teacher's pet (Patreon)

synopsis: so your super sexy biology professor has an Only Fans and you're his biggest fan! when being a loyal subscriber and exchanging nudes isn't quite enough, you have to decide whether or not to keep up the charade or tell him the truth. can you get him to see you as more than just his student? or will you get dropped?

pairing: dorky!professor x f!reader

wc: 3.5k

content: smut and fluff, age gap, ADULT college student/professor relationship (both are legal lmfao), only fans mention, reader is down BAD, mutual pining, nudes, masturbation, lowk catfishing, confessions, fingering, piv sex, office sex, fucking on the desk, hair pulling, condom breaking

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Masturbating to a photo of your biology professor was probably unethical. 

But to be fair, if he didn’t want people to rub one out to him, maybe he shouldn’t have made an Only Fans. 

Okay, admittedly, there wasn’t anything even PG-13 on his page, but he was there, bright blue eyes glittering as he rambled on about animal welfare, proudly showcasing a couple red pandas behind him as he discussed their eating habits. His whole account was supposed to be in support of endangered animals, meant to raise money in a cheeky way. 

It was working too. 

His number of subscribers kept going up. 

And you were stupidly jealous every time you tuned into one of his weekly livestreams just to see the other girls commenting on how cute the animals were. 

Your fingers paused over your clit, lips curling down as your free hand hit the center of the screen, pausing it on a frame of his cute face, picturing it hovering over you while he fucked you in your twin size dorm mattres. 

Pinning you down, his slacks all wrinkled as he used his knee to spread your thighs apart. Would he give you fun facts about your pussy too? Tell you the proper terminology and scold you for wanting a man like him? 

Twice your years and assigning you grades? 

Would he pout at you if he knew what you were doing? Purse those pretty pink lips of his together and pluck the thick sweatshirt you purchased off his shop between his fingers with a scoff? Tell you that you should be with a guy in a idiotic frat or a football player? 

You didn’t want some loser your own age. 

You wanted him.

Switching to your phone camera, snapping a few photos and carefully keeping your face out of frame as you sucked in a shaky breath, nerves still all lit up, tingling as you pictured him receiving it. 

That was a fun little perk of being a top tier member – you could privately message him. 

And to your pleasure, he usually responded within seconds. 

At first, it had been all about the animals. All sweet and giddy and sincere as you asked him about what his favorite species were, his conservation work, and then it shifted to his job. His hobbies. His taste in music. Then he started asking about you. 

What you liked. How you found his page. 

And somewhere in the middle of all of it, you started sending skimpy photos. Wearing his merch. Tangled between messy sheets and adding breathy little voice messages. He returned them. His shirt between his sharp teeth, a hand down his boxers. 

But not a single one of his actual cock so far. 

God, did a girl have to beg to get a dick pic? 

Your thumb tapped the button, capturing a photo you hoped he’d find convincing. 

It was tasteful. 

Well, as close to tasteful as a nude could be. 

Thighs closed around your hand as your sweatshirt exposed your breasts. Would he imagine wrapping his mouth around your nipples when he saw it?

You almost came from that alone. 

Muscles tensing and trembling as your breath got caught in your throat, heat coiling in your stomach as you paused before hitting send. 

Edging yourself as you threw your head back down on your pillow, gritting your teeth as you decided to prolong your pleasure. You ached for his reaction. To know what he’d do when he got it this time. 

You weren’t content with just messages anymore. 

Craving him in a way you couldn’t quite cope with. You needed something more. Something physical. 

To feel his skin instead of just daydreaming about it. 

So you waited. Pulled your panties back up and rolled over to ask if he’d meet with you tomorrow after his class ended. 

It only took him a few seconds to send a sure. Before backpedaling and trying to downplay it with an only if you were really sure. 

You were. 

Even if he might never want to speak to you again once he realized you were one of his students instead of just an internet stranger. 

It wasn’t like he asked if you were in one of his classes. 

Just what your job was. And okay, maybe saying that you worked with a vet made it sound like you were a tech instead of just an unpaid intern at a local zoo who only had a couple shifts a week. 

This didn’t really count as catfishing, right?

Just, uh, selectively telling the truth. 

He didn’t ask for proof. And you didn’t have to answer the question of whether or not you’d lie just to keep him speaking to you. 

