SMUT
Found this on Tumblr but I couldn't find the originals post.
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there was...there was always something about your theater professor, mr. holland. you'd never really taken it into account until a month ago, he grew this fucking mustache and it sort of changed the entire way you look at him. he'd upgraded from a snack, to a three course feast, and most of your nights, and days, were spent thinking about him. it didn't help that he seemingly flirted right back with you.
it was becoming a problem.
especially when it's friday, senior ditch day, and you were headed into your last period class: theater. you were far too excited to see mr. holland and simultaneously excited to discuss the paper topics for of mice and men. half the class, as expected, was absent, leaving only you and a few stragglers. the front of the room was empty, suggesting mr. holland was running late, so you took your usual seat in the middle of the class and pulled out your notebook and a pencil, rifling through your bag in search for of mice and men.
you found it, thank god, just in time for mr holland to walk in. he was sporting a black sweater and black jeans, the sleeves rolled up to his elbows so you could see the veins in his forearms. why did your brain always take you to the most inappropriate places? especially at a time like this?
"hello class!" he accent was thick and his face was bright, a smile stretching his cheeks. he was, quite literally, going to be the death of you.
"hello, mr. holland." you and your five classmates chorus back, and mr. holland, or tom, as you'd heard other teachers call him, held up his hand which contained a copy of the assigned novel. "you read this over the weekend, yeah?" he addressed everyone, and they half heartedly agreed.
"that wasn't very convincing, students!"
[ ... ]
after the class let out, and with a new sense of bravery, you walks up to Mr. Holland and lean back against his desk. "ah, y/n!" he beams, cleaning up his papers. "gotta say, your paper is the one I'm looking forward to most."
you grin, bottom lip coming between your teeth on an attempt to suppress a smile, your eyes averting down to you shoes. "i picked a topic the day you assigned the novel." you admit, because of mice and men had always been one of your favorites. "i picked charley's wife and why she's the real victim of the story. i wanna delve into the challenges she faced and her crushed dreams." you nod, earning a soft laugh from tom. you look up to meet his eyes and he grins, tilting his head. you mirror his actions mockingly.
"mature for a high school senior." he notes and you roll your eyes slightly, hugging your books closer to your chest. "im eighteen, mr. holland." you point out, and his eyebrows shoot up momentarily before he adorns his same soft smile again. "i wasn't aware."
you pause and shift your legs, moving one to cross over the other. you notice tom's eyes avert down to watch your movement before he looks back up at you. there's a pause, a moment of silence before either of you speak again.
"i always knew you were my favorite student." he hums, voice low and you can't practically feel it rumbling your belly. who in the actually fuck have this man good looks and a killer personality?
you push yourself off the desk and reach up to his chest, letting your finger drag down slightly, you hear his breath catch in his throat before it pluck a piece of hair out of the fabric. you hold it up in front of him with a smile, dropping it onto the floor before turning on your heels and walking out of the class room.
if you added an extra swing to your hips, no one had to know.
[ ... ]
it's about three weeks later when your friend, sav, asks you to go out pub hopping with her.
