Summary: Your boss, Henry Cavill, is CEO of a company that changes lives. He is also a bit of a jerk. None of that stops you from being in love with him. And he with you.
Pairing: Ceo!Henry Cavill x reader au
A/N: I think Henry Cavill is a beautiful man, idc, idc. He is the faceclaim to my fantasies. Today. Big props to @nissaimmortal for tolerating my lust in her inbox and giving advice. Here it is. Read, react, alladat, please. :) I am fed through your interactions, so please like, comment and reblog. I live for that shit.
Warnings: 18+ Only, Minors DNI. Read at your own risk. Smut! Idiots in love, slow burn, mutual pining, age gap. Angst, a tinge of lonliness, no work/life balance, jerk Henry, slightly insecure, but smart reader. Jealous Henry, references to male masturbation, wild thoughts on both of your parts, references to oral sex (f receiving), whoo boy, the kiss. And the challenge.
I no longer have a taglist. Please follow @rampitupandread and turn on notifications to learn when I post! 😘
I Do NOT Consent to my work being reposted, translated or presented on any other blog or site other than by myself.
------
You never meant for this to happen.
You were just practicing self care in the season of love.
The flowers weren’t for anyone but you, a way to remind yourself that you were worth it, even if no one else thought that.
You knew the office would be flooded with bouquets today, desks overflowing with flowers, cards, and candies. It was the one happenstance of your first whirlwind month on the job that stuck with you.
You vowed that your desk wouldn’t be empty this year, and no one would look at you with pity while asking you what you were doing that night.
So you sent flowers to yourself.
They were nothing dramatic, just some pretty little pink peonies and roses with a card that you’d written to yourself.
But Henry, your boss, your gruff, frustrating, inspiring, six-foot-two, broad-shouldered, dark haired, storm-eyed asshole of a boss, apparently, didn’t see it that way.
—--
You’d worked for Henry for a little over 14 months, and there had been a tension between you since your interview when he just sat there and stared at you as if you were some alien sent from a distant world.
Despite that, he grilled you about your personal vision, told you he admired your qualifications and you were hired.
What ensued was a year of hard, but gratifying work with a company that valued diversity and helping the planet. Henry Cavil was the CEO of that company, and as his assistant, you weren’t just a glorified secretary.
You were right-hand to changing the world.
Henry seemed to care for nothing but work, and was professional to the point of extreme with you, even when you two worked late and long hours side by side.
Holidays were unimportant to him, weekends were just another day, and he didn’t seem to notice that you might feel differently.
You didn’t, but it would have been nice to have been asked.
It would have been nice if he noticed you as a human, if he asked about your family, what you liked to do in your free time....Whatever that was.
And sometimes, you looked up to see him looking at you as if he were going to ask about one of those things, but in each instance, he just looked back down to what he was working on, continuing with the discussion at hand.
You let it slide, because being by his side was all that you wanted. Even if he just tolerated you.
Because you were in love with him. Since the moment before he offered you the job at the end of your interview.
You could help millions of people around the world, but you couldn’t help yourself from falling in love with Henry, a man at least ten years your senior who was emotionally unavailable.
You were a sad case.
Your boss was your secret obsession, the man who’d starred in your most delicious fantasies for far too long.
But Henry would never take a second look at you romantically.
You were doll-sized next to him, you’re too nerdy, too curvy, and too headstrong to be the kind of compliant arm candy that you heard he went for. You were destined to pine for your boss with the superhero looks, destined to be the sidekick in the romance of his life.
—---
Henry had been in torment for 14 months 12 days, and 7 hours, the moment you walked into his office for your interview. And he’d been in love with you for 14 months, 12 days, 6 hours and 45 minutes.
But he vowed that you should never know how he felt while sentencing himself to the daily torture of working side by side with you every day.
He tried to put you out of his head, but his favorite thing was to send you ahead of him to meetings and to fall in behind you on the long walk to the boardroom, your sumptuous ass giving him lots of spank bank material.
