
Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/7945423.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Underage, Choose_Not_To_Use_Archive_Warnings
  Category:
      F/M, M/M
  Fandom:
      Real_Person_Fiction, DC_Cinematic_Universe_RPF, Superman_-_All_Media
      Types, The_Man_From_U.N.C.L.E._(2015)_RPF
  Relationship:
      Henry_Cavill/You, Henry_Cavill/Reader, Henry_Cavill/Male_Reader
  Character:
      Henry_Cavill
  Additional Tags:
      Teacher-Student_Relationship, Professor_Henry_Cavill, Seduction, Panties,
      Exhibitionism, Public_Display_of_Affection, Plot_What_Plot/Porn_Without
      Plot, Reader-Insert, High_School, Riding, Barebacking, Felching, Kissing,
      Older_Man/Younger_Woman, Older_Man/Younger_Man, Couch_Sex, Masturbation,
      i_hope_yall_like_it, @_celebsconfesss_on_twitter_its_your_accounts_fault
      lmao, its_not_really_underage_cus_its_senior_year_but_better_tag_it
      before_anyone_says_smthng
  Stats:
      Published: 2016-09-03 Completed: 2016-09-09 Chapters: 2/2 Words: 4158
****** To Teacher, With Love ******
by nvaleintern
Summary
     High School classes can be boring; having a hot teacher certainly
     helps.
Notes
     Thanks for reading my fic! Just a friendly reminder that you don't
     need a AO3 Account in order to leave Kudos or Comments on a fic you
     liked! Enjoy!
See the end of the work for more notes
***** Chapter 1 *****
Mister Cavill first came to your school two years ago. Back then he was the new
English lit teacher, so young and innocent.
English was always one of your favourite subjects but when Cavill took over it
really got interesting. Not only because he is major eye-candy, with his tight-
fitted shirts and even tighter pants, but also because of the way he explained
stuff to you. The author's intentions, their play on words and the way they
bent language to their will. Every single word that came out of Mr. Cavill's
mouth was like gospel, no matter how dull the material was. With each class,
not only did the topics get more interesting, but so did Mr. Cavill.
Every time he wrote things like "Very good" or "Clever!" on the margin of your
essay you caught yourself blushing with pride, cheeks turning the colour of his
red pen. Each compliment left you wanting more, motivating you to try your
best, his class becoming the center of your attention as the rest of school
faded, considered nothing but a distraction in-between English. In hindsight,
maybe it was a fixation, an obsession over Henry, but it was worth having.
You don't recall when exactly your mind shifted from adoration to lust, but
soon enough you found yourself under the covers, thinking what it would feel
like to lay in bed with Mr.Cavill instead all alone. To feel his chest hair,
that always stuck out of his shirts teasingly, against your soft skin as he'd
cradle you in his strong arms.
Eventually, the sexual frustration was too much to handle, and even though
parts of you knew how wrong it was and that the chances were infinitesimal, you
decided it was about time to take some risks. Otherwise his classes would be
too much to bear day in and day out. With him standing there, with a three-day
stubble, or too-long curls, or even buzz-cut once.
No one would have suspected you doing the things he drove you to, and you had
to admit sometimes you even surprised yourself.
It started out pretty harmlessly. You'd let your skirt ride up under your desk,
showing some skin, always just under the school regulations to not get into
trouble for stupid dress-codes. Luckily, you claimed a seat right at the front
early on in the semester, so Mr.Cavill had a perfect view if he decided to
look. And look he did.
At first you thought it was only your hopeful imagination playing tricks on
you. Certainly, a man like Mr.Cavill would be more chivalrous than that. But
when it happened again and again, his stares getting longer, his eyes creeping
up to look you in the eyes, you knew. So you grew bolder, crossing and
uncrossing your legs to give him a good look at your panties, wearing too-tight
ones to outline your pussy lips.
Admittedly, it was a bit uncomfortable to wear, and the thought of other people
seeing you like this made your heart flutter with anxiety, but seeing the
reaction on Mr.Cavill's face, loosening his tie or swallowing hard, was worth
it.
The next step were Mr.Cavill's voluntary written assignments for extra credit.
Though the extra credit you had in mind was slightly different than others.
You were allowed to write a paper about any book of your choice, as long as it
wasn't a modern book. And so you wrote, trying to convey what you really wanted
through paper. Writing about older and younger relationships, referencing
Lolita and Nabokov, mentioning taboos – one of which accidentallyhappened to be
between a teacher having affairs with his students and how, despite the
wrongness of it all, it made for some good times.
