Patrick Stump One Shots (Complete)

Teacher Smut ;)

You sighed as you lightly touched your temples.

"Okay, kiddos. Sentence Structure; any of you heard of it?"

Your class was quiet.

You were a middle school English teacher. Honestly, you did it for the fun of it, being that your boyfriend of two years was the lead singer of a world-famous punk band and could support the two of you entirely. You've had a strong passion for writing and reading since you were your class' age.

"Okay then... Can anyone maybe guess what it means?"

A quiet, pale girl with dark bangs and short wavy hair raised her hand from the second row. She reminded you of yourself when you, too, were a middle-schooler.

"Yes, Adelaide?" You smiled at her.

"Is it the structure of a sentence?" She asked.

You smiled and clapped your hands together. Ah, potential.
"Yes, Adelaide, very good!"

You repeated your lesson for five of the remaining periods that day and drove to you and your boyfriend's house.

* * *

"Patrick?" You called, closing your front door behind you.

There was no response as you trodded sluggishly up the stairs and into your's and Patrick's room, slipping off your shoes and placing them in your closet.

You turned around, unbuttoning your blouse, to see Patrick in a little recliner next to your bed, reading John Green's Paper Towns.

You gasped excitedly. The sight of your boyfriend reading was h-o-t-hot.

He looked over the book and smiled at you, sticking in a small slip of paper as a bookmark.

"Hey, babe," he stood up, situating his glasses at their rightful place on the bridge of his nose. "How was work?"

You smiled at the pile of books he had finished on his small table. From the looks of it, he had read S.E. Hinton's The Outsiders, Laurie Halse Anderson's Wintergirls and Sharon Creech's Walk Two Moons.
(A/N: ALL VERYVERYVERY OUTSTANDING BOOKS. I highly recommend all four <3)

You continued unbuttoning your blouse, Patrick's strong hands resting gently at your sides.

"Work was okay." You giggled lightly at his touch. "I'm better, though, now that I'm with you."

He placed light kisses on your shoulder, going upwards to just below your ear. He smirked when you complimented him.

"Oh, is it?" He mumbled against your skin, his breath cool and minty. "And why is that?"

You let a small moan escape your lips to answer his question.

He lightly touched your chin, turning you to face him.

He asked of your consent with his eyes, you blinking in response. His hands went to finish your blouse, tossing it lightly in a hamper.

He continued placing honeysuckle kisses on your neck, making you shiver each time he breathed on you.

Before you knew it, you were stripped of all of your clothes, your body cool from the lack of fabric. There the two of you stood, you in a black bra and panties, him in cute Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtle boxers.

You smiled, remembering how he confessed his undying love for that show when the two of you were the ripe age of thirteen.

He delicately took you in his arms, lying you down softly on the comforter the two of you shared.

He stood between your legs, his rough, calloused hands lightly scratching at your skin as he caressed your body. His plump, pink lips continued to leave light kisses on your chest and neck.

He took a moment to take in your beauty; his mouth slightly agape from your mere presence.

"Y/N...." He spoke quietly, "I love you."

His fingers lightly traced your two small tattoos on your hips; a crescent moon and an open book under a coffee cup.

"Oh my God, you are just the cutest," he whispered more to himself than to you.

You slowly sat up, dangling your arms over his shoulders and back as you nuzzled your face into his shoulder. He kneeled forward to unclasp your bra, placing a quick kiss on your temple.

He gingerly placed a hand on your abdomen, signaling for you to lie back down and get comfortable.

You blushed as his thick fingers carefully slid off your underwear. You closed your eyes as you heard him remove his own boxers and slide on some *ahem* protection.

He leaned down and placed a light kiss to your forehead before slowly pushing himself into you.

You let out a small gasp, your right hand tangling itself in your hair as he stayed antagonizingly still.

"Pat, please move," you breathed out.

He slowly pulled back, creating friction between the two of you.

You moaned loudly as he began to pick up pace, his thumb placing itself at your bloom, swirling around.

"Patrick! Harder! Faster!" You shouted out.

He smiled at you, him beginning to pound into you at a quicker and rougher pace.

You shouted out in pleasure, feeling your muscles begin to contract and squeeze around him.

It was clearly getting harder for him to move, him swelling and you tightening.

He continued fucking you until you were screaming out his name for all the dim souls of Chicago to take in.

It was the music to his ears and the words to your book.

* * *

"Okay, class," you smiled to all of the children in second period English. "As you all know, you have been working on a small speech about your favorite person that you will present to the class later today. I, however, have brought you my favorite person."

You smiled at Adelaide in her seat. She was wearing a black Fall Out Boy sweatshirt and you hadn't known she was a fan.

As Patrick stepped in through the door, you have him a quick, middle-school-appropriate peck on the lips as Adelaide squealed.

"Oh my God!" Several other girls (and boys) squeaked out, others shooting them confused glances. "That's Patrick Stump!"

You went on to tell your class why he was your favorite person by demonstrating a speech.

* * *

(A/N: I want nothing more in life than to become and English teacher (and we all want to mess around with a little P-Stump once in a while, no?) so I wrote a little smut about it (because HOT!) Thanks for 2.37K! ^.^