A rare summer heatwave had hit London, and Liza Brooks had lost count of the number of times she’d moved seats in the last two hours. Her department operated within an open-plan office space, which was a blessing on humid days. Someone cracked a window open behind her, and fans had been placed on the end of each desk. Even though they were rickety, yellowing things, they were a welcome addition to the workspace.
“Rhubarb pie? It’s like having sex with your tights on.”
With her tattoos, tank tops, palazzo pants and visible roots, Shirley Hicks was the last person you’d expect to be working for a Fortune 500 company, but she was one of the most reliable women at The Stirling Group, and one of the only people in the department to offer help to Liza when she joined as an intern. Five years later, the only coffee Liza made was for herself. She considered having her own desk a small victory – even if she was still in reasonable proximity to the colleagues who had treated her like an obedient puppy. But she could always count on Shirley to break the tension.
“Should I even ask?” Liza swivelled in Shirley’s direction.
“No.” Shirley let out a hoarse, tobacco-laced laugh.
Liza rolled her eyes and swung back to her desk. The soft pop of a Skype notification drew her eyes away from an email she was in the middle of composing. When her desk phone rang, loud and shrill, Liza didn’t have time to launch into her company spiel.
“Liza? It’s Mel. Charles wants to see you in his office.”
Mel’s tone wasn’t as chipper as usual. This was serious.
“Now?” The second the question left her lips, she regretted asking. Saying no to the CEO of the company was not an option.
“I’ll tell him you’re on your way.”
With a nervous huff, Liza rose from her desk, catching her ankle on a loose piece of plastic on the leg of her chair. She winced, rubbing at the pink scratch. A faint ladder had formed in her tights.
Heading to the second floor, she smoothed her skirt, shook the cramp out of her hands and knocked lightly on the door to her right.
“Miss Brooks, take a seat.”
Liza sat down slowly, legs crossed. Charles coughed.
“After reviewing our latest figures, we’ve decided to make some changes with regards to our staff.”
His eyes didn’t crease as much as Liza expected. He wasn’t interrogating her.
“I see.” She gulped, hands wringing together under the desk.
“We’ve heard you’ve been making changes to some of the company’s templates. You studied linguistics, correct?”
“Yes, sir.” She nodded.
“I was rather impressed. As you know from the last meeting, Colin Cavill is leaving The Stirling Group, handing over to his son. He’s going to need a competent assistant. We’d like you to be the company’s Head of Communications from now on.”
Liza’s throat was dry. “Thank you, I’m flattered. Honoured, actually.”
“Excellent. You can clear out your desk on Friday and start your new duties on Monday. God knows your department needs someone to hold it together. Do what you can, while you can.” Charles tapped the desk and stood, adjusting his suit jacket. “Thank you, Liza.”
“No, thank you, Charles.” Liza lilted once she was out of earshot.
New desk. New rules. No distractions.
On Friday, she insisted on doing the lunchtime coffee run one last time. When she returned with a tray of cold brew and pastries held awkwardly aloft, the other women in the office turned to watch her with anticipation. They had left a pile of cards, balloons and flowers on her desk. Someone – she guessed Shirley – had also placed a bottle of Liza’s favourite pinot grigio by the window. A loud, jaunty beep came from her computer. Another email. Setting the tray down on the cabinet in the middle of the office, carefully pulling her drink from the cardboard slot, she dropped her handbag under her desk, sipped her large cold brew and opened the message, pretending not to notice the array of gifts.
I have arranged a meeting on your behalf to give you the opportunity to get accustomed to your new position, and to working with Mr. Cavill. You will receive a conformation email shortly.
Liza turned to face the women behind her, raising her plastic cup in a toasting gesture.
“On Monday I’ll be gone, but you will not be forgotten.” She leaned back in her chair, opening each of the cards, shouting individual thank-you’s across the room. She leaned in to sniff the bouquet, running her thumb and forefinger along the soft satin ribbon.
I am writing to confirm our introductory meeting on Monday at 10:00 am.
I look forward to working with you. I’ve heard a lot of good things.
Henry W. D. Cavill
Whichever one Henry was, he seemed eager to meet her – a sentiment Liza shared.
Picking up the bottle of wine, she stood and waved it. “Too early for wine?”
“Never.” Shirley replied.
“Shirley, you’ll get me fired before I’ve even started.” Liza laughed, sliding the bottle back onto the desk.