The first paper was the start of your game.
His little comments showed he knew how to keep playing.
They were harmless things at first, complimenting your writing, telling you
it's well-structured and detailed work. Later adding seemingly innocuous lines
like "Such relationships are outdated and frowned upon, though not by all"
basically telling you not to give up. And you didn't.
Unperturbed, you showed him how much you meant what you wrote.
A week after your last handed-in assignment, you sat down in your usual spot,
opening your legs again. This time you thought about Henry, as you recently
learned was his name, sliding his fingers down your stomach, under the lace of
your panties, pressing his hand down. Pushing them inside.
When he noticed how soaking wet your panties were, clinging to your tingling
pussy, he got flustered, losing his train of thought. "Uh- I-," he stammered,
"Right, class, just read the next twenty pages before we discuss them."
As he gave back the essays that day, his hand lingered on yours just a little
too long. It felt warm and heavy on top of yours and you were sure if he kept
it on there a little longer your heart would burst out of your chest.
At home, you lay down in bed, leafing through the essay, examining every single
remark Henry left. The one next to the sentence: "And with that portrayal, the
author tries to imply that by letting go of his inhibitions and social norms,
and finally allowing himself to fall for her, the man will ultimately grow and
allow the girl to grow with him."was "Very clever. Definitely some food for
thought. Discuss it in detail at my house?"
You held your breath, reading the sentence over and over. Was it really
happening? After weeks, months of senior year was his reserve finally
crumbling?
The next day in class he was practically staring you down the whole time. So
the day after. Until Friday finally came.
                                       *
Today. Clean and ready, wearing his favourite pair of panties – the ones that
started it all – you drive over to his house. He lives just out of town in a
big house with his dog Kal. You know that because he threw a BBQ for the whole
class once, to celebrate your last year in high school.
Your heart is pounding as you walk up his porch and knock on the door, waiting.
Those seconds between you standing there and him opening the door are
excruciating, and doubt starts to seep in, but once he opens the door, all of
that is gone.
He's wearing a tight flannel and his usual jeans (that, in your opinion, define
his ass just perfectly).
"Hello, Mr.Cavill," you say, smiling shyly.
When he puts a hand on your shoulder to welcome you inside, it takes everything
not to cave in right then and there. "Just call me Henry. Wanna drink
something?"
"Water's okay," you say, walking over to the living room.
You notice that he changed his couch. The old, red one is now replaced by
smooth, black leather that feels cold against your thighs when you sit down.
Henry hands you the glass and sits down next to you, his thigh touching yours,
arm hanging dangerously close to your shoulder. You swallow hard, the cold
drink feeling good on your tongue.
He's looking you up and down, slowly, before he covers he rubs at his eyes with
one hand and laughs half-heartedly.
Panic starts to creep back in. "What's wrong?," you ask, laughing a nervous
laugh yourself to ease the tension.
"It's just so bizarre," he says, looking at you again, those hazel eyes locked
with yours. "I shouldn't be feeling what I feel. You're my student, for gods
sake." That last sentence comes out more serious. You can feel a part of him is
trying to find a way out of this. It's now or never. You set the glass on the
table.
Your other hand, you drop onto his thigh, rubbing at the firm and thick flesh.
He let's out a shaky breath as you hike it up his leg slowly, until you reach
his crotch.
His eyes are glazed over slightly as he looks down on what you're doing. As he
watches you feel for his bulge. Henry's biting his lip, trying to stay focused.
"I- You should-"
"I should what, professor?," you ask him, leaned in so close that he can
probably feel your warm breath against his skin. The smell of his cologne hangs
heavy in the air and you breathe in sharply.
"-keep going," he mumbles, hands gripping you by the hips, pulling you on top
of him.
Before you know it you're sitting on his lap, grinding against him as he kisses
your neck. His tongue licks it's way up to your chin, to the corner of your
mouth, licking his way inside. It feels hot against your own, and you relish
the taste of him inside of you.
"You were always my favourite," he murmurs, pulling on your bottom lip, close
to drawing blood. "Looking so good in those panties." He pushes further down
your throat, moaning into you.
With one hand fisting his hair, you start to unbutton his shirt, desperate to
catch a feel of his hairy chest.
It tickles your soft hands as you open more and more buttons. You want to take
it off, to take in all of Henry's beauty, but more than that, you want to feel
him inside.
"I want to fuck you so bad," he moans, sucking on your neck, leaving behind a
mark. Claiming you as his. "I want to make you cum."