Every night he went home to shower, fuck his hand, and paint the tiled wall with copious amounts of spend as he thought of the way you looked that day and your adorable little quirks:
The faint smiles you gave him when you thought he wasn’t looking.
How you nibbled on that fucking sexy bottom lip when you were deep in thought and gazing at him, or hunched over your laptop and typing away.
The way that you walked, those tempting curves of yours that made him ache to throw you over his shoulder and have his way with you.
Henry had ordered you the finest oak desk that he could find during your first week on the job. The glass one in the office was fine, but would be a bit flimsy in the off chance that he should throw you over it and eat you out until his jaw was sore and until your voice grew hoarse from screaming his name.
You’d been the fire in his blood for the entire time he’d known you, and he couldn’t help himself from being irretrievably under your spell.
But instead of telling you that, for the last 14 months, he'd settled for every minute that he could wring from you for work, because there could never be anything more than that.
—---
This evening, Henry had stopped in your office doorway with menus for dinner, when he saw the flowers and crossed his arms over his huge chest.
Your eyes slid down his form, noticing how the sleeves of his crisp white button down strained around his biceps, the vest he was wearing highlighted the thick inverted triangle of his body, and his dark slacks hugged his muscular thighs.
It should be illegal for him to look that fucking good, especially at this hour in the evening, on this night of love. You looked up at him, at his dark eyebrows drawn together over those piercing blue eyes, looking at the bouquet like it personally insulted him.
Then he looked at you.
There was heat in his gaze, something that made your toes curl in your heels, and for a moment you were frozen. Damn, he was hot, especially when he was perturbed.
"Who sent them?"
His deep voice was low and calm, but there was a dangerous edge to his sexy ass British accent. Goosebumps raised on your skin.
You were caught between confusion and a being flustered from direct attention from him. He usually avoided eye contact and more than a few grunts at a time, so this was new.
Henry was always intimidating, but tonight, he was also extra attractive, with his tie loosened, his white dress shirt unbuttoned at the collar, his dark curls slightly messy as if he'd been running his hands through it.
Oh, and it didn’t help that his jaw was clenching and his blue eyes seemed to be burning.
"Excuse me?" you asked, keeping your voice as neutral as possible.
You were tired, but there was a deadline to meet, despite the fact that this was a night for lovers.
You two were the perfect pair to still be at work, because you were the furthest thing from romantics. You and Henry were workaholics, dedicated to your job, with no time for love.
Henry’s gaze flicked to the small card nestled between the flowers.
You knew exactly what it said.
You are desirable. You are unforgettable. You deserve to be loved the way you love others.
A self-affirmation just for you. Something no one else was supposed to see.
But when Henry read it, he mistook the meaning.
"So who is he?"
His look was dark and his eyes were stormy, causing your stomach to drop.
"What?"
Henry’s fists clenched at his sides.
"The person who sent these. The one who wrote you that."
His voice dropped lower, like he was trying to hold back something.
"Who. Is. He?"
You realized that he thought you had someone. And he sounded jealous. But that would be…
No. It was impossible.
Your pulse became erratic with the thought
Henry was always particular: demanding, impatient, exacting. But he was also never unfair and never once let you fail. He always pushed you to be better and gave you glowing performance reviews, even when his actions conveyed that you were the most frustrating person on the planet to him.
You always assumed that he just tolerated you. That you annoyed him. But at the moment, he looked like a man barely holding himself together because he thought someone else had sent you flowers.
This was a development.
Before you could respond, Henry stepped closer to you. You tilted your head back to gaze up at him towering over you, broad and built like a damn brick wall. One that you wanted and needed to climb.
"You didn’t answer me," he murmured, voice rough. Boy, those eyes could chill you to the bone.
"Why do you care?"
You were perturbed now, and it was clear in your response.
Henry’s jaw ticked and something flashed in his eyes, there and gone too quickly for you to analyze.
“Careful, Little One.”
