⊹ ࣪ ˖ ໒꒱ professor’s pet {B.E}
summary: you struggle to resist the constant flirtation and seduction from your student, billie eilish, until the attraction between you turns into a secret relationship that crosses every professional boundary.
cw: power imbalance(professor & student), EXPLICIT CONTENT, sexual language, SMUT, obsession themes,bimbo!billie, dom!reader
you’d been teaching at the university for five years, and you’d never had a student quite like billie eilish.
it started innocently enough. she was bright, engaged in class discussions about modern literature. but then, about two weeks into the semester, something shifted.
the first day she showed up in a crop top that barely covered her breasts, you tried to ignore it. students dressed casually these days. but when she leaned forward to pick up her pen, deliberately, you were certain, giving you a full view down her shirt, you knew it wasn’t accidental.
the next class, it was worse. a white tank top, no bra, her nipples clearly visible through the thin fabric. a skirt so short that when she sat in the front row and crossed her legs, you could see the edge of her black panties.
you tried to focus on your lecture about postmodern narrative structures, but your eyes kept drifting to where billie sat, legs spread just enough to be provocative, her fingers playing with the hem of her skirt, pushing it higher.
“professor?” she called out, interrupting your discussion of unreliable narrators. “i don’t understand this part. can you explain it again?”
you’d just explained it. she was doing this on purpose.
“miss eilish, i just covered that. please pay attention.”
she bit her lip, a gesture so overtly sexual it made your stomach tighten. “sorry, professor. i guess i was… distracted.”
the way she said it, her eyes locked on yours, made it clear exactly what kind of distraction she meant.
it continued like this for days. each class, her outfits got more revealing. tiny shorts that showed the curve of her ass. sheer tops. skirts that rode up when she shifted in her seat, which she did constantly, always making sure you were watching.
and you were watching. god help you, you couldn’t stop watching.
she started acting out too. talking during lectures. showing up late, making a show of walking to her seat, her hips swaying. challenging your points in class discussions, not with genuine academic debate, but with a bratty attitude that demanded your attention.
“miss eilish, please see me after class,” you finally said one thursday, after she’d interrupted you for the third time.
her smile was triumphant. “yes, professor.”
when the other students filed out, she approached your desk slowly, deliberately. she was wearing a cropped sweater that showed her toned stomach and a pleated skirt that barely covered her ass.
“you wanted to see me?” she asked, her voice dripping with false innocence.
“your behavior in class has been disruptive,” you said, trying to maintain your professional composure. “and your attire is… inappropriate for an academic setting.”
she leaned against your desk, close enough that you could smell her perfume. “inappropriate? i’m just wearing what makes me comfortable, professor.”
“do i make you uncomfortable?” she asked, and there was nothing innocent about the way she said it. she reached out, her fingers brushing against your arm. “because you make me very… comfortable.”
you stepped back. “this is inappropriate. you need to maintain proper boundaries.”
“what if i don’t want boundaries?” she moved closer. “what if i want you to notice me? what if i’ve been dressing like this, acting like this, because i want you to see me?”
your heart was pounding. “miss eilish, you need to leave.”
she smiled, slow and knowing. “okay, professor. but we both know you’ve been looking. we both know you want this too.”
she left, and you stood there, your hands shaking, knowing she was absolutely right.
the next week was torture. billie ramped up her campaign of seduction to unbearable levels.
she started coming to your office hours, always with some flimsy excuse about assignments. she’d sit across from you, her legs crossed, her skirt riding up, asking questions she clearly already knew the answers to.
“i just don’t understand the symbolism here,” she’d say, leaning forward so her breasts pressed together, the neckline of her top revealing everything.
“i think you understand perfectly well,” you’d reply, trying not to stare.
“maybe i just like hearing you explain things,” she’d purr. “you’re so smart, professor. it’s really… sexy.”
you’d send her away, but the encounters left you frustrated and aching.
in class, she got bolder. she’d suck on her pen while maintaining eye contact with you. she’d stretch, her crop top riding up to show the underside of her breasts. once, she dropped her pencil and bent over to pick it up, her ass on full display, and you saw she wasn’t wearing any panties.
“are you okay, professor?” she asked sweetly, looking back at you from her bent position.
“fine,” you managed. “just… sit down, miss eilish.”
it all came to a head on a friday afternoon. you were in your office, grading papers, when there was a knock on your door.
“come in,” you called, not looking up.
the door opened and closed. you heard the lock click.
billie stood there in the tiniest dress you’d ever seen, if you could even call it a dress. it was black, tight, and barely covered her ass. the neckline plunged almost to her navel, showing off her breasts, her nipples hard against the thin fabric. she wore heels that made her legs look impossibly long.