His bulge is already pressed hard against your ass, throbbing uncomfortably.
You sit up just enough to unzip his pants and take out his thick cock. Henry's
breath hitches when you wrap your hand around his shaft, pulling down the
foreskin to feel his precum. "Yes baby," he growls into your ear, pushing you
down his shaft.
Condom, you think. We forgot a condom. Then again, you are on the pill and his
dick feels so good stretching you apart, so warm- "You're safe?," you ask
anyway, because you have to.
He grips you by the hips, stopping you in your tracks and looking at you
seriously. "Of course I am, baby. I would never harm you." He plants a soft
kiss on your lips, and all the tension leaves just like that.
"Just making sure," you say, smiling.
His first thrust sends a ripple-wave through you. It's like a wake-up call for
every single cell in your body, incomparable to the lonely feel of your
fingers.
Eager for more, you start to fuck yourself onto his cock, riding him harder and
faster with each passing moment. "Fuck me," you moan, kissing his cheek,
lapping at his earlobe, hands running through his chest hair.
It doesn't take long for you to come, with Henry's dick deep inside of you, his
moans filling your ears and the anticipation of weeks of planning. He rubs your
clit, fucking up and up, making you cum with his name on your lips, slumping
onto him as he keeps on rutting into you.
"You feel so good baby," he groans, picking up momentum, before he starts
shaking under you, his orgasm so strong. “Fuck, I'm gonna cum. Yes, fuck,” he
growls. Warm cum fills you up, shot after shot, trickling out of you, down his
shaft.
There will probably be a stain left on his couch. And on his jeans, too. But
right now all his focus is on you, as he kisses you lazily, all tongue and
lips. "You were so good, baby," he admits, wrapping his strong arms around you
and holding you close. "Want to just lay here for a bit or do you want to hop
into the shower?"
A strand of hair sticks to his sweat-sheened forehead. You put it back to it's
rightful place. "A shower sounds nice," you nuzzle your head into his neck,
kissing it softly. "But I like my seat right now."
He chuckles. "Couch it is then."
"I'm glad my writing was so persuasive," you tell him, eyes closed, listening
to the beat of his heart.
"It sure is. I should give you an A for that."
You stroke his soft cock, sucking some of the cum from your fingers. "I
definitely give you an A for that."
"In the shower, I'll work for that A*."
You smile, "Can't wait."
***** Chapter 2 *****
Chapter Summary
     Male POV
Chapter Notes
     Thanks for reading my fic! Just a friendly reminder that you don't
     need a AO3 Account in order to leave Kudos on a fic you liked! Enjoy!
See the end of the chapter for more notes
Mister Cavill first came to your school two years ago. Back then he was the new
English lit teacher, so young and innocent.
English was always one of your favourite subjects but when Cavill took over it
really got interesting. Not only because he is major eye-candy, with his tight-
fitted shirts and even tighter pants, but also because of the way he explained
stuff to you. The author's intentions, their play on words and the way they
bent language to their will. Every single word that came out of Mr. Cavill's
mouth was like gospel, no matter how dull the material was. With each class,
not only did the topics get more interesting, but so did Mr. Cavill.
Every time he wrote things like "Very good" or "Clever!" on the margin of your
essay you caught yourself blushing with pride, cheeks turning the colour of his
red pen. Each compliment left you wanting more, motivating you to try your
best, his class becoming the center of your attention as the rest of school
faded, considered nothing but a distraction in-between English. In hindsight,
maybe it was a fixation, an obsession over Henry, but it was worth having.
You don't recall when exactly your mind shifted from adoration to lust, but
soon enough you found yourself under the covers, thinking what it would feel
like to lay in bed with Mr.Cavill instead all alone. To feel his chest hair,
that always stuck out of his shirts teasingly, against your soft skin as he'd
cradle you in his strong arms.
Eventually, the sexual frustration was too much to handle, and even though
parts of you knew how wrong it was and that the chances were infinitesimal, you
decided it was about time to take some risks. Otherwise his classes would be
too much to bear day in and day out. With him standing there, with a three-day
stubble, or too-long curls, or even buzz-cut once.
No one would have suspected you doing the things he drove you to, and you had
to admit sometimes you even surprised yourself.
It started out pretty harmlessly. You'd let your shorts ride up under your
desk, showing some skin. Luckily, you claimed a seat right at the front early
on in the semester, so Mr.Cavill had a perfect view if he decided to look. And
look he did.