He’d never called you that, so you cocked your head with curiosity and watched as he sat on the edge of your desk, hiking his pants up on his legs, showcasing his massive thighs, and yes, the long, thick rod between them.
Your eyebrows shot up and your eyes went wide, too surprised at his words and actions to pull the well-practiced mask over your features.
Henry caught you looking, but you didn’t catch the way his mouth hooked up in a half smile at your reaction.
You licked your lips and watched as his hand moved slowly upward, until he was brushing his fingers over the petals of one of the roses. The act felt intimate, like he was imagining something else beneath his fingertips.
Or maybe you were the one imagining.
“You deserve to be loved the way you love others," he repeated, more softly.
He gazed at you, eyes blazing.
"And you think this guy, whoever he is, can give you that?"
Your throat went dry. You should’ve just told him the truth. But you didn’t.
Because you knew he was jealous. And he was about to lose it. And you wanted to see what happened when he did.
You chucked your chin up at him, a challenge.
"And what if he can?"
Henry knew he was pathetic because you were his employee, and he had no claim to you, no right to feel possessive at the thought of you with another man.
But that didn’t stop him from wanting to track down the mutherfucker that sent you those flowers and beat him to a bloody pulp. And that didn't stop him from wanting to grab you and kiss you until you realized that you were fucking his.
That you’d always been his, from the moment you first looked him in the eye.
The air between you crackled with energy as his entire body tensed as he stood up again, those massive hands curling into fists like he was restraining himself from something. His jaw flexed, his breath deepened, and he reached out for you, hand on your waist, drawing you in to press you against his very solid body.
And then Henry’s mouth was on yours, hot and demanding and so fucking perfect that you couldn’t think, couldn’t breathe, couldn’t do anything but give in.
You grunted in surprise as his full lips pressed on yours and his delicious tongue slid inside your mouth. All of your senses came alive in a cacophony of sight, taste, smell, and sound. And of course, touch.
You let yourself melt into his kiss, reaching up and tugging at the soft curls rioting over his collar, and then he pulled back, panting. His hand came up to wipe the moisture from your lips with his thumb, which he then inserted into his mouth and kept eye contact with you as he suckled his digit.
You imagined those lips doing the same to various points on your body and you nearly swooned, especially when he pulled his thumb out with a plop and then released you.
Henry stepped back, baring his teeth in a dangerous smile.
Your mind was scrambled, but you knew one thing for certain: Henry was attracted to you. Just as much as you were attracted to him.
Who would have thunk?
Henry adjusted his cuffs, highlighting those distracting veins on the back of his hands. He nodded at the flowers, then at you, a dangerous smile on his lips.
"Hope he’s ready to compete," he murmured, leaving you stunned.
“Get your coat, we’re going out to dinner tonight.”
And then he walked back into his office, leaving you staring after him, heart slamming against your ribs, lips feeling swollen and bruised from the kiss.
You had no idea what those flowers just unleashed in him.
A/N: Henry Cavill is a beautiful man, idc, idc. He is the faceclaim to some of my fantasies. @nissaimmortal may have not so innocently fed me one line and here I am, feral. Hope you like it! Feed me through reblogs, comments, and likes. Also asks are fun!
Warnings: 18+ Only, Minors DNI. Read at your own risk. Smut! All mistakes my own. Employer/employee dynamic, age gap, reference to annual gyno exam, masturbation, contraceptive talk, a little bit of angst, rom-coms, mutual masturbation, dirty talk, heavy breeding kink, rough, raw p-in-v, begging kink, threat of orgasm denial, degradation and praise, did i say breeding kink? Talking you through it, creampie, cum kink, is she or isn't she?
I no longer have a taglist. Please follow @rampitupandread and turn on notifications to learn when I post! 😘
I Do NOT Consent to my work being reposted, translated or presented on any other blog or site other than by myself.
------
You were knee-deep in the finishing touches of an important project, but there was no avoiding it, you needed to go.
Henry’s brows knitted together as he looked up from his notes when you rose from the conference room table.