“You’ll come back and give us all the gossip won’t you?”
“I might. Who knows?” Liza winked.
“Do you know who’s taking over yet?” Shirley draped an arm over the back of her chair.
“According to this email,” Liza pointed to her screen “it’s Henry. But you didn’t hear it from me.”
“Lucky bitch.” Another colleague, Jen, blurted.
Liza cocked her head curiously, but only responded with a slight upturn of her lips.
That night, Liza stretched out on the couch in her sweats, unscrewed the bottle of wine and poured a generous glass. Her hand hovered over her phone, finger twitching as she resisted the temptation to search Henry’s name on the internet. Then again, what harm could it really do? It was technically company research. At least, that was the argument Liza used to justify the idea of it. Conflicted, she pushed her phone aside.
“No.” She huffed. “Absolutely not.” She took a long gulp of wine and smacked her lips as the zesty aftertaste settled on her tongue. She squinted into the empty glass. “Go to bed, Liza.”
The sky was a little duller on Monday, but still warm. Although perhaps that was down to being cramped on the Tube. Regardless, Liza found herself primping her faint reflection in the window at the entrance of the building, popping the top button of her blouse. She frowned and closed the button again. In the bathroom on the second floor, she paced. Then, she steeled herself, gripping the edge of the sink. She wasn’t going to let her anxiety get the better of her today. There was too much at stake. She exhaled slowly, checked the time on her phone, then tucked it back into her handbag and walked out into the hallway.
There was a waiting area in between the main offices that Liza hadn’t noticed before, framed by a water cooler and a fan palm. The scratchy fabric of the chair made her shift uncomfortably when she sat down.
Time passed with excruciating slowness. She was so caught up in organizing her thoughts that she didn’t pay much attention to how long she had actually been sitting there. When she finally glanced up at the clock, she considered knocking on the door, but decided against it, not wanting to seem rude or insistent. Instead, she uncrossed her legs, fixed the collar of her blouse and rested her hands on her thighs.
Henry leaned through the doorway, almost completely filling it with his large frame.
“Sorry to keep you waiting.” He held out a hand in apology and beckoned her into the office. “Please come in.”
He was undeniably handsome, every inch of him finely sculpted. Liza’s jaw tightened as she brushed past him and caught a hint of his cologne - a warm vanilla musk. Trading rough fabric for soft leather, Liza took a seat in front of Henry, unsure if she should speak first. Her mouth twitched a little. She clasped her hands together on the edge of the desk for a moment before promptly removing them and placing them in her lap.
Henry cleared his throat. “I realize this is incredibly short-notice,” his brow furrowed “with the investors’ summit looming, we won’t have much time to get acquainted. I’ll just have to trust that you’ll be able to do as I ask. Can I trust you, Liza?”
The knot in her stomach began to untangle.
“Good.” He spoke firmly, but there was a softness to the slight curve of his lips as he regarded her. Even his fanged molars were neat, not sharp and threatening. He wasn’t going to drain her. But she knew he wasn’t going to go easy on her either. “I’ll need a company press release put out by the end of the week. Copy me in.” Henry’s focus shifted back to his computer. Liza was invisible to him now, leaving her unsure of how - or whether - to respond. So, she slipped wordlessly out of Henry’s office and back to her own.
@littlefreya @harrysthiccthighss @the-soot-sprite @foodieforthoughts @autumnrose-40 @cavillsbestgal @myloveforhenrycavill @cherry-gemz @blowing-mikey @killjoy-assbutt-1112 @pussyverson @sillyrabbit81 @viking-raider @demivampirew @zealoushound @keanureevesisbae @honeyloverogers @littlewrenofrivia @beck07990 @christhickevans @luna-aestas @luclittlepond @kebabgirl67 @angreav @omgkatinka @lharrietg @fallenangelbb @mostly-marvel-musings @cavillsharman @littlebirdofrivia @summersummer520 @angelcavill66 @jolly-polly @darklydeliciousdesires @henrys-little-princess @wheretheriversrunintothesea @herefortherealdeal @cavills-little-princess @mis-lil-red @mansaaay @thwick @marytudorbrandon @nerdyoldsoul @uncensored-steve-the-platypus @charmed-asylum @saiyanprincessswanie
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Theseus getting shit handled
Painting by Alara Paints of The Witcher
Snyder Batman is sooooo much better than the original cut. If Bruce Wayne was real he’d sue for defamation of character
Man curls it’s what’s happening
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The following appointments have been made. If you'd like to get in touch, please contact Miss Liza Brooks...
