NEVER HAVE I EVER… FUCKED MY PROFESSOR FOR AN A+ 、 bc
──── ❛ you might be failing professor bang’s class, but you’re about to ace his extra-credit assignment
❪ 𝐀𝐑𝐂𝐇𝐈𝐕𝐄 ❫ ﹒﹒ bc x f!reader 𝟯｡𝟳𝗸 smut prof!chan x student reader age gap semi-public sex desk sex cunnilingus p in v creampie
a massive, bright red F stared back at you from the top corner of your midterm paper.
it wasn’t just a regular failing grade. it was circled so hard that the red ink had bled through to the next page, practically mocking you. below it, in a neat, perfectly legible cursive script, was a note: please see me during office hours to discuss your standing in this course. – professor bang.
“oof. that is brutal,” your friend lena whispered, leaning over your shoulder to look at the paper. “I thought you at least got a C on that essay”
“i thought so too,” you groaned, dropping your forehead onto the wooden desk with a dull thud. the lecture hall was slowly emptying around you as students packed up their laptops and notebooks, laughing and talking about their plans for the weekend. you, on the other hand, felt like your chest was collapsing. “i’m literally on the brink of failing. if i don't pass this class, i lose my financial aid. i’m dead, lena. actually dead”
“well,” lena said, zipping up her backpack and giving you a look that immediately made you suspicious. “you know there’s an easy way out of this, right? kill two birds with one stone”
you lifted your head, squinting at her. “what are you talking about?”
“come on. everyone in this department knows professor bang is the hottest guy on campus. and everyone also knows you have a massive, pathetic crush on him. you literally turn red every time he calls on you in class”
“he’s my professor," you hissed, looking around quickly to make sure no one was listening. “and he’s older than me. it’s just a harmless crush. he’s brilliant, okay? it’s intellectual appreciation”
“sure, let’s call it that,” lena smirked, leaning closer. “look, i dare you. seduce him. go to his office hours, look cute, cry a little bit if you have to, and get him to raise your grade. you finally get to make a move on the man of your dreams, and you don’t lose your college funding. it’s a win-win”
“are you insane?” you shoved your failing paper into your bag, your heart doing a nervous flip just at the mention of it. “that’s academic misconduct. if i get caught, i’ll get expelled. plus, he would never. he’s incredibly professional. he doesn't even look at students that way”
“you don't know until you try,” lena said, patting your shoulder as she stood up. “think about it. unless you want to retake advanced sociological theory over the summer”
you watched her walk away, your stomach twisting into tight knots. the idea was terrifying. professor bang—chan, as you secretly called him in your head—was thirty-two, incredibly sharp, and carried himself with a quiet, polite confidence that made half the student body swoon. he wore well-fitted sweaters, glasses that sat perfectly on the bridge of his nose, and he always treated everyone with a kindness that felt entirely too genuine for a university professor.
you had spent the last seven months sitting in the third row, completely mesmerized by the way his hands moved when he lectured, or the deep, rumbling quality of his voice. but actually trying to get into his bed just for a passing grade? it was cheap. it was desperate. you couldn't do it.
the universe, however, seemed to have other plans.
over the next few days, it felt like you couldn't escape him. it started on thursday morning when you rushed into the campus coffee shop, completely drenched from a sudden downpour. you were shivering, your hair plastered to your face, trying to wipe the water off your phone screen.
a clean, white napkin appeared in your field of vision. you looked up, blinking back the rainwater, and your heart stopped.
chan was standing right next to you, holding a steaming travel mug. he wasn't wearing his usual structured blazer today—just a soft, dark gray hoodie that made him look incredibly approachable, almost ordinary, if he wasn't so strikingly handsome. his hair was slightly damp, curling up at the ends.
“professor bang,” you stammered, taking the napkin. “uh, thank you”
“rough morning?” he offered you a small, warm smile. the crinkles around his eyes appeared, the ones you usually only saw from thirty feet away in the lecture hall. “the weather forecast completely lied to us today”
“yeah,” you muttered, frantically dabbing at your wet shirt, acutely aware of how messy you looked. “i forgot my umbrella. and my laptop is in my bag, so i’m just praying it didn't get ruined”
“if it did, let me know,” he said, his tone softening. “i can give you an extension on the weekly reading response if your tech is fried. i know you've been having a stressful semester”
you froze, looking into his dark eyes. he sounded so genuinely concerned that a wave of guilt hit you. he was being nice, and your best friend was currently text-nagging you to sleep with him for a B+.
