after you fuck me all night long?”

“I deserve it.” He scoffs, rolling his eyes at your sass, although he secretly loves it. “I decided your wet sheets would feel better to sleep in after I make you squirt all over them again.” He declares, smirking slightly. You had bought an extra mattress protector after the last one failed under the constant fucking. “I like my bacon extra crispy and my coffee black.”

“And your whiskey neat.” You wink, walking over to your counter to grab the bottle of whiskey you keep for Pero in your apartment. You pour him a glass and stride over to hand it to him, grabbing your glass of wine. “And don’t worry, I got some spare sheets ready.” You wink, leaning in to kiss his jaw.

He hums and turns his head, pressing his lips to yours. It’s almost pathetic how his body immediately leaps to attention when he just smells the perfume that he has come to associate with you. “You should wear a skirt and no panties tomorrow.” He suggests with a smirk when he pulls back.

You giggle, nodding as you take a sip of your wine. “If you make me squirt again, it’s a deal.” You promise and he chuckles, “oh now that’s something I can deliver on.” You giggle, knowing he’s not wrong and you press your lips to his again, fumbling to set your wine glass down as you fall under his spell again.

****

“Today, we are going to delve into Ancient Egypt.” Pero announces as he writes it down on the board and you bite your lip, watching his muscles move beneath his button down. You know the scratches you let on his skin are still visible beneath the material and that makes you clench your thighs together. When his gaze drifts back to the rows of students, you make a show of uncrossing and crossing your legs, letting him see that you fulfilled your promise.

His eyes narrow, the rest of the class believing that he is once again annoyed at you, but he’s really just focusing on the sight of your cunt. His gaze becomes predatory. “Do you have a problem?” He asks you, almost smirking when you snap your thighs closed when the entire class turns back to look at you.

“Yeah.” You scoff. “I do.”

Pero huffs and motions you forward. “Come down then.” He challenges. “You read the lecture and tell me where I’ve gotten it wrong.”

You roll your eyes and the students murmur in shock when you stand up and make your way up to the board. “You are starting in the wrong era. I think you need to teach from the end to the beginning to truly understand the fall of the Egyptians and their legacy in human history.”

“And who determines which beginning?” He challenges, waiting for you to step behind the podium. “Should we go back to the dinosaurs?”

You huff, “no. I mean we start with Cleopatra and Caesarion and end with Narmer. It would make sense to go from the end to the beginning to decide what the downfall of the Egyptian empire was.” You cross your arms, “but by all means, continue your lesson.”

Pero steps close to you, the class seemingly holding their breath and wondering if they are going to see Professor Tovar flip out on you. “If you think you can teach the class, give the lesson.” His hand slides up your skirt, hidden behind the podium and you, his fingers brushing your cunt.

You clear your throat, as if in warning to Pero, and to try to state your case. “Who here has heard about Cleopatra?” You ask, knowing that some might have not. Half the class raises their hands. “Okay, well, uh, oh.” You gasp when Pero’s fingers slide through your folds, rubbing your clit. “We - we should begin there. In, uh, 30 BC, Cleopatra died. Allegedly through suicide by- by a fatal bite from a venomous snake.”

“What kind of snake?” Pero demands, wanting you to shake in front of the class as he uses the time he has spent in your bed against you right now. It’s a turn on, knowing he is bringing you pleasure in front of all of them.

You try so hard to not close your eyes, or widen them when he pushes two thick digits into your pussy. He kicks at your ankle, spreading you wider and you lean against his podium a little more. “Either an asp or a - a cobra. Both are poetic. She - the cobra was associated with her favorite goddess, Isis. A cobra represents royalty. She - she wrote in her suicide note that she be buried by Antony.” You remember the books you’ve read over the years with as much effort as possible while Pero continues to finger you.

He listens to you, forgetting the rest of the class is even there as he continues to pump your fingers in and out of your tight cunt. He just hums, expecting you to continue as he does. Smirking to himself as your lips press together and you swallow a small sound.

“Cleopatra was the last a-actual Pharaoh. A queen. She had twins and her downfall came when - when Octavian - Octavian ordered the murder of Cleopatra and her maids, it provided her the space and opportunity to kill herself. He directed his guards to hunt down and kill Caesarion, Cleopatra’s teenage son with Caesar, to remove any question of the boy’s succeeding his mother on the throne.” You rush out what you were saying, “so to - to understand the Egyptian empire. You need to - oh God.” You choke when you’re close, “you need to understand it’s downfall and work back from- From there.” You grip the edges of the podium as you cum, closing your eyes for a second and biting the inside of your cheek to stop yourself from making a noise.

Pero scoffs as he works you through the last remaining moments of your orgasm. “Look down at my lecture, bonita.” He murmurs this too low for anyone else to hear you.

You look down at the notes in front of you, the timeline he has for the lecture and you fluster. He was going to work from the end to the beginning. You swallow harshly, cheeks flaming hot as he withdraws his fingers from inside of you, glistening with your cum. “It - it seems that is all I have to offer, unless you’d like me to take over your entire lecture.” You tell Pero, eyes burning into his as you turn your head to look at him.

Pero wrinkles his nose and shakes his head. “And have you stumbling and stuttering through my lecture?” He snorts and slips his fingers into his mouth to suck them clean, pulling them out with a pop. “You can take your seat.”

You stumble to your seat, some students laughing and thinking you’re embarrassed. Some watch in shock as you barely manage to sit down in your seat. Your eyes meet Pero’s as he adjusts his glasses and your throat is so dry. You know he’s standing behind the podium to hide his hard on and you cross your legs, squeezing your thighs together at the thought of him fucking you against his podium. He continues where you left off but you don’t hear a word of it. You linger after he finishes his lecture, taking your time to gather your things until everyone has left. You abandon your things as you stand up, striding across the room to wrap your arms around his neck and drag his face to yours so you can kiss him.

He had been expecting you to act, watching you as you stared off into space. You have been off in your own little world and daydreaming about what he had done to you in front of the entire class. He pulls you close, knowing he is taking a risk, but it’s worth it. It’s worth tasting you and feeling your passion.

You pull back after a second, your hands sliding down his chest and you look over at the door to make sure no one saw you. “I’m studying in the library after class. Need to make sure that I’m using book sources.” You inform him, letting him know you won’t be home if he plans to come over. “Maybe you can come and find me.” You slide your hand down to squeeze his cock through his pants, “and I can return the favor.”

Pero grunts, twitching under your touch but he smirks at you. “Study hard.” He snickers, knowing that he would be finding you. He steps away from you and straightens slightly. “Maybe I’ll let you look at my lecture before you get called to the front of the class tomorrow.” Shrugging slightly, he smirks again. “Or maybe you like being fingered in the front of the lecture hall.”

“You’re a bastard.” You huff at him, walking over to your desk to grab your things. “See you in the library later, Professor.” You walk towards the door and playfully lift your skirt over your ass to flash him before you leave the lecture hall, not looking back to see him curse and reach down to adjust himself.

****

You bite your lip as you scan the row. It’s late, most people are gone and the librarian is on a break after you asked her too many times to help you locate the books you need. There’s no sign of Pero yet and you wonder if he decided to head home.

Waking through the aisles of the library, he’s searching for you. Absorbing the familiar smell of the books, he is relaxed here. Still spending hours on the weekend researching, although his own library at home rivals here for the books he sources. Researching another book that he is writing, although it’s slower coming now that he has been spending so many nights with you. Blowing out a frustrated breath when he doesn’t see you, he continues to the back of the library, only to find you on the last row. “Fuck, did you try to make it obvious?”

You shake your head when he appears, "no. I am trying to find a book for my paper and the librarian is on a break. I think she's tired of trying to help me find book sources." You raise your eyebrows at your professor before you try to find the book on the bottom shelf, kneeling down and you sense him shuffle over to you. You turn your head, looking up to see his crotch in your face, and you smirk when you discover the bulge in his pants.

Pero’s eyes are already dark, his cock hard before he had even walked into the damn library. “The blue spine.” He knows which book you are looking for just by the section you are in.

You turn your head back towards the shelf, quickly locating the book and you look up at him, "thanks...sir." You tease and he rolls his eyes. You set the book down and reach up to unbutton his pants, "let me show you how grateful I am." You coo and reach into his pants to pull his hard cock out. "My my my, Professor Tovar...what got you so hard?" You smirk before you grip his length, pulling the foreskin down so you can wrap your lips around the head of his cock.

Pero hisses softly, grabbing the edge of a shelf to hold on to. “Maybe because you’re a cock tease.” He grunts, keeping up the grumpy facade until he moans softly at the press of your tongue. “Fuck, you love sucking my cock, don’t you?”

You pull off of him, letting your spit dribble down onto his cock as you pump him in a fist, "you love me sucking your cock." You counter and his grunt makes you giggle softly. You lean in, taking him in your mouth again, this time a little deeper.

“Best way to - fuck, shut you up.” He groans, rocking his hips forward to follow your mouth as you pull back. “You don’t talk with your mouth full.” Your hand around the base squeezes him tight but he loves the grip you have on him.

You glare at him but it doesn't land the same when your mouth is full of his girth. You moan around him in protest but he grabs your neck, keeping you still as he rocks into your mouth. You love it when he uses you like this so you widen your jaw and keep your eyes on him as he grips the shelf.

It’s wrong, the two of you could be caught, but he doesn’t care. He takes whatever you give him and he has found that he wants to spend as much time with you as he can. He grunts quietly, watching you and he moves to cup your cheek as you take him deeper.

You moan around him, loving the way he caresses your cheek, and you hollow your eyes around him. He's so girthy, it's hard to not have a jaw ache after a while. You pull off of him to catch your breath and pump his cock, twisting your wrist to work him higher.

“Fuck, look at you.” Pero grunts down at you. “So cock hungry. You’re going to swallow every drop, aren’t you?” His eyes roll back when you twirl your tongue around the sensitive head and press it against the slit. “Fuck, you just need to be on your knees for me during class.”

You moan, taking him deeper again, and he twitches in your mouth. You know you don’t have much more time so you grab the back of his thighs, pushing him further down your throat and your eyes start to water as he stretches your throat, pressing against your gag reflex but you breathe harshly through your nose.

He bites off another curse, eyes fluttering closed and he leans his head back, exposing his throat to your gaze when you look up. About to cum, his fingers curl around your cheek and he chokes out your name, body tensing as he spills down your throat.

He hunches over you as he cums, hot seed hitting the back of your throat and you eagerly swallow every drop. You squeeze his thighs, encouraging him to rock himself through his orgasm, and he does. You work him for every drop, his cock pulsing on your tongue until he hisses and comes to a stop, pulling out of your mouth. You smirk as you look up at him, “surely that’s got to be worth some extra credit?”

Pero growls, rolling his eyes at your comment, but he’s dragging you up to press his lips to yours. Needing a kiss from you before he ever even tucks his cock away. A shuffle and a dropped book halfway across the room makes him pull away from you. “Are you going to stop being a pain in my ass?” He asks, zipping himself up and raising a brow. “I didn’t think so.”

You giggle, wiping your mouth with the back of your hand before you pick up the book from the floor. “I better get back to work.” You glance over his shoulder, “don’t want people knowing I kinda of don’t mind you.” You offer him a wink, knowing he likely has things to do like grading papers.

Pero snorts and nods. “I’ll see you later.” He promises, knowing that he will come back over to spend the night with you again. It’s become almost a habit, and you haven’t made a comment about him leaving his toothbrush in your bathroom. It’s been unspoken and he hasn’t pushed it.

****

You curl around Pero, the morning sun shining through your curtains and you kiss his chest before you shift away from him, deciding to make some coffee. “Gotta wake up, Professor.” You say as you reach for your robe.

Pero grunts, opening his eyes and hating that you’ve moved away from him. You are warm and he misses the feel of your body pressed against his. “Class is canceled.” He groans, reaching for you to pull you back to the bed, but you just slip out of his reach. “Fuck.”

You chuckle, “it’s not. You need to get up.” You playfully slap his chest, wrapping your robe around your body as you make your way into the kitchen to start the coffee machine and make some breakfast. Pero is soon coming into the kitchen, rubbing his eyes as he comes over to you to wrap his arms around your waist just as the doorbell sounds out.

You frown, but Pero figures it's just the neighbor who has been very curious about his presence here. He has told you that the man is interested in dating you, but you don't believe him. "I will get it." He tells you, patting your hip. Perhaps seeing Pero right out of your bed would discourage the man from his interest. He walks to the door and opens it, surprised to find not the neighbor, but a well dressed, handsome man who looks shocked to see Pero standing there. "Who are you?" Pero grunts, wondering who this man is and what he wants.

“Who are you?” The man counters and your eyes widen at the voice of your ex husband. “What the hell are you doing here?” You growl, stomping over to the front door. “I wanted to talk. Didn’t expect you to be fucking someone else already.”

Pero scowls at the other man and looks back at you, sensing you don't want your ex here. "You can call her." He grunts at him. "Leave and don't come back."

Your ex shakes his head, “who the hell are you?” He asks Pero who scoffs, “I work at her university.” Your ex chuckles, “oh. I see. Well, you haven’t seen the last of me.” He promises and steps away from the door, a warning look towards you. “She left me, by the way.” He spits at you and you snort, “smart girl.”

Pero closes the door and turns to you, watching as you stare off for a moment. He can tell you are rattled and he wonders if you still have feelings for him. "We should get ready." He reminds you.

You nod, swallowing harshly as you work on fixing the coffee and some breakfast for you and Pero. “Sorry about that. I didn’t expect - I - I never imagined he’d show up.”

“He knows where you live.” That part surprises Pero, figuring you wouldn’t have wanted that when you finalized the divorce. “Do you think he will come back?”

“I don’t know. I never - I never told him where I lived. He must’ve - shit - he must’ve found me.” You scoff, “he is a prick. Let’s get ready. We gotta get to class.” You tell him, leaning in to kiss him softly.