@littlefreya @harrysthiccthighss @the-soot-sprite @foodieforthoughts @autumnrose-40 @cavillsbestgal @myloveforhenrycavill @cherry-gemz @blowing-mikey @killjoy-assbutt-1112 @pussyverson @sillyrabbit81 @viking-raider @demivampirew @zealoushound @keanureevesisbae @honeyloverogers @littlewrenofrivia @beck07990 @christhickevans @luna-aestas @luclittlepond @kebabgirl67 @angreav @omgkatinka @lharrietg @fallenangelbb @mostly-marvel-musings @cavillsharman @littlebirdofrivia @summersummer520 @angelcavill66 @jolly-polly @darklydeliciousdesires @henrys-little-princess @wheretheriversrunintothesea @herefortherealdeal @cavills-little-princess @mis-lil-red @mansaaay @thwick @marytudorbrandon @uncensored-steve-the-platypus @nerdyoldsoul @charmed-asylum @saiyanprincessswanie
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Imagining daddy hoisting my naughty ass up after I try to run away from him and then fight him once he catches me!
(Yeah, I know, stupid of me😂, but oh so fun😉)
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pairing: Clark Kent x Female!reader
warning: it’s smut, but no warnings, just a quickie in a closet
summary: Clark was getting ready for a mission with the Justice League, but when he saw you in the closet he decides to take advantage of the little time he has left. cue to him fucking you in a closet and ends up being late.
authors note: Hi! this is my first smut on this blog, i hope yall enjoy this, its my first smut i have written about Clark so it’s probably not perfect. requests are open.
It’s cramped. The back of your leg is pressing uncomfortably into a low metal shelf, and your spine is pressed against the sharp edge of some boxes, and every time you pull away for a breath you hit your head on some kind of container that’s placed immediately above you.
It’s an excuse not to pull away. Not that you need one.
Clark’s fingers are masterful as they grip your hips, keeping you pushed against him so that you can feel all seven inches of his desperation. He takes your lower lip between his teeth slowly, enticingly, in a way that makes your desperation wet between your thighs.
You whimper as he kisses you again, his tongue licking the back of your teeth and you start to feel his finger slip past the line of your underwear. He pulls away enough to smirk at you, watching your expression as his hands go backward to cup your bare ass beneath your jeans, and pinch you so that your mouth falls open in surprise, his tongue darting forward again.
Then, as his tongue revisits every part of your mouth that he’s already intimately familiar with, his hand moves over your hip and his fingers graze your thigh. His hand is inches away from exactly where you want him when you hear distant shouts from Arthur and Barry down the hallway of your apartment, “Clark? Clark?” He curses under his breath, his head falling hopelessly against your shoulder.
“You have to go,” you whisper, your hands squeezing his thick biceps, “You’re probably already twenty minutes late.” You say the words, and you really don’t want him to get in trouble or jeopardize a mission they have to go on, but you're not sure how much you mean them. Honestly, you would live in this closet if it meant being close to him always.
“Then do another couple minutes really matter?” he whispers, turning his head to kiss your neck softly, his big hand finally moving forward and cupping your bare pussy.
You gasp as, without a moment’s hesitation (or warning), a finger slides through your slick folds and immediately finds your clit. He’s memorized where it is by now. He’s smirking again, raising himself to his full height as his fingers wreak havoc on your sensibilities.
“Do I really have to go?” he pouts, his thumb pressing harshly against your clit as he enters one long, deft finger into you. You open your mouth, to protest maybe, or to moan, but before you can make any kind of noise, he inserts another finger and your breath escapes you. “Better be quiet,” he says, lowering his head so that his lips hover above yours, “Don’t want them to find us, right?”
His hand freezes as he waits for a response.
You shake your head vehemently. No, god no.
He grins and leans down to kiss you again, so soft in comparison to the work his fingers are doing in your underwear. Your breath comes in short gasps, and as he rushes his movements, urging you toward your climax, you can’t keep quiet.
“Clark” you chant, “Clark, Clark please” you cry out, you can barely get his name out. He chuckles.
“I love seeing you wrecked all over my fingers, Honey.” Clark whispers, “Desperate and needy, and at work, too. I can smell just how wet you are” his fingers leave your pussy and focus solely on your clit, circling and circling and circling. His breath is hot on your neck, hovering right over your pulse like the sun, “Want to come, baby?” You nod. Yes, god yes.