At first you thought it was only your hopeful imagination playing tricks on
you. Certainly, a man like Mr.Cavill would be more chivalrous than that. But
when it happened again and again, his stares getting longer, his eyes creeping
up to look you in the eyes, you knew. So you grew bolder, crossing and
uncrossing your legs, going commando to give him a good look at the outline of
your dick and balls, the cockhead pressing against the fabric.
Admittedly, it was a bit uncomfortable to not wear any underwear, and the
thought of other people seeing you like this made your heart flutter with
anxiety, but seeing the reaction on Mr.Cavill's face, loosening his tie or
swallowing hard, was worth it.
The next step were Mr.Cavill's voluntary written assignments for extra credit.
Though the extra credit you had in mind was slightly different than others.
You were allowed to write a paper about any book of your choice, as long as it
wasn't a modern book. And so you wrote, trying to convey what you really wanted
through paper. Writing about older and younger relationships, referencing
Lolita and Nabokov, mentioning taboos – one of which accidentallyhappened to be
about stories from ancient Greece, where relationships between older men and
younger guys were considered an educational step into adulthood.
The first paper was the start of your game.
His little comments showed he knew how to keep playing.
They were harmless things at first, complimenting your writing, telling you
it's well-structured and detailed work. Later adding seemingly innocuous lines
like "Such relationships are outdated and frowned upon, though not by all"
basically telling you not to give up. And you didn't.
Unperturbed, you showed him how much you meant what you wrote.
A week after your last handed-in assignment, you sat down in your usual spot,
opening your legs again. This time you thought about Henry, as you recently
learned was his name, sliding his fingers down your stomach, under the hem of
your shorts, pressing his hand down. Rubbing them over your balls down to the
entrance of your hole.
When he noticed the bulge, clinging to your gray sweatshorts, he got flustered,
losing his train of thought. "Uh- I-," he stammered, "Right, class, just read
the next twenty pages before we discuss them."
As he gave back the essays that day, his hand lingered on yours just a little
too long. It felt warm and heavy on top of yours and you were sure if he kept
it on there a little longer your heart would burst out of your chest.
At home, you lay down in bed, leafing through the essay, examining every single
remark Henry left. The one next to the sentence: "And with that portrayal, the
author tries to imply that by letting go of his inhibitions and social norms,
and finally allowing himself to fall for her, the man will ultimately grow and
allow the boy to grow with him."was "Very clever. Definitely some food for
thought. Discuss it in detail at my house?"
You held your breath, reading the sentence over and over. Was it really
happening? After weeks, months of senior year was his reserve finally
crumbling?
The next day in class he was practically staring you down the whole time. So
the day after. Until Friday finally came.
                                       *
Today. Clean, prepped and ready, wearing nothing but shorts – the ones that
started it all – you drive over to his house. He lives just out of town in a
big house with his dog Kal. You know that because he threw a BBQ for the whole
class once, to celebrate your last year in high school.
Your heart is pounding as you walk up his porch and knock on the door, waiting.
Those seconds between you standing there and him opening the door are
excruciating, and doubt starts to seep in, but once he opens the door, all of
that is gone.
He's wearing a tight flannel and his usual jeans (that, in your opinion, define
his ass just perfectly).
"Hello, Mr.Cavill," you say, smiling shyly.
When he puts a hand on your shoulder to welcome you inside, it takes everything
not to cave in right then and there. "Just call me Henry. Wanna drink
something?"
"Water's okay," you say, walking over to the living room.
You notice that he changed his couch. The old, red one is now replaced by
smooth, black leather that feels cold against your thighs when you sit down.
Henry hands you the glass and sits down next to you, his thigh touching yours,
arm hanging dangerously close to your shoulder. You swallow hard, the cold
drink feeling good on your tongue.
He's looking you up and down, slowly, before he covers he rubs at his eyes with
one hand and laughs half-heartedly.
Panic starts to creep back in. "What's wrong?," you ask, laughing a nervous
laugh yourself to ease the tension.
"It's just so bizarre," he says, looking at you again, those hazel eyes locked
with yours. "I shouldn't be feeling what I feel. You're my student, for gods
sake." That last sentence comes out more serious. You can feel a part of him is
trying to find a way out of this. It's now or never. You set the glass on the
table.
Your other hand, you drop onto his thigh, rubbing at the firm and thick flesh.
He let's out a shaky breath as you hike it up his leg slowly, until you reach
his crotch.
His eyes are glazed over slightly as he looks down on what you're doing. As he
watches you feel for his bulge. Henry's biting his lip, trying to stay focused.