“Okay.” Pero doesn’t like it, but he doesn’t say anything else. Quickly eating breakfast and joining you in the shower to get ready for class. Once you are both ready, he guides you to your car, watchful for your ex. “See you in class, bonita.” He murmurs, wondering when he had become so protective over you. When he had fallen for you.

****

You look up from your desk as the dean of the college walks in after Pero just dismissed his class. You frown and the dean looks over at you, “I need to speak to you in my office. Both of you.” The dean declares to Pero who frowns but nods, gesturing for you both to follow the dean to his office.

Pero’s stomach twists unpleasantly and he scowls as he walks into the office and sits down in front of the desk, in the seats provided. He doesn’t appreciate being called onto the carpet, although he has a feeling he knows what this is about. “What? Did one of those brats complain that I was too harsh?” He demands. “You know I don’t coddle them.”

The dean sighs and looks between you, “now, I know you know this isn’t about your class. This is what has been transpiring between you and your student.” The dean brings his gaze to you and you stare back, refusing to cower under his intensity.

Pero doesn’t say anything, just stares at the dean when he looks back over at him. “I received a call today.” He behinds, spreading his hands wide in apology. “My hands are tied. You know what is written in your contract.” Pero snorts and rolls his eyes, wanting to comment that you are a grown ass woman, but he doesn’t say a word. “You’re up for tenure, Pero.” The dean stresses, “and you’re sleeping with a student?”

You scoff, “I am a grown woman. A consenting adult. Why is this any of your business?” You ask and the dean huffs, “because it’s against our policy. Professor Tovar is up for tenure and if he is found to be violating the rules, then we have no choice but to fire him.” The dean says and you chuckle, “are you kidding me? Well it’s a good thing I’m not sleeping with him. I hate the man, honestly. I’m only taking his class to finish my degree. I have a year and a half left and I only took his class to finish what I came here for. I can assure you, I would never sleep with him. I hate him.” You declare, crossing your arms.

Your words pierce his heart, stabbing him until he feels like he’s bleeding. “Right.” He growls, shooting to his feet, his face twisted in anger. “You heard it. Can I go back to my work now?” He doesn’t wait for the dean to answer, just marches out of the office. The bastard can fire him if he doesn’t like it. Pero just has to get out of that room before he explodes.

You watch him go, forcing yourself to keep your face neutral as he leaves the room like a bat out of hell. “I suppose I shall have to take your word for it. If I see or hear of anything untoward, Professor Tovar is gone. Do you understand? And you will be removed from the school.” You nod, “yes sir.” You gather your bag and exhale shakily as you exit the room, deciding to head to your next class and find Pero in his office during his work hours.

****

You knock on his door, hearing him call out for you to come in, and you step inside, shutting the door behind you. “You seem upset that I saved your ass.” You declare, seeing his scowl.

Pero shoots you a glare and then looks back down at his papers. “If you don’t have any questions about the lecture, I will have to ask you to leave.” He spits out. “It is not wise to be behind closed doors with a man you hate.” His hand nearly snaps the pen, he grips it so tight as he scrawls his notes in the margin. His heart aches and he wants to rage at you, but that would not be wise. He had always thought himself wise, until you come into his life and fucked him up. He’s in love with you, and you hate him.

You are speechless. Having expected him to understand that you lied to save his job and your position in the school. You swallow down the lump in your throat, tears stinging in your eyes but you refuse to let them fall. You nod and turn back towards the door, “of course, Professor Tovar. Have a good evening.” You step out of his office, the one that you’ve spent so much time with him in, and decide to go find the registrar to drop out of his class. Even if you fail it, it’s better than sitting there and knowing the man you love doesn’t love you back.

He continues to write, not stopping until he hears the click of the door as you release the handle and he sighs. Dropping his pen onto the desk and leaning back with a sigh as he rubs his eyes. “Fuck.” He hisses, his chin trembling dangerously until he clenches his jaw. Wishing that he had never opened that fucking door this morning.

****

Pero glances at your empty seat, the clock ticking above him, and he knows it’s too late for anyone to come in for this lecture. He sighs and turns back to the board, wondering if you’re sick or just skipping after what happened. He hasn’t spoken to you. You haven’t called or texted after you left his office and now, you’re missing. Your seat is empty and the space in Pero’s chest feels even emptier.

****

You sigh, pouring out a glass of wine. Today was exhausting and you hate that you let Pero get under your skin like this. You know he doesn’t feel the same way. It was obviously just sex for him. You shift to sit down on your sofa, staring blankly at the screen until your doorbell rings. You groan, wondering if it’s your ex husband coming back once more but when you answer the door, you’re surprised to see Pero standing on your doorstep.

“You missed class.” He glares at you and pushes the lecture notes towards you. “I don’t want you bitching when you fail the test because you didn’t know the material.” It’s a flimsy fucking excuse, but he needed to see you. He hadn’t slept last night, finding it nearly impossible when you weren’t curled up around him and sleeping on his chest.

You stare at him, “I- I am no longer in your class. I dropped it.” You tell him and he scoffs, “but then you’re going to get an automatic failure. It’s too late in the semester.” You shake your head, “I don’t care. I can’t sit there in the front row and watch you when I know that you don’t feel the same way that I feel about you. I know you can’t stand me, I know what we have is just…I don’t know- hate sex? Just please go. I don’t need you throwing this in my face. It’s done. We are done. You succeeded in getting me to drop your fucking class, Tovar.”

Pero hisses, reaching out and grabbing your arm and pulling you closer. “You hate me.” He growls in your face, sneering and trying to cover the hurt. “That’s how you feel. I’m supposed to be sorry that I love you? Is that it? Hate fucking is all you wanted? Fine.” He lets go of you and steps back. “Fail your class. Go back to your ex and live your unfulfilling life with boring sex.” He turns to walk away from your door, furious that he had told you how he feels. You will just use it against him.

“What the hell? You can’t just walk away after saying that shit!” You hiss at him, “and who the fuck said I was going back to my ex? God, you’re - you’re a prick.” You growl and Pero spins to face you.

“Of course I am.” Pero hisses. “You tell me everyday that I’m a prick. Of course I am. What more do you expect from me?” He demands, nearly deflating after he says that. Just staring at you. “Just- what do you want?” He asks helplessly, gesturing uselessly with his hands. “I would have quit, told them to go fuck themselves. Instead, you told them you hated me and would never sleep with me.” He frowns and sighs. “It’s not like you’ve told me things changed for you, so what am I supposed to think?”

You reach out to cup his cheeks, bringing his face to yours. “I don’t hate you. You’re a fucking asshole. A brilliant asshole who I - I love. I love you, Pero. I love how smart you are. I love how much you don’t give a shit about what people think of you. I love how fiercely loyal you are. I love you.” You choke, “I love you.”

This time, the kiss isn’t violent, but it is passionate. He lunges forward and presses his lips to yours, relief pouring off of him in waves as he gathers you in his arms and kicks the door closed behind him. He’s not leaving, he can’t leave. Moaning when you moan and letting his tongue sweep inside your mouth when you let him, Pero deepens the kiss, pouring all his emotions into it.

You stumble backwards towards your bedroom, Pero blindly reaching for the door handle and you feel your bed hit the back of your legs as he lifts you onto the bed. “You still - you haven’t responded.” You gasp when he kisses along your neck and his hands fumble with your shirt.

He growls, pulling back and rolling his eyes at you. “Are you always going to be a pain in my ass?” He huffs. “I love you. I couldn’t sleep last night because you weren’t snoring and drooling on my chest. I couldn’t hold you tight and feel your warmth.” He smirks when you roll your eyes and huff. “I love you, bonita. I don’t want to just fuck you, I- I never would have stayed or risked my job if it was just hate fucking.”

You grin, caressing his cheeks as he confesses how he feels. “I love you, Pero. God, you are - I don’t want to sleep apart from you. I don’t want to miss you like I did last night. I want you. I want to be with you. I don’t want to hate fuck, I want you to make love to me.” You demand, sliding your hands lower to begin working on unbuttoning his shirt.

“So demanding.” He scoffs, but he is shrugging out of his shirt as soon as you unbutton the last one and flinging it down. “I can’t believe you dropped the class.” He grunts. “I can fix it. I know the register, she likes me.” He promises, leaning in and nipping your chin before he kisses along your jaw.

You moan as he kisses you, “I don’t know if I can - they are gonna know and I don’t want you to lose your job, baby.” You reach down to unbutton his pants, “you been flirting with the register?” You tease, reaching in to pull his cock out of his pants.

Pero groans and twitches in your hand. “Job stability.” He jokes dryly. “A lot of students go to her because of me. I get a cake every Christmas.” He bats your hand away so he can push his pants down and kick them off, reaching for your leggings. “You graduate the class and then there’s nothing they can do. You won’t be my student.”

You lift your hips so he can drag your panties down and you sigh, “only a few more weeks until finals. Do you think we can make it to the end of the semester without risking everything?” You ask breathlessly as he slides his hand into your panties, making you moan when he starts to rub your clit.

“If they find out and fire me, so be it.” Pero growls, finding you wet and he loves how you always want him. “They will not look to your apartment, they dare not harass a student.”

You moan at both his touch and his words. The fact that he's still willing to risk it all for you has you bucking into his touch but he keeps you pinned to the bed. "Baby, I need - need you to fuck me." You plead, wanting more from him.

He leans down, pulling down your tank top and wrapping his lips around your nipple, shuffling between your thighs and lining up to sink into you. He pulls away from your nipple and kisses you as he slowly pushes inside your tight cunt.

"Fuck baby." You pant against his mouth, reaching down to grip the hem of your tank to pull it over your head, and you toss it on the floor. "Always feel so goddamn good inside of me." You whimper when he starts to slowly move inside of you.

“You feel good.” He moans, kissing along your neck. “So damn perfect around me.” He praises, twitching deep when you clench around him, squeezing him tight. He doesn’t speed up, wanting to take his time as he loves you this time.

“I love you.” You exhale shakily, closing your eyes as he kisses along your neck. “I love you so much baby.” You murmur, caressing his back as he moves over you. You swear you can feel his heart beating in his chest or it might be yours but you feel so connected to him.

“I love you too.” He groans, rocking into you at a slow pace. His arms are curling under you, pulling you closer and pressing you into the bed.

You moan his name as he rocks into you, in no rush to make you cum unlike the frantic fucking you’ve indulged in before. It doesn’t take long for him to work you up though, high on his love and the way you feel. You fall apart moments later, a moan escaping your lips as you cum around him.

Pero is quickly following you, groaning your name as he thrusts deep and shudders, overwhelmed by the force of his orgasm and your love. Closing his eyes, he turns and presses his lips to yours as he fills you. Only to stop rocking his hips and settle on top of you, panting softly.

You kiss him slowly, savoring how this feels, and he keeps his body pressing into yours. “Te amo.” He murmurs and you smile, “I love you too.” You keep your eyes closed as you take in the moment.

****

“Congratulations to the graduating class!” The dean declares and you grin, throwing your hat up in the air as you grip your degree in your hand. You finally did it. You turn to face the crowd, searching for Pero’s face in the group of professors and you rush over to him, wrapping your arms around his neck to kiss him.

Pero chuckles as he wraps his arms around your waist and hauls you close. He’s garbed in his own cap and gown, having presented your degree to you by happenstance. There are murmurs around the two of you, but he couldn’t give a fuck less. You haven’t been his student since that first class that you had been in. He kisses you deeply and pulls back with a smirk. “You are still a pain in my ass.” He teases you, kissing your lips again. “But I’m proud of that and you.”

“Thank you, Professor Tovar.” You wink and he chuckles, “congratulations Mrs. Tovar. Now, shall we go celebrate your graduation?” He asks, knowing that his whole world has changed since you sat down in his class and sassed him. He wouldn’t change any of it, even if you’re still a pain in his ass. You lean in to kiss his jaw, “what do you say we go to your office for the last time?” You whisper and he groans, grateful for the gown he’s wearing. “Let’s go.” He grabs your hand and guides you through the crowd. You both know it won’t be the last time you fuck in his office. You’ll bring your husband his lunch on occasion, you’ll even end with dessert.

#pedro pascal #pero tovar #modern pero tovar #modern au #pero tovar x reader #pero tovar x you #pero tovar x f!reader #pero tovar smut #pero tovar imagine #pero tovar fanfiction #professor!au

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pedgito · 1 year ago

Text

MILLER'S GIRL ✎ SERIES MASTERLIST

Chapter Four: Under Your Skin

Chapter Summary: An implosion that changes everything, leaving results devastating but unseen. [5k]

[student/teacher relationship, age gap, no outbreak, power dynamic]

Chapter Warnings: fem!reader, professor!joel miller, inappropriate behavior, reader is delusional lol, background tess/joel (mentions of infidelity), technical infidelity on joel's behalf, unprotected piv, f!oral, angry sex, lack of aftercare, belt as restraints, inappropriate use of a tie & desk, semi-public sex (sorta), angst at the end i'm sorry.

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There’s a deep ache in your body and between your legs as you toss in bed that morning, rousing from a less than relaxing sleep, the faint smell of Joel still lingering on the clothes you fell asleep in, not bothering to change. Licking at chapped lips he’d kissed you so feverishly the night before, you recollect the night in flashes, rubbing sleep from your eyes and feeling riddled with anxiety.

You reach for your phone blindly, stuffed under your covers as you scroll through your phone, expecting some type of change—an updated grade, a note or two on your follow-up essay. But, there’s nothing. The big, glaring fucking zero staring you back in the face. And for a moment, you feel guilty. You wonder just how badly you screwed things up by doubling down and approaching him so boldly in his office. In his space.

You threatened him and he attacked. Not you.

You never intended for things to unfold the way they did, but you wanted to get your feelings across clearly, even if that meant getting under his skin.

Joel. Not Mr. Miller.

Those were two entirely different entities now.

You take your morning slow, enjoying the relaxation of the weekend and taking your time—researching and looking into things you definitely should not be. First, it’s his name.