“Then come,” he whispers. And you do. Screwing your eyes shut, every muscle tensing, euphoria in every nerve ending. Your mouth falls open, moans tumbling out with reckless abandon; Clark doesn’t even try to keep you quiet.
Clark is leaning over you; he’s still hard. But your little display (the reason he’s still so hard) was too noisy not to attract attention. He pulls his hand from your underwear and you whimper from oversensitivity. You feel your panties ruined, sighing as you were about to go out to the supermarket to stock up the fridge. You look up at him and watch as he slips his fingers into his mouth, eyes closing as he moans at the taste.
Suddenly you are twisted around facing the shelves in front of you, your trousers are pulled down to your thighs and you hear Clark fumble with his trousers to let out his cock. He starts to rub his hard cock between your folds, wetting his dick before sliding into your tight hole. your head fell forward as he fully entered you with one swift thrust of his hips, staying in position as you clenched around him. He leaned down to whisper in my ear, “Is this what you wanted, baby?”
And fuck yes. It was exactly what you wanted. You reached behind to get a grip of his ass and pushed yourself back harder, the shelves rattled in front of you as he thrusted in hard every time. He groaned as he went even deeper and then pulled out to slam back in. You moaned loudly as he wrapped his arm around your waist to keep you still as he began pounding into you.
Your worries about him being late and his mission began to fade as the sensations he caused preoccupied your every cell. He changed his thrusts from punishing to shallow and deep as he leaned over you, breathing against the nape of your neck, making you arch your back even more. You were both so lost in the moment, you didn’t notice how time flew by, or even if you did, you wasn’t ready for it to end, but soon enough you felt his next few thrusts being especially sharp and deep, and the front of his thick thighs trembled against your own as he came inside you.
He bit your shoulder and muffled his moans as he kept spilling his hot release in waves, and an unexpected orgasm hit you out of the blue, not as hard as your previous one, but longer, and you kept milking him of his last remains as you clenched around him.
He slowly relaxed his grip around you and you hissed as he pulled out, your pussy now sensitive. You both stood there for a few seconds, your head was still in the clouds, your knees were still weak, Clark’s arm around your waist is still keeping you upright when there’s a knock at the door. You instantly recognize the voice coated in apathetic sighs, “I guess that means you’re done now.”
“I have to go,” Clark said quietly as he pressed his forehead against yours. “Yeah” you say. You both pull your pants up, “Be safe please” you say, trying not to think about the possibilities that can happen on this mission. “Mmmh, no promises” Clark smiles cheekily. “I’ll see you soon,” he says, kissing your forehead.
You nodded as you watched him exit the door, following him out, you turn to your right where the door leading out of the apartment is, you see Arthur and Barry standing there in their amour. Berry looks back at you both as he hears you exit one of the rooms.
“Oh god, oh god, oh god. I do not want to know what you two were just doing” Barry exclaims as he puts his hands over his face, he storms out to the car that was waiting for them outside. Arthur chuckles and teases Barry as he follows him. Clark rolls his eyes and looks back at you. Giving you one last kiss as he makes his exit.
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The war is over for you Mr Bond
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Witcher noir may be the best witcher au
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Are there bigger things to get upset about? Of course. Still, it sucks to see the versions you love apparently shoved to the side.
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If anyone is interested in using these headers, feel free!! 🥰
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Henry Cavill photographed by Ben Watts for Men’s Journal, 2016.
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Word Count: 1187
Warnings: language, implied/vaguely explained mental health issues, implied self-harm, self-inflicted wounds, angst, Sy just being nice, hurt/comfort (sort of), bandaging wounds
A/N: I don’t know where I’m going with theses ideas lately. Would anyone want more of these?
Taglist : @amberangel112 @utterlyhopeful-fics @connieisland
Sy walked into the gym at an ungodly hour on Tuesday morning, expecting to be the only person there except for the owner of the small establishment. He was surprised to find that not only was someone else training, but that person was blasting heavy metal through the gym’s speakers. Nodding to Mr. Miller at the reception desk, Sy scanned the plastic pass on his keychain and crossed through the second set of doors into the training area.
At the far end of the room, a young woman was sparing bare-handed on a punching bag with what looked like surprising intensity for five o’clock in the morning. A timer sitting on the ground behind her buzzed, the lights on the small device going from yellow to red.
