Summary: you’re failing Prof. Miller’s class and he finds a punishment for you.
Tw: 18+ mdni, smut, lil bit of fluff, big legal age gap (reader’s in college), power imbalance but reader is an initiator, f!oral, edging, pussy pronouns, just the tip, unprotected piv, creampie, professor kink. Pics are only for the mood, reader has no physical description but she wears a skirt.
A/n: huge thank you to @megangovier for this ask and for the idea. Megan, you keep inspiring me with your requests and I’m so grateful! ILY!💞 Kisses to @milla-frenchy for beta-ing and workshopping the story with me😘 And thanks to the Fantastic 4 trailer for ‘the horny’ and for the hot professor image. I hope you will like this story. Love you all!❤️ dividers by @/saradika-graphics
MASTERLIST || more professor kink
“Another F. Are you happy with it, miss?”
You are standing in front of Professor Miller in his classroom without a trace of guilt on your face. He’s leaning against his desk, scolding you like you’re a silly little girl. Whatever.
“What’s the problem? I’ve given you extra time to revise for the test, helped you with the material and you’re still failing my class.”
You bite your lip, hands clasped in front of you, staring up at him with your Bambi eyes. Your head is empty and your pussy is on fire. You barely hear him. Who could think about grades when there are men like Professor Joel Miller in this world?! Ugh!
“I’m very disappointed. You’re a clever girl but you just don’t seem to care.” He makes a pause and then orders, “You're staying here. Think hard about what makes you fail and then write that you won’t do it again. Until you fill the whole board.”
“Are you making me write lines? It’s not an elementary school, Professor,” you laugh with your brows raised. He walks to his chair, glares up at you and gruffs,
“I don’t care. Go ahead.”
You shrug and saunter to the blackboard. You take a piece of chalk and write in beautiful cursive —
I won’t dream about Prof. Miller’s cock in my pussy anymore.
“Fuck!” You hear him curse before he bolts from his seat and wipes the sentence off with his palm.
“The hell you thinking about? What if anyone sees it?” He’s looming over you, so big and broad and your clit twitches. Your voice sensual and soft, you reply,
“You told me to write the reason I’m failing your class. And it’s the fact that I want you to fuck me, Professor.”
“Stop it,” he hisses, staring daggers at you. While he’s close, you use the opportunity to glide your hand over the expanse of his strong chest covered by a crispy white dress shirt.
“I’m sure you want it too, Professor. You already know what she tastes like, why not feel her too?”
He’s glaring down at you, seething heat coming off his body, his heart booming under your palm. He looks like he’s about to slap or kiss you. You’ll be fine with both options.
Pushing him further, you gently take his big hand, bring it under your skirt and press it to your lacy panties.
“See how soaked I am?” Your whisper makes him shudder. “This is the reason why I don’t hear a thing you say during the lessons.”
He mumbles a ‘fuck’ as you rub his fingers against the lace and moan at the sensation.
In a second his face softens and he falls on his knees in front of you.
“I hate you— I hate you— I hate you—,” he chunts under his breath, pulling your skirt up and you gasp when he presses his face to your covered pussy. He pushes his nose right against your puffy clit and breathes you in. You smile, your fingers running through his curls.
“More,” you moan, bucking your hips into his face and Professor Miller orders with steel in his tone, “Get on my desk, you menace.”
He gets up and you see a huge bulge tenting his black pants. He yanks your panties down your legs and you step out of them with a smirk, then perch your naked ass on the edge of his desk.
He’s standing in front of you, palming his big hard-on, as you lift your feet and plant them on the surface and then spread your folds with your fingers, showing him your crying hole.
His eyes pitch black, his lips wet, he swallows loudly, watching you trace your soft entrance with a pad of your finger, inviting him inside.
“Please, fuck me,” you purr.
He shakes his head.
“No. I can’t. I won’t.”
You sigh deeply and your eyes well up with tears.
“Why? Am I not pretty enough, Professor?”
You see a glimpse of sympathy in his expression but it vanishes as fast as it appears.
“Don’t play with me. I see what you’re doing. I’m not putting it inside you.”
You scoff with annoyance and wipe your tears off with your hand.
“Fine. Make me come, then.”
He shakes his head, angry at you or himself but probably both and bends over to your blooming pussy.
He’s not wasting his time, his lips latch straight to the source of your waterfall - your sopping hole, and he laps at it with his hot tongue, drinking your essence, growling and moaning against your cunt.
“Oh, Professor—so good— don’t stop,” you whimper, tugging at his curls, pushing his mouth closer to your buzzing pussy.
His tongue is dancing over your clit and you arch your back in pleasure, but the moment you feel the heat rise up in your core, he rips the climax out of your hands. He moves his lips to your mound and gently bites your flesh. Your pussy is aching, hungry for a release, but he does everything except makes you come— he peppers kisses along your inner thighs, traces your entrance with the tip of his tongue, kisses your folds all over. He’s torturing you, punishing you for your brattiness and the edging soon makes you whine.
”Professor, I wanna come. Can I come?”
”I don’t know. Can you?” He mocks as his eyes snap up at you, before he continues kissing your folds.
“May I come, sir?” you correct yourself with a shaky voice. You feel his smile twist his face and spread your pussy lips. Professor pulls away to sting you with his smirk but his face falls when he sees your glossy eyes and a trembling lower lip.
“Fuck, baby,” he mumbles before his mouth flies to your poor clit and he begins rubbing it with a flat of his tongue, finally giving you the pressure and the sensation you’ve been craving so much.
After the edging, an orgasm hits you like a wave, your back drops on the desk and you cover your mouth with the back of your hand, cutting down a loud moan that’s rising from from deep inside you. While you’re shaking and jerking under the caress of ecstasy, Professor keeps licking your pulsating pussy, thirsty for your cum, generously flowing into his mouth.
You’re panting heavily, still lying down, smiling in a haze of an afterglow, when you see him hastily get up, his hand wrapped around the base of his stiff cock, leaking and engorged.
“Put it in, Professor,” you murmur, massaging your puffy pussy. “She’s so wet and warm. Just for you to use.”
He grunts and, breaking his own rule, pushes his cock into your cunt but only to the tip. He drops his head down and moans, his chest rising and falling fast. You give his fat head a squeeze with your walls and he immediately starts spilling his hot cum inside you.
“Yes,” you purr triumphantly, “Give me all of it, fill me full. Let’s hope no one notices your cum sliding down my thighs later.”
He growls but doesn’t tear his eyes from his thick member twitching in his hand, pumping his sperm into your cunt, rope after rope.
When your core is stuffed with his load, he pulls out slowly, trying not to hurt you. With half-lidded eyes, he watches a pearly globe of his seed slide out of your hole, then scoops it up and pushes it back inside you.
You slowly sit up, drunk on the cock and the orgasm and give your professor a satisfied smile.
He looks pleased himself and leans in to kiss you. His lips gently caress yours as you wrap your arms around his neck.
“Love tasting myself on your lips,” you mumble, pulling away, and he sighs.
“I bet. Bad girl.”
He helps you to slide off his desk and fixes your clothes.
When you both look decent except for your heated faces, you hug him and whisper in his ear,
“I’ll see you Tuesday, Professor Miller.”
He curses and you giggle, walking to the door. You unlock it, send him an air kiss and leave the classroom.
Thank you for reading! Please comment and reblog if you enjoyed the fic!💞
Tags: minors DNI, age gap (mid-20s & 50s), student/teacher dynamic, professor!Miller, professor!Joel, dominant!Joel, blow job, oral (m receiving), rough oral sex, pet names (like a sickening amount), dildo use, face fucking, slight gagging, dirty talk, slightly depraved!Joel, porn with plot, smutty smut smut
WC: 4.4k
Summary: Joel Miller was your professor. He’d recently put an end to the inappropriate relationship between the two of you, but you couldn’t help but wonder just how strict that boundary was.
A/N: After a little drabble I wrote a few days ago about professor!Miller, I couldn’t stop thinking about him…and this is the product. I hope you enjoy!
AO3 | TWA Masterlist | Professor Miller’s POV
It had been two weeks. Two weeks of him dodging you in the hallway, shifting his office hours to a time that he knew wouldn’t work for you, and nearly sprinting out of the classroom after lecture.
He’d ended the arrangement between the two of you, and while you feigned indifference at the time, it had now become all-consuming and you could think of little else other than missing the fullness of him inside you.
You took your seat in class, the usual spot, right in his eyeline. You felt torn between continuing your advances toward him and giving up entirely. Pulling out your notebook and pencil, you began to scribble on the pages - rough sketches that you’d undoubtedly scratch over later.
A hushed voice a couple seats over caught your attention, “Oh my god, look at him. I’ve never seen him in a flannel before.” Your eyes darted over to the two girls who were whispering and then at the front of the lecture hall where Joel stood, broad shoulders looming over the square podium.
It wasn’t abnormal for female students, and sometimes male, to gush over Professor Miller. Giggles and snickers would often follow after he addressed a student or offered any form of praise. The women in the class would blush as he affirmed their answer to his question, “That’s right, good work.”
Students would vie for his attention, often approaching him after class to ask unnecessary questions, only to be met with his typical stern exterior. His office hours became less popular as students realized that he was not one for chatting and would only give dry replies.
You, however, had unlocked something in him. Something that he didn’t understand and maybe even feared. A primitiveness escaped from him whenever he had you close to him, and he felt he’d made a mistake by letting it out.
It had been a month of the two of you inappropriately using his office hours, or meeting up in the back faculty parking lot between classes, even one time in the dusty janitor’s closet.
You knew why he cut it off, understood, even. But that wasn’t enough to distinguish the fire that once again began to build in your core as you watched him dig through his briefcase at the front of the class.
His flannel fit him well, but even so it pulled tight across his biceps when he moved his arms. He was dressed more casually today than usual, and you found yourself analyzing the potential reasons. Was he out of clean clothes? Did he stay somewhere else and borrow other clothes? Was it some sort of casual Friday attire? Was he switching up his wardrobe?
Your racing thoughts ceased when he stepped to the side of the podium and you saw his dark-wash jeans. You’d never seen jeans that fit someone so well and you swallowed back saliva that you felt beginning to fill your mouth. God the hold he had on you was absurd.
He glanced up at the clock at the back of the room then scanned the student seats. The room was mostly filled. His eyes paused for the briefest second when he saw you and you unconsciously squeezed your thighs together.
Pathetic. You were practically drooling over this man.
Lecture seemed to last an eternity. You found yourself daydreaming about his cock and had to keep re-centering yourself to continue your note writing. You pictured the veiny girth, the perfect length that rubbed against your sweet spot deep inside. Thought about how he sounded grunting, pushing into your wet softness. A throbbing began between your legs when you remembered how deeply he came the last time, how you felt him coating your walls with every pulse from his hardened cock, and the way he was mercilessly squeezing your tits as he buried his face in your neck and groaned sinfully.
When class ended, a female student in the front row stood up, “Professor Miller?” she asked.
He looked over at her attentively and responded with his deep voice, “Yes?”
“Can you help me with the assignment? I have a question about the topic of the paper.” She slung her bookbag over her shoulder and stood, awaiting his permission.
“Of course, we can meet in my office,” he replied in his typical monotone voice and picked up his briefcase. You pretended to busy yourself with something inside your backpack as the two of them exited the classroom together. You looked up at the last second to see him peer behind him before letting the lecture hall door close after them.
You walked the familiar pathway to his office, weaving between other students, and trying to ignore the wetness that had nearly soaked through your cotton panties.
His office door was cracked, and you could hear the student’s voice. You stood to the side and waited, debating how foolish you were being. Desperation had grabbed hold and you were ambivalent to escaping its clutches.