Unfortunately, it doesn’t bring up much. His job history was fairly public, no local or national awards, nothing note-worthy and only a few small non-fiction pieces to his name, though you knew there were more—there had to be. With his taste in poetry and fiction you expected something, but came up with nothing. He’s so inexplicably boring to the naked eye and maybe that’s what he wanted. He wanted to blend and disappear.

Curiously, you do more digging on his wife. Who—yeah, it was definitely his wife. A few links later and you stumble upon the marriage certificate, nearly ten years strong. No kids, either.

It was impressive, more than what a lot of people could be prideful about. But Joel, he wasn’t prideful about Tess. He was secretive, dismissive, and shot a look of disgust at his phone every time he received a text, whether purposefully or not.

You find that she works at a law firm, relatively small and headed by two partners. One significantly older than the other—father and son? You squint slightly, searching through the website carefully but not coming up with much. She was a lawyer, that much was obvious.

Still, it didn’t explain the rift.

What happened?

You try and struggle to find anything rational or tangible, feeling like you might drive yourself insane trying to find out and you spend most of the weekend trudging through the obscurity of things you could find online, very little compared to what you could find out by just asking him.

There’s a tinge of dread in attending class that Monday knowing that no matter how hard you tried, Mr. Miller would never see you the same. He wouldn’t treat you as he had, pedestaling you up above the rest and, though he’d never admit openly, admiring you.

But, god, it ails you. Sickens your mind and keeps you from focusing on anything else.

You needed more answers, more clarification. But, more importantly, you still needed him.

That deep, gnawing feeling of desire in your gut had only grown stronger since your encounter in his office and you feared—knew, it would only worsen as time went on.

Joel knew that night that he needed to follow through on his plans.

His lack of trust in Tess, his instability in his life now, and how he couldn’t get you out of his head. The three were a volatile mix and he knew if he didn’t start somewhere that things would quickly grow out of control.

He makes the call to his lawyer the following morning, hungover and tired. Nursing a headache in his open palm as he conversed quietly over the phone. Tess was home, far off and distant in another room but he can hear her shifting around, moving about, and he feels like he’s betraying her. He doesn’t know why he’s filled with guilt and shame—maybe that was partly because of you, his willingness to cross that line for just a moment and kiss you.

It was a momentary slip, his want clouding out his sense of rationality.

You were conniving and manipulative, using his own selfish thoughts against him, his eagerness to aid you in your progress but also allowed a level of vulnerability between you both. Joel should’ve known, he should’ve seen it in the way you looked at him.

It was admiration and obsession and he fed into it.

It was something he never had, not even with Tess.

He loved her, sure. Cared about her, absolutely. But the physical connection—sexual or not, had never truly been there. And Joel figures that was why she did what she did, despite how badly it hurt him. He felt at fault for a while, like he had caused it.

Maybe he did—but he would never have betrayed Tess like she did so easily, even if she swore it meant nothing at the time. Late nights for her were fickle, but they still happened. And that’s when Joel allowed the doubt to seep in and eat away.

But, he just couldn’t do it anymore. He felt like an intruder in his own home.

Tess would be served the papers on Monday evening and Joel would face the wrath when he arrived home, but there was still time. Time to prepare and settle, commit through his day and do his job, even if you lingered in his peripheral as class went on.

Your lack of reaction and response to his unchangingness of your grade gives him a false sign of relief—had you finally moved on from the idea? Joel was clueless to how preoccupied you actually were, chewing on the end of a pen as you sifted through tabs as he droned on at the front of class. Discussion days were always long and dreadful, and as most of the class was discussing the troubled assignment Mr. Miller had given you the week prior, your silence was…required. He avoided you like the plague and you were thankful, to some degree.

Still filled with frustration and simmering rage, you can’t ignore how despite everything—Joel still glances your way. And where his looks before were restrained, subtle and less driven…these were not. Like he was replaying the events in his head every time he looked at you, wondering if he’d tossed your panties out or kept them, if he still tasted you on his lips—at this point, fucking you was the least he could do.

And you know it’s in poor taste, but you approach him at the end of class with a revered look on things—hopeful, even. Apologize, fix your grade, and move on like things never happened.

He straightens a stack of files on his desk as you approach, jaw tense as he swallows and his gaze follows the last few lingering students as you neared on him, like prey. But, your face softens when he looks at you and whatever retort he has on standby dissipates for the moment.

“Um,” You start, unsure of how he would react, “I—can we talk?”

“I don’t think that’s the best idea,” Joel offers logically, “not…now.”

End of day, he thinks. In his office. Privacy. Secrecy. He didn’t feel like airing things out in the middle of the day, not with his divorce on the forefront of his mind.

“I just…I wanted to apologize.” You tell him quietly, “For everything.”

Was it genuine? Not really.

“I can’t change your grade,” He admits, “I’m not going to and it’s beyond the deadline for that assignment.”

You breath sharply through your nostrils and intertwine your fingers in front of you—Joel can see from the way your grip tightens that you’re holding back and nothing has changed.

Unstable and volatile, you both stared at each other for too long, an eerie silence settling.

“That’s—”

He interrupts without much care, “Unfair? Unethical? Don’t start with this. Not now.”

He doesn’t have any leverage here either, but you quiet down under his gaze slightly.

You begin to speak again, but he holds up a careful finger. Like scolding a child for their actions and you bite back a venomous retort as he talks over you, “Meet me in my office at six. Fifteen minutes. That’s all you get.”

He’s on edge, jaw flexing around a tense swallow that feels impossible to get down. He turns back to his desk, ignoring you and ultimately ending whatever conversation you were hoping to have.

He wants you to wait and despite your stubbornness to address the situation now, you settle with his words and nod, a quiet “Okay.” in response.

“Don’t be late.” He stresses, eyes flicking up towards you briefly.

Your insides twist ominously in anticipation, but you feel yourself throbbing with need.

“Yes,” You respond, “Of course, Mr. Miller.”

There’s an urge for praise that Joel bites back.

Joel is already opening the door as your footsteps approach later that day, anticipating your arrival and eyes glancing over your figure in the darkened lights of the classroom, the warm glow of his office blanketing you both as he welcomes you in with a gesture, moving out of your way slightly and closing the door to his office as you trailed toward his desk, lingering quietly.

“You can sit.” He directs, thumbs digging into the waistband of his slacks as he adjusts them slightly, the uncomfortable press of his belt pressing into his stomach. Normally he’d undress a little, relax, but he couldn’t allow that. Not with how anxious he felt, knowing what he faced at home, sure that the divorce papers had already been delivered to Tess.

He’s tried to ignore it—and he doesn’t know why he’s worried, but her refusal to cooperate is always an option and that isn’t something Joel thinks he can handle calmly.

“Okay,” You listen, taking a seat in one of the two leather chairs placed in front of his desk, watching as he leaned against the edge of his desk a few inches away, hands clasped in his lap as he looked down, unsure of how to begin, or where, “Um, I can—”

“You need to understand something,” Joel begins suddenly, interrupting you again—it really, really fucking bothered you. He did it on purpose, as a way to assert himself over you, and you felt it in the way he looked at you, down and scrutinizing, “this—whatever this is, or was—it’s inappropriate.”

As if he had a proper moral compass to explain his actions.

“I don’t need a lesson in appropriate behavior,” You counter, “if that’s what you’re leading into.”

“No—”

It’s your turn to interrupt, sitting up straighter in your chair.

“And truthfully, it’s a little unprofessional of you to continue to fail me after I did the make-up assignment.” You respond, a tinge of condescension in your tone, “and you kissed me, if I remember correctly. So—if this is because you’re upset, then I’m allowed to be too. I want a fair grade. Not what you’re punishing me with now because you—for whatever fucking reason, can’t get passed the idea that you had those thoughts too, but can’t accept it.”

“I’m not punishing you.” Joel responds lamely and you squint your eyes slightly as you look at him before huffing out a breath of defeat, chuckling softly under your breath.

“You know—we talked for weeks. Back and forth. And you reached out to me first. So, if you want to deny that then let’s talk about you abusing your power and holding it over my head now after all of that. Genuine talks. You had to care, to some degree.”

“You’re not the first student I’ve talked to outside of class—”

You roll your eyes, feeling the conversation stalling out quickly.

“Do you still have them?” You ask curiously.

Joel doesn’t need to be told. He knows what you’re referring to.

And the guilt on his face as he looks away briefly, tongue pressing into his cheek as he glances at his watch, avoiding your question.

“Am I out of time already?” You ask patronizingly, leaning over in the chair slightly as you struggle to meet his gaze, his eyes pointed elsewhere. “Tight schedule today?”

“What are you expecting out of this?” Joel asks, arms crossing over his chest, biceps stretching under the dark button-up, licking at his bottom lip anxiously. “Are you that fucking stubborn that you think this is somehow going to work in your favor?”

Your face twitches in frustration and you cock your head slightly, rising from the chair and into his space, close enough that you can smell the faint waft of his cologne, looking him over slowly as his eyes fall on you.

“Where are they?” You ask curiously, squeezing yourself between the small space, thighs rubbing against his own as you walk around him, trailing by his desk. “Here?” You point toward the stack of closed drawers nestled in the wood and Joel glances over his shoulder, quick to move as he pushes you away gently, palm flat against your chest.

“The fuck are you doing?” He asks, “You came here to talk. So talk.”

You click your tongue against the roof of your mouth and test your limits once more, “Oh, so they are in there? Kept them for yourself? You know, this whole moral high ground thing is really fucking annoying, Joel.”

He speaks your name as a warning, but it only makes you feel more at ease.

“What?” You ask innocently, “Do you have somewhere to be?”

Joel chews at his bottom lip and removes his hand from the center of your chest, feeling it sting like a hot brand as his fingers curl around the edge of his desk, feeling oddly small as your eyes track him and watch like he’s some type of prey, a devilish smile pulling at your lips.

He made a mistake underestimating you—or even allowing you back into his office. He was screwed.

“Stop.” He warns, watching as you sucked your bottom lip between your teeth and reach behind him quickly, yanking at the drawer but he draws your hand up, tight in his grip and forcing you against his chest, your unrestrained hand falling against the desk to catch yourself.

“What’s going on?” You ask softly, feigning genuine emotion. The crease between his brow growing deeper—you’ve spent enough time with him to know when something is bothering him, someone, and it’s written all over his face. “Come on, I won’t say anything.”

“It’s not your business.” Joel offers lamely, feeling you create a small amount of distance as you push away, your wrist still held firmly in his grip, but lower by his waist.

“Is it her?” You ask carefully, “It’s her, isn’t it?”

Another breath of your name—stop here, stop now.

“Did you tell her?” You ask suddenly, eyes widening. “God, are you really that much of a —”

“No, fuck—” He interrupts, “I’m—not that it’s any of your goddamn business, I served her divorce papers today.”

“Oh…” It wasn’t what you expected, not by a longshot. “Was that—is that because of—”

“No,” His eyebrows quirk up slightly, amused that you thought you were the cause of his marriage's untimely dismantlement, “not at all, actually.”

He doesn’t know why it feels like a weight lifting on his chest, but talking about it with you feels…less imposing than he expected. And your eyes soften slightly at the mention, still beckoning something dark but he can see the genuine reaction that flashes momentarily.

He loosens his grip but doesn’t quite let go, thumb rubbing over the vein of your wrist.

Joel doesn’t understand why he can’t just let go, like he’s weirdly tethered to you.

“Do you…want to talk about it?” You ask, feeling the need to reassure some comfort.

You didn’t really care, but he seemed so pathetically sad. It spilled over and flooded into you, that small tug at your heart. It quickly fades, his mouth opening to speak.

“Not really.” He doesn’t feel the need to bother, glancing at his watch briefly again.

The minutes were ticking down and he knew you were overstaying your welcome—and he was allowing it. But, you here—it feels good.

“I can’t change your grade,” He reiterates again, “but if you promise to not do something like that again—I can offer some extra credit, something to help make up for it.”

And ultimately teach you a lesson and punish you in the process. Did you really have a choice?

“Extra credit,” You stress, saying slowly as you consider the word, the implication—you don’t think he means it in a nefarious way, it just feels ridiculous, “seriously?”

Joel nods, “Consider it a…lesson learned.”

A small laugh bubbles from your chest but you ignore it, staring down at his touch and speaking.

“You know—I did appreciate the recommendations you made,” You admit, “if that counts for anything.

Joel stares at you, despite your preoccupied gaze, speaking directly.

“I wasn’t lying when I said I care about that,” Joel says, “I give recommendations to students all the time. But, you seemed more interested so–I gave you more.”

“Right,” You say with finality, “and all those nights at the coffee shop?”

“I’m there quite a bit anyways,” He admits, only a half-truth, “you’re not the first student I’ve had meetings with outside of class.”

He’s trying to reiterate to himself that his actions are justified, but his body is saying otherwise.

“Mr. Miller,” You start softly, “can I ask you one more question?”

Silent, he nods again.

“Why are you still touching me?”

And he doesn’t know why, but something in him snaps. The quickening of your pulse under his fingertips, your eyes finally flicking up to him. He does have your panties tucked away in his desk, he doesn’t meet with students outside of his class like that, and he can try and convince himself all he wants, but him reaching out to you was a personal, selfish decision that had nothing to do with anything but his own curiosity. He sees the subtle catch of your breath and doesn’t stop you when he sees you moving closer, quick and determined.

Fuck his time limit, you think.

If he wanted you to leave he would’ve forced you out by now.

Your lips are soft but forceful, pressing against his with fervor as you slip your wrist from his grip and bury your fingers into his shortened curls, trimmed down at the base of his neck but there’s still just enough to tug, swallowing down his soft grunt as you pull and bite as at his bottom lip.

Joel has the thought to stop you, but he can’t.

He feels guilty, appreciating the touch that he’s lacked for so long. But, there’s a creeping sensation of frustration that fills him, vexed with you. And it snaps, completely.