"I- You should-"
"I should what, professor?," you ask him, leaned in so close that he can
probably feel your warm breath against his skin. The smell of his cologne hangs
heavy in the air and you breathe in sharply.
"-keep going," he mumbles, hands gripping you by the hips, pulling you on top
of him.
Before you know it you're sitting on his lap, grinding against him as he kisses
your neck. His tongue licks it's way up to your chin, to the corner of your
mouth, licking his way inside. It feels hot against your own, and you relish
the taste of him inside of you.
"You were always my favourite," he murmurs, pulling on your bottom lip, close
to drawing blood. "Looking so good in those pants." He pushes further down your
throat, moaning into you.
With one hand fisting his hair, you start to unbutton his shirt, desperate to
catch a feel of his hairy chest.
It tickles your soft hands as you open more and more buttons. You want to take
it off, to take in all of Henry's beauty, but more than that, you want to feel
him inside.
"I want to fuck you so bad," he moans, sucking on your neck, leaving behind a
mark. Claiming you as his. "I want to make you cum."
His bulge is already pressed hard against your ass, throbbing uncomfortably.
You sit up just enough to unzip his pants, pull down yours and take out his
thick cock. Henry's breath hitches when you wrap your hand around his shaft,
pulling down the foreskin to feel his precum. "Yes baby," he growls into your
ear, pushing you down his shaft.
Condom, you think, biting down hard at the burning sensation of him spreading
you open . We forgot a condom. Then again his dick feels so good stretching you
apart, so warm- "You're safe?," you ask anyway, because you have to.
He grips you by the hips, stopping you in your tracks and looking at you
seriously. "Of course I am, baby. I would never harm you." He plants a soft
kiss on your lips, and all the tension leaves just like that.
"Just making sure," you say, smiling.
His first thrust sends a ripple-wave through you, making your hard dick twitch.
It's like a wake-up call for every single cell in your body, incomparable to
the lonely feel of your fingers.
Eager for more, you start to fuck yourself onto his cock, riding him harder and
faster with each passing moment, your cock slapping his stomach. "Fuck me," you
moan, kissing his cheek, lapping at his earlobe, hands running through his
chest hair.
It doesn't take long for you to come, with Henry's dick deep inside of you, his
moans filling your ears and the anticipation of weeks of planning. He jerks
your dick, fucking up and up, making you cum with his name on your lips. Some
of your come hits his mouth, his chest.
“You fucker,” he grins, lapping up the droplets from his face and swallowing
them. You lick up the rest, sharing some of it with Henry, as he sucks on your
tongue, humming. “Mmmh.”
"You feel so good baby," he groans, picking up momentum, before he starts
shaking under you,too, his orgasm so strong. “Fuck, I'm gonna cum. Yes, fuck,”
he growls. Warm cum fills you up, shot after shot, trickling out of you, down
his shaft as he digs his fingers into your shoulderblades.
There will probably be a stain left on his couch. And on his jeans, too. But
right now all his focus is on you, as he kisses you lazily, all tongue and
lips. "You were so good, baby," he admits, wrapping his strong arms around you
and holding you close. "Want to just lay here for a bit or do you want to hop
into the shower?"
A strand of hair sticks to his sweat-sheened forehead. You put it back to it's
rightful place. "A shower sounds nice," you nuzzle your head into his neck,
kissing it softly. "But I like my seat right now."
He chuckles. "Couch it is then."
"I'm glad my writing was so persuasive," you tell him, eyes closed, listening
to the beat of his heart.
"It sure is. I should give you an A for that."
You stroke his soft cock, sucking some of the cum from your fingers. "I
definitely give you an A for that."
"In the shower, I'll work for that A*."
You smile, "Can't wait."
 
Chapter End Notes
     Feel free to submit prompts in my askbox at dogphood.tumblr.com
     (sorry it took so long, I kinda forgot about the male chapter)
End Notes
     I'm going to hell for this, I know, but it's @ celebsconfesss (on
     twitter, y'all should follow) fault. Their account is just too good,
     lol.
     Male chapter uploaded tomorrow. Y'all can leave some prompts at
     dogphood.tumblr.com, maybe some will inspire me to write more... (Ben
     Affleck would be fine too).
      
     Disclaimer: always use condoms kids, STDs and babies are a thing, I
     just chose not to write them in because as a literary choice. Carry
     on!
Please drop_by_the_archive_and_comment to let the author know if you enjoyed
their work!
