5SOS LAND

SMUT

Mr. Hemmings-Muke Smut One Shot

From: hxppy-pxguin

Source: Tumblr

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Michael's POV

I walked into Mr. Hemmings' classroom with a smirk on my face, seeing him sat behind his desk scribbling on some papers and a frown adorning his face. The red pen made a scratching noise that over made the sound of my footsteps, me being in the classroom before the bell rang, and causing him to not notice my presence.

"Good morning, Mr. Hemmings." I said softly, not daring to speak louder. I may be the prankster and 'bad ass' of the school, but there definitely is a power difference that even I have to respect. Plus, he was very hot, and my fantasies of him laying me over his lap and spanking my ass raw didn't help, since I felt the urge to act submissive towards him.

"Oh, good morning, Michael. I didn't see you there." He smiled up at me after he yawned, his blue, bright eyes sparkling from the glaze of tears.

He yawned again, his mouth open wide and his nose scrunching up as his eyes squinted, a silent breath coming out as he covered his mouth with his hand, still holding the pen.

"Excuse me." He said as he shook his head, a single tear rolling down his cheek. "I stayed up late yesterday." His lips curled up in a small smile, and he looked up as he wiped the tear that had fallen. "Take a seat, please." He said, signaling to the usual place I sat at in his class.

Today, however, I wanted to do something different. I wanted to gain the power here, forget the fantasies, because, for fucks sake, he's a hot, probably married teacher, and I'm just a lame, passable kid in his class. It was ruining my standards, making kids think that they could talk to me or sit with me at break, which they could not.

A smirk rested on my lips as I turned around, walking towards the seat in the back and plopping down, setting my things on the table and throwing the bag besides the chair. I pulled out my phone and headphones, plugging them in and playing ny list of Green Day, bobbing my head to the rythm of the music. I took out my drawing book, opening it where I left off and taking out the pencil I had in my back pocket. I traced over the edges of the hand, softly dragging the tip of the wooden stick where I thought appropriate, and ignored the rest of the world.

I drew many things in that notebook, because drawing helps my creativity flow. And, I need the creativity to write songs and plan new pranks.

I looked up from my black leather small notebook, only to see Mr. Hemmings staring intently at me, his pale cheeks flaming when I caught him staring. He quickly looked down and continued scribbling on the papers, his red pen almost out of ink. I could see the way his eyes scanned over the letters, forming words and sentences, written either in ink from the printing machine or from the students' cheap pens, seeing as he was grading tests. Once he was done, he flipped the papers to the first page, punching some numbers into the calculator and scribbling a number at the top, right edge of the page, circling it afterwards.

I blinked rapidly and looked back down, some lyrics popping into mind as I quickly took out my worn out, yellow notebook. I had three notebooks: A small, black leather one, which is where I draw, a typical elementary school-ish yellow one, which is where I wrote my songs, and a red one that looked almost the same as the yellow one, which is where I write my prank ideas.