His hands finally touch you, releasing a breath into his mouth you didn’t realize you were holding. One hand cradling the back of your head, the other wrapped firmly around your neck. Just a solid weight that he uses as leverage when you get too eager, nipping at his lip.

Joel moves you easily, silently as he turns and presses you against his desk, mumbling a soft “Up.” as he aids in the lift of your thighs, taking a seat on his desk as it shakes with the movement and he slots himself between your open legs and kisses you fuller, selfishly.

He’s eager to slip his tongue into your mouth once more, like beforem and you welcome it with ease. Giggling into his open mouth as he squeezes at your throat, the sound breaking his focus.

“So, is this the extra credit?” You speak against his lips, a soft puff of his breath over your face as he keeps his eyes closed, face pressed against yours. “Because I think my fifteen minutes is up.”

Joel can’t do conversation right now, the noise grating in his ears as he blindly reaches for his tie and loosens it, yanking it away from his neck and balling up the material, his eyebrows shooting up slightly in response as he catches your gaze, momentarily confused until you quickly catch on.

Oh, he wants you to shut up. Noted.

He’s guiding the fabric to your mouth before you can properly speak and that’s what he wants, stuffing it between your teeth and forcing you to bite down, his eyes darkened as he squeezes your cheeks between his fingers, shifting a hand under the hem of your dress where it tickles your thighs and you legs widen instinctively, even more. There’s an obvious absence of fabric that Joel notes as his fingers dig into your hips, your eyes brightening at his realization.

And that’s how Joel knows—you never came here to talk. You always had some underlying intention or reason and it drove him insane, but he was a raging hypocrite, wanting it just as selfishly. His fingers drag over your pussy with intention, gliding through your slick and pressing a single digit inside of you with little resistance and you gasp, muffled by the fabric.

“You didn’t come here to talk,” Joel surmises, though it was obvious from the start, “did you?”

You shake your head weakly, eyes squeezing shut as he pumps his fingers and quickly adds another, hand flying to his wrist as he quirks his fingers inside of you and hits a spot that has your stomach coiling in anticipation.

“What do you want?” He asks hotly, hand squeezing at the base of your neck while he uses his other hand to rub messy, slow circles over your clit. Your hands reach for his belt without question, palm flattening over his cock that was held tightly behind the stiff material of his slacks. “Yeah?” He questions, the subtle squeeze of your hand against his shaft in response.

And part of you really doesn’t think he has it in him to go through with it, but then he’s pulling his hand away from you to manipulate and manhandle, yanking you off the desk sloppily and pressing your front against the edge, fumbling with his belt behind you and pulling it off in a sharp snap, hand flattening against your back as he presses you down.

“Give me your hands.” He tells you, a soft whine of protest coming from your mouth, but then he’s pulling himself from his briefs, cock in hand as he tugs at himself slowly and glides along the center of your pussy, dragging through the wetness. “You want me to fuck you, right? Give me your hands.”

You had control on just about every aspect of his mind—he needed this, the physicality stripped from you.

You oblige silently, face resting against the cold wood as you offered up your hands and allowed him to constrain them tight and snug—he does it with ease. Practice and perfected and he uses it as leverage to pull you back toward him, “So, we have a caveat here. No condom.”

You nod deftly, eyes closing as he tightens his grip and ultimately squeezes the belt even tighter.

“But, something tells me you don’t care—” A shake of your head in response, “—don’t tell me you’re that fucking naive.”

You shrug lamely, wiggling your ass in an effort to move closer, eyebrow furrowing as he moves his hips away slightly. You growl in frustration and spit out the tie, “Fuck you, I’m on birth control. Do you really think I’m that irresponsible?”

His lack of answer is enough of one and he stuffs the fabric back into your mouth with a grimace, “Given your behavior, yes.” He fists himself tightly and slips inside of you with ease, a snug fit but you mold around him perfectly.

And it shouldn’t feel right, but it does. Joel breathes a soft breath of relief as he uses his free hand to fist into the fabric of your dress and use it as a perfect leverage to fuck into you with fervor, disregarding of your own pleasure for the time being—though the angle and the intensity of your thrust doesn’t have you far off, snapping his hips with a furiosity that strikes something inside of you with each harsh movement.

He’s huffing behind clenched teeth, a low growl emitting from his chest as he feels you tighten around him instinctively, sobbing brokenly around the fabric in your mouth, eventually allowing it to slip as you feel his grip shift, pulling you upright by your dress and pressing you back against his chest.

“Why the—sudden change of heart?” You tease, an underlying suspicion in your mind that you don’t speak aloud. He wanted a distraction and you were proving to be a great one. His hips slow suddenly, almost like he’s contemplating a response.

He huffs out a bitter laugh, snapping his hips sharply and forcing a gasp from your chest.

“Do you ever shut up?” He asks, “If I knew you’d be this annoying I would’ve just shoved my dick in your mouth—maybe that would do you some good. You’d like that, huh?”

You giggle softly but it falls off into a broken moan as Joel buries his face into your neck, biting roughly at your skin as he feels himself reaching his peak, knowing it’s been far too long for him—years of lacking sex that quickly divulged into nothing. “I think you would like that, Joel.”

You’re waiting for a chastise that never comes, knowing he hates when his name falls from your tongue—he makes a muffled sound as he loosens the belt with fluid, practiced fingers and discards it to the floor, relieving the growing ache in your shoulders as he crosses an arm over your chest, palm flat against it to hold you in place as he snaps his hips once, twice, before his other hand is digging into the flesh of your own hip as he comes, deep inside of you and with a muffled grunt, teeth leaving a faint impression in your skin—and you’re only slightly disappointed in his lack of attention in making you come, but then he’s pulling out and spinning you around, hands coming up under your thighs to spread you out over his desk, silently pressing for you to lean back, dropping to his knees with his pants pooling low on his thighs. Too impatient to redress fully.

You gasp when he dips a finger inside of you, catching the slow spend that slips out, stuffing it back in as he presses his tongue over your clit and groaning at how you clench tightly around his fingers, spasming at the pressure.

“Quiet,” He warns, “put the fucking tie back in your mouth if you can’t control yourself.”

You can admit defeat, pathetically stuffing the fabric back in your mouth—haphazardly as half of it drapes over your chest, eyes locking on Joel’s as he laps at your clit, fingers stuffed inside of you to keep his cum from dripping out. And it’s so overwhelming that when you do finally come, you feel your vision blacking out, biting down roughly on the silk tie as you claw at the hand he has braced against your stomach, desperately trying to keep your writhing body still.

The aftermath is quiet, jaded—shifting on his desk silently you watch as he redresses, tucking his shirt back into his pants as he slips his belt through the loops, the fingers that were just buried inside of you working so easily against the leather.

“Satisfied?” He asks suddenly, into the silence as you both lock eyes.

He slips the tie from your fingers, placing it back around his neck and tying it diligently.

“Are you going to try and convince me you did that for my benefit?” You retort in annoyance, despite how satisfied you actually may be, this wasn’t just on you, “How about you apologize for using me as an outlet for your troubled marriage?”

“You’re not an outlet–”

And as if you spoke it into existence, the knock comes a few moments later. The door opening.

This is the part where Joel’s life finally implodes.

You on his desk, compromising as he still stands halfway between your legs in the middle of shifting his tie and Tess is…stoic. Silent.

“This is what’s been keeping you so preoccupied?” Tess asks, the dooming stack of papers gripped tightly in her hand. “Fucking a student?” Her eyes flicking to you briefly but quickly back to Joel and he nods toward the door, beckoning for you to leave.

You do, without question.

And the aftermath is abysmal.

#joel miller #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller x y/n #joel miller fanfic #joel miller fic #tlou fanfic #joel miller smut #professor!joel miller #the last of us fanfiction #my writing #miller's girl #pedro pascal characters

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joelswritingmistress · 1 year ago

Text

You Scare Me, Professor Masterlist

Summary: The reader is taking graduate classes at a local university in the wooded upstate New York. She is drawn to her professor, Dr. Joel Miller, though she is also inherently aware that he has something dark about him that she can't quite put her finger on. As the reader's attraction grows deeper, she has to decide whether to endure the danger or run away as fast as possible.

PRELUDE

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Chapter 25

Chapter 26

Chapter 27

Chapter 28

Chapter 29

Chapter 30

Chapter 31

Chapter 32

Chapter 33

Chapter 34

Chapter 35

Chapter 36

Chapter 37

Chapter 38

Chapter 39

Chapter 40

Chapter 41

Chapter 42

Chapter 43

Chapter 44

Chapter 45

Chapter 46

Chapter 47

Chapter 48

Chapter 49

Chapter 50

Chapter 51

Chapter 52

Chapter 53

Chapter 54

Chapter 55

Chapter 56

Chapter 57

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pedroscowgirl · 5 months ago

Text

pedroscowgirl's masterlist

Actors:

Hugh jackman:

Lie detector **nsfw** A Younger Revelation**nsfw** -> part 2/ part 3 / part 4 / part 5 (final)*nsfw*

Unleashing the wolverine **nsfw** Vigilante shit **nsfw**

requests: wanting to breed u *nsfw* warm fall night *nsfw* + fluff

Pedro pascal:

Characters:

Aaron hotchner

Between control and desire *nsfw* -> Breaking the silence (part 2) *nsfw* Tinted desires *nsfw* unexpected encounter *nsfw* filling the void *nsfw* In safe hands fluff/ *suggestive*

Drabble:

Fresh out the slammer our little secret fluff/bit angsty? unfinished business fluff/angst

Emily Prentiss

Buttons *nsfw*

Joel miller

Guilty as sin *nsfw* (coming soon)

Remus Lupin

I love you, I'm sorry (series) *nsfw*

Taglist (comment or dm to be added)

buy me some coffee if u want <33

#hugh jackman #hugh jackman smut #marvel smut #wolverine #wolverine smut #pedro pascal smut #pedro pascal #masterlist #smut #aaron hotchner smut #criminal minds smut #remus lupin smut #professor remus lupin smut #remus lupin

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honeyedmiller · 1 year ago

Text

Law of Attraction — Chapter One: Rough Draft

series masterlist | next chapter

rating: 18+, minors dni.

warnings: Professor!Joel, reader is self conscious for a bit, reader is mentioned to be plus sized, no outbreak au, smut (fingering, thigh riding, f oral receiving, unprotected piv), pet names, age gap (joel is in his mid forties and reader is in late twenties), no use of y/n.

word count: 4.4k

chapter synopsis: you need help with a paper you’re writing for Professor Miller’s class, and he’s more than happy to oblige.

Professor Miller’s class was your favorite.

Criminal Law was your favorite subject, and Professor Miller made learning about it sound like the most interesting thing in the world (which to you, it truly was).

Although the class itself was a bit monotonous, you got to look at the most handsome Professor on the University of Austin’s campus. It was no secret that people only joined Professor Miller’s class just to ogle over him and his ruggedly handsome looks.

You, on the other hand, needed this class to graduate. Which means you needed to try. You were a good student; A’s and B’s as your final grades at the end of each semester, took good notes, studied hard, and asked for help when you needed it. However, you found it to be a bit difficult to do so for Professor Miller.

Even just being around him made you unintentionally blush. His eyes always tended to land on yours because you sat up front, and, well, tried to pay attention to the lesson. So, when you weren’t exactly confident in the rough draft of a paper you wrote for his class, you’d emailed him for help.

to: [email protected]

Good evening Professor Miller,

I was just wondering if I could have you read through the rough draft of my paper. I seem to be struggling a bit with this particular section of the course, and would like some feedback to see what I need to change or can improve.

Thank you and kind regards.

You held your breath as you clicked ‘send’, and in less than five minutes, he replied to you. Your heart leaped into your throat when you saw his name on the screen, and you rolled your eyes at yourself for getting so worked up over a man that you’d never be able to have, regardless if you were well above a legal age.

from: [email protected]

Of course. Meet me after class tomorrow and we can go over it in my office during my office hours.

Have a good night.

Professor M

You often thought of Professor Miller outside of class, and, sometimes, you’d let your mind wander to places it shouldn’t go. Places like what it’d feel like for him to run his hands over you, fingers in you, him moaning because of you.

Your thoughts always quickly dissipated though when reality sunk in. Surely he’d want someone his own age, not a student of his, and someone who was… well, thinner. You were a bigger girl and you’d struggled with your image a lot, especially because trauma from your childhood from being made fun of constantly haunted you into your adulthood.

It wasn’t easy not caring what people thought of you, especially since you weren’t society’s “standard” beauty. You were curvy, yes, but you didn’t have a flat tummy like other women. You’ve been on a journey of self love and healing for a long time, and you've come a long way. You've had a newfound confidence spring within you, but you just couldn't help the thought loom in the back of your mind as you fantasized about your unfairly gorgeous professor.

So, as it was, you went to bed that night fucking yourself with your fingers, wishing they were his instead as a ghost of his name was whispered from your lips.

It was unusually hot in Austin the next day, which resulted in you wearing a pencil skirt that came just above the knees, a button down shirt with the first couple of buttons undone, and strap back kitten heels. You had a presentation in your first class with a team to act as if you were profilers giving a profile on a high stakes case. So, naturally, you had to dress the part.

What you didn't take in account is the fact that several of your classmate's eyes landed on you as you walked into Professor Miller's class a few minutes before it started. Professor Miller's eyes snapped up and looked at you, taking in your professional attire. You felt your face get hot as you tried to subtly head to your desk in the front, but your heels clicking against the floor didn't help.

Joel cleared his throat as he typed something on his computer, turning on the projector so the screen could display today's lesson. Joel got up from his desk and trudged over to yours, knocking on it twice. Your head was already buried in the notes from the previous lessons, so his presence startled you.

"I remembered your email from yesterday. See me after class today if you can." He pauses, taking a moment to look over your features, pretty face was perfectly on display for him. Your eyebrows were furrowed and your doe eyes scanned his face, lips in a soft pout, and your chest was rising and falling faster than usual. The way he looked at you made you squeeze your legs together, and Joel noticed.