“Okay, thank you, Professor Miller,” the student’s voice rang louder as she opened the door to leave. She gave a sideways glance at you as she walked out, her face one of disappointment. No doubt she would embellish the story to her friends later.
Now was your chance. You slipped into the room, slyly shutting the door behind you. He looked up from his desk, readjusting his glasses as he focused on you.
He straightened his posture and sighed, leaning back onto his chair, “What do you think you’re doing?” His voice sounded exasperated but did little to discourage you.
“I…” you hesitated, unsure of what you wanted to say. You hadn’t thought much beyond your desperate need to feel him between your legs, “wanted to talk…”
Professor Miller tsk’d and said, “Sweetheart…we both know that’s not why you’re here.” The pet name never failed to melt you into a puddle of pure desire.
“I told you, we can’t be doing this anymore,” his voice was forced determination. You were going to call his bluff.
Approaching his desk, you moved your hand between your legs, putting slight pressure on your pussy overtop your skirt. His eyes dropped down to the movement of your hand and you saw his jaw tense. The muscles twitching.
He made a hmph noise and readjusted in his seat, his hand coming down to his lap and attempting to hide what you imagined was a growing erection.
“You need to leave,” his tone had softened, and you immediately knew you won, despite his actual words.
You licked your lips before biting your bottom lip and stepping right in front of him. His chair was facing sideways, allowing you to stand right in front of his parted legs, the hem of your skirt brushing his jeans.
You reached down and picked up his hand, he flinched momentarily before letting you guide him. You rested his palm against your hip and allowed the smallest whine to escape your lips. His eyes darkened immediately and you felt his fingertips push into your soft flesh.
“You still want me to leave?” you asked, big puppy dog eyes staring straight at him.
He pulled his hand away from your hip and scooted his chair back. Your heart sank before you heard him say, “Lock the door.”
The words had barely left his lips before you were turning back to the door and locking it hurriedly. You hadn’t any time to turn back around before you felt his hands at your waist.
His lips met the shell of your ear, and you felt the vibrations of his voice through your hair as he said, “you gonna let me teach you?”
You swallowed at the words and nodded silently.
“Uh uh, babygirl, you know what I want…” his hands trailed down your waist to your hips, his thumbs rounding your ass as he squeezed.
“Yes, Professor,” you cooed, tilting your head back to rest on his firm chest. You pushed your ass back into his crotch, feeling a throb of his cock.
“Oh, good girl,” Joel grinded against you once before taking a step back, “we’re gonna try something new today. You up for that, baby?”
You could practically cry with want at his words, you nodded quickly accompanied with a, “Yes, Professor.”
He threaded his fingers through your hair, cupping the back of your head as he leaned down and planted a firm kiss to your forehead. You leaned into it until he pulled your head back slowly, forcing you to look up at him, and you finally saw just how blown out his pupils were.
With a grip on your hair, he pulled down, lowering you to your knees until you were facing the outline of his cock. Your lips parted slightly and an involuntary whimper left your lips.
“Easy there, sugar,” Joel hummed, “we’re gonna take this slow, yeah?”
“Yes, Professor.”
You watched as he slowly unzipped his jeans then, fingers hooked into the waistband, pulled them down along with his boxers, unsheathing his large cock. It bounced in your face but you stayed still, awaiting his instructions. Heart pounding.
“Go ahead and kiss it, baby. Show him how much you missed him.” He kept one hand at his side and set the other one on the back of your head, not applying any pressure, just cradling you.
Trying not to be too eager, you gave a soft kiss to the tip of his cock, salty precum glossing your lips. You licked them clean before returning your lips to his hard shaft, kissing up and down. You started with small pecks before transitioning to open mouthed kisses, allowing your own saliva to start to accumulate on his cock.
Joel was silent, just patiently watching you, an adoring smile spread across his face. Precum began to gather at the tip and you pulled away to watch it. His cock bounced with a throb and you opened your mouth, sticking your tongue out to catch the drip of precum as it landed on your flattened tongue.
Joel praised you sweetly, “What a good girl.”
You batted your eyelashes at him as you peered up. He leaned down and planted another kiss atop your head before straightening up again and saying, “Now I’m gonna need you to open up real wide, okay? Hands here.” He patted the fronts of his thighs and you obeyed, placing your hands right where his had been.
You dropped your jaw, opening your mouth as wide as you could. Professor Miller took his cock in his hand, his other hand placed back on your head, now resting on the top. He gazed hungrily at your open mouth and then eased the tip of his cock onto your tongue.
He let it rest there, watching your saliva start to wash up around it. “Suck, baby.”
You closed your lips around his cock and hollowed your cheeks, swallowing down salty precum with your spit. You continued sucking and drinking until he groaned menacingly and pulled his cock out of your mouth.
“Fuck, ya got a perfect mouth ya know that?” His thumb brushed your lips and he clenched his jaw before continuing, “Open up again, honey, we’re gonna go deeper this time.”
“Yes, Professor Miller,” you said before opening your mouth, earning a pleased smile from him.
He took his time, once again easing his cock into your mouth. You felt the stretch as he pushed further. The tip of his cock nudged the back of your throat and you gagged, pulling away quickly. Tears stung your eyes and you looked up at him.
“Shh, shh, it’s okay, baby,” Joel dropped to his knees in front of you, both his hands now cradling your face. He kissed you passionately and you warmed at the touch. He brushed the hair out of your face and smiled reassuredly, “you wanna try again? I’ll give you a better lesson this time.”
You nuzzled into his hand and said, “Yes, please, Professor.”
He stood up once more and stroked his cock a couple times, making your mouth water. “Can you spit on it f’me?”
You hadn’t done this before, and felt yourself growing nervous, not wanting to look foolish. Professor Miller caught your uncertainty and met it with warmth.
“It’s okay, this is going to get messy, honey. It’s part of it.”
At his reassurance, you gathered saliva in your mouth then spat onto his cock, a connecting string of spit lingering.
“That’s it, now open up,” he commanded.
You obeyed and he promptly shoved his cock into your mouth, gentleness falling to the wayside. But you were okay with that, feeling your pussy clench around nothing.
“Okay now, I need you to breathe through your nose,” he set his hand back atop your head, eyes focused on your face, “let me see.”
You wrapped your lips around his cock and breathed through your nose, holding his cock in your mouth.
“Good, good,” he spoke patiently but you could hear the rough edge to his voice, “now I want you to relax your throat, don’t fight me. Okay?”
You nodded and hummed around his cock, precum beading once more as you felt it reach the back of your tongue.
“I’m gonna push in now, you better take it, okay? I know you can take it for me, baby. You’re such a good girl f’me.”
You moaned as his grip on your head tightened, pushing down slightly as he eased his cock into your throat. You’d never felt something so deep in your mouth before and you felt your throat stretch to accommodate his girth.
You did as he instructed and continued to breathe through your nose. You looked up at him through watery eyes, doing all you could to fight off the gag as he held his cock deep in your throat.
“Fuck, baby, you’re a natural. Shit,” he said through agonizing pleasure. You could sense he was restraining himself.
He pulled out completely, letting you catch your breath. You noticed the ache between your legs, growing need being unmet. He played with your hair, twirling it in his fingers and combing through it until your breathing evened out.
You looked up at him and you knew that you looked fucked out, even without him touching you. He smirked and said, “how’s my girl doin’?”
Letting out a small whimper you murmured, “Good, Professor.”
He nodded, his thumb brushing your bottom lip and tugging it down slightly, then releasing it with smack against your upper lip. He moved his thumb between your lips, your mouth opening just enough for him to slide his digit into your mouth. You sucked at it dutifully and he watched you through piercing eyes, his brain imagining every crude thing he’d like to do to you.
“I’m gonna fuck that pretty mouth now, okay?”
You opened your mouth in response and he removed his thumb, replacing it quickly with his hardened cock. His hand came back to the top of your head, this time grabbing a fistful of your hair. His other hand joined beside it and he began to thrust at a slow pace.
You remembered his instructions and focused on breathing through your nose, and opening your throat as much as you could for him.
He picked up speed, fucking into your mouth with his dripping cock. Spit began to build steadily in your mouth and created lewd sounds that filled the room. It began to drip out of your mouth and down your chin, his balls slapping against the wetness that was coating your face.
He closed his eyes and groaned, relishing in the tight, warm feeling of your throat. You kept your eyes looking up at him, hardly noticing the discomfort forming in your jaw from how wide you had to keep your mouth just to fit him.
Feeling used felt so good. While they weren’t words that he would ever say to you, you loved feeling like you were his fucktoy. You wanted him to use your holes as if he owned them. Wanted him to abuse you until you were sore and crying. It was rare to see him fully let go like this, and you wanted it to last for as long as possible.
Your arousal was building to a painful level, and you moved your heel underneath your crotch, grinding down in hopes of feeling any sort of friction, seeking relief.
Joel put his hands on the back of your head and shoved you as far down on his cock as you could go. Your nose mashed into his dark, curly pubes, his cock buried all the way down your throat, and his balls pressed against your chin.
“Look at me, babygirl,” he demanded. His voice was wrecked. You obliged and looked up at him, feeling tears streaming down your cheeks, breathing deeply in and out through your nose, trying your hardest to not gag.
“Oh fuck, honey, you look so beautiful stuffed with my cock.” You gagged lightly, your hands braced on his thighs and his eyes rolled back into his head. “Just one more moment, sweetie, you’re doing so good for me. You’re doing perfect.”
It took everything in you to not rip away from his cock, not that you actually could with how firmly he was holding your head. Even so, with the discomfort of choking on his cock, your pussy still dripped and ached for contact. You grinded down on your heel again, and this time, Professor Miller took note.
He released your head and you stumbled backwards, your hands flying behind you to stop you from crashing onto the floor. He bent down toward you, wiping some of the spit that was hanging from your chin and then leaning down to give you a soft kiss on the lips.
His cock was jutted out in front of him, the tip red and swollen, and your spit hanging down, dripping off. You were panting and looking up at him, wide-eyed, wanting.
“Does my baby need some attention?” His eyes were focused on the area between your legs, and you pulsed realizing that he was referring to your pussy, not you.
You nodded, brain fuzzy, and it wasn’t until he shot you a disapproving look that you quickly muttered, “Y-yes, Professor Miller…please.”
“I got you something,” he said as he made his way back to his desk. He pulled open the bottom desk drawer and your jaw dropped as you saw what was in his hand.
A long purple dildo with a suction cup at the end was gripped in his hand. He smirked at your expression and approached you. “What do you think honey? You wanna try it?”
“P-please, yes,” you uttered, your wetness now completely soaked through your underwear and creating slick between your legs.
Professor Miller stood in front of you, then bent down and secured the dildo to the floor with a loud suction noise. You looked up at him, mildly confused.
“You’re not done with your assignment, baby. But I’ll let you use this while you finish.”
You stayed kneeling on the floor, waiting for explicit instructions from your professor.
“Stand up,” he reached his hand down to help pull you up. As soon as you were standing, he got on his knees, creaking as he did so.
His hands roamed up your legs, appreciating your body. When his fingertips reached the top of your tights, he hooked them into the fabric, along with your panties, and pulled them down, helping you step out of them.
Your hands gripped your skirt, ready to pull the material down before his hands covered your own. “No baby, this is staying on, alright?” You nodded and gave a quick, “Yes, professor.”
“Now I need you to straddle this for me, okay? And you’re gonna sink down on it real slow. But I’m gonna make this a little challenging. You listening?” His eyes searched your glazed over expression, desire was making a fool of you.