“i’m done playing games,” she said, walking toward your desk. “i’ve been throwing myself at you for weeks. i’ve dressed like a slut, i’ve acted out, i’ve done everything i can to make you see that i want you.”
“this is completely inappropriate,”
“i don’t care.” she came around your desk, standing between you and the wood. “i want you to fuck me. i’ve wanted it since the first day of class. i touch myself thinking about you. i get so wet in your lectures i have to change my panties after.”
“billie,” your voice was strained.
“tell me you don’t want me,” she challenged, moving closer. “tell me you haven’t been staring at my tits, at my ass. tell me you don’t get hard thinking about bending me over this desk.”
you couldn’t. you couldn’t say any of that because it would be a lie.
she straddled you in your chair, her dress riding up to her hips. she wasn’t wearing underwear. you could feel her heat against you.
“i want you so bad,” she whispered, her lips inches from yours. “i want you to use me. i want to be your little slut. please, professor. please fuck me.”
your resolve, already cracked and crumbling, finally shattered completely.
you grabbed her hips, pulling her against you, and kissed her hard. she moaned into your mouth, grinding against you, her hands in your hair.
“yes,” she gasped when you broke the kiss. “yes, fuck, finally.”
“not here,” you said, your voice rough with desire. “my place. tonight.”
she smiled, wicked and triumphant. “i’ll be there. and professor? i’m going to be such a good little whore for you.”
billie showed up at your door at eight o’clock wearing a long coat and heels. when you let her in and she dropped the coat, you saw she was wearing nothing but black lingerie, a lace bra that barely contained her breasts and a tiny thong.
“i’ve been thinking about this all day,” she said, pressing herself against you. “i’m so fucking wet already.”
you kissed her, hard and demanding, and she melted into you, moaning. your hands roamed her body, finally allowed to touch what you’d been fantasizing about for weeks. her skin was soft, warm. her ass was perfect, round and firm in your hands.
“bedroom,” you commanded, and she practically ran.
by the time you got there, she was on your bed, her bra already off, her breasts on full display. they were perfect, not too big, not too small, with pink nipples that were hard with arousal.
“do you like what you see, professor?” she asked, running her hands over her body. “do you like my tits? i’ve seen you staring at them in class.”
“you’re beautiful,” you admitted, moving to your dresser.
“what are you getting?” she asked, her voice eager.
you pulled out your harness and your favorite strap-on, thick, long, black silicone.
billie’s eyes went wide, and she actually moaned. “oh fuck. oh fuck, yes. i want that so bad. i want you to fuck me with that.”
you secured the harness, adjusting it, and when you turned back to her, she was on her knees on the bed, her thong discarded, completely naked.
“please,” she begged. “i’ve been such a bad girl. i’ve been such a slut for you. i need you to fuck me.”
you approached the bed, and she immediately reached for the strap, her hands wrapping around it, stroking it like it was real.
“can i suck it?” she asked, looking up at you with wide, eager eyes. “please, can i suck your cock?”
“go ahead, baby. show me what a good little slut you are.”
she moaned and took the strap into her mouth, her lips stretching around it. she looked obscene, beautiful, her eyes locked on yours as she bobbed her head, taking it deeper.
“that’s it,” you encouraged, your hand in her hair. “such a good girl. you love this, don’t you? you love being a whore for me.”
she moaned around the strap, the vibration traveling through the harness. she pulled off with a gasp. “i love it. i love being your slut. i want you to use me. i want you to fuck me so hard.”
“turn around,” you ordered. “on your hands and knees. show me that ass.”
she obeyed immediately, positioning herself, arching her back to present herself to you. her ass was incredible, round and perfect, and between her legs you could see how wet she was, her pussy glistening.
“look at you,” you said, running your hands over her ass, squeezing. “so wet and ready. you really are a little slut, aren’t you?”
“yes,” she gasped. “yes, i’m your slut. please, please fuck me. i need it so bad.”
you positioned yourself behind her, the tip of the strap pressing against her entrance. she was so wet you could feel it even through the silicone.
“beg for it,” you commanded.
“please,” she whimpered. “please fuck me, professor. i need your cock inside me. i’ve been such a bad girl, dressing like a whore in class, trying to seduce you. i need you to punish me. i need you to fuck me like the slut i am. please, please, please”
you thrust into her in one smooth motion, and she screamed.
“oh fuck! oh fuck, yes! yes!”
you started moving, fucking her hard and deep, your hands gripping her hips. the sound of skin slapping against skin filled the room, along with her moans and cries.
“you feel so good,” you told her. “taking my cock so well. such a good little whore.”