"For my paper." You stated matter-of-factly, rather than questioning it. He nodded, and you mirrored his actions once before he stalked back to his desk. He greeted the class shortly after, beginning the lesson almost immediately.

Class lasted the two hours as usual, and as everyone gathered their stuff, you stay put. You’d crossed your leg over one another because the heavy feeling of arousal just wasn’t going away.

Professor Miller looked particularly good today, with his hair done up and a tight cotton green button down hugging the muscles in his arms. You always admired his husky build, and this shirt he wore with the fitted denim jeans he had on accentuated it perfectly.

“So what exactly are you struggling with?” Professor Miller cuts to the chase, prompting you to come up to his desk. You clear your throat as you pull the rough draft from your folder, sliding out of your desk. You walk over to him, heels still clicking onto the floor with purpose. You hand him the paper and he takes it from you gently.

“I’m having trouble with the case study here,” You lean over his desk slightly, a perfectly manicured finger of yours pointing at the third paragraph on the first page. “I don’t know if I should apply or dispute it.” You chew on your bottom lip nervously, not realizing how incredibly sexy you look to your dear professor right now.

One of your hands was hooked to the edge of his desk, gripping on it to balance yourself as you leaned over giving him a slight peep of the very top of the soft flesh of your breasts. You biting your lip like that didn’t make things any better. Joel felt his cock twitch in his jeans, and he wanted to groan.

Joel’s admired your curviness since the first day you walked into his classroom. He always found plus size women attractive, so naturally, he felt more drawn to you. He knew you were a consenting adult and a grown woman at that, so he truthfully didn’t feel too guilty for unashamedly checking you out. You just never noticed.

Joel’s eyes snapped back to your paper, reading over the section you pointed at. “You should apply the argument,” Joel said, writing next to the printed words with red ink. “Everything looks good, though. Just apply the argument and assess the similarities between the two cases and you’re golden.” He hands you back the paper after writing his feedback.

“Great. Thank you for your help, Professor.”

“Call me Joel.”

You look at him a little confused. “Sir?” The word just slipped out of your mouth, and you didn’t realize what you’d just said until after the fact. Joel exhaled shakily out of his nose.

To change the subject, he took in your attire again. “What’ya doin’ dressed up all fancy like that?” He asks, leaning back in his chair. He was trying to distract his own mind from wandering places that it shouldn’t with you.

“Oh,” You laugh, and fuck if that wasn’t one of Joel’s new favorite sounds. “I have Professor Sanchez’s class before this. We had a group presentation today,” You turn away from him to put the paper back in your folder, so your back was facing him. You heard Joel get up from his chair, but his footsteps didn’t go far. It sounded like he was leaning up against his desk. “We basically had to give out a profile for a mock high stakes case.”

Joel hummed, and you whirred around to face him. His body looked elongated the way he leaned so cooly up against his mahogany desk, legs extended but crossed as his boots touched the ground, and his arms were crossed over his chest. He looked like a tall glass of water and you’d be damned if you didn’t get a sip.

“Professor Sanchez’s class sounds fun.” Joel quips, tilting his head.

“Yours is better.”

“Oh really? Why’s that?” He uncrosses his arms and pushes himself off of his desk, analyzing your body language again. He can tell by the way your legs are pressed together and the rising of your chest that you’re nervous, which makes him nearly smirk.

“More fun to learn about.” You shrug, trying to play it cool. You were certain he could see right through you, though, but neither of you were doing anything about it. You couldn’t help but have a hunch that Professor Miller might just want you the same way you want him. Maybe.

He huffs a chuckle and looks down at the linoleum tile on the floor, biting his tongue. You know he wants to say something, but he’s hesitant. So, you took the initiative and took a step closer to him, taking in his broad frame.

“Look, darlin’,” He starts, and your stomach flutters at the nickname. “I know you’re a grown woman and all, but you’re still my student.”

You tilt your head to the side in wonder, a ghost of a smirk on your lips. “What ever are you talking about, sir?” You’re playing with fire now as you take a step forward, just inches away from the man you’ve wanted to ruin you for so long.

“You know exactly–” He paused as you dragged your index finger down the side of his neck, to his exposed collarbone. “What I’m talkin’ about.”

“As far as I’m concerned, sir, we’re both consenting adults.” You drop your hand and shrug, your eyes feening innocence.

He sighs defeatedly, shaking his head.

“You’re not wrong about that. You don’t know how hard it’s been trying to keep my eyes to myself every time you walk into my classroom. And then you come in here looking like this?” Joel gestures to your whole body, and your heart is hammering in your chest.

“Never thought you’d look at me that way, Professor.” You confess.

“You kiddin’ me? You’re one of the most beautiful women I’ve ever seen in my life,” He scoffs as if he can’t believe you don’t see yourself in the same light that he does. He thinks for a moment before opening his mouth, then clamping it shut. It seems that he made a final decision when he sighs and closes his eyes, opening them to look directly into yours. His brown eyes were so mesmerizing, you almost didn’t hear him say his next words. “If you really want this, want me, follow me into my office.” He whispers, and you nod with subtle eagerness.

Holy fuck. You couldn’t believe this was happening. You trailed not too far behind him with your book bag slung over your shoulder, heels clicking against the floor in anticipation as you tried to keep up with his wide strides. You walked through a door in the classroom that led to a hallway with another door at the end. Joel unlocked the door and opened it for you, letting you in first. He trailed in hot on your heels and shut the door. He locked it and swiftly grabbed the softness of your hips, pushing you up against the door. You gasp softly, hands landing on his broad chest.

“Fuck, baby, you’re so beautiful.” Was all he said before he crashed his lips with yours, gripping one of your thighs and bringing it up to wrap around his waist. His fingers dug into the soft flesh of your thigh as your skirt rode to your hips, leaving you to feel just how hard Joel’s cock was getting.

You moaned into his mouth and tangled your fingers into his slightly graying hair, tugging the slightest bit. He pushed you even further into the door, grinding his hips into yours. You left out a soft whimper into his mouth, but he swallowed it right up when he swept his tongue over your bottom lip. You didn’t hesitate to let his tongue explore your mouth.

You both were clearly so ravenous for each other, and the clashing of tongues and teeth proved that. You gripped at each other like you’d both disappear and this would’ve been a sad, unfulfilling dream.

Joel pulled apart from your lips as he trailed his warm lips down your throat and to your collar bone, his hot tongue poking out to soothe tiny bites he made along the way.

“Joel, please.” You beg, not really sure for what though. You want him everywhere on you all at once. You wanted to drink him in like he was the last fucking water source in the world. You wanted to feel his burly muscles rippling beneath your hands as you became full of him, stretching you out so heavenly that you couldn’t even comprehend what was going on around you.

He moaned at the sound of his name rolling off your tongue, and he pulled apart from you. He dragged you over to his desk, where he sat down in his large office chair and pulled you down to straddle one thigh of his.

“Go on, baby, use me.” He breathed, brushing the curve of your cheekbone softly. You leaned forward to kiss him again, finally registering what he meant. You settled your clothed core over his jean-clad thigh, grinding yourself onto him slowly at first. The friction was heavenly and you knew you were already close.

So many days and nights of fantasizing about this and how it’d go down, only for it to come true in the end, was truly otherworldly. His large hands moved down to unbutton a couple of more buttons on your shirt before moving down the curves of your body to rest on your ass, giving it a squeeze. You brought your hands onto his shoulders to steady yourself as you began to really ride his thigh.

You moaned softly and your eyebrows threaded together, the friction becoming nearly unbearable.

“Fuck.” You muttered, jaw going slack. Joel watched you in pure lust and amusement, waiting for you to soak a spot into his jeans. Seeing you like this, on top of him, riding his thigh, getting off because of him… made his head swirl with euphoria.

“That’s it, angel. C’mon. Give it to me, baby.” Joel encouraged, softly forcing his hands against your ass to get you to rut your hips a little faster.

“Fuck, fuck, Joel, I’m gonna– fuck!” You came hard on his thigh, and he nearly came in his pants at the sight. He felt the warm slick on his thigh, and he needed to get a taste of you.

“So good for me, sweet girl,” He murmured as he lifted you by your hips and set you down on his neat desk. Your skirt was already up to your hips, so Joel swiftly removed your soaked panties and stuffed them in his back pocket. “Let me just get a taste.” He said, looking down at you. Your cunt clenched around nothing at his words, silently begging him to devour you like you were his last meal.

He got down on his knees and pulled your ass closer to the edge of the desk by your thighs, hooking them around his shoulders as he came face-to-face with your glistening heat. “So fuckin’ pretty. This pussy’s mine.” Joel mewled, calloused fingers digging into the flesh of your thighs once more as his tongue circled your clit.

The drag of his muscle was slow, teasing. He took his time just to hear you beg for his mouth. He needed to hear it.

“Sir, please.” You softly whimper, and his eyes nearly rolled to the back of his head. His ran his tongue up and down your folds, swirling it a few times before it prodded your entrance. He delved his tongue inside of you, and you had to clamp your hand over your mouth in order to keep from screaming.

His tongue felt so warm and wet and heavenly in you and around your aching cunt, just begging to be devoured until you reach another orgasm. Joel is was moaning against you, and the vibrations shot straight up your core. It made your toes curl in your heels, and your hips buck up from the desk. He folded his hands on top of your stomach to keep you locked down, and you whined at the sensation.

You were panting heavily beneath your hand, trying to muffle the loud whines and moans that you emitted. Joel’s tongue kept working against you as he lapped up your slick, drinking you in like he was dehydrated in the desert. You tasted so good to him; like nectarine from the ripest peach.

He then solely focused his tongue on your clit, flicking over it rapidly before using his lips to lightly suck on it. Your nails from your free hand clawed at the desk, the feeling of overstimulation creeping in. You felt that low burning sensation in your core as your next orgasm began to build up. As if on cue, Joel swiftly detached his mouth from you as he gathered your slick on his middle finger, followed by his ring. He pushed his two fingers into your entrance slowly, relishing the tightness around his digits.

He latched his mouth back onto your clit, interchanging between licking and sucking. Your shaky thighs began to squeeze Joel’s head as your orgasm was about to peak.

Joel hummed against you as he curled his fingers , hitting that spongy spot inside of your cunt that had you rolling your eyes back as your body shook through your climax. You whimpered as he detached his mouth and removed his fingers, bringing them to his mouth to lick them clean. The whole bottom half of his face was covered in your arousal, and he looked down at you with a dangerous glint in his eyes.

“So sweet f’me, baby. Could eat that perfect pussy all day.” He tossed you a shit-eating grin, and your thighs clamped shut as you tried to regain your breath. He leaned down to give you a kiss, and you tasted yourself on his tongue as he slipped it into your mouth. You could feel his painfully hard erection against your thigh, so you tried to muster up as much energy as you could to start taking off his belt.

Joel helped you by taking the rest of his belt off after you undid the buckle. He unbuttoned and unzipped his jeans, pulling them down just below his ass. He tugged his boxers down too so he could free his erection. Your mouth watered at the sight of his erect cock, head weeping and leaking pre cum.

“L’me taste you.” You managed to say in your already fucked-out state, but Joel shook his head.

“Next time, baby,” Next time. You pouted at him and he chuckled, cradling your face. “Now if you need to tap out, give me two hard taps on my thigh, okay angel?” You swallowed and nodded at his directions, and once again, you clenched around nothing.

“I’m– I have an IUD.” You say, and Joel looks down at you.

“Good.” Was all he said before putting both of his hands by your head, leaning down to kiss you gently. Without removing his lips from yours, he took one hand and guided the head of his cock over your aching folds. You were buzzing with anticipation, because the need to have him in you was almost unbearable.

He slowly prodded your entrance, then pushed himself in. You nearly choke on a gasp as he fills you up. You felt every ridge and vein on his silky, girthy flesh and you closed your eyes in pure ecstasy at the feeling. His cock was heavy in you, the weight adding to the extra pleasure you were already experiencing.

Joel looked at your face, admiring how it was contorted in pleasure and slight pain before he leaned down again to bite the soft flesh of your breast as he adjusted to your tightness.

“Feel so fuckin’ good, baby.” Joel moaned, standing upright after littering a few more kisses on your chest.

“Please move, Joel.” Was all you said before he began to rock his hips steadily. His thrusts were slow at first, but you tried to grind your hips against his for more friction. A few times your clit met the coarse hair at the base of his cock, and that gave you the friction you needed to clench around him so deliciously.

“This pretty pussy is all mine, y’hear me? So fuckin’ wet and tight, darlin’. Have me fuckin’ losin’ my mind,” Joel picks up his pace, slamming into you at an impossible rate. “Say it.” He warns, taking your breasts out from the cup of your bra.

“It’s–fuck, it’s all yours sir. All yours.” You couldn’t believe how good he felt as he fucked you like this, feverishly and buried to the hilt every single time.

“Good girl.” You moaned at the praise, and he leaned down to capture a swollen bud into his mouth. His hot tongue swirled around your flesh, sucking it and ever so slightly nipping it with his teeth. You hissed at the feeling, but it only spurred your arousal on further.

You wrapped your legs around his waist as he fucked you, but he stood up and removed your legs from him and put them over his shoulders instead. The new angle made it easier for him to fuck you deeper. A dark glint passed in Joel’s eyes as you moaned loudly.

He gathered both of your wrists into one of his, pinning them above your head. The pace of his hips picked up, and all that was heard in the windowless room was the sound of skin on skin slapping together, your wonton moans, and Joel’s grunts. He moved his other hand over your throat, wrapping around it and giving the sides a squeeze as he fucked you senselessly. You felt that tight coil in the pit of your core once more, and you were writhing beneath Joel the best you could.

“Fuck, Joel, ‘m gonna cum again.”