“Yes, professor.” You had to work to speak, words wanting to evade you.
“Good girl. You’re gonna suck on my cock as you sink down, okay? And you’ve gotta keep your eyes on me the whole time. No looking away and no stopping sucking. You got that, pretty girl?”
God, you were wrecked at his words alone. You whimpered and squeezed your thighs together. Professor Miller chuckled and held your hands as you shuffled over top of the dildo on your knees.
He spat into his hand and gave his cock a couple pumps, not wanting to ask anymore of you and taking it into his own hands.
He stood in front of you now and spoke with equal parts firmness and tenderness, “Open your mouth, sweetie.”
You took his throbbing cock in your mouth, loving the briny taste. You began to suck, bobbing your head up and down his cock, cheeks hollowing every time you pulled back near the tip.
“Fuck, yes, don’t stop, baby, don’t you dare stop,” Joel groaned in pleasure as he watched you needily suck his cock.
You moaned at his words and then slowly started to lower yourself onto the dildo. You were so wet that your pussy practically sucked it in. You whimpered at the stretch as you continued sinking.
“Look at me,” the harshness in his voice jerked your head up toward him, as you hadn’t realized that your eyes were closed. “There ya go, baby, keep goin’.”
You were now fully seated on the dildo, piercing yourself on it in the best way possible. You began to rock back and forth, allowing it to rub against your spongy spot deep inside.
You moaned loudly, holding eye contact with him and sucking on his cock with all your might. His hands found your head again and he gently moved you forward and backward in the rhythm that he liked.
You matched the rhythm with the rocking of your hips and finally felt sated with the fullness inside you. Totally blissed out, it was like the room began to blur other than Professor Miller standing above you, looking down with his mouth ajar at the absolute filth he was witnessing.
“Fuck, you’re so sexy kneeling in front of me, mouth full of my cock. I wish you could see yourself, pretty girl.”
Your walls fluttered around the dildo at his words. You reached a hand down to your clit, quickly rubbing circles to bring yourself to the edge.
“I’m gonna cum soon, sweet thing. You gonna be good for me and swallow it all down? Huh?” He thrusted into your mouth hard, rocking you back a bit. “You gonna earn your A?”
You moaned an affirmative that he seemed to understand. “Fuck, you’re such a good girl.” He praised.
You’d brought yourself to your peak and Joel saw the shift in your eyes. He grinned, allowing you to slow your pace on his cock so you could focus on your own release.
“Let go, baby, let me see you cream around that dildo. Ride it hard.”
You bounced up and down, briefly forgetting about his cock that was still lodged in your mouth. You felt it slamming deep inside you, bumping against your cervix in a delightfully painful way. You thrusted yourself down, fingers circling desperately at your swollen clit, and then you came undone.
Your mouth opened as your orgasm peaked and Joel watched in admiration as his cock rested on your tongue and you whimpered and whined, coming down from your release. He gave you a moment to recenter yourself before his hands were back on your head.
“Just a little longer, almost there, baby, almost there. Fuck.”
You peered up at him with glossy eyes, tears forming a smeared mascara mess underneath. You let him use your head, moving it up and down his shaft until you felt him spasm. His hips stuttered and he spilled in your mouth, down your throat.
The salty spend coating your tongue and the walls of your throat, and you drank it down greedily. Professor Miller watched you with blissed out eyes, his chest heaving as he tried to catch his breath.
The dildo was still inside you and you felt the final pulses of your pussy squeezing it. You looked up at Joel and then down at the dildo you were pierced on.
He helped you stand up, the dildo creating a squelching noise as it left your body. Joel pulled your panties on and handed you your tights. You reached down and tucked them into your backpack, smoothed down your skirt.
You both looked down at the dildo stuck to the floor, glistening with your fluids dripping down from it. Joel looked like he was about to get on his knees and worship the thing as you felt your face flush.
“Damn, baby,” he looped his arm around your waist and kissed your cheek.
“Thank you,” you said, nuzzling your head into his chest.
He pulled back and with his finger under your chin, tilted your face up to look at him. “Sweet thing,” he muttered, using his thumbs to wipe away the mascara under your eyes.
He moved to his desk and plucked a few kleenex out of the box, bringing them to you and then getting on his knees to clean up the mess between your legs. You ran your fingers through his wavy hair as he tended to you.
He stood up, disposed of the tissues, then returned to you, placing his hand on your back, “Are you good, baby?”
You nodded quickly with a smile, “Yeah, I’m good. Better than, I think.”
He hummed in approval and moved back to his desk, taking a seat. You collected your things and made your way back to the door, clicking the lock to open it up.
“I’m changing my office hours,” Professor Miller said.
You looked back at him questioningly. He was leaning over his desk, holding his pen and preparing to return to his grading. He glanced up at you, peering through his glasses.
“Going back to the old hours. You know, if you need help with that assignment.”
You couldn’t stop the smile spreading across your face, and he returned it. This was going to be a good semester.
Professor! Joel Miller x Female Reader
Slow Burn | Age Gap | Power Dynamics | Eventual NSFW | W/C: 3k
You weren't supposed to be here. Not like this, sitting across from him in the dim glow of his office lamp, fingers twisting in your lap as he looked over your latest essay with that familiar furrow in his brow.
Joel Miller was nothing like the other professors on campus. He wasn’t one for pointless lectures or pretentious intellectual posturing. He spoke with purpose, moved like he belonged in a different world—one of sweat and hard labor rather than academia. And unlike the men your age, he carried himself with something heavier. Experience. Strength. A quiet intensity that made your stomach twist in ways it shouldn’t.
You’d signed up for his class purely on accident—another elective to fill your credits. You hadn’t expected to spend the semester shifting in your seat, hanging onto every word that left his mouth, heat rising to your cheeks when his gaze landed on you. And now, alone with him, the reality of your situation pressed against you like a vice.
He cleared his throat, flipping the paper closed. “You can do better.”
Your stomach dropped. “I—”
“I know you can,” he interrupted, leveling you with a stare that made your breath hitch. “You’ve got a sharp mind. This feels like you were rushin’ through it.”
You swallowed. He was right, but the way he said it—low, rough, with just a hint of something softer—made your pulse race for an entirely different reason.
“I’ve just been... distracted.”
A muscle in his jaw ticked. He leaned back in his chair, broad arms crossing over his chest. “That so?”
You hesitated. This was a dangerous game, toeing the line between student and professor, between innocent and something else entirely. But you’d seen the way he looked at you when he thought you weren’t watching. You weren’t imagining it—the fleeting glances, the way his fingers sometimes gripped his coffee mug a little too tightly when you spoke.
You nodded, voice softer now. “Yeah.”
His gaze didn’t waver. For a long moment, the only sound in the office was the hum of the old heater against the quiet night outside. Then, finally, he exhaled, shaking his head.
“You should go.”
Your heart dropped. “Professor Miller, I—”
“This ain’t somethin’ you wanna start.” His voice was gruff, but there was no real anger in it. Just restraint. “Trust me.”
And maybe you should have left. Maybe you should have taken the out he was giving you. But instead, you stood, slowly crossing the room until you stood just beside his desk. Close enough that you could see the flecks of silver in his beard, the way his hands curled into fists against the polished wood.
“Maybe I do,” you murmured.
His breath caught. For the first time since you stepped into his office, you saw it—the crack in his resolve, the way his pupils darkened as his gaze flickered down to your lips.
But then, just as quickly, he turned away, exhaling sharply through his nose. “Go home.”
You hesitated, then nodded, stepping back. You didn’t miss the way his fingers twitched like he wanted to reach for you.
You left, heart pounding. But you knew one thing for certain.
This wasn’t over.
You sat at the very back of the lecture hall, your legs crossed, trying to appear unaffected by his presence at the front of the room. Professor Miller paced in front of the chalkboard, his voice steady, firm, explaining the intricacies of physics with that deep, commanding tone that made your stomach clench.
But you weren’t listening.
Your hand was hidden beneath the desk, fingers gripping the hem of your skirt before slipping between your thighs. You exhaled slowly, barely parting them, just enough to let your fingers trail over the sensitive flesh underneath. A quiet thrill ran up your spine, heat pooling low in your belly as you let yourself indulge in the forbidden.
He had no idea.
Or did he?
You risked a glance up. Joel was standing by the board, writing an equation, his broad shoulders shifting beneath the fabric of his button-up. You could see the way the veins in his forearms flexed as he moved, the strong lines of his hands as he gripped the chalk.
Your fingers pressed a little deeper. A little slower.
God, if only he knew. If only he’d look up, see the way your breath was coming faster, the way your knees trembled just slightly as you bit your lip to keep from making a sound.
His voice cut through your thoughts. “Everyone understand so far?”
A few murmured affirmations from the class. You barely registered them. Your fingers were slick now, the friction sending jolts of pleasure up your spine, making it harder to keep still.
Then—
His gaze flickered up. Right at you.
Your breath hitched, the tension tightening in your stomach, coiling hot and tight, ready to snap—
And then the bell rang.
A chorus of movement surrounded you. Chairs scraped against the floor, bags were slung over shoulders, and the hush of the classroom broke into murmurs as students began to rise, shuffling toward the door.
The moment was ripped from you just as quickly as it had built, the pressure in your core left unresolved, frustratingly close yet so far away. You swallowed hard, withdrawing your hand as heat flooded your cheeks.
Joel looked away abruptly, his shoulders stiff, his fingers gripping the edge of the podium with enough force that his knuckles turned white.
He had to get out of here. Fast.
But not before he risked one last glance at you.
And what he saw nearly ruined him.
Your pupils were blown, your lips parted, and you were breathing just a little too fast. He knew.
And he knew this wasn’t over.
Joel clenched his jaw, his fingers tightening around the edge of the podium as he watched you gather your things. His body was wound tight, heat creeping up his neck as he tried to steady his breathing.
You had no idea what you were doing to him.
Or maybe you did.
That thought alone made it worse.
He’d seen your flushed cheeks, the way your lips parted just before the bell rang. That dazed, needy look in your eyes when you realized the moment had slipped away from you. And fuck, he’d almost let himself watch for too long—almost let himself acknowledge what you had been doing under that desk.
Almost.
His grip on the wood tightened as he let out a slow breath through his nose, forcing his gaze away from you. Students were still filing out, shuffling past him, their voices a dull murmur against the rush of blood in his ears. He needed to leave. He needed to get the hell out of this room before he did something stupid.
But then he felt it.
Your presence.
Lingering.
He didn’t look up right away. He couldn’t. If he did, he wasn’t sure he’d be able to keep his expression neutral, to keep himself from giving too much away. But he could sense you standing near the exit, hesitating.
Waiting.
His fingers flexed against the podium before he exhaled sharply and finally forced himself to meet your gaze.
It was a mistake.
Because the moment his eyes locked onto yours, his control cracked.
There was something different in the way you looked at him now. A quiet challenge. A hint of satisfaction beneath the lingering frustration of being denied what you had been so close to achieving.
Joel swallowed hard.
He should say something. Dismiss you. Tell you to go home, like he had in his office that night.
But the words wouldn’t come.
Instead, the silence stretched between you, heavy and unspoken.
His heart slammed against his ribs as his body betrayed him, his mind flashing back to the sight of you in that chair, shifting, your breath catching. He shouldn’t be thinking about it. He shouldn’t be thinking about you like this.
And yet—
“Professor?”
Your voice was soft, but there was a dangerous edge to it. A knowing lilt.
His throat went dry.
He should walk away.
Instead, he nodded once, forcing his voice to remain steady. “Yeah?”
You hesitated for only a second before stepping closer—too close. Close enough that he could see the way your chest rose and fell with each breath. Close enough that he could smell the faintest hint of your perfume, something warm and sweet that curled around him, sinking into his skin.