Although sitting in class the next afternoon kind of gave you the answer anyway, painfully aware of how far you’d go to keep existing in his orbit when you saw how he got all dressed up for you – a pretty blue button-up clinging tight to his broad shoulders, sleeves rolled up as he gestured to the big board behind him, bright stare glimmering with barely contained excitement. 

Your thighs were squeezing together, lips thick with gloss you’d probably applied too much of in the hall, a short little skirt rolling up as you shifted and squirmed in your chair. 

He asked a question, and you dutifully raised your hand, enjoying the way he smiled at you so proudly when you rattled off the correct answer. 

You made sure to be a great student in his class. 

The top of it.  

He put smiley faces on your papers and left notes on your exams. Clapped a big hand on your shoulder and told you what a good job you did. 

One time, he left a book on the chair you always sat in with for my favorite student scribbled in the front cover. 

You loved his appreciation. His attention. Every little grin and glance directed your way. 

Was it so wrong to want them to be a little more…personal? 

You snuck your phone out, glancing around at the empty seats next to you before pulling up your chat – and selecting a few of last night’s photos to send to him right as he was walking back over to his desk to get a sip of his coffee, even though it was probably ninety percent sugar and whipped cream. 

Hitting send just to cause him to choke on it, coughing and clearing his throat as his face went beet red, wiping a clammy palm on his pants before he furiously started to type. 

You’re not supposed to send me stuff like this when you know I’m in class. 

:(

Your heart skipped a beat watching him bite his lip like that, his pupils dilating as the lump in his throat bobbed. And in a moment of weakness, your fingers flew across the screen, tapping out words you’d been wishing to say for far too long. 

I wanted to see your face when you saw it. 

His mouth dropped open – and then his eyes snapped up. 

They landed on yours almost automatically, understanding flickering behind them, beneath the shock, the surprise. All big and blue and a little betrayed, like he was barely comprehending what his big brain already knew. 

“Class is dismissed.”

Almost everyone rushed for the exits. Scrambling to gather their things and go, not even listening to his blurted-excuses. You weren’t paying attention to them either, too distracted by the way his stare kept shifting back to you every few seconds, his mouth twitching every time it did. 

You didn’t bother feigning ignorance, even when you slipped your stuff back into your bag, only standing when the room cleared out, slinging it over your shoulder as you waited on him to say something as the last student left.

“My office,” he swallowed hard. 

He didn’t have to tell you twice. 

You were scampering after him, a skip in your step as you trailed after him out into the hall and down a floor to his office. He kept looking around, like he was terrified someone would see the two of you together and think of anything other than assuming you were asking for extra credit or help on a project. 

It was kinda hard to keep up with him though, his long strides picking up the pace the closer you got, all nervous and jittery as your kitten heels clicked against the linoleum. 

But no one tried to stop him. 

No one even spared a second glance. 

And then you were right there, at the threshold of your old life and your new one as he let you inside his office. 

He slammed the door shut – and you slipped between him and the thick wood before he could change his mind and tell you to get out. 

“You’re-” 

“A very loyal subscriber?” You offered him an answer, licking your bottom lip as you eyed the shrinking proximity between you and him. His wide chest heaving with every deep breath he sucked in and forced out, his jaw tensing as his pretty stare drifted down to your body, like he couldn’t quite believe all the photos he most certainly jerked off to lately had been you. 

“You’re my student.” 

“Uh-huh,” you arched up an eyebrow as you bit back a laugh. “Your favorite.”

“T-this is highly inappropriate,” he stuttered, like his stare wasn’t still stuck on your breasts. 

“You’re not an ethics professor,” you pointed out, his broad frame practically pinning you against the door. 

“I’m in my forties,” he huffed, like his age had ever done anything other than turn you on. 

“You’re not married,” you pointed out, snagging his left hand and holding it up. 

He pulled it back, cutting you a childish little glare before he immediately softened, as if he remembered he was meant to be the mature one here – or because he couldn’t resist your charms. 

“I am not going to take advantage of you,” he sternly said, and it only made you pout harder at him. 

“Who says you’re taking advantage of me?” You asked. “I’m the one trying to seduce you.” 

“And I’m in a position of power-” He paused, seeing the way your thighs were practically pressing together again at the way he was speaking to you. “Don’t do that.” 

“Do what?” You feigned innocence. 

“Your thighs,” he started, just to stop again as he shut his eyes as if he was trying to block out any and all bad thoughts that crossed his mind. 