“Go ‘head angel, cum f’me.” His deep Southern drawl is what sent you over the edge, crumbling down and shattering all at once as your orgasm ripped through you. You cried out, and Joel quickly removed his hand from your throat and kissed you urgently, but the pace of his hips didn’t let up. He released your wrists next and your hands found purchase in his hair, raking their way down his back as you desperately tried to grab a hold on him.

It resulted in your nails scratching down his back, which he hissed at but didn’t seem to mind overall. Joel was chasing his own release as your slick cunt gripped him so desperately.

“C’mon baby, give me one more.” He grunted, gripping your hips so tightly you were sure there were going to be bruises. As if on command, your body beckoned to his call and you found yourself orgasming for the fourth time that day. A gush of liquid expelled from your overstimulated cunt, and a strangled cry left your mouth.

Joel was teetering on the edge, teeth clenched and brow furrowed. “Where do you want me, angel?” His voice was strangulated and desperate, both of you gasping for air.

“In me, Joel, please.” You cry, gently gripping at his hair as his head dropped to your shoulder, warm spurts of cum shooting into you. He groaned into your ear, cursing under his breath as he filled you to the brim.

He collapsed onto you, cradling the side of your face as he kissed you passionately.

“So good f’me, sweet girl. Y’did so well.” He praises, kissing your lips once more before standing up slowly and pulling himself out of your sensitive cunt.

You hummed as you tried to relish in the feeling of being so fucked out by one of the hottest men you’ve ever come to know in your life. You couldn’t believe that just happened, and your mind was swirling with a million thoughts per minute.

Joel helped you up onto shaky legs, grinning to himself at how fucked out you looked. He was sure he looked the same way, but he couldn’t care less.

“You have any classes after this, baby?” Joel asks as he buttons up your shirt for you. You shake your head no, your voice not quite caught up to you just yet.

“‘M going home to sleep. Im exhausted.” You sigh, leaning against him. He chuckles and kisses the top of your head, smoothing out any stray hairs that were misplaced from your activities.

“Get some rest, baby. Here. Take my number and I’ll call you.” He rips a piece of paper from a notebook laying nearby, scribbling his number on it before tucking it into the breast pocket of your shirt. You beam up at him, hand trailing up his torso to rest on his chest. Your other hand found purchase on the back of his neck, softly tugging him down to kiss him once more.

“Mm. Will do, Professor.” You playfully wink at him, and he taps your ass playfully before you unlock the door to his office.

He half smiled as he watched you walk away, admiring your beautiful body from behind. He called out to you one last time, hoping you’d text him asap that night.

“Don’t forget to fix your rough draft!”

tag list:

@cool-iguana ; @wannab-urs ; @bastardmandennis ; @nostalxgic ; @ramblers-lets-get-ramblin ; @pamasaur ; @planet-marz1

#joel miller fanfiction #joel miller au #joel miller smut #joel miller fluff #joel miller one shot #joel miller imagines #joel miller imagine #joel miller x plus size reader #professor!joel #pedro pascal imagines #pedro pascal one shot #pedro pascal imagine #joel miller #joel miller fic #joel miller x female reader #joel miller x afab!reader

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lokidjarin-7567 · 5 months ago

Text

The Tortured Poets Department

Multi-fandom fic based on the TTPD album!! I’ll add tags as I go and I’ll add a little description for each one under the link here ❤️

Down Bad

Wolverine x You (X-men)

Short one shot, smut

You meet a mysterious man called Logan in a bar, and end up having some fun…

1.2k words

Who’s Afraid of Little Old Me?

Charles Xavier x Erik Lehnsherr x You (X-men)

Longer one shot, smut and a little fluff, threesome

After joining the First Class of Professor X’s school with your brother Hank, you realised you have a connection with two of the mutants there, and that they might also have a connection to each other…

6.2k words

Florida!!!

Aaron Hotchner x You (Criminal Minds)

Longer one shot, smut, a little fluff, and a little angst

After a tough case in Tallahassee, a storm blows in and the jet is grounded, so you find comfort in the arms of someone unexpected.

4.2k words

My Boy Only Breaks His Favourite Toys

Billy Butcher

Short one shot, smut

Your occasional fling sees you in a dress you had put on to tease him, and he reminds you who you belong to.

1.3k words

Fortnight

Mando/Din Djarin x You (The Mandalorian)

Longer one shot, smut

After being employed by Greef to transport you back to your home planet, Mando comes back from one of his bounty hunts beaten and bloody, and you’re forced to get closer than you expected to the man made from metal.

5.5k words

The Prophecy

Viktor x You (Arcane)

Long one shot, smut, fluff and angst, childhood friends to lovers

When the friend of your youth, Viktor, sees you still living in the Undercity, and working in a strip club at that, he is determined to reconnect, and rekindle a childhood friendship that was rooted in something more.

8.1k words

I Hate It Here

Kang Dae-ho x Reader (Squid Game)

Long one shot, fluff

After joining a mysterious game of life and death, you find solace in the company of another player, one so vibrant and optimistic it draws your mind from the horrors that await you.

5k words

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mellowsaturns · 2 years ago

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it’s cuffing season

MR. BEN (PEDRO PASCAL SNL CHARACTER) X TEACHER!READER

summary: your students won’t stop teasing you about a certain handsome teacher

warnings: fluff, teasing, hidden feelings, potential workplace romance, fem!reader

a/n: this is just for shits and giggles lol. teacher!pedro is doing something to my brain

part two

—

You were too busy to even notice at first. But when the hushed whispers and giggles started to become louder and louder, you finally snapped out of the trance you were in while grading your student’s papers and looked up.

And of course, the ever bashfully handsome teacher that everyone somehow had a crush on was leaning against your door, watching you.

You sighed before making your way over, not missing the childish noise your students were making. “Get back to work,” you scolded.

You raised a brow at him. “Is there something you need?”

“My students are in Geography right now, and had some time to kill.”

It seemed like he always had time to kill because he was always making these visits to your classroom.

“Don’t you have something better to do than distract my students?” you teased.

“I actually came to ask you something,” he said with a gentle smile on his face.

“Oh? And what is that?”

“What do you want for lunch today?”

It has become sort of a routine by now—the unspoken habit of buying each other lunch a few times a week.

Because that’s what good colleagues do, right? Buy lunches for each other. And for him, it also seemed to include hanging around in your classroom, and making sure to always wait up for you to finish organizing for tomorrow’s lessons before leaving the school together even though you knew it takes up an extra hour of his time.

Or not, because your students once again wouldn’t stop pestering and teasing you after he left your doors today.

“You should stop coming to my classroom so often,” you said in the staff lunch room. “My students are taking it the wrong way.”

Aftering taking a bite out of the burrito, he asked with his cheeks full, “What do you mean?”

You couldn’t help but giggle at his adorableness.

“Well, my students are ‘shipping’ us now,” you replied. When he looked at you in confusion, you explained it to him. “They are basically putting us together and saying some… stuff that’s not appropriate work wise.”

“Oh, really?” he said, face and voice smug.

The two of you have always been closer to each other than to the other teachers in this school—flirty even, but if your noisy students kept on talking, other staff members might catch on and take it the wrong way.

“This is serious!”

He hummed. “Well, if it makes you feel any better, my students call me ‘Daddy’ and you ‘Mommy.’ Much worse than that shipping thing you explained to me.”

You paused for a while. “Are they seriously saying that? Oh my God…” you trailed off, embarrassed.

“Yeah, I don’t get it either. But it’s a good thing. I think,” he said with a laugh.

You let out a groan before putting your head down onto the table. Despite the potential disaster of rumours to come, you couldn’t help but to wonder, would it be that bad? Being with him? You mentally cursed yourself for thinking that.

“Well, should we?” he asked.

You snapped your head up. “Should we what?”

“Become a Daddy and Mommy.”

You snorted at his insinuation. “You are insufferable.”

He gives you a sheepish smile but you don’t miss the little glimmer of hope in his eyes that also matched yours. You lifted your left hand up. “Hate to break it to you but I’m old fashioned. Ring first,” you teased, “then we can talk.”

He smiled at you, face full of adoration. That wouldn’t be a problem at all, he thought to himself.

#pedro pascal x you #pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal x y/n #mr ben x reader #professor ben x reader #pedro pascal snl x reader #teacher ben x reader #mr ben

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jawad111 · 26 days ago

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Help us evacuate from Gaza🙏

Hello everyone, I am Karam, one of Jawad’s sons from northern Gaza, displaced in Deir al-Balah, and I live in a tent with my family

My house, once a symbol of hope, was reduced to nothing more than broken walls and rubble. I had just finished building our house, a place where I finally felt safe. But in the blink of an eye, everything was destroyed due to the ongoing war. The air was filled with the sounds of explosions, and I ran away with nothing but the clothes we were wearing. And now, where our memories and dreams once lived, all that remains is destruction.

The ongoing war in Gaza. We lost our home, our career, and our sense of security. Now we live in a small tent, trying to survive every day amidst the chaos and destruction. Before the war, I was working as an educational designer, building a future for my family. But that life was shattered. We are now desperate to find safety and start over. But we need your help. We are trying to raise money to escape Gaza and rebuild our lives in a place where we can finally find peace. Before that - this was my life before the war, full of hope and promise.

“I need your support more than ever. Please, if you can donate, any amount will help. If you can't, sharing our story is just as important. Every repost and donation brings us one step closer to safety and rebuilding our lives.

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#gaza strip #norfamaily35 #gaza gofundme #gravity falls #halloween #inktober 2024 #monster prom #palestine fundraiser #pedro pascal #professor layton

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buckyhoney · 2 years ago

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Professor! Pedro eating you out on top of his desk during after hours

That’s all

it'd be after hours, it's almost midnight. you're his teaching assistant and you volunteered to help him grade papers, but it quickly escalates to your skirt pushed up to your waist and your legs hooked on his shoulders while he's on his knees in front of his desk.

you've knocked his pencil holder off the edge will scattering the stacks of essays on the ground. he's humming into your pussy while two fingers flutter against your g-spot. the only source of light is the desk lamp that's inches from joining the pencil holder. "baby, please-" you mumble, lacing your fingers through his hair. the light tugs only encourage him further.

he's so lost in your pussy that nothing else mattered nor was anything going to break his attention. pedro has been starved for a month because of winter break. when you walked through the doors earlier, he almost canceled class.

when he finally pulls away, just for a moment, you look down to see his chin glistening with your juices. he locks eyes and without breaking the contact he lets his spit drip off his tongue onto your clit.

im getting carried away-

#THIS COULD BE A FULL FIC #LEMME JUST #minors DNI #pedro pascal #pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal smut #professor!pedro

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psychedelic-ink · 1 year ago

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ㅤㅤㅤ❤︎ 𝐋𝐎𝐒𝐓 𝐓𝐈𝐌𝐄 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐇𝐈𝐒𝐓𝐎𝐑𝐘

ㅤhistory professor!pero tovar x f!reader

genre: smut, dark academia, minors dni

word count: 2k

summary: you've been suspicious for a while from the way he speaks. talking about historic events with such an affinity as if he's actually been there. the thought refuses to leave your mind and brings you to his office where he gives you answers but not without a price.

prompt: Their history teacher had a way to talk about historic events, just like he had actually been there. (click here for the prompt list)

warnings: unbalanced power dynamics, professor/student, fingering, mild dubcon due to the nature of the dynamic, pero is a bit of an asshole, size kink, rough piv, age gap

requested by @dinjardin

**amazing gif made by the most talented fanna aka @pedrorascal xx

His presence is large within the office. You always found him to be intimidating with his broad shoulders and hard gaze. The intensity of it would always take you by surprise. It would make your stomach jump and skin crawl. You would always wonder how such a soft color could look so intimidating and angry. Pero doesn’t lift his gaze as you enter, seemingly unbothered by your sudden interruption. Briefly, you look around, taking in the sight of worn books and ancient artifacts.

You swallow and look down, scanning the detailed lace of the end of your dress— maybe it was wrong of you to assume something so drastic, and frankly, unbelievable. Then again, the look in his eyes as he spoke of certain events…the way his gaze would grow cloudy and almost rueful as if speaking of a time he missed…you had to investigate, you just had to ask.

Raindrops begin to fall against the glass panels, neither of you looks to watch the soothing droplets slither down.

“How can I help you?” He asks, fingers deftly moving over the paper and scribbling down words you cannot see. “It is very unlikely for you to come and visit after hours. You must have a good reason.”

Pero’s not asking if something is wrong or not, he’s not telling you to take a seat. Every single sentence is a statement, a hint of a threat, he’s telling you not to pry. You remain silent. All the words you wish to speak suddenly foreign to your tongue. His eyes flit between the stacks of paper and you, noticing your inability to speak, he sighs and leans back against his chair. Your eyes follow the vein meandering down the side of his neck, a sliver of sun-kissed skin peeking from under his white button-up shirt.

“If you are too cowardly to speak, I suggest you leave,” the corner of his lips twitch into a cruel smile. “Some things are better left unspoken.”

His words sting and you immediately know you can’t leave this room without confronting him. You’re not a coward. You’re not some little girl throwing a temper tantrum. You noticed something and you want to seek the truth. You hear the blood rushing to your ears, your veins expanding as your pulse quickens. He’s watching you intently, eyes glimmering with amusement as if he’s watching the breaking point of the heroine.

“I’m not a coward, professor.”

“No?”

“No,” you lift your chin and his smile widens into a grin. “Your words only prove that there is something going on.”

Something dark crosses his eyes, something that sends a chill down your spine, “How about this,” he starts, lacing his fingers above his belt. Your eyes instinctively drop to them, making you realize that he did it on purpose. It’s not much, but you still manage to witness the outline of his cock. “If you guess what it is that I am hiding, I’ll confess fully. But if not, I get to touch you how I please. You get two guesses.”

“That seems hardly fair.” After a brief thought, you add. “And unprofessional.”

He shrugs with a smile, “Then I wish you a good day. See you in class tomorrow.”