“I… had a question about today’s lecture.”
Joel clenched his jaw. He knew exactly what you were doing.
And he was letting you.
Fucking idiot.
He glanced around, making sure the last of the students had left before answering. “What’s your question?”
Your lips curved—not quite a smile, but close.
“I was hoping you could explain something… in more detail.”
His pulse hammered.
This was bad.
This was really bad.
But instead of shutting it down, instead of telling you to leave, Joel exhaled slowly and stepped back, nodding toward his desk.
“Close the door.”
And just like that, the last thread of his restraint unraveled.
You hesitated for only a moment before you did as he said, reaching back to gently push the door closed. The click of the latch echoed in the empty lecture hall, sending a shiver up your spine.
Your pulse was a drum in your ears, anticipation and anxiety twisting together as you turned to face him. Joel stood by his desk, his fingers curled against the wood as if he needed to physically ground himself. His jaw was tight, his gaze unreadable—but there was no mistaking the heat behind his eyes.
God, you wanted him.
Hell, you needed him.
But the moment you took a step forward, another thought hit you, cold and sharp.
What if someone found out?
What if the higher-ups heard whispers of this? What if a student saw the way he looked at you, the way you lingered after class? What if someone suspected something and reported him?
The thought made your stomach drop.
Joel had worked here for years. He had a reputation—respected, intelligent, firm but fair. He wasn’t the type to abuse his position, to cross lines he shouldn’t. If anyone so much as hinted at misconduct, it could ruin him.
It could ruin both of you.
Your throat tightened.
This wasn’t just some reckless crush on an older professor. This was dangerous. A risk. And yet, as much as the fear gripped you, it didn’t lessen the ache that had taken root deep in your core.
You wanted this.
You wanted him.
But was it worth the consequences?
You licked your lips, heart hammering. “Professor, I—”
He tensed. “Don’t.” His voice was hoarse, like he was barely holding himself together. “Don’t call me that right now.”
A shiver rolled through you.
He was struggling just as much as you were.
And that only made you want him more.
Still, you forced yourself to take a breath, to ignore the heat pooling low in your belly. “This is dangerous,” you murmured, voice barely above a whisper.
Joel’s eyes darkened. “I know.”
He should be the one to stop this. To tell you to leave, to walk away before either of you did something you couldn’t take back.
But he didn’t.
Instead, he watched you. Waiting.
Letting you decide.
Your fingers curled at your sides. If you left now, if you walked out that door and never pushed this again, he would let you. He’d pretend nothing had happened, pretend he hadn’t seen what you were doing under the desk, pretend he hadn’t felt his own restraint slipping when he looked at you.
But if you stayed—
If you took another step forward—
There would be no turning back.
Your breath came out unsteady as you swallowed hard, your heart caught between reason and desire.
The air in the lecture hall was thick, heavy with unspoken tension. Your hands felt clammy at your sides, your heart pounding so hard you could hear it in your ears. You weren’t sure if it was from fear, from need, or from the undeniable weight of this—whatever it was you were about to do.
Joel sat at the edge of his desk, his broad arms crossed, watching you. His expression was unreadable, his jaw tight, his fingers gripping at the edge of the wood like he was forcing himself to stay put.
You could tell.
He was waiting.
“Alright,” he finally said, voice rough. “What’s the question?”
You swallowed.
“What?”
He tilted his head, his dark eyes unwavering. “You said you had a question about today’s lecture.” His voice was measured, calm—too calm. Like he was testing you, pushing you, but not crossing the line himself. Not yet.
He was going to make you do it.
If you wanted this, if you really wanted this, it would have to be your move.
Not his.
Because if he made the first move, if he gave in first, there’d be no coming back from it.
Your breath hitched as you realized exactly what he was doing.
Giving you an out.
If you wanted to pretend this was nothing, if you wanted to walk away and never touch this line again, he was letting you. He wouldn’t push. Wouldn’t ask. Wouldn’t even let himself admit what had been simmering between you both for weeks now.
But if you gave him an excuse—
If you so much as hinted at what you really wanted—
He wouldn’t hold back.
Your fingers twitched at your sides. You felt too hot, too aware of the space between you. Your thighs clenched together instinctively, but you knew that wouldn’t help anything.
Your mind was screaming at you to be smart, to walk away, to leave before you got him into something he couldn’t escape.
But your body?
Your body was already making the decision for you.
Slowly, carefully, you stepped closer.
Joel didn’t move, didn’t flinch. His only reaction was a small, sharp inhale through his nose, his fingers flexing against the desk.
Your stomach flipped.
This was it.
Your move.
Your choice.
What the hell were you going to do?
Your mind was spinning, every rational thought tangled up in the thick pull of him, of the weight of his gaze, the way his fingers flexed against the desk like he was barely holding himself back.
You could still walk away. You should walk away.
But instead, you inhaled deeply and forced yourself to focus, to think of something—anything—that could give you a reason to stay.
A question.
Something that would force him to touch you.
Your lips parted, and the words spilled before you could stop them.
“I… I didn’t quite understand how force and acceleration relate in a real-world scenario,” you murmured, voice quieter than you intended. “The equation makes sense, but I can’t seem to feel it. I think I need to see it applied physically.”
Joel’s brows furrowed slightly, but something flickered in his eyes—something dark, something aware.
You were treading dangerous waters, and he knew it.
Still, he didn’t stop you.
Instead, he pushed off the desk and took a slow step forward, crossing his arms over his chest. His eyes roamed over you, sharp and assessing, like he was deciding whether or not to call your bluff.
“You wanna feel it,” he echoed, voice low and edged with something dangerous.
You swallowed. “Y-yeah.”
For a moment, he didn’t say anything. Just stood there, watching you, his gaze dragging over your face, your parted lips, the way your fingers fidgeted at your sides.
Then, without a word, he reached past you.
You sucked in a breath as his arm brushed against yours, his warmth seeping through your sleeve. He grabbed a textbook from the desk, flipping it open absently, pretending like this was just any other lesson.
But it wasn’t.
You both knew it.
“Alright,” he said, voice rough as he turned a page. “You remember Newton’s Second Law?”
You nodded quickly. “Force equals mass times acceleration.”
He hummed, his gaze flicking to yours, unreadable. “Right.”
Then, before you could react, he shifted closer—so close that your back bumped into the edge of a nearby desk. You barely had time to process the way heat radiated off of him before his hand was wrapping gently around your wrist.
Your breath caught.
“This,” he murmured, guiding your hand toward the heavy textbook, “is mass.”
You shivered, the warmth of his palm pressing firmly against yours. His grip was steady, his fingers rough with experience, but he didn’t move any closer. Didn’t push.
He was waiting.
Waiting for you to stop him.
But you didn’t.
Your heart pounded as he placed the book in your hand, his other palm coming up to hover just over your shoulder. Close. Too close.
“Now,” he continued, voice softer, “apply force.”
You hesitated, your grip tightening around the textbook.
He raised an eyebrow, then—so slightly you barely registered it—his fingers brushed against your wrist, guiding you to move.
You inhaled sharply as you lifted the book, feeling the weight shift under your control. Your arm trembled slightly—not because of the strain, but because of him. Because of his hand on you, the way his touch sent shivers up your spine.
“See?” he murmured. “The greater the force, the greater the acceleration.”
You barely heard him. Your brain wasn’t computing physics anymore. The only thing you could process was the warmth of his skin, the way he hadn’t pulled away yet.
How dangerously easy it would be to turn just a fraction, to press yourself fully against him, to close the space entirely.
Joel exhaled slowly. His grip lingered for just a second too long before he finally let go, stepping back like nothing had happened.
But the tension?
It was still there.
He cleared his throat, shifting his weight. “That answer your question?”
You blinked up at him, breathless.
You should say yes. Should thank him and leave before you did something reckless.
But instead—
“Not quite.”
The corner of his mouth twitched, like he knew exactly what you were doing.
And he was going to let you.
Your move.
Joel stared at you.
Not just looked, but really stared—like he was fighting every single instinct screaming at him to stop, to walk away, to keep whatever this was buried deep down where it belonged.
But you weren’t letting him.
You saw it in the way his jaw flexed, in the way his fingers twitched at his sides like he wanted to grab something—wanted to grab you.
And still, he hesitated.
“Go home.” His voice was low, strained, barely controlled.
You shook your head. “No.”
His nostrils flared. “I ain’t doin’ this.”
You stepped closer, closing what little distance remained between you, your voice barely above a whisper. “Please… just show me.”
It shattered whatever restraint he had left.
Joel moved faster than you could process, grabbing you, his rough hands wrapping around your waist as he spun you around, your back hitting the desk behind you with a sharp gasp.
Before you could blink, his large hand was at your jaw, tilting your face up to meet his.
"You wanna be shown?" he muttered, voice dripping with something dark, something possessive.
You nodded, breathless, aching.
He let out a sharp exhale, his forehead almost pressing against yours. "Goddamn it."
Then he kissed you.
No, kissed wasn’t the right word—he took you.
It was rough, unrelenting, his lips hot and desperate against yours, his fingers digging into your waist as if you might disappear if he didn’t hold you still.
You moaned into his mouth, your hands flying up to grip at his shirt, fisting the fabric to keep yourself steady as he deepened the kiss, his tongue sweeping against yours in a way that made your knees buckle.
Joel felt it, because in the next second, he was grabbing the back of your thigh and lifting you onto the desk like you weighed nothing.
Your legs instinctively parted, and he wasted no time stepping between them, his hips pressing into yours, trapping you in place.
“This what you wanted, huh?” he growled, his lips trailing hot, open-mouthed kisses down your jaw, his beard scraping against your skin in a way that made you shiver. “Wanted to push me until I cracked?”
You could barely think, let alone form words.
“Yes,” you breathed, hands tangling in his hair, pulling him closer.
He groaned, gripping your hips tighter. “Shouldn’t be doin’ this,” he muttered against your skin, his lips finding the spot just below your ear, biting down just enough to make you whimper. “Should send you home.”
You shuddered, arching into him. “Then do it.”
He growled, his fingers tightening around your thighs, spreading them wider.
“No,” he muttered, voice raw. “Not after the way you looked at me in that classroom. Not after what you were doin’ under that damn desk.”
His hand slid higher, pushing up your skirt, fingers ghosting over the sensitive heat between your legs. You gasped, your whole body tensing as he pressed his forehead to yours, his breath hot, heavy.
“You wanted me to notice, didn’t you?”
You nodded frantically, your breath hitching.
“Say it.”
You swallowed hard. “I… I wanted you to notice.”
His fingers dipped beneath the waistband of your underwear, barely touching where you needed him most. “And now that I have?”
You were trembling, aching. “Please.”
Joel let out a deep, guttural sound, his self-control snapping like a rubber band stretched too tight for too long.
"Fine," he murmured darkly, his lips brushing against yours.
"Let me show you."
Joel’s hands were everywhere—hot, rough, steady—grounding you against the desk as if he were calculating every movement, every reaction.
"Force equals mass times acceleration," he muttered, voice thick, his lips brushing against your ear as he pressed his body against yours.
You gasped, fingers digging into his shoulders. "Joel—"
"Shh," he murmured, his large hands gripping your waist, positioning you, as if this was nothing more than another physics demonstration. "You wanted to feel the equation, right?"
Your heart slammed against your ribs.
"Th-this isn't what I meant," you managed to stammer, though you both knew that was a lie.
Joel chuckled, a deep, knowing sound, his fingers trailing down your thighs. "Nah, sweetheart, I think it is."
