One Direction Imagines

Niall (Teacher) *Dirty*

I entered class, and sighed. He wasn't there, and I was hoping he wouldn't come. I hadn't seen him the whole day anyway, so there was a good chance he hadn't come to school today. I took my seat at the back of the classroom, my heart racing, my stomach thick with nervousness. Almost everyone had now arrived, and he still hadn't come. I hoped a sub would walk in instead, telling us that our English teacher was absent for the day, or week, or maybe even a whole month. Or even better, he'd left school.

Being taught by a hot teacher who seemed to be barely four years older to us had not worked in my favour for sure. The moment he walked in, every thought of studying, being sincere, paying attention and the like flew out of my head, replaced by only the thought of him.

What was worse was how incredibly wet he made me. Just his presence, nothing else. He'd walk in, dressed in a tucked in white shirt, a tie and pants. His tie hung loosely around his collar, and his hair was messed because he often ran his hands through them without really thinking about it. His lips were pink and plump, and I wanted to suck on his bottom lip, hearing him grunt against my mouth. I wondered what he looked like under the clothes that I seemed to find unnecessary. His fingers wrapped around the water bottle he often carried, and he drunk from it regularly, when he was tired of talking for a long period of time. I imagined those hands wrapped around his own cock, moving up and down as he whimpered and moaned and grunted a name-my name. The thought of him touching himself at the thought of me got me hot and worked up, and I tried to clamp my thighs together and bit my lip as I tried to think of something, anything, to make the dirty thoughts go away. Not that it ever helped, though. I took out my book and set it on the desk, and the moment I looked up, I saw Niall Horan, our English teacher, walk in. Immediately, the class became quiet, and the girls sat up straighter. Obviously, I was not the only girl who was so infatuated with this young boy, but I doubted anyone else's thoughts were as dirty as my own were. He flashed us all a brilliant smile, and let out a 'good afternoon'. He set down his books and a bunch of papers, and looked at all of us. "Now," he said, raising his hand to run it through his hair, and his long fingers slipped between the strands, I imagine my own hands in his hair while his hands were in me, his long fingers moving in and out of me furiously. I felt heat pool between my legs, and I squeezed my thighs together, and gritted my teeth. "How many of you didn't study for the quiz we had last week?" There was a general murmur among the students, and we all know no one had really studied at all. Niall laughed, his perfect white teeth on display. "None of you did," he said, shaking his head. Everyone chuckled, but didn't bother to disagree. "Yeah, I can see it in the results." He grinned. "Well, I mean some of you did as expected. Some of you were better. But I must say, some of you...well, you sort of sucked, guys." Everyone laughed, not seeming bothered by his statement. Niall didn't seem to be bothered either. I knew which category I was in. I couldn't even concentrate a little in his class, and if I opened my books to revise at home, I only remembered him. The result of the revision would be me touching myself desperately, trying to satisfy a hunger only his hands and mouth, and maybe cock could, while none of what I had managed to study sticking in my brain. He handed the papers out, and I when I got mine, I wasn't surprised to see how crap my performance was. As he handed me my paper, he smiled at me. Our fingers brushed, and I jumped slightly. Niall frowned. "You alright, Miss Anna?" he asked softly. I cleared my throat. "Y-yeah, I'm fine." I said, and he walked off. The rest of the lesson was spent in agony as I tried desperately to do away with the increasing heat and wetness between my thighs and concentrate on my work. I failed altogether, like always, and when the bell finally rang, I was one of the firsts to get up. However, Niall stopped me. "Er, Anna?" he asked, and I stopped mid-step, not turning around. "Cou

ld you stay back for a bit? There's something I need to discuss with you." No. Oh God, no. This couldn't be happening. I turned around however, trapped. I nodded, and we waited for the class to clear out. Once it did, Niall walked over to shut the door and then turned to me. "Anna," he said, and the way my name rolled of his lips made my core throb unbearably, and I gripped the edge of the nearest desk tightly. "I've been noticing the way your performance has been dipping since day one. Your grades..." he shook his head. "Is something wrong? Is something going on with you? Because your grades are quite horrible, and we might have to work on that if you want to pass at all. I checked with all your other subject teachers, but English seems to be the only one you seem to be bad at. Because otherwise, you're a straight A student." I didn't even know how to respond. How do you tell your teacher the reason you fail his subject is because you're constantly thinking of him fucking you senseless?