He knows you’re not gonna leave this room. And you know that he knows. There’s no way you’re backing down after coming this far. You fix him a half-hearted glare as if you’re thinking about another way to get him to speak. But in all honesty, you’re not at all appalled by the thought of his hands on you. Touching you in places he’s not supposed to be touching. He’s a handsome professor. One of the professors that the other students constantly remark about, and you’re not immune to his deep dark eyes and mischievous, teasing smile.

“Fine,” you answer through gritted teeth and he lifts two fingers, eyes full of flickering amusement. “Okay, my first guess is that you’re a time traveler.”

His gaze lights up and for a second you think you’ve got it right, your heart starting to pound fast. Your mouth goes dry as you stare at the two fingers.

He lowers one, and slowly, he stands.

“Wrong,” he purrs, this voice thick. The professor rounds the desk and comes to a halt behind you, his body only a breath away. You hold your breath. “ Where should I touch you first? Here?” With both hands he cups your breasts, squeezing them lightly. Your breath catches in your throat, your pulse quickening from where his lips hover an inch away from your neck. “Or here?” His hands slither down and slip to your back, he cups your ass, the plump flesh filling his palms.

A whimper is caught in your throat and he lifts one finger in front of you, “Tell me your second guess and final guess.”

“Um,” all the answers you previously had feels silly to you now. “You’re a supernatural being, like a vampire or something.”

“Vampire?” He laughs, loudly. The sound booms in your ear, the thick hairs above his lip tickling your skin along with his warm breath. Embarrassment floods your senses and your eyes drop to his weathered desk. You feel the touch of his lips on your ear. “No. I am not a vampire,” he waits for a beat and then chuckles darkly. “You are out of guesses, senorita.”

His hands slip under your shirt and roam, taking in every detail of your burning body. He pulls down your bra, with his thumbs, he plays with the pebbled flesh. His touch makes arousal gather quickly between your legs. You squirm as you finally feel the full press of his body. His cock hard and aching between his legs. Some part of you wants to argue and say that this is more than a touch, but the other part of you is deadly afraid that he’ll stop.

You don’t want him to stop.

He pinches your nipples and slightly twists them, your body jolts, lips parting with a gasp, “Professor—“

“You really want to know what I am?” He mutters, dragging his nose down your cheek. You nod but honestly, with the way his hands are kneading you’re breasts, you realize you don’t care much about it anymore. “I am cursed to live out the rest of my days. Watching the times pass me by, watching everyone I once called a friend die.” You shudder at his tone, your body seizing at the sharp feel of his teeth. “I lived over and over. Now I am at a point where I do not care much about anything anymore.”

Your eyes go wide as he kisses your neck. His lips are soft and slightly damp. It feels good against your skin. A soft whimper escapes your lips. it’s hard to register what he just said, to understand what he means. Some part of you feels as if you’ve already known this. That he lived a thousand lifetimes and will live a thousand more.

Pero doesn’t give you a chance to speak. Before you can remark or offer some comfort, he holds you by the neck and shoves you down to the desk. His hips are pressed firmly against your ass, his erection tucked between your cheeks. Your breath hitches. With the corner of your eye, you see ungraded papers whipping around you and falling to the floor.

“One of the things that time has not changed is how even the most proper women become whores after I bend them over just like this.”

He must be right because you end up grinding back toward him, wanting to feel more of his cock, body, and presence. He grins against your skin. With large hands, he pushes up your dress and exposes your covered thighs. It doesn’t take him long to rip away your stockings. Warm palms stroke the flesh of your ass, he slides your panties to the side, exposing your soaked pussy to the chilled air of his office.

“Let’s see how wet this cunt is,” he teases, voice dropping. Two fingers spread your folds and push between them, your chest heaves as he slips them inside of you with embarrassing ease. You don’t need to look at him to know he’s smiling. He starts thrusting in and out, the wet sounds of your cunt flooding the room, burning your ears. It’s so loud. A fresh wave of arousal soaks his fingers, dripping down his wrist. “How hard do you want me to fuck you?”

You push back against him, walls fluttering as you take his fingers knuckle deep. “Filthy,” he coos. “You’re a mess already. My sweet student is such a slut for her professor. Isn’t she?”

“Yes,” you gasp, wiggling your ass. His groan rattles in your chest and you moan at the richness of the sound.

He pulls out his fingers, his other hand still pressing you down by the back of your neck, “Gonna fuck this pussy until it's drowning in my come,” he says. “Then you’ll be coming here every day, asking—begging me to fill these pretty holes.”

His cock is so much bigger and thicker compared to his fingers. Your body coils tight. The head of his length stretching you incredibly wide. You moan through gritted teeth, a sound of both pleasure and pain seeping into the wood underneath your cheek. Your skin prickles as he presses forward, your jaw going slack. He feels so incredibly big. He reaches deep inside of you, stroking places that you thought weren’t possible before. You writhe underneath him. Your body clenching him tight. He moans loudly when he’s fully heated inside, his cock throbbing and twitching inside you. You let out a deep breath and force your body to relax. He seems to notice. The only kindness he shows is the soothing glide of his palms over your back. You hum and sigh at the feeling.

But the tenderness is short-lived. Pero pulls out until it’s only the tip remaining and with a deep growl he snaps his hips forward, filling you with one smooth thrust. You scream his name, your body burning from the inside out as he pounds harder and harder into you. You’re drooling all over his cock, your nipples tight from where they rub against his desk. He fucks himself deeper into the tight fist of your cut and takes. He takes and takes and takes until you’re lifeless like a doll underneath him. Pleasure licks the base of your spine.

“Come on you professor’s cock,” he rasps into your ear, cock sliding in and out of you with ease. Your body begins to seize. Pero straightens, whine tearing from your throat at the lack of body heat. He roughly takes a hold of your hips and hammers into you, skin slapping against skin, until you’re coming undone around his cock. You cry out and the entirety of your body twitches uncontrollably.

Pero continues to thrust into you, his grip on your hips never faltering as he rides out his own orgasm. His groans and grunts mix with your own moans and cries as he fills you to the brim just like he promised.

Your mind is a blur of pleasure as you feel his cock pulse and twitch inside of you. It's overwhelming and you feel yourself start to come undone all over again. Pero's hands move from your hips to your breasts, giving them a rough squeeze before his fingers pinch and tug at your hard nipples. He pushes even deeper, some of his release dripping from where his cock mercilessly stretches you. A soft whimper drops from your lips.

He finally pulls out of you, your body limp on the desk. Pero stands up and looks down at you with a satisfied grin on his face. He watches you try to catch your breath.

“You're mine now. All mine, even if you do not want to be,” he says, pulling his pants back up and adjusting himself. “And you will keep coming back for more.”

You're too exhausted and sated to even respond, but deep down you know he's right. There's no turning back now.

#pero tovar x reader #pero tovar x f!reader #pero tovar x fem!reader #pero tovar smut #pero tovar au #professor!pero tovar #the great wall fanfic #the great wall fanfiction #pero tovar fanfiction #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal character fanfic

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pedgito · 1 year ago

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MILLER'S GIRL ✎ SERIES MASTERLIST

Chapter Three: Forbidden Fruit

Chapter Summary: Mr. Miller receives your assignment in it's full detailed exposé and despite his reaction, doesn't seem as pleased as you anticipated. It leads to a tense interaction that lands you in his office with more questions and confusion. [4k]

[student/teacher relationship, age gap, no outbreak, power dynamic]

Chapter Warnings: fem!reader, professor!joel miller (his teacher persona is v different from outside of the classroom, so if he seems slightly ooc....close your eyes), dom!joel, sub!reader, reader is a little obsessed with joel (and delusional), background tess x joel, inappropriate relationships/actions, masturbation (m), confrontations, joel manhandling reader (kinda roughly), panty ripping, one (1) forbidden kiss

— AO3 | PLAYLIST | PINTEREST

↝ other fics | requests? | ao3 | update blog | fic rec

Joel takes the plunge into the assignments the following night—it was a small class so he knew it wouldn’t take a large chunk of time, a couple hours at the end of his day and he’d have it out of the way and grades posted before the following morning. It was always easier to do things this way, hidden away in his office to force his focus and block out the rest of what was going on.

He flies through the assignments with a detailed precision, giving proper and full notes on things he thinks the students could work on or tweak, give some personal thoughts on creativity, and allow some encouragement where it was needed.

But, your name sits in the bottom of his inbox, bold lettered and unread—he saved it for last.

He could lie and say he didn’t do it on purpose, but he’s come to thoroughly enjoy your writing, so he pushes it off until it’s the final thing he has to grade that night. He knows Tess should be arriving home soon, so despite his want to give you his full, undivided attention—he intends to give it a quick skim.

Joel knows there’s no real notes he can give you. You always had a clear idea on your work, so meticulously planned out that it reminded him of himself in a way.

He takes a sip of the quickly dissipating bourbon in the cup sitting on his desk, ice clinking against the glass as he clicks on your essay and watches it expand onto the screen.

He likes to jot down his thoughts on paper as he goes, making it easier to format and type as he replies—he grips the pencil tight, reading the title of your essay.

ill-suited innocence

In a crowd she finds herself searching, looking for him. Days and days of tense glances and inappropriate thoughts—he must share them too? While she can’t be bothered by the fantasy of mythical creatures and things that only made sense in fiction, she did believe in the fantasy of wanting what she couldn’t have. Him.

Much older, wiser—grim around the eyes and a deep sorrow that burrowed its way into his chest and made home. He couldn’t fix himself, but she could. At least, she thinks she could.

Joel straightened his back, leaning into the screen to assure himself he wasn’t misreading. It was…an interesting take on the assignment he gave you, but he’ll bite. He’s used to your stuff being a little more unorthodox.

Something along the lines of forbidden fantasy? A tale of love? It wasn’t his particular choice of fiction but he wasn’t opposed to it. He squints, reading more.

He drops the pencil for a moment

Their lives mundane and unassuming, they traverse through life with little enjoyment. Two sides of the same coin and he was too oblivious to realize. He offered smiles and kind words, guidance that seemed from a good place but only allowed her to feel more misdirection. He was an enigma, difficult to decipher and she craved him.

And though he tries to fight whatever attraction he may feel, she can see it in his tense gaze. The lingering touches he leaves on her body. Secret meetings, talks that allowed themselves to be more deep than should be allowed. He was allowing her in little by little but she needed more.

She just had to ask, so she did.

Joel feels a tightening deep in his gut that wasn’t there before, reading between the lines of text and allowing faint glimpses of memories with you to match themselves with the words—his brow furrowing under the guise of…anger? No, frustration. He shouldn’t be equating his perfectly…appropriate relationship with you to this. In fact, it shouldn’t cross his mind. But, it does.

All of this from a dream? He could lie and say he wasn't intrigued, but that wasn't the case.

Joel doesn’t expect the full 180 turn as he glances down at the chunk of text that follows.

“You’re my student,” He whispers to her, “I can’t allow this.”

She bites at her lip, noticing the subtle click of his heels as they hit the floor, back them against his desk as she takes a seat, plastic cup full of pencils falling to the floor but neither of their eyes leaving each other.

“You can,” She encourages, “I’m hardly a student anymore. I’m a friend. We’re friends, right?”

And given his ability to let her in so easily, he also considered her a friend. Naively. He’s gotten himself into this position and he can’t find a reason to not give her what she wants—what he wants.

He captures her lips in a searing kiss, much less polite than a friend would, her fingers quickly undoing his belt—

Joel feels his cock hardening under the confines of his slacks, clearing his throat slightly. He should stop reading—he knows he should. The glaringly obvious lines being crossed are blurred for a moment. He shouldn’t have led you on like this, allowed you to cook up some depraved illusion of what you thought things could be.

Because they couldn’t. That wasn’t what this was. Joel had told himself over and over—he was helping. He didn’t think you’d take advantage of the scenario like this. Still, he finds himself loosening the buckle of his belt as well, unzipping his pants enough that he can stuff his hand into the tight space between his bare cock and briefs, palming himself impatiently.

And he skims—words sticking and fading in his mind. It starts of with a slow, sensual make out and a messily described handjob that has his cocking throbbing with every tight stroke he pulls at his shaft, eventually tired of fighting the tight space he’s allowed with his slacks making it impossible to move, he leans back and pulls his cock out far enough that he has free, unrestrained range. The bourbon glass leaves a sweat ring on the oak of his desk but Joel can’t be bothered, he scrolls down further, taking in the last few scenes that allowed him a full idea of just what exactly you thought was going on between the both of you. Or, what you wanted to happen.

He allows himself a moment to slip out of his headspace and imagine, selfishly.

Bent over the desk, items scattered to the floor he pulled at her skirt, something she wore necessarily—easy access, she whispered against his lips before he bent her fully over the desk, chest pressed against the solid wood.

Joel imagines it vividly, his breath quickening as he tugs at his cock in rough, fast strokes and pictures it—you, bent over his desk and your ass presented to him like a prize and how good it would feel to squeeze the flesh between his hands. He knows your sounds would be sweet, divine, and it drives him wild.

He’s thought about you before like this, hand wrapped around his cock, but never in full detail as you’d written out.

And then he slips his cock inside of her, a small gasp of, “Just like that, professor.” falling from her lips and it only spurs Joel deeper into his despair, tugging himself until he feels his orgasm creeping up on him, a churning in his gut that feels too good to quit and he reads out the last few lines, as he comes deep inside of, recklessly and without much decision making.

He thought you were smarter than this. Expected more out of you.

There’s a creak of a floorboard down the hall that sends his world crashing down on him, dampening his orgasm almost immediately as he scrambles to shove himself back inside of his slacks, buttoning and buckling his belt hastily as he clicks out of his browsers and feigns exhaustion, Tess’s fingers curling around the doorknob as she peeks her head in, watching as Joel’s fingers circled the glass of liquor.

God, he hates her.

Not you. Tess.