He nudged your legs apart, his grip tightening, anchoring you in place.
"Acceleration," he murmured, pressing a little closer, the warmth of him sinking into your skin. "It’s the rate of change of velocity over time."
You swallowed hard. "O-okay…"
His fingers trailed along your jaw, tilting your face up to his. "So if I apply a constant force…" His hips shifted just slightly, making your breath catch. Joel positioned himself at your entrance "The acceleration increases. You feel that?"
You bit your lip, your entire body thrumming under his control.
"Yes," you whispered.
Joel hummed in approval, his breath warm against your cheek. "Good. Now, mass…" His hand traveled back down, gripping your thigh. "More mass means more resistance, right? Takes more force to move it."
He lifted you slightly, effortlessly adjusting you against the desk.
"And since you're the mass in this equation, I’ve gotta work a little harder, don’t I?"
Your breath stuttered.
You knew he wasn’t talking about physics anymore.
"Joel…"
He smirked, his fingers trailing back up, gripping your hips. "You wanted me to show you, darlin’. I’m just makin’ sure you learn somethin’ from it."
His voice dipped lower, raspier. "So tell me—what happens when you apply a force in one direction?"
Your head was spinning, body buzzing with anticipation. "It—" You swallowed, trying to keep your voice steady. "It accelerates in that direction."
"That’s right." His hands tightened. "And what happens when there’s no opposing force to slow it down?"
You were breathless now, clinging to him as the tension stretched impossibly thin between you both.
"It… keeps going."
Joel’s lips brushed against your temple, a quiet hum of satisfaction rolling through his chest.
"Exactly."
And then—
He moved. Fitting his whole length inside you.
His hands, his force, his body—everything was calculated, precise, deliberate.
Physics had never felt like this before.
You gasped, gripping onto him, feeling every single application of the lesson in real time.
Joel groaned, his voice tight with restraint. "Now you’re gettin’ it."
You didn’t know if you were learning physics.
But you were definitely learning him.
Joel didn’t let up.
His grip on you was firm, steady, as if he was ensuring you wouldn’t slip through his fingers—not that you wanted to. Every breath you took felt heavier, filled with something charged, something that made the air between you almost unbearable.
“You remember Newton’s Third Law?” His voice was rough, edged with something dangerous, something that made your stomach tighten.
Your mind was spinning, barely able to process words as his hands grounded you against the desk.
“I—” You swallowed, your fingers gripping at his shirt.
Joel chuckled, dark and low, his lips just brushing against your ear. “Every action has an equal and opposite reaction,” he murmured. “That means—”
Before you could even prepare, he moved, hips snapping faster, harder, pressing closer, his presence overwhelming.
You gasped, your body instinctively responding, pushing against him without even realizing it.
Joel smirked. “See? That’s reactionary force, darlin’.”
Your breath hitched. “J-Joel—”
“That’s how it works,” he continued, ignoring your attempt to ground yourself. “I push, you push back.” His hands tightened. “I apply force, you absorb it.”
Your stomach flipped. He was making you feel every word, every lesson, in ways that had absolutely nothing to do with physics anymore.
Joel leaned in closer, his breath hot against your neck. “Now, let’s talk about friction.”
Oh, God.
You knew where this was going.
You weren’t even sure you could speak at this point, but Joel didn’t need your answer—he was already moving again, showing you exactly what he meant.
“Friction is resistance,” he murmured, his voice dripping with satisfaction as he demonstrated. “You feel that? The way two surfaces move against each other?”
You definitely felt it.
Your fingers dug into his arms, nails scraping against fabric as you struggled to keep up, to breathe.
“Too little friction,” he went on, his grip adjusting, “and there’s no control. But just the right amount?” His lips hovered over yours, teasing. “It keeps everything right where it needs to be.”
You whimpered, your body betraying you, arching into him before you could stop yourself.
Joel’s smirk deepened.
“That’s a good girl,” he murmured.
Your head spun. Your heart pounded.
You weren’t sure if this was physics anymore or something else entirely, something much more dangerous.
And the worst part?
You didn’t care.
The air between you crackled, thick with unspoken words and undeniable tension, something electric that neither of you could ignore any longer. It surged between you, a live wire waiting for a spark, and Joel was the one holding the match.
He was everywhere—his hands gripping your waist, firm and possessive, fingertips pressing just enough to leave an imprint. His broad frame loomed over you, his presence suffocating in the best possible way. His scent, all musk and faint traces of leather and gun oil, curled around you like a second skin. There was no escaping him, no resisting the gravity that pulled you deeper into his orbit.
“You starting to get it now?” His voice was low, rough, each syllable a deliberate scrape against your fraying composure. The heat of his breath skimmed over your lips, teasing but never quite touching.
You nodded—frantically, desperately.
But that wasn’t enough for him.
“Use your words, sweetheart.” His grip tightened, his fingers digging in just enough to make your breath stutter. The force of him, the sheer dominance in his stance, made your pulse hammer. “Tell me what you learned.”
You swallowed hard, barely able to think beyond the way he felt, the way his body pressed into yours, caging you in like a predator who had finally cornered his prey.
“I—I learned that…” Your voice was shaky, uneven, your thoughts tangled in the suffocating heat of him. But he waited, unwavering, his dark eyes watching, demanding.
Joel wasn’t going to let you off that easy.
“…that every action has an equal and opposite reaction,” you finally whispered, your lips barely brushing his with each syllable.
His smirk was dangerous, a slow, knowing thing that sent shivers down your spine. His grip on your waist flexed, the strength in his hands enough to remind you just how easily he could control this moment, could control you.
“Good girl.”
The praise hit like a physical force, a shudder rolling through your body as heat pooled low in your stomach. Your fingers curled into his shirt, clinging to the fabric as if it was the only thing tethering you to reality. You needed something to hold onto, something solid, because Joel Miller was unraveling you by the second.
He noticed.
Of course, he did.
And he loved it.
He leaned in closer, his lips brushing against the shell of your ear, sending a fresh wave of heat down your spine. “Now, what happens when an object in motion stays in motion…” His hands adjusted, sliding lower, pulling you against him until there was no space left between your bodies. “…until acted upon by an external force?”
Your breath hitched, heart hammering against your ribs. He was the external force, the unstoppable force, the immovable object all in one. And you? You were caught in his gravitational pull, helpless to do anything but surrender.
“Joel—”
“That force…” His voice was a growl now, deeper, darker, filled with something that made your entire body thrum with anticipation. His fingers skimmed along your lower back, tracing slow, deliberate patterns before gripping you tighter. “That’s me.”
Your entire world tilted.
Joel moved deliberately, with calculated precision, pressing you firmly against the nearest surface—something solid, something unyielding, just like him. His hands roamed, mapping out every inch of you as if he had all the time in the world. There was no hesitation, no uncertainty, only an unrelenting purpose that made your skin burn with every touch.
His lips ghosted over your jaw, dragging down, teasing, testing. You felt the scrape of his stubble, the warmth of his breath, the lingering restraint that wouldn’t last much longer.
“You still with me, sweetheart?”
Your nails dug into his shirt, your head tilting to give him more, offering yourself up without a second thought. “Yes,” you breathed, voice barely more than a whimper.
Joel chuckled, low and satisfied. “That’s what I thought.”
And then he showed you exactly what happened when an object in motion met an unstoppable force.
The pace was relentless, the heat unbearable. His movements were precise, purposeful, dragging you to the very edge before pulling you right back in. Every sound, every sensation built up, coiling tight in your core until there was nowhere left to go but over.
His breath was ragged, his grip unyielding, his body against yours nothing short of devastating. You felt the tension snap all at once, a wave of heat crashing through you as his own release followed, a deep, shuddering groan breaking past his lips. The feeling of him—hot, pulsing, buried deep—was the final push you needed, sending you spiraling into oblivion.
Neither of you moved for a long moment, the air between you thick and heavy with everything that had just passed. His hands stayed firm on your body, his presence still anchoring you in place, as if he wasn’t ready to let go just yet.
And neither were you.
Because there was no resistance left.
Not from you.
Not from him.
And you both knew it.
The air in the room was thick, heavy with the remnants of everything that had just happened.
Your breaths were still uneven as you slowly came back to yourself, your body still buzzing from the way Joel had taken you apart, piece by piece, like you were nothing more than a lesson he needed to teach—one he made damn sure you wouldn’t forget.
You swallowed hard, willing your legs to stop trembling as you steadied yourself on the desk.
Joel hadn’t moved much.
He was still standing there, broad frame looming, his gaze locked onto you with something dark and unreadable. His breathing was slower now, controlled, but the tension between you hadn’t dissipated.
Not one bit.
You knew this wasn’t over.
Not really.
There was something in the way he was watching you—something unfinished, something that told you this was only the beginning of whatever the hell this had become.
You exhaled shakily, running your hands over your rumpled skirt, attempting to fix yourself before finally forcing yourself to move.
Joel’s eyes followed you.
You made it to the door, your fingers just barely wrapping around the handle when his voice rumbled behind you—low, rough, dangerous.
"Let’s go over another lesson again sometime."
Your breath caught in your throat.
You turned just enough to meet his gaze, your pulse spiking all over again when you saw the way he was looking at you—like he wasn’t done with you.
Like this was far from over.
Your fingers tightened on the handle.
You knew you should leave. Walk away. Pretend like you hadn’t just let your professor turn a physics lesson into something else entirely.
But instead—
Instead, you smirked.
A slow, knowing, daring smirk.
And then you opened the door and walked out.
But as you disappeared down the hallway, your mind raced, your body still thrumming with the aftermath of his hands, his words, his control.
And one thought lingered in your mind:
You were definitely coming back for another lesson
“I've got to get away and let you go, I've got to get over” - “I Love You So” by The Walters
< prev. ch | masterlist | next ch >
professor!joel miller x f!reader
Chapter summary:
WC 4.4k - the aftermath of seeing each other like ghosts of the summer has Joel questioning it all / Tommy interrogates Joel about what happened between you.
chapter content/ warnings: sexual content, 18+ only!
wee bit of power imbalance, tension, forbidden attraction, moral boundaries and conflicts, internal dialogue, Joel’s pov, mutual longing/pining/yearning, being complicated and frustrating as always. Mentions of medication, depictions of a panic attack, allusions to past intimacy, slow burn.
· · ──────── ꒰ঌ·✦·໒───────── · ·
Mill, Locke… hell, even Aristotle had something to say about restraint. About the virtue in holding the line when the easier path was giving in. Self-control as the thing that made a man more than his appetites.
He told himself that’s what this was. A kind of moral exercise, the discipline to want and not take, to burn and still stay good. To put his years-long studies of theories and moral challenges to proper use. To prove to himself what he was teaching had its foundations in reality.
The true power wasn’t in the taking. It was in the holding back. In knowing exactly how fast he knew he could make you come apart for him and choosing not to touch you at all.
But one slip and it wouldn’t just be a lapse, it’d be a headline and the end of his career. The kind of thing that gutted reputations and left scorch marks you never scrubbed out. He’d lose the job, the department, every shred of professional respect he’d clawed together.
And morally, Christ, he knew the balance was already uneven. You were his TA, his student. The power between you didn’t tip so much as lean, and if he reached for you now, it would be him making the move, him taking advantage, no matter how much you may have wanted it for yourself.
That was the truth of it, the rot at the center of the wanting. He couldn’t separate the hunger from the ruin.
It was the same logic as every story about forbidden fruit, it wasn’t dangerous because it was sweet, it was sweet because it was dangerous. Unfortunately for him, he knew how sweet you tasted too, and the punishment was in the knowledge that he would never be able to taste you again.