“Would you fuck me if I dropped your class?” You bluntly asked, pushing out your bottom lip and reaching up to brush some of his messy hair out of his face. 

You guessed he must not fuck much judging by the full shiver your tiny touch seemed to send through him. 

He didn’t swat your hand away either. 

Let it linger there, skimming across his cheek, down to his soft lips. Dragging your thumb across the slightly chapped skin, pulling it down as you bit your own. 

“I-if I fuck you, will you stop this, this nonsense?” He stammered. 

Honestly, you thought he would fight it more. 

Quite frankly, really, this had been way easier than you thought it would be. 

“If you ask me nicely,” you promised, nodding along. 

You were counting on him wanting you bad enough to come back for more afterwards. 

“Just once,” he swallowed. 

“Uh-huh,” you hummed, smiling as you craned your neck up to finally get a taste of what was yours. 

He tasted like sugar. 

Sickly sweet on your tongue, your lashes fluttering shut as you heard the lock click behind you. But then one of his hands was shakily sliding down your hip, grabbing ahold of it. His grip was loose, unsure, hesitating before his lips parted more. 

Your free hand slid down his firm chest, trailing down past his abs to the bulge in his pants. God, his cock was so fucking huge. 

Rock hard and waiting. 

Maybe his brain was still teetering, but his body knew what he wanted. 

“Were you planning this?” He asked between kisses, heaving hard as he kept peppering you with more, unable to stop himself now that he started. 

“Sorta,” you admitted, shrugging as you stifled a giggle. “It’s going better than I expected.” 

That got a laugh out of him. It was short and low, but it made the butterflies in your stomach stir anyway. 

“I should’ve-” He started, but his breath hitched when you palmed over his cock, pressing down just enough to turn his next words into a groan. 

“Should’ve what?” You teased, unable to stop yourself from grinning as his jaw clicked shut. 

“Should’ve known it was you,” he grunted. 

You almost asked what he meant, but then he was brushing off your hand – and unzipping his slacks himself. Tugging his boxers beneath it down low enough he could free his erection. 

His cock was so much prettier than you pictured. 

Unfairly long, his swollen pink tip already begging for your attention as pre-cum beaded up and leaked down the side, highlighting a throbbing vein. 

“I don’t have-” 

“A condom?” You asked, bending over to ruffle through your bag and snag a shiny gold wrapper. “I’ve got one.” 

“Of course you do,” he muttered. 

You had imagined your first time happening a hundred different ways. Having sex against the door. In the pretty home he’d sent you a few photos of. Sprawled across his sheets as he made love to you with soft murmurs. Maybe in your own dorm, riding his cock as he dug his thumbs deep into your hips to hold you steady. 

But you never imagined him dragging you over to his desk and bending you over, yanking down your panties like they personally offended him. Flipping your skirt up to expose your pretty ass as you listened to the crinkling wrapper of him ripping open the condom next. 

“Is this really what you want?” He asked, as if you were ever going to back out now. 

“More than anything,” you admitted. 

One of his hands traveling up your thighs, spreading them further apart with a disgruntled scoff. 

“I can’t be your boyfriend,” he breathed, and you nearly laughed at him. 

“I didn’t ask you to be,” you shrugged. 

You’d be fine with being his fuck buddy if it meant you were something of his at all. 

Still, it was a little less intimate than you hoped for when he shoved two thick fingers inside your slick pussy, pumping them in-and-out as you writhed under his weight. One of his hands pushing down on the small of your back while you greedily grinded against the base of his other one. 

Humping him like a bitch in heat, chasing a climax before he’d even put his dick in you. 

“You’re dripping all over my desk,” he muttered, excitement hidden underneath his apprehension. Budding and building with every swirl of his fingers, pushing deeper as he stretched you out to make room for him. 

“You don’t do this often?” You teasingly hummed, but your question broke as he prodded against a particularly sensitive spot, morphing into a low moan that snapped whatever sensibility he was clinging onto. 

And before you could suck in another breath, he was yanking his fingers out – and shoving his cock in. 

There was nothing slow or unsure about that. 

Just one fast, mean thrust, and he was plunging inside you, your walls warm and welcoming as you instinctively squeezed down around him. 

He’d posted a few videos before of animals ‘mating’, explaining in all his technical terms how it worked and why it was important to study stuff like that to help shrinking populations, blah blah blah. 

All you could think the second he entered you was that you really wouldn’t mind him putting a baby in you. 