“thank you,” you whispered. “i appreciate it”
“of course. get a warm drink,” he said, giving you a polite nod before turning to walk out into the rain. you watched his broad shoulders disappear through the glass doors, your chest aching with a strange mix of panic and longing.
the second accidental meeting happened on friday night. you had stayed late at the campus library, desperately trying to rewrite an assignment, but by 9:00 PM, your brain was completely fried. you packed up your things and walked down the quiet, dimly lit stairs of the social sciences building to head home.
as you pushed the heavy exit doors open, you ran straight into a solid chest.
books and loose papers went flying across the concrete stairs. you gasped, stumbling backward, but a strong hand instantly caught your forearm, steadying you before you could fall.
“whoa, careful,” a familiar voice said.
you looked up. it was him. again. he was holding a stack of graded essays, a few of which had scattered onto the floor. he looked tired, his glasses slipping slightly down his nose, his tie loosened at his collar.
“i am so sorry!” you cried, immediately dropping to your knees to help him gather the papers. “i wasn't looking where i was going, i’m so clumsy-”
“hey, it's fine. don't worry about it,” chan said, kneeling down right across from you. as you both reached for a fallen syllabus, your fingers brushed against his. a jolt of pure electricity shot up your arm. you pulled your hand back quickly, your cheeks instantly burning hot.
chan paused, his eyes dropping to your hand, then moving up to your face. in the dim light of the streetlamp, his gaze felt incredibly intense, much heavier than it ever did during class.
“you're working late,” he noted softly, stacking the papers neatly.
“just trying to save my grade,” you said, a bitter, nervous laugh escaping your lips. “i’m not doing very well in your class, professor”
chan stood up, offering you a hand to help you up. you hesitated for a fraction of a second before placing your hand in his. his grip was warm, firm, and completely steady. he didn't let go immediately after you stood up; his eyes searched yours for a long moment, scanning the dark circles under your eyes.
“you're smart,” he said, his voice dropping an octave, sounding deeply personal in the quiet night air. “i read your admission essay from last year. you have a lot of potential. you just seem... distracted lately”
because i spend the entire lecture staring at your mouth, you thought, a wave of sheer panic washing over you.
“i’ll try harder,” you managed to say, your voice trembling slightly.
“come to my office hours on monday,” chan said, finally releasing your hand, though his fingers lingered against your skin for a split second. “we'll figure something out. i don't want to see you fail”
by the time monday afternoon rolled around, you were a complete nervous wreck.
you had spent the entire weekend staring at your ceiling, lena’s voice ringing in your ears. seduce him. raise your grade. kill two birds with one stone. you had dismissed it as a joke initially, but after the library stairs—after the way he had looked at you, the way his hand had felt—a reckless, dangerous curiosity had taken root in your mind. what if he was interested? what if he was just as frustrated by the professional boundary as you were?
you stood outside his office door, your heart hammering a frantic rhythm against your ribs. you had taken a little extra time on your appearance today and you left your hair down. it wasn't overt, but it was deliberate.
you took a deep breath and knocked.
“come in,” his voice called out from inside.
you pushed the door open. chan’s office was small, crammed with floor-to-ceiling bookshelves, stacks of research journals, and a large mahogany desk in the center. he was sitting behind it, typing away on his laptop. he looked up, and the moment his eyes landed on you, he closed his computer.
“ah. come on in,” he said, leaning back in his chair. he took off his glasses, rubbing the bridge of his nose before looking back up at you with a welcoming smile. “sit down”
you walked in, the heavy door clicking shut behind you. you sat in the low leather chair across from his desk, clutching your notebook like a shield.
“so,” chan started, reaching for your midterm paper, which was sitting on a stack to his left. “let’s talk about this midterm. i was surprised by the result. your thesis statement was completely unfocused.”
“i know,” you said quietly, looking down at your lap. “i had a really hard time organizing my thoughts for this one”
“it’s not just this paper,” chan said gently, his tone firm but entirely devoid of malice. he leaned forward, resting his forearms on the desk, bringing himself closer to you. “your quiz grades have been dropping, and you haven't been participating in class discussions. if this keeps up, you’re looking at a D or an F for the semester. i can’t curve a grade that low, no matter how much I want to”
no matter how much I want to.
the phrase hung in the air, fueling the tiny, reckless spark inside your chest. you looked up from your lap, meeting his eyes. he looked so professional, so completely out of reach, but you were desperate. you needed this grade, and more than that, you wanted him.
“is there... anything i can do to fix it?” you asked, your voice dropping into a softer, quieter tone. you leaned forward slightly, resting your elbows on his desk, mimicking his posture. “any extra credit? anything at all, professor?”
chan’s eyes narrowed slightly. he didn't move, his gaze dropping to your lips for a fraction of a second before snapping back to your eyes. the atmosphere in the room suddenly shifted, the air becoming thick, heavy, and charged with an undeniable tension.