He remembered the salt of your skin in summer heat, the faint trace of whatever you’d been drinking on your tongue when you’d pulled him in. The way you’d gone soft and pliant against him when he’d bitten just hard enough to hear you gasp. It was in his mouth now, phantom and maddening, as if memory alone could conjure it back.
Every second you sat there, he could feel the line under his feet like a live wire. One step over and everything changed.
So he told himself he could live in the wanting. That the ache was cleaner than the act. That restraint was a kind of penance, proof he wasn’t the man people might think he was if they knew.
But the more you leaned toward him, the more the ghost of you lingered on his tongue, the harder it became to believe his own lie.
And when you shifted in your seat, skirt tugging higher on your thigh, and looked up at him through your lashes like you were about to ask something, he knew with bone-deep certainty that if he wasn’t careful… one day, he was going to fail at this.
God, you were trouble, and he sure as hell shouldn’t enjoy this.
You still had power over him, that much was abundantly clear to him.
But now he remembered he had power too.
It stirred something old and heady in his chest, something feral. It made his cock strain beneath the desk, made him clench his jaw and breathe through his nose just to keep his voice steady as you were working through essays together.
“Next one,” he muttered, flipping to the next page like he wasn’t choking on the weight of his own need. Like he wasn’t imagining how fast you’d crumble if he really used that power, if he stepped into the space between you and…
He breathed out slowly. Because that was the only way he got to keep looking at you like this, unchained, and still call himself good. He knew it was only a matter of time before he’d break if he kept this up. He could only take so many accidental brushes of fingers against his before he’d have pinned you beneath him… alright, it’s getting away from him today.
He was lucky you’d always chosen to sit across the table from him, unable to see his pants tighten just because you fucking exist next to him.
You shifted in your seat, boot grazing the floor, the sound sharp in the quiet. You tilted your head slightly, eyes still on the paper in front of you.
He glanced up then. Just for a moment. Watched the way your fingers moved across the rubric, steady and confident. Watched the way your expression never faltered, even as your pen hovered just long enough over one particular line, like it reminded you of something, “I can’t quite figure out what’s wrong but I just know something is.”
He clears his throat before extending his arm to point out what he’d noticed, “The citation’s wrong.”
You glanced up briefly, “Is it?”
He tapped the margin with his thumb, “They’ve attributed a Hunt quote to Nietzsche.”
You frowned at the paper, “Ah, I see. Just needed your keen, expert eye,” you say with a faint lilt to your voice, something just a breath past teasing… not quite playful but not entirely innocent either.
Joel didn’t answer. His eyes lingered a second too long before he looked back down, he had to take a sip of his coffee to hide his grin.
The room settled into the quiet scratch of pens and the soft shuffle of paper, but it wasn’t quiet to him. Not when he could hear the faint shift of your breathing, not when every movement in his periphery pulled at him like a hook under the skin. You were close enough that if he leaned just a little, he could catch the scent of your shampoo. Close enough that his arm could brush yours if he let it.
When he’d accepted your application, he’d told himself he’d be content merely in your presence. The silence surrounding would be just as well as anything else. The tension crackled regardless, and that was his solace that you hadn’t been just a dream. He was fine with that. Stolen glances and spared words limited to professionalism and courtesy… he was just fine with that. And you have proven yourself to be an exemplary student and TA.
But instead, because of your proposition, and your insistence for a change of pace between the two of you, and now the new semester without Jamie’s impeding presence, it felt like something else entirely, something he’d have to manage just as carefully.
You leaned in, scanning the essay between you, and he had to lock his jaw to keep from looking down the slope of your neck, from imagining the heat of your skin under his palm. Because he knew exactly what he’d do if he let himself, how he’d hook a hand under your chin, drag your gaze to his, thumb pressing into your bottom lip until you parted for him. How he’d slot his hand between your thighs under the desk and slide it up until you shifted in your seat, until you made that sound he’d been starving for since summer. That skirt of yours rucked high enough for his fingers to slip beneath, feel the heat of you, test just how ready you’d be for him.
He reeled himself back, long breath in through his nose, pen tapping against the paper to give his hands something else to do.
It would be so easy. Too easy.
—
“What the fuck do you mean you’re her professor?”
Tommy’s voice echoed in his head as the memory dragged him back to that cold December night.
Joel hadn’t answered. He had pushed open the door and stepped into the cool air instead.
“Fuck, Joel…”
He’d tried to walk it off, tried to put distance between himself and the conversation, but Tommy had followed him out into the night like a shadow he couldn’t shake.
“Joel!” The shout had cracked across the parking lot, sharp with disbelief.
Tommy had grabbed his arm and spun him around, the weight of the moment finally forcing Joel to look at him. “You can’t just drop something like that and walk away.”
Joel’s eyes finally focus on his brother’s, what could only be described as distress etching deep lines in his face.
Joel’s jaw had tightened so hard it ached. “Just stop.”
The pressure in his chest came fast and unforgiving, a sharp bloom of pain that stole the breath right out of him. His hand had flown up instinctively, fingers gripping his shirt as the world tilted sideways. He barely had time to stumble before Tommy caught him, steadying his weight with both hands.
“Whoa, what the fuck? Easy… I got ya.”
He squeezes his eyes shut and feels his breath staggering in gasps.
The night blurred after that. The concrete beneath his boots, the sting of cold against his face, the rush of air in his ears. He couldn’t tell how much of the walk to the truck he’d managed on his own, only that the next clear moment found him in the passenger seat. Tommy’s cold hands gently slapping him back to consciousness.
“Joel! Joel, man, c’mon… look at me, it’s alright, you’re alright,” repeated in his ears as the world steadied once more. A bottle of water was being handed to him and his brows furrowed in confusion.
“It’s been awhile since one of those, are you alright? Thought you were taking meds for this?”
Joel groaned and waved him off, irritation flashing through the lingering fog. Tommy lifted both hands in surrender, backing off just enough to let him breathe, “Alright. Alright.”
Tommy rounded the truck and climbed into the driver’s seat, motioning to Joel to buckle up only to get a few grumbles from his older brother.
“She got you that bad, huh. I was gonna say how lucky you were fucking hot college girls, but I see that’s not appropriate… and I apologize.”
Joel didn’t answer. He leaned his head back against the headrest, eyes closing as the truck rumbled to life, the vibration traveling up through his bones. His chest still felt tight, like the panic had left an echo behind, a dull pressure that refused to fade completely. He rolled his shoulders once, then again, trying to shake the lingering tension from his body.
Tommy drove in silence for a few minutes, the road stretching out in front of them, the dashboard lights casting soft shadows across the cab. Joel watched the blur of streetlights through half-lidded eyes, his thoughts drifting despite his best efforts to corral them.
He knew the panic attack hadn’t come out of nowhere.
He’d honestly been surprised he’d gone so long without one since this whole ordeal began. With his prescription waiting for a refill request, he’d simply refused to discuss alternatives with his doctor.
He figured he deserved the anxiety, he wanted that edge that kept him on his toes. The physical reminder of all he’s lost and everything he could possibly lose.
The pain and ache was worth those few moments of reprieve he’d find to pictures of you stored in his phone. He’d even revisit those voice memos you’d left during that last week as you anticipated spending the weekend together.
Everything had been too easy, he’d taken it for granted. Projected his own feelings onto you when it seemed safe to assume that level of mutuality.
Maybe he’d hoped you’d have decided that he was worth the risk of attachment. That you would let yourself be worshipped by him until his final breath like he’d grown to crave with you.
“We didn’t know,” he said, weakly, taking a sip from the bottle with shaky hands.
“I mean from the way you two looked at each other I’d have believed y'all were in love, man. Did y’all break it off after you found out?”
He just shook his head once, his eyes never shifting from their far-off gaze out the window and into the winter night sky.
“C’mon, talk to me, just this once,” Tommy stopped at the red light and turned his body towards his older brother.
Joel slowly turns his head, his eyes unamused at his brother’s insistence.
“She left before.”
He sees the realization on Tommy’s face and a slow nod of acknowledgment. “Did she say why?”
With another curt shake of his head, Tommy sighs and the light turns green.
“No, nothin’. Not til…”
Tommy’s eyebrow lifts with that, “Not til what?”
Joel groans, he’s never been one to talk about feelings. To talk about anything personal, really. His brother knew more than anyone, but it still felt like some kind of failure to have to externalize it. He knew it was rooted in pride, in habit, in years of keeping things locked behind his ribs, but knowing that didn’t make it any easier to change.
Joel’s fingers tightened around the bottle, knuckles whitening as he stared through the windshield at nothing in particular. The streetlight outside cast long shadows across the dashboard, stretching the silence between them.
“Just… forget it.” He grumbles, leaning his head back against the headrest and closing his eyes.
“You drive me insane, man. Just once I wish you’d let me in, let anyone in. Gettin’ too old for this shit.”
That earned Tommy another glare from the older man, “I am too old for all that sappy bullshit, ain’t worth fussin’ over.”
Tommy silently pulls into the parking lot of a familiar spot, Joel hadn’t even realized he hadn’t been heading in the direction of his house.
“Well, shit… of all the places.”
The realization dawns on Tommy’s face and yet another deep sigh resolves the unintentional resurfacing of memories. “Fuck, we can go somewhere else if y-”
“It’s fine, let’s grab a drink.”
The two men find a spot at the bar and sit in silence for a few moments as they nursed a beer, watching whatever football highlights were running on the tvs.
“So…”
Joel downs a shot of whiskey and signals the bartender for another, “what do y’want me to say?”
Tommy shrugs and turns in his seat, but notices a woman down the bar eyeing Joel in a not-so-subtle way. “When’s the last time you’ve gotten laid, man?”
“The fuck?”
Tommy tilts his head in the direction of the woman and raises his eyebrows suggestively. Joel’s gaze followed where Tommy was so fixated.
“Fuck off.” And that was that, at least Joel had hoped, but so far tonight one thing had become increasingly clear to Tommy.
“You’re in love with her,” an accusing finger points straight to Joel and he grumbles under his breath for the night to be over.
For the first time in a long time, Joel had found himself the opportunity to talk about you. He hadn’t mentioned you since he avoided the conversation when Sarah and Tommy were gossiping, and even then he was deflecting.
If Tommy could tell his conundrum, he must’ve seemed like an open damned book as he got to really take you in at the hockey stadium. With your flushed cheeks and your trembling lip, your warm eyes looking up at him at the closest proximity you’d been in months. He was still replaying that interaction in his head.
He wishes he could kiss you every time you looked at him like that, he wishes he could kiss you any time he damn well pleased.
Since that video of you kissing that girl and the odd lack of jealousy he felt after you’d assured him she’s just a friend, he hadn’t stopped thinking about how important it was to you that he knew she was just a friend.
You seemed almost apologetic that he had to watch it, then that banter where you’d accidentally made a joke about his dick being big and well… that had fueled a night of restless fist-fucking. He’d imagined you on that phone call before that last weekend together, your voice so sweet and breathless as you asked him to show you how hard you’d gotten him just from the sound of your moans through the phone.
He likes to imagine you touching yourself to the thought of him, that your sweet pussy still drips when you’re around him… that at any moment he could reach between those milky thighs and be proven how much he can still affect you, that your…
Fuck… there he goes again.
“I don’t know, Tommy, I just…” he downs the shot after he realizes the bartender had set it down in front of him.
“Alright, how about this,” Tommy turns with his beer in one hand and his other hand perched on his thigh, earnestly leaning towards Joel so he could hear him better. “I’ll ask ya a few questions, just say yes or no, ‘kay?”
He can tell Tommy’s getting a little drunk, a few shots’ll do that to the poor lightweight, no matter how much tolerance he should have at this point.
