You locked the door, feeling your heart beat pick up a little as you walked over and put your stuff on a desk in front of Mr. Went'z desk. You looked over him, a red button up with a black vest, the sleeves pushed up now that you could see the sleeve of tattoos that you didn't know he had. You smiled a little, looking at them a little more carefully without going up there and actually touching his arm. They looked cool. You could hear him clear his throat, and you jumped, looking up as Mr. Wentz watched you closely.
"I-I like your tattoos," You explained, feeling small for some reason. He smiled at this though, one of those wide, full smiles you've only seen him use when he was laughing too hard. "They're cool, bet they hurt though," You add, not sitting down quite yet.
"What? You don't like pain?" Mr. Wentz asked, and you shook your head.
"No, I like pain," You said, and Mr. Wentz smirked. You blushed, adverting your eyes as if you saw something cool outside the window. "My parents would just kill me."
"Ahh, I see.." Mr. Wentz hummed, watching you carefully. "But we aren't here to talk about my tattoos, now are we? You've been late a lot, and you're lucky I don't hold you back in my class y/n," he said, and you snapped your head back to him.
"H-Hold me back?" You said, fear in your eyes. "N-No Mr. Wentz, please you can't do that," you begged, slightly coming forth to his desk. He watched, as if he was amused by your sudden care. "Your class is just so far away, you know, I don't mean to be l-late!" You explain, arms moving as you talked. You watched him get up, and you backed up a little. He crossed his arms across his chest, and you couldn't help but watch his muscles flex under his shirt. You swallowed, watching him come closer.
"Hmm... Too far? You can't simply walk faster?" Mr. Wentz asked, pushing the glasses up his nose. You shrug, not seeming to look away from his gaze. "With that short skirt of yours, I would think you could easily walk faster," he said, and you watched his eyes flicker down before back up.
"I-I-" You stutter, not knowing what to say. He walked forwards, making you bump into his desk, and you stuttered out a tiny, nervous laugh. "I don't think it's professional to c-check me out, Mr. Wentz," you told him, and he slammed both hands on either side of you on the desk, making you jump.
"I don't think you should talk back to your teacher, y/n," Mr. Wentz said, voice lower than normal. "I'm in charge here, and you know that," he hummed, one hand running up your leg to your thigh. You shivered, watching his hand as it brushed against the fabric of your skirt. "Now, will you be a good girl for me?" Mr. Wentz asked, and you looked up. You nodded quickly, breathing a bit harder than you meant to, but you couldn't believe that this was happening. "Good girl," he smirked, pushing you on his desk. "If you want those lates gone, I can think of a couple ways you might earn it... If you're interested of course," He said, and you nodded quickly.
"Please, Mr. Wentz," you said, and he smirked widely.
"Call me Pete, princess."