“Sorry, Boss. I have my annual appointment at lunch today. I’ve put this off for months, so I really have to go.”
You patted his shoulder, squeezing it lightly.
“I put in your lunch order. Make sure you eat, Henry.”
His lips curled into a small smile as he removed his reading glasses, eyes soft.
“Of course. You must attend to your health. And yes, Dear.”
You grinned at his endearment.
“Good thing you haven’t beaten up my box lately. Wouldn’t want Dr. Hutchins to ask what we’ve been up to.”
You winked, pressing a quick kiss to his cheek before turning to leave. His raised eyebrow and smirk followed you out the door. Henry watched you go, eyes trailing your body as you hurried to the elevator.
You had both been drowning in work lately, too exhausted for anything beyond curling up together at the end of the day. Yet, as he sat there, a flicker of anxiety stirred inside him. You were younger. Your relationship was still new.
Would you want a family? And if so, would you want one with him, a man old enough to be their grandfather? He shook off the thought and refocused on the task at hand.
A couple of hours later, your text lit up his screen.
Had to have my IUD out.
Two more weeks until the other method kicks in.
So we’ll have to wait a little longer or use condoms. And be very careful.
Henry swallowed hard. He hadn’t even been thinking about sex, until you told him not to. Now it was all he could think about. He’d been fucking you raw for a while now and he didn’t think he could go back and the thought of going back to barriers made something inside him rebel.
Still, he was a gentleman. He could control himself. He responded to you, quickly.
Whatever is needed. We can watch a movie tonight. You pick.
Goody! 50 First Dates.
Splendid.
A mindless rom-com would be the perfect distraction. Or so he thought.
Later, as you curled up beside him on the couch, his self-control began to unravel. You nestled against his arm, warm and soft, pressing absentmindedly into him. Your scent filled his lungs, intoxicating and familiar.
Henry tried to focus on the screen, but his mind drifted to the last time he’d had you. How your perfect pussy gushed just right for him. You were so hot and tight. He tried to stop, but he kept thinking of the smell of you, and how perfectly you fit around him, how your body trembled in his hands.
Before he knew it, his hand was on your thigh, squeezing.
You turned, eyes meeting his, and smiled. A slow, knowing smile. Leaning in, you kissed his cheek, but he was already turning toward you, capturing your lips in a deep, hungry kiss.
Within moments, you were tangled together, heat surging between you as you pressed into each other. His hands roamed under your shirt, his cock aching to be inside you.
“Bloody hell. We are grown adults,” he muttered, breaking the kiss.
You were breathless, hair tousled, eyes dark with want. When your gaze dropped to the outline of his erection, he groaned.
A wicked glint flashed in your eyes as you ran a slow hand down your body, teasing.
Henry exhaled sharply, then stood, tugging his shirt over his head in one fluid motion. Your breath hitched as his thick, muscular torso came into view.
Then, without a word, he shoved down his jeans and underwear, his cock standing thick and heavy. Your mouth parted slightly, eyes locked on him.
He smirked and stepped back, sitting across the room with his thick thighs spread, fisting himself lazily.
“I want you to stay right there and touch yourself,” he said, voice low and commanding.
“While I sit here and watch you.”
A pulse of heat shot through you.
Oh, fuck.
Your response was a quiet, breathless, “Yes.”
You stripped off your tank top and leggings, your fingers teasing over your flushed skin. One hand toyed with a hardened nipple while the other slipped between your thighs, circling and teasing your cunt.
“Let’s just say I was going to put my cock inside you right now,” Henry gave himself a slow stroke and a bubble of precum rolled down his fingers as he showed you what he was working with.
You ached for the stretch only he could give you.
“What would you want you to do, love?”
That question short circuited your brain.
“I’d want you to fuck me from behind over the back of this couch.”
Henry didn’t reply, but his mouth opened and he stroked faster.
You leaned against the armrest of the couch and spread you knees wider, focusing on finger fucking yourself. You slid in a second digit to try and replicate the extra fullness of his cock, but it was nowhere close. Henry chuckled.