“Fine. Shoot.”
Tommy clears his throat and takes his own shot, shaking his head at the burn of it. “Do y’miss her?”
Straight to the point, Joel respects it. And while he can, maybe it’d be good for him to admit some bits of truth to the only other person who knows about you, “Sure.”
“Do you ever see her besides in whatever class she has you for?”
“Mhmm.”
Tommy’s eyebrows raise at that, “Beyond what happened today or is that what you’re implying?”
“Beyond what happened today.”
Tommy continues, hoping he can gain some clarity, “Have you ever had a chance to be alone with her?”
Joel clears his throat this time and slowly nods his head, “Yeah, happened pretty often actually.”
“Then what the fuck, man! What’s stoppin’ you?”
Joel glares at him again, “Ain’t a yes or no question, Tommy.”
“Also, how the fuck do you get alone time with her? Seems like it’d be kinda suspicious, no?”
“Again, not a yes or no question, dumbass. She’s my TA.”
And now Tommy’s just got a blank stare on his face.
“What?”
“You’re alone with her often… you’ve got a socially acceptable reason to be alone with her as her professor and… you see the problem with this? Okay fine, last yes or no question, are you in love with her?”
Joel nods his head slowly and furrows his brow, “but I don’t get what’s wrong, I’ve been doin’ things right, I haven’t crossed any lines…”
And of course it wasn’t Tommy’s last question, “You chose her as your TA?”
“Yeah, but she applied!” He gestured innocently, as if someone who had been sexually involved with him and had applied for a TA position couldn’t plausibly be angling for some proximity.
“For you specifically?”
“No… no, but Dr. Lansing’s position had been filled and she was a good fit. Plus, her friend was already my TA and I thought they’d work well together.”
Tommy is nodding along slowly as he takes in the information, connecting dots as best as he can to understand the dynamics.
“But you said you get to be alone with her?”
Joel’s head is starting to spin now, maybe that last shot wasn’t such a good idea after he’d just had a panic attack an hour prior.
“I just don’t see why y’can’t sneak around, y’got that high of a moral standin’ that you can’t make it work with the woman you love?”
“Jesus, Tommy. I teach philosophy, remember? What the fuck do y’take me for?” Joel takes a deep breath and takes another sip of his beer. “Couldn’t even bring home a woman because it’d make me feel dishonest about my intentions, ‘specially when Sarah was young. I don’t know how to deal with this shit, plus, this is her future we’re talkin’ about.”
Tommy holds out his hands, halting his rant, “Slow down, man.”
It’s the first time he’s ever truly been vulnerable besides when Sarah’s mom left the little baby in his arms as she drove off from all maternal responsibility. Only time he’s let Tommy into his personal life and admit he’s no super human void of emotions.
“Have you talked to her about any of this shit?”
“Fuck no, that’d just make it complicated.”
“How the fuck could it get more complicated?”
Joel gestures widely, “I could be fuckin’ my TA’s how it could get more complicated.”
“So you admit it’s plausible that she would be on board with it?”
“Ain’t the point... I can’t be selfish.”
“But you won’t have sex with anyone else… so, what… you’re just waiting for her graduation?”
Joel sighs deeply and shrugs, “guess so… hadn’t thought that far ahead.”
“Got me fucked up, Joel.”
Another shrug as Joel finishes off his beer.
“I say hit it once, see what happens.. What is she, a blabber mouth? She gonna squeal to her daddy that a professor fucked her?”
“Don’t think she has any interest in fuckin’ either of us over.”
“Gotta admit it’s a hot prospect, secret little affair, ‘specially if you love ‘er, fuck it man, y’only live once right?”
Joel slaps him on the shoulder and shakes him gently, “don’t think you’re gettin’ it, little brother. Ain’t how this is gonna go as much as I like to think of it.”
“Why’d y’go off your meds?”
And another sigh from the older man and he clears his throat, “Couldn’t finish, stopped it last summer, ‘round the time I met her.”
“Bet y’fucked like rabbits then, huh… no wonder you’re so hung up. I remember y’bein’ so fuckin’ antsy when y’couldn’t see her that week Sarah was here, is that when she ghosted?”
A slow nod.
“Then she showed up in your class?”
Another.
“Am I gonna get anywhere close to understandin’ this dynamic? If it was me, I’d fuck her ‘n be careful ‘bout it. Don’t make any rational sense to me why y’don’t find it a perfect opportunity.”
“Can y’stop sayin’ you’d fuck her like you’re actually imaginin’ fuckin’ her?”
“If you’re not gonna.. What’s stoppin’ me from imaginin’ that? She’s smokin’!”
“Would your girlfriend enjoy you talkin’ like that ‘bout my girl?”
“Your girl…”
“Fuck off, y’know what I meant.”
“Mhmm… never seen y’like this before, Joel, just don’t get why y’gave up so easily.”
“Who said I gave up, I got her eyein’ me every time she’s with me… I’d say it’s ‘bout as good as it can get in our situation.”
“Well… y’could be gettin’ some much needed release and that’d probably be even better,” Tommy’s starting to slur on his words, keeping them partially under his breath, clearly stubborn on his take of things.
Joel can’t deny he’s thought of it. He’d considered any possibility at this point, but none of them outweighed the risk to you, the risk to your future… otherwise he’d dive head-fucking-first. He’d gather you in his arms and never let you go. Issue with Tommy is, he’s too focused on the physicality of it. He’s not considering the long-term impact of Joel condoning that behavior as a philosophy professor.
Tommy wasn’t wrong about one thing. Joel had thought about it. Not once or twice, but in the quiet hours when sleep wouldn’t come and the house felt too empty to breathe in. He had imagined what it would be like to stop holding the line, to close the distance, to take instead of deny. The relief of it. The warmth of it. The way it might quiet the constant hum under his skin.
But every version of that fantasy ended the same way.
With you losing something you could never get back.
He stared into his glass, watching the condensation bead and slide down the side like it might carry the answer with it.
“It ain’t about the sex,” he said at last. “If that was all it was, I’d have gotten over it by now.”
Tommy tilted his head, studying him more seriously now, “So what is it about?”
Joel’s jaw flexed. For a second it looked like he might shut down again, retreat behind that familiar wall of silence. Instead he scrubbed a hand over his face, rough and tired.
“It’s her,” he said simply. “Just… her.”
The words landed heavier than anything else he’d said all night.
“She walks into a room and everything feels… brighter,” he went on, clearly uncomfortable with his own honesty. “Like I remember what it’s like to be excited about shit again. About romantic shit. About the future.”
Tommy didn’t interrupt.
“And then I remember I ain’t allowed to want that,” Joel added. “Not from someone like her.”
“Someone like her?” Tommy echoed.
Joel nodded toward the bar, toward the world beyond it, toward everything he wasn’t. “Young ‘n smart. Got her whole life ahead a’her. She ain’t supposed to get tangled up with some middle-aged professor with baggage.”
Tommy huffed quietly. “You say that like you don’t get a vote.”
“I don’t,” Joel replied. “Not when the consequences fall on her.”
That shut Tommy up for a second.
Joel leaned back, eyes drifting toward the ceiling. “If anyone found out, it wouldn’t be me they’d worry about. It’d be her. They’d question her grades, her motives, her character. Every damn thing she’s worked for would get picked apart.”
His voice roughened, “I can survive bein’ the bad guy if it means she ain’t wrapped up in my mess.”
Tommy’s expression softened, the teasing finally draining out of him. “You really love her.”
Joel didn’t answer this time because the truth sat in the air between them, undeniable.
After a long moment, he exhaled, shoulders sagging in a way that made him look older than he was.
Tommy took a slow drink, shaking his head like he still didn’t fully understand but couldn’t argue either. “Man,” he muttered. “That’s rough.”
Joel let out a tired laugh, “Tell me about it.”
—
And now, he sits across from you again with all those thoughts floating around his head. The selfish temptations toying with his psyche.
That conversation with Tommy seemed like the last chance he’d get to be honest, at least about you. And had he even been completely honest?
Should he have shared how every time he catches you staring it takes active effort not to devour you whole?
Should he have shared the weight of your presence feels like home? That he only ever feels at peace when he has you by his side?
No, he shared what he could. To at least externalize bits of you that had been living in his mind. To make the ache for you into its own sort of existence.
The full extent of you in his mind is his alone.
· · ──────── ꒰ঌ·✦·໒───────── · ·
a/n: and they’re back! I’ve had a lot of time for brainstorming for this story and I’m really excited for what I have in store 😈 it’s been a slow-going time writing wise, but I get to it when I can. Man, I love them so much, sorry I’m not pushing chapters out faster.
taglist as requested (please let me know if you want to be added/removed): @magicxmiller @yslgreen @mallingcalling-blog @getitoutofmymindwrites @msdariaknight @morganlolitta @faiantas-blog @anheloamores @loveday1219
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.
A/N: AHHHHH SORRY IT TOOK SO LONG BUT HERE IT IS!!! Special Christmas Episode and finale of the Office Hours series!!! Thank you all for reading along and sending anons and messages and commenting etc. it means a lot that you guys care about my writing and that you actually like it 💖 I might just be high buuuut I LOVE YOU GUYS 😭 lol 😆 anyways! Please enjoy the last chapter. 🥰🎄 Merry Christmas and happy holidays!
You stare at the clock, waiting for the last class of the quarter to be over.
It’s English Lit, Joel’s class, and after this — your last final — you were free to be as publicly involved with him as you want. You wouldn’t be his student anymore.
You would go on your first date out in public tonight. Joel has planned an entire surprise evening for you.
The last few people go to the front of the class to turn in their bubble answer sheets and Joel gives everyone a smile.
“Alright, has everyone given their tests back?” Joel asks.
The class is mostly silent besides a couple ‘yep’ and ‘mhm’ noises.
“I’ll have final grades in over the weekend. Thanks everyone.” He nods to the class. “Dismissed.”
Everyone files out of the room and you approach Joel when the room is empty. “We’re finally free.” You smirk.
“I know. But technically I need to be clocked out from today before we do anything… At least on campus.”
“That’s fair.” You shrug, sighing. You wanna kiss him so bad.
Only a handful of hours and he was yours.
“I’ll see you later.” You grin.
“See you later.” Joel winks.
You leave the room and nearly skip back to your dorm. You could relax. Fall quarter was finally over.
You spend a couple hours napping, then you get up and have lunch before taking a long shower and preparing for your big date tonight.
Joel only told you this: wear something a little fancy and make sure to have a thick, warm coat, and comfy shoes.
Seems easy enough.
You layer up, wearing fleece tights, a cute red skirt, and a black sweater. You put on your Doc Martens and a beanie over your beautifully curled hair.
You grabbed your big winter jacket and set it next to your duffel. You keep packing up, excitement building more and more.
Finally, you’re packed and heading out the door. Joel told you to come to his place at 6pm sharp.
Joel is waiting on his doorstep when you get there.
“Hey!” You call to him as you walk up the stairs to the front porch.
“Hey, you.” He pulls you close as soon as you’re within reach.
He has a thick jacket on that covers his upper half, but below that were some black slacks and a pair of nice boots.
His curls were perfect, even more-so than in class. He must’ve showered and washed his hair and even used product between now and then.
It’s the little things that show you he really loves you. Putting effort into his look on a night out, planning the entire date, insisting on paying, saying he was gonna be glued to your side the whole night…
“You ready?” He smiles, leaning down to kiss you.
“Mhm.” You hum into the kiss, pulling back after a few seconds.
“Throw this inside for me?” You hand him your duffel.
“Of course.” He nods, opening his front door and putting the bag just inside before locking up.