“extra credit?” he repeated, his voice low.
“yeah,” you murmured, your heart beating so hard you were certain he could hear it. you reached out, your hand moving slowly across the smooth dark wood of his desk until your fingertips were just an inch away from his forearm. you looked at him through your eyelashes, your chest heaving with shallow breaths. “i’m willing to do whatever it takes to pass this class. truly. i really need your help, chan”
the slip of his actual name cut through the professional quiet of the room like a physical shock.
chan looked down at your hand on his desk. for a long, agonizing three seconds, he didn't move. you held your breath, a sudden wave of sheer terror washing over you. i messed up, you thought, your stomach dropping. he’s going to report me. i’m going to get expelled.
he didn’t pull away. instead, he reached out, his large, warm hand completely covering yours, pinning your fingers to the desk. he stood up slowly, his towering frame casting a long shadow over you. he walked around the perimeter of the desk, his movements calm and entirely deliberate, until he was standing right beside your chair.
“close the blinds,” he said, his voice incredibly deep, rougher than you had ever heard it.
you blinked, your brain scrambling to catch up. “what?”
“the blinds,” chan repeated, turning his head to look at the large glass window that faced the inner courtyard of the building. “if you’re going to talk about extra credit, i suggest we have some privacy”
your trembling legs barely carried you as you stood up. you walked over to the window, your fingers shaking as you pulled the cord, the plastic slats tilting shut and plunging the office into a dim, shadow-filled seclusion. when you turned back around, chan was leaning against the edge of his desk, his arms crossed over his chest, watching you with an intensity that made your knees feel weak.
“you’ve been staring at me during lectures for three months,” chan said, his tone entirely blunt, stripping away the professor persona completely. “did you really think i didn’t notice?”
you swallowed hard, stepping back toward him. “i... i didn’t think you cared”
“i shouldn’t care,” he said, a quiet, frustrated breath escaping his lips. he reached up, loosening his tie with one hand and pulling it over his head, tossing it onto his desk. “it’s against university policy. it’s unethical. i could lose my tenure”
“then why are you closing the blinds?” you whispered, stopping just inches from him. the scent of his expensive cologne and warm skin was dizzying.
chan reached out, his hands wrapping securely around your waist. his grip was firm, his fingers digging into the fabric of your sweater as he lifted you effortlessly, setting you down on the edge of his mahogany desk. notebooks and papers scattered to the floor, but neither of you cared.
“because i’m tired of watching you look at me like that from the third row,” chan muttered, stepping into the space between your thighs. he leaned down, his face halting inches from yours, his dark eyes burning with a hunger that had clearly been restrained for a very long time. “if you’re going to try and play this game to fix your grade, you better be ready for the consequences”
“i am,” you breathed, your hands reaching up to grip his broad shoulders.
chan didn’t hesitate. he leaned in, his mouth crashing against yours in a deep, heavy kiss that completely stole the air from your lungs. it wasn’t gentle, and it wasn’t polite. it was the release of months of pent-up frustration. his tongue slid into your mouth, tasting you hungrily, his hands sliding up your back to pull you flush against his chest. you moaned into the kiss, your fingers tangling into his soft hair, pulling him closer as the sheer thrill of it consumed you.
he pulled back just an inch, his breaths coming in short, ragged gasps against your lips. “you have no idea how long i’ve wanted to do that,” he murmured, his voice thick.
before you could answer, chan slid down to his knees on the floor between your parted legs.
your breath caught sharply in your throat, your hands gripping the edge of the wooden desk for balance. chan looked up at you from the floor, his expression entirely dark and focused. he reached out, his hands sliding up your legs, pushing your skirt up until it was bunched around your waist. he hooked his fingers into the waistband of your panties, tugging them down your legs in one smooth motion and tossing them aside.
“chan, wait-” you gasped, the reality of where you were hitting you all at once. “in your office? what if someone knocks?”
“the door locks automatically,” he whispered, his eyes never leaving yours. “be quiet”
he leaned forward, his hands gripping your thighs tightly, spreading you wide on the edge of the desk. he dipped his head, his warm breath fanning across your bare skin before his tongue made direct contact with your pussy.
a loud, broken gasp escaped your lips. you immediately clamped your hand over your mouth, your eyes widening in pure shock. the sensation was incredible. chan was ruthless, his tongue sweeping upward in long, wet, heavy strokes that hit your clit with perfect accuracy. he knew exactly what he was doing. he used his fingers to stretch you open, his thumb rubbing small circles right against your folds while his mouth created a deep, wet suction on your clit.
the sound of his tongue against your slick skin echoed softly in the quiet office. you threw your head back, your chest heaving as the pleasure began to coil tightly in your stomach. he picked up the pace, his mouth becoming hungrier, drinking you in as your body began to tremble.