“harder,” she begged. “fuck me harder. use me. i’m yours, i’m your slut, your whore, please”
you fucked her harder, faster, and she pushed back against you, meeting every thrust. her ass bounced with each impact, hypnotic and perfect.
“touch yourself,” you ordered. “make yourself come on my cock.”
her hand went between her legs, and within seconds she was crying out, her whole body shaking.
“i’m coming! oh fuck, i’m coming! don’t stop, please don’t stop!”
you didn’t stop. you fucked her through her orgasm and beyond, until she was a trembling, moaning mess.
“turn over,” you said, pulling out. “i want to see your face. i want to see those tits bounce while i fuck you.”
she flipped onto her back, her legs spread wide, her breasts heaving as she caught her breath. she looked absolutely debauched, her hair messy, her lips swollen, her skin flushed.
“you’re so fucking hot,” you said, positioning yourself between her legs.
“fuck me,” she pleaded. “i want to watch you fuck me. i want to see your cock inside me.”
you thrust back into her, and her back arched, her breasts thrust upward. you leaned down, taking one nipple into your mouth, sucking hard.
“yes! oh god, yes!” she wrapped her legs around you, pulling you deeper. “your cock feels so good. i love it. i love being fucked by you.”
you fucked her hard, watching her tits bounce with each thrust, watching her face contort with pleasure. she was shameless, loud, her hands roaming her own body, pinching her nipples, showing off for you.
“look at me,” she demanded. “look at my tits. look at how much i love your cock. i’m such a whore for you. i’m your dirty little slut.”
“yes you are,” you agreed, fucking her harder. “my perfect little slut. taking my cock so well.”
“i want to ride you,” she gasped. “i want to ride your cock. please.”
you pulled out and lay back, and she immediately climbed on top of you, positioning herself over the strap. she sank down onto it with a long, low moan, her head falling back.
“oh fuck, it’s so deep like this.”
she started moving, riding you, and the sight was incredible. her tits bounced with every movement, her hands roaming her body, touching herself, putting on a show.
“you like watching me?” she asked, her voice breathy. “you like watching me fuck myself on your cock?”
“i love it. you’re so fucking sexy.”
she leaned back, her hands behind her on your thighs, changing the angle, giving you a perfect view of the strap disappearing into her pussy, of her tits thrust forward.
“look at me,” she moaned. “look at what a slut i am for you. i’m such a whore. i love your cock so much.”
she rode you faster, harder, chasing another orgasm. her hand went to her clit, rubbing frantically.
“i’m going to come again,” she gasped. “i’m going to come all over your cock. oh fuck, oh fuck”
she came with a scream, her whole body convulsing, her pussy clenching around the strap. she collapsed forward onto your chest, trembling and gasping.
“that was so good,” she whispered. “so fucking good.”
but you weren’t done with her yet.
you flipped her onto her stomach, pulling her hips up so her ass was in the air, her face pressed into the mattress.
“one more,” you said, sliding back into her. “i want to feel you come one more time.”
“yes,” she moaned into the sheets. “yes, use me. i’m yours. i’m your slut.”
you fucked her hard and deep, one hand in her hair, the other gripping her hip. she was so wet, so ready, taking everything you gave her.
“such a good girl,” you praised. “such a perfect little whore. you love being fucked like this, don’t you?”
“yes! i love it! i love being your whore! i love your cock!”
you could feel her getting close again, her body tensing, her moans getting higher and more desperate.
“come for me,” you commanded. “come on my cock like a good little slut.”
she screamed into the mattress, her whole body shaking as she came again, harder than before. you fucked her through it, drawing out her pleasure until she was boneless and spent.
finally, you pulled out, collapsing beside her. she immediately curled into you, her body still trembling with aftershocks.
“that was everything i wanted,” she whispered. “everything i’ve been fantasizing about.”
“you really are a little slut,” you said, but there was affection in your voice.
she grinned up at you. “only for you, professor. only for you.”
she kissed you, soft and sweet, a contrast to the rough fucking you’d just given her.
“can we do this again?” she asked. “please? i want to be your slut. i want you to fuck me whenever you want.”
you knew you should say no. you knew this was wrong, inappropriate, a violation of every professional boundary.
but looking at her, beautiful, eager, satisfied, you couldn’t bring yourself to care.
“yes,” you said. “we can do this again.”
her smile was radiant. “good. because i have so many more slutty outfits i want to wear for you.”
you laughed, pulling her closer, already thinking about the next time you’d get to fuck her, already addicted to the way she gave herself to you so completely.
billie eilish had set out to seduce her professor, and she’d succeeded beyond her wildest dreams.
and you? you’d given in to temptation, and you didn’t regret it for a second.
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