The woman only paused for a second, bracing both hands on the top of the bag before jumping up, wrapping both legs around the bag and holding her weight up with only the compression strength of her thighs. She released her hands and began doing sit-ups in rapid succession.
“I thought the point of the red light was to take a break.”
“Fuck!” The woman startled, falling to the ground with a loud thud.
“Oh shit!” Sy ran to her side, kneeling on the thin mats next to her.
The woman began to cough from deep within her chest, rolling onto her side before pushing herself into a seated position with a loud groan. She continued to wheeze for a few more breaths before regaining control and inhaling more easily.
“I didn’t need a break,” she muttered, moving to the timer to switch it off as a piercing beeping and green light indicated the beginning of the next round. “Didn’t think I’d be bothering anyone. I’ll get out of your way.”
She walked towards an open duffle bag, pulling out a towel and a black zip front hoodie then moved to disconnect her phone from the audio system. The gym gave patrons a lot of freedom whenever there were only a few customers around. Sy himself usually played his own music when he came in for his morning workouts.
“I have to say, I’m surprised to see another early-bird here, but I don’t mind sharin’.”
“It’s fine, I’ll just—” her sentence was cut off by a sharp hiss when the back of her hand rubbed against the inside of her sleeve as she put on her sweater.
“That don’t look too good. Come ‘ere.”
“I’m fine, really,” she dismissed, zipping up the bottom half of the hoodie to cover her exposed stomach. Sy briefly glanced down her body to her bare legs which, although they didn’t have any open wounds, looked as bruised as her fists.
“Yer not leavin’ here with yer hands lookin’ like that. C’mon. Sit,” he ordered.
Sy dropped to the ground next to her, crossing his legs and opening his own duffle from which he extracted a plastic zip top bag full of medical supplies.
"What are you, a boy-scout?" she asked attempting to deflect the attention. She begrudgingly sat in front of him and offered one of her hands as he produced a roll of bandages and disinfectant wipes.
"Close — a retired soldier."
Sy began wiping away the dried blood that had dripped down her wrists before taking a fresh wipe to clean the open skin. The women winced, but otherwise remained completely still.
"I get the feelin' this didn't happen in just one or two rounds,” Sy commented, trying to encourage her to talk. He peeked up from the hand he was cleaning to see the woman turn her head away. She raised her knees to her chest, holding them with her free arm.
"You wanna talk about what's eatin' ya?"
"Why would you care?" she countered weakly, still shying away.
"I don't,” he declared. “That's exactly what makes it feel s’good. Haven't you ever spilled yer guts to a complete stranger and never seen 'em again? It's surprisingly therapeutic."
"What about familiar strangers? ‘Cause I've seen you here before which means I'll probably see you here again."
"I won't tell if you don't," he offered, managing to meet her eyes for the first time since they sat down. They studied each other briefly but she soon directed her gaze elsewhere.
"I couldn't sleep,” she confessed after a long silence. “That's why I’m here. Around 1:30 I knew it wasn't gonna happen, so I came in to run. After an hour I started doing drills. Then by 4:00 I started on the bags."
"Does this happen a lot?" he asked.
"Not being able to sleep?"
"Trainin’ ‘till ya bleed," he corrected, a certain weight making its way into his words.
"If training until I bleed is the worst I do to myself when I can't sleep, I call it a win,” she admitted quietly.
Sy tried not to react to her last statement, focusing on placing the clean bandage over her knuckles. Despite his air of indifference, he listened intently to every word. He was no stranger to personal struggles, having helped many of his men through their deployments and living through a few of his own after being honorably discharged.
“Should I be lettin’ ya leave here alone?”
“I thought you said you didn’t care.” She leaned her chin on her knees, staring somewhere in the distance.
“That don’t mean that I don’t wanna do the right thing.” He finished her right hand and gently reached for the left, repeating the process from the beginning.
“Anything specific keepin’ ya awake?”
“I’ve struggled with sleep all my life. I was taking something for a while, it helped with the other stuff too, but I lost my job and my insurance when my employer went under.” Her face fell into a frown, looking embarrassed. “I haven't been able to afford getting the prescription since. Ol’ man Miller was a friend of my dad's so he lets me come in for free whenever I can't sleep."
Sy nodded in understanding. "You still out of a job?"