He walks you to his car, opening the passenger door for you.
When you got in, you got a waft of his cologne and it starts to make your skin prick… your hairs raise, nipples hard.
He closes your door and walks around and gets in the drivers seat.
“How was the rest of your day?” You ask him.
“Great. But I just couldn’t wait for tonight.” He smiles at you, starting the car.
“Me too.” You reach over and gently rub the back of his neck.
His eyes slip closed, but then open after a moment before he gets his bearings and pulls out onto the road.
He starts driving you towards downtown, to where all the nice restaurants and bars were.
He pulls up to a valet entrance of a fine dining place with a name you couldn’t quite pronounce.
Two men in white coats walk over from a podium, opening your doors for you.
“Welcome.” One man says as he helps you out of the car.
“Thank you for dining with us tonight. If you need anything, please don’t hesitate to ask.” The other man tells Joel.
They get Joel’s keys and give him a valet ticket to bring back later.
Joel walks around to you and grabs your hand, leading you inside.
You wait in a short line to get to the host station and they seat you right away, taking your jackets to be returned later. Joel had reserved this spot over a month ago, come to find out.
The hosts pull out and push in your chairs for you as you sit, they put the napkin on your lap for you… this place was insanely upscale.
You take a look at Joel’s outfit. His top half… he’s wearing your favorite shirt. The puffy white shirt that he tends to unbutton more and more throughout the evening… it was gorgeous.
“You look amazing.” You grin at him, blushing.
“So do you.” He winks, stretching his arm out over the table with an open palm.
You put your hand in his and he grabs yours tightly and sweetly.
“I’m so happy we’re doing this.” He hums.
“Me too.” You smile. “I’ve been wanting to go on a real date for a long time.”
“I know.” Joel nods, brown eyes sparkling. “Thank you for waiting so long.”
“You’re welcome… it’s worth it so far.” You giggle.
He smiles back and then pulls away as a waitress brings water in wine glasses and leaves a tall, slim bottle for refills.
“Good evening. Have we dined here before?” She asks.
You and Joel both shake your heads.
“Well, welcome in.” She smiles. “My name is Jane, I’ll be taking care of you two tonight. Are we celebrating anything?”
You smirk at Joel and he nods at the waitress. “Yes. This is our first real date.”
The waitress nods, “congratulations! Thank you for choosing us to celebrate with. Can I get you anything to drink besides water?”
You speak up then. “White wine for me.”
“Is Sauvignon blanc okay?” She asks.
“Yes. Great.” You nod.
She turns to Joel.
“Whiskey would be great.” He smiles.
“Fantastic. I’ll get this order to the bar. Have you had a chance to look at the menu?”
“Not really.” You laugh.
“That’s alright.” She grins. “I’ll be back in a few minutes.”
She walks away and you and Joel decide to focus hard on your menus, deciding what to get. Jesus… a salmon dinner was over $80 here. That better be some good fucking salmon.
The waitress eventually comes back with drinks and takes your food orders.
You and Joel stare into each other’s eyes for a few seconds before looking around the restaurant to get a feel for the place.
There was a string quartet playing beautiful music in the corner, accompanied by someone on a grand piano.
The decorations were minimal but very pretty. They must’ve spruced things up for the Christmas season.
The chandeliers had little fake icicles hung off them, the tablecloths were all a very deep green, the napkins were red with gold thread around the edges.
The drinks came and you sipped them and talked about everything you two have done and been through together. The alcohol loosened you both up.
Dinner was amazing. Your fish was cooked perfectly, not too fishy, and it had garlic butter. Your eyes practically had hearts in them.
After finishing your food and having another drink, Joel paid the bill. “I have another surprise.” He smiles.
“Really?” You grin.
“Mhm.” He nods and waves the waitress over.
“Shall I bring your coats?” She asks.
“Yes please.” Joel nods.
She brings your coats and even helps you both put them on and then you’re on your way.
Joel leaves the car at the valet for now, giving them a $20 bill so he could do so.
“What’s the next surprise?” You ask, squeezing his hand.
He squeezes back happily. “If I told you, it wouldn’t be a surprise would it?”
“I guess not.” You giggle.
Joel leads you down the street a couple blocks and it starts to snow.
Tonight couldn’t get any more perfect. Except when you round the corner, it does.
You see the center of downtown with a huge Christmas tree. The lights weren’t on yet, but you could see the shiny ornaments reflecting the street lights.
“Oh my god!” You smile and nearly start jumping up and down.
Joel checks his watch. “Just a few more minutes… come on.”
He leads you closer to the tree and the crowd of people around it.
And as Joel promised, a couple minutes go by and the lights come on.
They’re bright and twinkling, colorful and gorgeous. They illuminate the whole square and everyone starts to clap and cheer.
You don’t want to look away from the lights but you can help but turn to face Joel.
“I love you so much.” You say as he turns to look at you.
“I love you too, babygirl.” He grins, leaning down and pulling you in by the waist to kiss you.
Your first kiss in public. At the Christmas tree lighting. In the snow.
This will go down as one of the best nights of your life.
Maybe it’s the alcohol still flowing through you, but you get a quick thought; Joel is probably going to make love to you so sweetly and passionately tonight.
You two keep kissing for a couple minutes, lost in the moment with each other.
You finally pull back. “Joel… I’m having a great time… but it’s so cold.” You say, starting to shiver.
“Wanna head back?” He asks.
“If that’s okay.” You nod.
“Of course, honey.” He smiles and kisses your nose.
“Thank you.” You smile.
Joel grabs your hand and leads you back to the restaurant to pick up his car.
The valet people open your doors and you get in, the car already nice and warmed up.
You get buckled in as Joel pulls away, heading back towards his house.
“I did have one more surprise for you.” He says after a minute.
You gasp, stomach dropping. “Fuck. I’m sorry. We could’ve stayed, I-“
“Shhh, baby. It’s okay. I wanna give you something.” He smiles, reaching over and putting a hand on your thigh.
“Oh, yeah?” You tease.
He chuckles. “Yeah. That too, but uh… well, I’ll give it to you when we get parked.”
“Okay.” You nod, giddy and excited.
Finally, you pull up at Joel’s house and he puts the car in park.
He reaches into his pocket and pulls out a small, rectangular cardboard box with a ribbon around it.
“For you.” He smiles wide.
You mirror his facial expression, taking the box.
You undo the ribbon and open the box to reveal a key.
“You can come and go as you please, now.” He says softly.
You start to tear up, this is a big step and it makes you feel so loved and so happy.
“Joel… I don’t know what to say.” You sniffle. “Thank you.”
He nods, leaning in to kiss you.
You kiss back passionately, holding the key tightly in your hand.
“Let’s get inside.” You hum.
“Agreed.” He kisses you one more time.
You both get out of the car and head up to the door. He motions to the knob. “Wanna try your new key?”
“Yeah.” You nod, unable to keep from laughing with excitement.
You put the key in the lock and turn it and the door unlatches.
You walk in and Joel helps you get out of your jacket and shoes, puts the new key on your key ring for you, and sets your coat down on the couch.
“Come on, baby.” He reaches a hand out to you.
You take it and follow him to the bedroom.
You make out as you undress each other, Joel’s hands skimming up and down your sides.
He starts to kiss your neck and you feel yourself get wetter by the second.
“Fuck…” you sigh softly.
“We’re gettin’ there.” Joel snickers.
You hum in agreement and then his lips are on yours again as he pushes you to lay down on the bed.
His cock is hard and heavy between his legs, and now it’s between yours too.
He takes hold of it and rubs it up and down through your folds as he makes out with you in earnest.
“Oh-!” You gasp, biting down on his bottom lip.
He groans at the feeling, moving his face downward to kiss your collarbone and then further down to suck your nipple into his mouth.
“Yes…” you sigh in pleasure.
He sucks softly at first, then it gets harder and finally, he’s pushing his thick cock inside of you.
“Joel…” You whine.
He gently teases your nipple between his teeth and you whimper at the feeling.
You tangle your fingers in his curly hair that’s gotten longer as the quarter’s gone on, loving the feel of the tendrils.
He pulls back out slowly before pushing in again, the feeling of his velvet skin against yours making your toes curl.
“I love you.” You breathe.
He pulls off your nipple and leans up to kiss your lips. “I love you too.”
He starts a rhythm with his hips and focuses two fingers on your clit. He rubs in small circles as he makes love to you, his breathing getting heavier.
You moan and pull him down to kiss you as your first orgasm washes over you.
He groans as you tighten around him, his body stiffening for a moment. But he keeps going.
After a minute, he’s fucking you into the mattress, moaning and whimpering into your mouth.
You’re whining with each breath and then~
“Fuck-“ he curses, cumming deep inside of you.
His hips stutter and you’re tipping over the edge again with him.
“Joel! Yesyesyes!” You pull on his hair, legs wrapped around him tightly.
“Love you, babygirl.” He grunts, his hand slowing down on your sensitive bud.
He keeps thrusting for a few seconds and then you’re both spent.
He pulls out and lies down next to you, pulling you close. “I’ll get you cleaned up in a minute, honey.” He breathes, still panting a little.
“Mhm.” You nod, leaning up to kiss the bolt of his jaw.
A few minutes of silence go by and then he gets up, grabbing a clean wash rag and wetting it with warm water.
He returns and gets you cleaned up, pulling the blankets up over the both of you.
“Hey,” you start.
“What’s up?” He asks, tucking your hair behind your ear.
“Come home with me for Christmas.” You smile.
“Really?” He asks, a smile forming on his face too.
“Yeah.” You nod. “I want you to meet my parents. And my friends… well, more like one friend. But, you know what I mean.” You giggle.
“Are you sure? I mean, I- I want to. I really want to. But… didn’t you say both your parents are a couple years younger than I am?” He raises his brows.
You shrug. “Can’t help who I fall in love with… they’ll get over it.”
He smiles even wider now, happy tears starting to prick his eyes. He takes your face in his hands. “Yes.” He nods. “I’d love to spend Christmas with you.”
***
And so he does.
On December 18th, you fly back home with Joel next to you the whole way.
You told your parents ahead of time that your boyfriend will be coming with you and that you really love him and want them to meet him.
Upon first meeting, your parents are a bit taken aback. But they get to know Joel over the week before Christmas and they tell you in private that they really like him.
Your dad asks how old he is and you blush a dark shade of red and say “56.”
Both your parents look surprised. But maybe not for the reason you think.
“Wow.” Your mom starts. “He looks quite a bit younger.”
“I would’ve guessed 43 or so.” Your dad adds.
You ask your parents if that’s okay, and they shrug.
“Honey, we just want you to be happy. If he makes you happy and keeps you safe and taken care of, that’s all that matters.” Your mom says.
Your dad agrees.
“Thanks, guys.” You smile.
***
Finally, Christmas morning is here.
Joel fucks you softly in the guest room of your parent’s house. He puts a hand over your mouth to keep you quiet. Thankfully the bed wasn’t squeaky.
It’s about 9:30am when you finally get out of bed and put pajamas back on and head downstairs.
Your parents had made coffee and pancakes for everyone. Your dad commented on Joel’s black coffee; “that’s how a real man drinks it.”
You roll your eyes and Joel laughs. “Thanks.”
After breakfast, you open presents.
As usual, your dad got you a silly gift to start out, then it got into the real presents.
You were gifted clothes, candy, and college supplies.
You got Joel a new coffee machine, which would be shipping to his house not long after you’d get back to Texas.
Joel gave you a stunning necklace. He helped you put it on after you opened it and fit perfectly.
But the best gift you could’ve ever gotten, was being in love with someone that loved you back just as fiercely.
