"Dude, _________, like, head up!" Mr.Jones laughed, tapping the back of my head. My head shot up, well, at least he was nice about it.
"_________, would you like, see me after class? I needa talk to ya!"
"Y-yes sir." I nodded, folding my hands in my lap. He was a young teacher, and a lot of female students, and some male student as well, thought he was hot. Don't get me wrong, he was freakin' adorable, but...he was a teacher!
"So, _________, do you know why I asked you to stay?"
"Well, like, your grades are totally sucking dude!" He threw his arms up, showing me a folder of my last several tests. "You went from being like, my best student, to my very worst! Why? What happened?"
You knew his real name was Steve Rogers and that he was born in 1918. He had served in the army during the 1940’s and had disappeared around 1945. He had been in the ice for almost 70 years, but somehow he had made it out alive and now you were standing in the large room that explained everything that had happened to him.
You worked as a teacher in your hometown and the kids in your class had been asking you for weeks if you could tell them about Captain America: the hero of New York. You had declined at first, because there were no real facts about what he had done bac
Together is No Easy Feat
“...and that's how it was concluded in the end. But during the war of—” continued a oblivious Japanese history teacher by the name of Kiku Honda as the rest of class studiously paid rapt attention to the subject. That’s what was wrong with everyone, you thought. They were just so serious about their studies that they didn’t notice the hunk of hotness that was actually before them. Or maybe they did but chose to still study.
That’s certainly a difference between American and Japanese students.
And yes, by hunk of hotness, you were referring to none other than “Sensei” Honda as everyone seemed to call the man around these parts. But it felt weird calling him that. It also felt weird having to remove your shoes before entering your own house and having to give a little bow to complete stranger
He's your English teacher.
You know quite well that you shouldn't have this massive crush on him; for once, he is twenty-four, and you're seventeen. That alone should clue you in that this is hella wrong. However, you can't help your feelings or the way your heart speeds up when you see him.
"(Name)," he says gently, becoming quite aware that you weren't completely in the room with the rest of the class. Your mind is somewhere else, daydreaming about what it'd be like if he actually noticed you as a woman and not just a simple student. "(Name), pay attention."
"Oh, I'm sorry," you spoke, your cheeks turning red.
He smiles and shakes his head. "All right, class, I'd like you to summarize last night's chapters for me."
Many of the hands shoot up, mostly from girls.
English is your last class of the day, so w
Maybe it was because you two never did get caught. Could some masochistic, voyeuristic part of him wanted the secret to spill?
His thoughts drifted lazily as he watched a pencil roll to the edge of his desk and pause, teasing him, making him ache for the simple noise of it hitting the ground.
That's what it would be labeled as, if he were to see any qualified doctor or physiologist.
"College professor, huh. Got any hot students? Have a little fun with them?" A companion had queried just last weekend.
She wasn't hot. She was beautiful.
There was nothing pornographic; fetish satisfaction about it, either. Not like you saw in pornos, the aging teacher lifting his plastic blonde student up onto a desk or a