"I found something new, but I don't get insurance ‘till I’ve worked at least 25 hours a week for six consecutive months."
“Dang, that sucks.” There was a pause as he riffled through his supply bag. "How do ya manage it? Workin’ without gettin' any sleep."
She scoffed, shaking her head to herself. "I drink my weight in coffee and I power through."
"I'd reckon that does more damage than ‘em bags do." Sy lifted his chin towards the area where the punching bags were suspended.
“You’ve probably had your own fair share of sleepless nights being in the army and all,” she shrugged.
“Guess yer right ‘bout that.”
Sy put the finishing touches on the wrappings, smoothing his thumbs over the back of her hand.
“Okay, yer all set.”
“Thanks,” she whispered, pulling her hand away after a few awkward seconds.
Sy watched as the woman stood, lifting the strap of her duffle over her shoulder, and leaving the gym without another word. He really hoped he hadn’t made the wrong decision by letting her walk away.
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Here’s Henry xx
Famers, please follow and give a warm welcome to Henry Cavill! (above)
Please unfollow Elsa Hosk (linked)
*Elsa is now open for applications
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Modern witcher art is my jam
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Professor Syverson x you
Part 2. Continuation of this hihi. But could be read alone I guess?
Warning: Yes. Just yes. Mention of oral (f receiving) kinda nervous to post this cuz I never written anything smutty before😳
A/N: could not let this go. So, part 2! 👀
The last two weeks had been torture. Sitting in professor Syverson’s class twice a week, but never having a chance to see him after class like the first time. That time, he had made sure there were new marks on your body and you had been sore for days. Never you could look at that desk in the lecture hall the same ever again.
Right now, you were looking at that exact same desk. Professor Syverson was explaining something, but you weren’t paying attention at all. All you could think of was the way he had bend you over that desk.
Suddenly the students around you started packing their bags. Hopefully you look at the front of the lecture hall, but hope soon vanished as you noticed multiple students lining up in front of the desk, eager to ask professor Syverson questions. Signing you collected your belongings, and started to leave until you heard a deep voice calling your last name.
“I need to see you in my office. I have a few questions about your assignment. Meet me there in 30,” professor Syverson said. The mischievous look in his eyes told you he had no questions about the assignment at all.
“Yes professor,” you replied quickly. Hastily you left the room, and followed your friends outside.
The next 30 minutes went by slowly, too slowly. You sat outside, in the sun, with your friends. You were happy you decided to wear a sundress that day. Well, you had decided to wear dresses the days you had his class. To tease him.
Usually you sat in the far back of the lecture hall, but no, not in his class. The second time you had his class, you sat at the front, in your dress. Making sure he had a good look of your lacy panties every now and then. Professor Syverson had glared at you for that, almost scolding you with that look. But it was precisely the reaction you were hoping for.
Maybe today you had reached the limit, and he was about to do something about your teasing. That was all you were hoping for. With all the assignments and things you had to do, all you wanted was to let him rail you good. To let go of all the stress and tension. He was the only one capable of that.
You said goodbye to your friends and quickly made your way to his office. You knocked on the thick wooden door twice, and heard a muffled ‘yes’ as a reaction.
“You wanted to see me professor?” you said as you opened the door and walked inside. The musky scent of the old furniture and books mixed with professor Syverson’s cologne and sweat filled your nostrils.
“Come in and close the door.” You closed the door behind you, and was about turn around to face him when professor Syverson continued speaking. “Lock it.”
Goosebumps spread over your body while You quickly locked the door. You turned around and looked him in the eyes. His pupils were dark and he was breathing heavily. He was sitting in a large brown leather chair, legs spread wide, hands resting on his thick thighs.
The sight of him made you nearly moan, but you suppressed it by biting your lower lip. You stood in front of his desk, dropping your bag to the floor.
“You had questions about the assignment I handed in the other day, professor?” you asked, empathizing on professor. You knew he didn’t call you in here for the assignment, yet you choose to tease him a little bit.
“I said, come here,” he stated sternly. Slowly you walked around the large desk, noticing it had been cleared of papers and clutter. You came to a stop in front of him, filling the space between his spread legs. A shiver ran down your spine as he looked you up and down.
“You started wearing these dresses on purpose to my class aren’t you? You thought I wouldn’t notice?” Professor Syverson said and played with the hem of your dress.
A grin formed on your face, and you tried to look away from his piercing eyes.