“chan... please,” you whimpered against your palm, your hips helplessly rolling against his face, trying to chase the friction.
he didn’t slow down. he kept his two fingers plunged deep inside your wet warmth, mimicking a fast, driving rhythm while his tongue continued to assault your clit. the double stimulation was completely overwhelming. your mind went entirely blank, your muscles locking up as a massive, shuddering orgasm crashed over you. you moaned loudly against your hand, your thighs shaking violently against his shoulders as your body released everything.
chan didn't let you recover.
he kept his fingers inside you, feeling the tight, rhythmic contractions of your climax. as your breathing began to slow, he pulled his mouth back just enough to look up at you, his lips and chin slick with your moisture. a slow, dark smirk touched his lips.
“we’re not done,” he murmured, his voice incredibly deep. “that was just for me. now let’s fix that grade”
he stood up while unbuttoning his shirt, though he left it hanging on by the shoulders, unbuckled his belt and shedded his trousers in one fluid motion. his boxers followed, revealing his heavy, fully hardened cock pulsing in the dim light of the office. he looked entirely magnificent, his broad chest and tensed abs glistening with a light sheen of sweat.
he stepped back into the space between your legs, his hands gripping your waist to pull you right to the absolute edge of the desk. he guided his tip against your completely drenched entrance, tapping it twice against your sensitive clit, making you let out a needy whimper.
“look at me,” chan commanded softly, his dark eyes locking onto yours.
you looked up at him, your fingernails digging into the wood of his desk for support. in one smooth, heavy motion, chan drove himself entirely inside you.
a strangled moan escaped your throat, your head falling back as he filled you to the absolute brim. the sheer fullness of him after being eaten out was an unbelievable, overwhelming sensation. you wrapped your legs tightly around his waist, pulling him closer as he began to move, his hips slamming forward in a steady, heavy rhythm.
the sound of skin slapping against skin echoed loudly in the office, mixing with your breathless cries. chan was relentless, his pace fast and heavy, his jaw clenched tightly as he looked down at your flushed face.
“f-fuck, you're so tight,” he gasped, his hands moving to grip your thighs, lifting your legs higher to angle his thrusts deeper. every single push hit your sweet spot with an accuracy that made your toes curl.
“chan... faster... please,” you whimpered, completely lost in the sensation of him filling you, your previous anxiety entirely forgotten.
he picked up the pace, his thrusts becoming shorter, faster, and completely relentless. you were dancing on the edge of another orgasm, your stomach tightening for the second time that afternoon. chan let out a broken moan, his breathing completely ragged as he delivered five final, heavy thrusts, burying himself as deeply as possible inside you before his body locked up completely.
he came inside you with a shuddering sigh, his chest heaving as he collapsed forward, burying his face in the crook of your neck. your own release triggered right along with his, a final, lingering wave of intense pleasure that left both of you completely spent, trembling against the mahogany desk.
the room fell completely silent, save for the frantic, heavy panting of your lungs.
after a few long minutes, chan slowly shifted his weight, pulling out of you with a soft sigh. he reached around, grabbing a tissue from his desk to gently wipe you down before helping you slide off the desk. your legs were shaking so badly you almost collapsed, but his strong arms caught you immediately, holding you steady against his chest.
he reached down, picked up your underwear from the floor, and handed them to you with a quiet, gentle smile—the familiar, polite professor persona slowly returning, though his eyes still carried a lingering heat.
you quickly pulled your clothes back into place, smoothing down your sweater, your face burning with a mixture of embarrassment and satisfaction.
chan walked back around his desk, pulling his trousers back on and buckling his belt. he picked up his tie, folding it neatly and putting it in his pocket, before opening his laptop once more. his fingers flew across the keyboard for a brief five seconds.
“there,” chan said softly, turning the screen around so you could see it.
you looked at the university grading portal. next to your midterm assignment, the bright red F was gone. in its place was a solid, perfect A-.
“you’ll still need to study for the final exam,” chan said, his tone returning to that professional, calm cadence, though a wicked, teasing glint danced in his eyes. “but i think we can arrange a few more extra credit sessions in my office before the semester ends to make sure you stay on track”
you let out a breathless, happy laugh, walking over to the door. “thank you, professor bang”
“happy to help,” chan murmured, watching you with a warm smile as you unlocked the door and stepped back out into the hallway, your heart light and your financial aid completely secure.
bro i put my whole heart, soul and coochie into this so PLEASE for the love of everything don’t leave empty likes and actually interact with me i beg😭🙏🙏
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