Wasn’t that man's biological imperative? It sure felt like it when he started fucking you fast and hard like he was doing his damndest to carve out an impression, to leave some kind of permanent mark and imprint himself on you. Molding you around him with every throaty moan, every drag of his thick cock as his tip nudged right beneath your womb. 

“This is so wrong,” he half-whined, the words ripped from the back of his throat as his hips rutted roughly against yours. Nails clawing at the shiny wooden veneer of his desk, face pressed against the cool surface as drool dribbled out from the corner of your lips. 

“That’s not stopping you,” you quipped, earning a low grunt as his swollen tip grinded deep into you. 

Besides, if it was sooo wrong, why did it feel so right?

He gripped a handful of your hair but not even really putting much effort in pulling on it. No, it was more like a light tug, if you could even call it that.

“You can be rough,” you giggled, trying to look back only for him to let go – and pin your neck to the desk instead.

A surprised gasp ripped from you as his thick fingers flexed, holding you in position as his hips slammed back down. 

“Like that?” He sarcastically asked, torn between teasing you and trying to get you to see the error of your ways. 

“Mm, mhm, A plus,” you moaned, lashes fluttering at the new angle, the new depths he was reaching when he thrusted into you all hard. 

“All those messages,” he muttered, punctuating every breath with a slam of his cock. “All those fucking photos.” 

“I wanted you,” you whined, the pressure of his fingers and the stretch of his cock driving you damn near mad. “Can you blame me?” 

“You’re not supposed to want me,” he hissed at you, all proper and professional sounding as if he wasn’t balls deep in your pussy while he spoke. 

“I guess that’s too bad,” you scoffed back at him, each word strained as his grip on your throat tightened. 

It was exhilarating. Actually being touched by him. His hands on your body and his cock stuffing you full and his breath on your skin as he filled you up entirely.

The slight curve of his cock reaching all the right places as he finally slid a hand around to find your clit. 

Of course he knew where it was.

Of course he knew how to touch it too. 

Rubbing it all nice and slow, giving it the sort of adoration most boys your age lacked the attention span for. 

But he wasn’t a boy. 

No, he was a man.

“You’re going to get me fired,” he grunted, but he just kept fucking you anyway. Fingers massaging intense circles over your sensitive bud, like if he was going to hell, he might as well keep having fun on the way there.

“I won’t,” you half-whimpered, eyes threatening to roll back as your toes curled. “Pinky promise.” 

He made a sound, caught somewhere between a scoff and a chuckle, but everything inside you was on fire. Pleasure roaring and rolling into a tight line in your stomach, pulling and pulling and pulling until you snapped. 

You didn’t even realize you were cumming until you were halfway through your climax, whining his name until all of a sudden the hand that was on your neck was suddenly reaching around to clamp over your mouth. Muffling your moan as he bit back a strangled one of his own. 

Finishing right there with you, his hips slowing and stalling until his heavy body was half on yours, trapping you between his body and the desk as you both tried to catch your breath. 

Satisfaction simmering underneath your skin, warmth floating through your limp limbs as you attempted to bottle the feeling to save for a future lonely night. 

Although, you couldn’t stop yourself from hoping you’d have a lot less of those after he had a taste of you. 

Was it enough to make him want more?

Or would you really just have to be happy with just once? 

At the very least, you held out hope he would give you a goodbye kiss on your way out. 

He didn’t say anything as he slid out of you, and you didn’t move either, exhaustion setting into your bones as he sighed. 

You craned your neck back to look at him – but it was what was in his hands that caught your attention. 

Half of a condom. 

“The condom broke,” he frowned, not that he looked all that surprised. You supposed that explained why you still felt so warm. Faintly aware of something damp starting to leak down your thighs as you exhaled with him. 

“I guess you’ll have to buy me the morning after pill,” you shrugged. He would probably watch you take it too. 

You wondered if you’d be the only one praying it wouldn’t work. 

“What am I supposed to do with you?” He frowned, all perfect and pretty as his sharp nose scrunched up. 

“Take me back to your place?” You suggested, a few of his fingers tenderly shifted some of your hair back, appraising your face with a softness you’d been waiting months to feel. It was worth it. Everything was as long as you were the only one he was stuffing full. 

“No one can know about this,” he breathed, guilt tugging the corner of his mouth down even deeper.

“I’ll be your dirty little secret.” 

For now.

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