“Eyes over here sweetheart,” he said and with one smooth movement he stood up. Trapping you between his chest and the desk. His hands around your waist, your hands found their way to his chest. Professor Syverson was wearing a white dress shirt, it was a bit too tight but that’s how you liked it.
He lifted you up, so you were sitting on the desk. A small gasp left your mouth, which made him grin. His mouth was inches away from yours, you thought he was about to give you a mind blowing kiss until you two were interrupted by a knock on the door.
“Professor Syverson? Do you have a moment? I’d like to discuss the work of a student,” Professor Stuart said from the other side of the door.
A heavy sigh left professor Syverson mouth. You could see he was annoyed. “Come back in an hour, I’m in an important meeting.”
Professor Stuart muffled an ‘okay’, and you two heard footsteps shuffle away.
Professor Syverson had rest his hands on your thighs, unaware of the pressure he was giving. He was kneading the soft flesh of them roughly, like he needed a way to let go of his annoyance. You made soft whimpers, making his eyes shot up.
Professor Syverson sat down again, taking his hands of your thighs, and grabbed one of your feet instead. Not very gracefully he took your sneaker off, and the other as well. He threw them on the floor and placed your feet on his thighs. His hands slowly travelled their way up from your calves to your thighs.
The air in the room was thick, silent, but full of desire. His chest puffed up and down, and you could tell this man was not going to be patient with you for much longer.
“The reason I called you in here is ‘cause I’m hungry. So be a good girl, and let me take those panties off,” he growled. You bit your lower lip, and nodded. Professor Syverson hands found the waistband of your panties, ripped them down your legs and put them in his pocket.
His warm hands spread your thighs, giving him a good look of your wet slit. You were basically dripping on his desk.
“Well, you better start eating if you don’t want me to spill it on your desk,” you said.
“Good thing I’m starving,” he replied and started placing kisses on your thighs. He reached higher and higher, leaving you desperate for more.
“Please,” you panted.
“Easy sweetheart, this meeting is supposed to last an hour. Let’s see how many times I can make you cum with my mouth,” he grinned.
The mischievous look in his eyes and smug grin told you he wasn’t kidding. No, he was going to me sure you would not be able to walk straight of out his office. You might need to hide under his desk for the rest of the day.
Before you knew it, professor Syverson was dealing with his appetite and you were making a mess of his desk and beard.
taglist: @keanureevesisbae / @klaine-92 / @xxxkatxo / @stxlemate / @oddsnendsfanfics / @amberangel112 / @seriouslygoodlookinggents / @sillyrabbit81 / @pixie88 / @cynic-spirit / @rn7rocks / @daddys-littlewhitegirl rl / @little-brattyangel / @omgkatinka / @myloveforhenrycavill / @eldarwen333 / @kebabgirl67 / @mansaaay / @memoriesat30 / @marantha / @everleigh44 / @somethinginthewayiam / @themanfromu / @mis-lil-red / @saralsmoak I believe you’re @aerynscrichton now? / @m07belzen / @greensleeves888 / @1960memories / @legendarywizarddetective / @alexa-fangirl-forever / @kingliam2019 / @introvertedmouse / @irishprincess89 / @henrycavillisbae / @traceyaudette / @ysmmsy / @inanna999 / @absolutepie
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LIGHTS, CAMERA, ACTION!
WELCOME TO HOLLYWOOD, MEL, YOU’VE BEEN ACCEPTED AS HENRY CAVILL!
PLEASE BE SURE TO DO THE FOLLOWING:
Send us your account within 24 hours.
Have your FCs full name in their blog bio.
Be sure to have your ask box open.
Message the main to find out about any prior history.
OPTIONAL: Message the main to be added into our OOC Blog
Mel, she/her, 27, central
FC YOU WANT TO SWITCH:
FC NAME AND AGE YOU’RE SWITCHING TO:
GENDER YOUR NEW FC IDENTIFIES WITH AND PRONOUNS:
NEW FC OCCUPATION:
He’s gonna be Martha hunts baby daddy
WHO ELSE DO YOU PLAY IN THE ROLEPLAY:
chris, tom hardy, travis kelce, stephen amell
HAVE YOU WAITED A WEEK SINCE YOUR LAST PICK UP/SWITCH?
HAVE YOU MESSAGED THOSE YOU HAVE PLOTS WITH BEFORE THIS SWITCH?
i dont think so
im making a new blog!