He figured his reasoning was valid, but truthfully—he just couldn’t stand her any longer. He's been battling the decision to go through with his divorce, but this seemed like as big a sign as ever. It's the unbridled rage he was tired of harboring around her, trying to act like things were fine.

Nothing was fine and his life was imploding.

He was lusting after a student and worse, he know you were after him—actively, clear in the boldness you showed through your assignment.

He thinks back briefly on the video call that he shouldn’t have allowed, your question that seemed…vague but unassuming. Had you planned this the entire time?

Was he just that stupid to not see it?

“Coming to bed tonight?” Tess asks hesitantly.

Joel offers a clear and concise, “No.”

He wasn’t sure if he could even sleep, contemplating over how to handle this…situation.

He couldn’t allow it to stray further.

It would damage his career and ruin his life.

But truthfully, he felt like he’d already reached that point, so what did he have to lose?

You wake up on Monday with a deep pit in your chest, knowing that grades were posted that morning. You knew it was a risk, being so open with him—but he couldn’t fail you. You followed the parameters of the assignment and made sure to clear the few questions you had with him.

Part of you is expecting another email from his private account, wondering his thoughts beyond what he would address appropriately. But, the moment your eyes drag along the screen, still blurry from sleep, you feel your heart stop.

0/100. A complete failure.

No comment besides—Rewrite and resend immediately. No extension. Due by the end of the day.

Your jaw clenches in frustration.

Oh, you were not being ignored that easily.

You storm into his room later that day during your free hour for lunch, knowing he’d be saddled up at his desk eating his own lunch.

You couldn’t even think about eating, full of anger and annoyance that kept you full and ready to strike. He can hear your footsteps before you approach and is wiping at his mouth with a napkin when you stop at his desk.

He holds a hand up, face steely and emotionless.

For a moment, you think he might break. Crack a smile and say it was an excuse to get you here.

Instead, he has your essay printed out and ready to shove at you, your fingers curling around the stack and crinkling the edges.

“You can’t fail me,” You start tensely, “I did your stupid assignment and I followed the steps you asked for.”

“I expect a new one by the end of the day. Appropriate to the topic. End of discussion.”

You scoff, not daring to look at the glaring zero he drew out on the paper just to prove a point. It lands in the trash as you throw it down, “No.”

Joel’s chair squeaks as he rises and it startles you slightly, and suddenly he’s invading your space, the muscles in his neck tightening as he pointed an accusatory finger at the trashed papers.

“In what situation did you think any of that was appropriate to write and send to your professor?” Joel asks, noting the way you blink quickly, backing away slightly.

He almost…feels bad? No. He quickly wipes the thought away as more anger crosses your face, eyes dilating in rage.

You lean in slightly, thankful that the halls were quiet around this time of day and that you had closed the door behind you.

“You started this,” You argue, “You crossed that line when you messaged me on a private email. Telling me that you liked the time we spent together. I’m your student—maybe you should’ve taken that into account first.”

His fist clenched at his side, almost to restrain himself, knowing he’d rather shove that finger into your chest and blame you. But, you were both to blame. And he even more so. Still, he doubles down.

“Rewrite it or I’ll fail you for the entire semester.”

Your mouth gapes open, eyebrows furrowed in confusion.

“That’s…completely unfair.” You settle, voice softer as you drop the act. “I just—”

“Rewrite it.” Joel responds firmly.

“Mr. Miller—” You begin, trying to find a feasible way to get him to listen.

“Or I fail you.” He says with finality. “You’re lucky I don’t take this to the board.”

Which, he never would. He’s just as much at fault. But, he’s taking his frustration out on you. An easy target, slim pickings.

You weren’t playing into that though, not now.

“You won’t,” You challenge him, “because if you do—I can assure you, you won’t appreciate the results.”

It was a threat. Cold and plain.

“Rewrite it,” He reiterates again, his voice softer now. “I have to submit these assignments at the end of the semester and if—that cannot be in there. I need a real essay. Real. Not some fucking delusion.”

It’s the first time he’s talked so…out of term. It feels like him, the real Mr. Miller.

Fine—you’ll write the goddamn essay as he intended. You roll your eyes and Joel relaxes slightly, seeing your defeat as you settle your shoulders back.

“I want it on my desk by the end of day.”

Sure, you could manage that.

If anything, it gave you more of an excuse to drag out his torture a little longer.

You spend the entirety of his class working out a new essay, bullshitting your way through an hour of class and typing up something feasible enough to get you a decent grade, knowing that his views of you were already tainted. But, that didn’t matter.

You had plans.

When evening rolls around and classes are finally done for the day, you make the long trek across campus to his class, finding it empty but spotting the light in his private office is still on, a low and muted orange that shined through the window. You approach slowly and knock on the door, hearing his muffled greeting on the other side.

You peek inside, noting his position as he rests with his fist pressed against the side of his face, seemingly nursing a headache as he rubs the fingers of his free hand over his forehead and sighs, closing his laptop as you hold out the small stack of papers for him to grab. He does, skimming through it briefly. You toss your bag off your shoulder and rest it in a nearby chair, standing quietly.

“Something bothering you?” You ask politely, hands crossed over your front as fiddled idly with your fingers, “Mr. Miller?”

He looks up tensely, eyes darkened and foreboding.

“What did you mean earlier?” He asks suddenly, reading your essay with a careful eye. Scribbling something down before he pushes it away, fingers clasped together under his chin as he gives you his full attention. “That I wouldn’t…appreciate the results?”

“Oh, that was—”

A threat. He knows it. You know it.

And he voices it.

“It was a threat, wasn’t it?” He asks coarsely, his voice sounding rough.

He seemed worse for wear, with good reason.

The dignified squeak of his chair is like deja-vu but you don’t back away this time, turning to him as he rounds his desk—his tie is gone, starch pressed shirt unbuttoned to a dangerous degree and his belt is missing, your eyes tracking it in a nearby corner where it’s slung over an empty chair.

He allowed you in here, the small glimpse of his relaxed state. He wasn’t shutting you out necessarily, which was good. But, you still felt unwanted. It was almost like he was dangling a myriad of fruit in front of you, ripe for the taking, but riddled with poison. Forbidden.

“No—”

He grabs your wrist suddenly, tight and gasp-inducing as he pulls it up until it’s level between you both, right at chest level and you’re waiting for him to let go, but he doesn’t.

“Tell. The. Truth.” He says pointedly, a small jerk of your arm with every syllable as he pulls you undoubtedly closer, “I want to hear it.”

Instead of admitting that you did openly threaten him, you switch gears.

“What? That I want you to fuck me?” You ask innocently, pulling your wrist away harshly. “Joel, come on—don’t act like you haven’t thought about it.”

His name is like a gut-punch, a reminder that he gave you that information under the idea that you would keep it safe, but now you were using it against him.

“Don’t—” He warns and your hands press into his crisp button-up, scrunching the fabric in an effort to wrinkle it, feeling the solid press of muscle under your hands that makes your mouth water, eyes widening slightly at the touch and for a split second, he allows it.

He had to escape the situation before he acted on something he would regret.

“Get out.” Joel responds through gritted teeth, shoving your hands away harshly and in turn, forcing you back a few steps with the urgency of it. “Now.”

Still, you step closer, chest against chest as you can feel the distinct bulge in his slacks against your front, tongue clicking in your mouth as you cocked your head to the side mockingly, a finger tracing along the buttons of his shirt until you can curl the tip of it around the hem of his pants.

“You can do it, you know,” You offer, “You could fuck me right now and I wouldn’t tell a soul, not even your wife—or…ex-wife? I’m not sure since you never wear your ring.”

Fuck this and her smart ass mouth, Joel thinks.

Joel’s nostrils flare and he snaps, backing you into the wall by his hand pressed against your chest, the bookshelf beside you shaking with the force. His hands creep up your neck, pressing rigid against the skin and he keeps you there, trapped.

“I can feel it,” You tease through strained vocal cords, his finger squeezing against your neck–not quite cutting off air flow, but the pressure is there and you feel it. It makes your head swim, squirming against his hold as he shifts closer, body pressed against your own firmly, “is that why you asked me to turn the paper in by the end of the day? You wanted me here, didn’t you? I guess my essay did strike a nerve after all.”

The laugh that follows is sickening, a grin appearing under his sneer. His fingers move up a few inches to grip your face. Hard. Squeezing until he feels the solid press of your cheekbones under his thumb and he speaks, so quietly into the space you can barely hear him, “You’d like that, wouldn’t you?”

Your eyes drift to his, his head tilting up slightly away from your ear that he had whispered into and there’s glint in your eye. It’s exactly what you wanted. You wanted to burrow yourself under his skin so he couldn't get rid of you.

He feels your fingers continue to trace along the seam of his shirt, tracing over the bumps of the material until you meet his slacks, pressing your palm flat over his cock, hardened under the material and straining–and he can’t help the way his breath intakes sharply, the full body restraint it takes to not rut into your hand. He knows he has the upper hand here, but with the small amount of effort it takes to break his revere for himself, he doesn’t know how much longer he can keep this up.

“I would,” You nod slowly, eyebrows furrowing as he tightens his grip with your admittance and in turn, you squeeze him just a little harder. He hisses and leans in, letting go of your face to return to your neck–he isn’t squeezing this time, but his hand is a solid presence. You move, he moves. And if he doesn’t like how you move, you would end up exactly where he wants you to, “Come on, Joel. You read all about it. I can do so much more than whatever your wife is doing—isn’t that why you reached out to me?”

“Don’t—stop saying my name.” He warns, trying to keep what little line of professionalism he had between you there, unblurred. “I reached out to help. As your mentor.”

“Well, I’m sure there’s a few things you could teach me.” You say sweetly, the deft sound of his zipper being undone by your hand, popping the button on his pants, “Joel, please.”

He stops your hand in it’s decent, fingers tracing along the hem of his underwear before he’s gripping your arm and turning you with little resistance on your end, front pressed harshly against the stucco wall, a sharp gasp emitting from your throat as he crowds you in again, whispering harshly into your ear, “Mr. Miller. Not Joel. You don’t get that privilege. And stop talking about my fucking wife.”

You moan brokenly at the feeling of his cock pressed against your ass, skirt riding up your thighs and you were sure—positive that Joel could see the fabric of your underwear clinging to your hips from how high up and mused your skirt was now, but he can’t take his eyes of your face, anger emitting from his own and suffocating you like a blanket.

You were pressing his buttons just right and he hated it.

“So, no marital troubles then?” You pester him and he shuts you up immediately, palm covering your mouth tightly as his free hand grips at the hem of your underwear at your hip and tugs—yep, he saw them. Some soft color, all lacy, meant to be attention-grabbing. And if Joel couldn’t have you the way he truly desires, he’d make you wish you could have it even worse than he wanted it. “You—huh, you can’t even wear your wedding ring, Mr. Miller—don’t lie to me.”

He pulls at the material of your panties until they’re riding up your ass slightly, pulled tighter against your cunt and the drag of the material against your clit is almost unexpected. He’s pointedly avoiding touching you so intimately, teetering on the edge of not enough and too much.

“You thought it would be that easy?” Joel asks testingly, jerking your head slightly when you don’t answer. You figured it was redundant but clearly not. You mumble against his hand, overwhelmed by his touch that all you can do is nod, forehead pressed against the wall as he breathes down your neck. “You’re mistaken.”

There’s a distinct rip of fabric as he removes his hand from your mouth quickly using his hands to grip your panties in tight fists, tearing it apart as it falls from your body and you think he might just do it—shove his slacks just far enough down his thighs and slip inside of you, bring an end to all of your suffering.

And his own.

Instead his fingers tighten around your forearm, spinning you in his hold and shoving the ripped fabric into your hand, leaving you bare under your skirt and exposed and Joel doesn’t mistake the wetness on the material. His fingers linger over your palm and you scoff, adjusting your skirt and slightly skewed shirt.

“Keep them,” You challenge, shoving the material into his chest before he allows them to drop to the floor, eyes trailing your departing figure as you reach for your discarded bag, “a gift for your wife—you know, the one who you avoided to spend time with me. Right?”

You want the words to linger and sting, bag slung lazily around your shoulder as you depart for the door, ignoring the quickly approaching footsteps. Joel, unbeknownst to you, had already pocketed your panties, torn to shreds in the pocket of his slacks. But, the words cut deep and he can’t leave things like this and allow you the final word.

Joel yanks the strap of your bag and backs you against the office door, the wood rattling against your conjoined weight as his lips press against yours in haste, messy and uncoordinated but your brain quickly assess what’s happening and joins, your lips parting to allow his eager tongue into your mouth. His kiss is biting and furious, mean and full of nothing but tense emotion. It’s months of suffocated lust pouring into you, out of him, and you swallow it down eagerly. His hand holds your chin forcefully, sloppy exchanges of spit and forceful bites, a battle for dominance that Joel quickly won out on.

And you think that maybe that comment was the final straw, that he might just give you what you want, but your delicate moan that slips into his mouth as chase him, his head pulling back slightly at the noise—it had him falling back to reality, right on his ass.

There wasn’t any line left to cross anymore. He’d obliterated it.

“Don’t threaten me again,” He warns, “ever.”

There’s one solid shove against the door as your head hits the surface gently, his touch quickly dissipating and his disheveled appearance a tell-tale sign in your mind. He was fighting his own battle and losing terribly.

“Of course,” You agree sardonically, “Mr. Miller.”

The silent click of the door is deafening and Joel retreats to his desk, punching a fist into the solid wood, the papers of your assignment flying to the floor. He can't be bothered to pick them up or even allow them the proper glance they deserve.

Because you—in his mind, don't deserve it.

And he's not going to give you that satisfaction.

It's unprofessional, but he'll allow it this once. It only takes a few quick clicks and he's adjusting the assignment out for your new one.

Poof. Gone. Like it never existed.

But, the grade is unchanging and he knows that will make things tremendously worse, but he can't be bothered to care anymore.

You'd be back and that's exactly what he wants.

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