“You know you need another.”
You stuffed a third finger inside yourself and he rewarded you.
“Good girl,” he murmured.
Your toes curled against the cushions and his eyes and his voice and the vision of him were edging you toward your orgasm. You closed your eyes and prepared to fall, when suddenly, strong hands gripped your waist, lifting you effortlessly, bending you over the back of the couch.
At this point, nothing else mattered.
You needed him inside you.
Henry pressed his cock against your slick entrance, his voice a deep, guttural growl.
“I’ve been saving my cum for days now,” he murmured, nudging against you.
“Waiting for a chance to fill you so full it’ll drip down your thighs.”
The image alone sent you spiraling.
“God, Henry. Please,” you whimpered, pressing back against him.
He chuckled darkly.
“Hmmm, Little One. I don’t know if you want it bad enough yet.”
He teased you as his cockhead popped inside you.
“And what if you get pregnant?”
Your body jolted at the thought.
You shifted, trying to take more of him, but his grip was firm, controlling. Each tiny movement sent sparks of pleasure rippling through you. You were reduced to begging, which he loved.
“Please, Henry,” you gasped. “I’ll do anything… just fuck me.”
A deep, satisfied groan rumbled from his chest.
“You’re desperate for this, aren’t you?”
“Yes,” you choked out.
“Say it, Little One.”
Your hips rocked involuntarily, seeking relief, and he grinned.
“I’m a cock-hungry slut,” you whispered, the words sending a fresh wave of heat through you.
Henry’s laughter was low and full of dark promise.
“Not yet, my little fucktoy.”
You nearly sobbed in frustration.
“You really need my cum inside you right now, don’t you?” he taunted, voice velvet and steel.
Your body trembled. You were losing control.
“Fuck… yes… please.”
“You’re doing so well,” he crooned.
“Beg for it again.”
You couldn’t even remember what you said. Your mind was a haze of pleasure and need.
“I don’t—”
He cut you off with a sharp, punishing thrust.
You gasped.
“Changed my mind. I’m not waiting anymore.”
The world blurred as pleasure engulfed you. His hands on were your hips, his body owning yours completely. You barely registered his next words.
“Oh, and Little One?”
You whimpered in response.
“Don’t even think about coming until I say you can.”
The command sent a violent shudder through you.
Time seemed to slow as his pace grew relentless, his body slamming into yours with precision, purpose. You were nothing but sensation, drowning in him, gripping the cushions as your body tightened, coiled, ready to snap…
And then, he stilled.
“You want to know what’s going to happen?”
“What?” Your voice was barely a whisper.
Henry withdrew fully. Then slammed back into you.
“Oooooh, fuck!”
“I’m going to fuck a baby into you.”
His voice was pure sin.
“You’re going to be a beautiful, pregnant mess when I’m done with you.”
Your body clenched at his words, teetering on the edge.
“Yes,” you breathed.
He growled, yanking your hair back, his control slipping.
“My beautiful little slut,” he panted, thrusting deep. “Do you want my cum?”
The spikes of pleasure were too much, your body trembling on the precipice.
You knew you were going to come at any moment, but still, you managed to get it out.
“Yes, please… can I come?”
Henry’s grip tightened, his thrusts never faltering.
“I have one question first.”
Your fingers dug into the cushions.
“Please just let me comeeee!”
Henry waited, delivering two more deep, devastating strokes for your sass. You were on the verge of losing your mind.
“Are you,” he growled, punctuating each word with a thrust, “my fucktoy… that I can use… however I want? To fuck and to fill with my cum…to breed how I see fit?”
Your breath hitched as you realized that Henry really could do whatever he wanted to you right now, and you’d beg for more. You opened your mouth to say yes, but hesitation cost you.
He yanked your hair back harder and smacked your ass hard. You yelped in pleasure/pain.
“Answer me.”
“Yes, Henry! I’m yours!”
The words spilled from your lips, raw and desperate, and the second they left your mouth, your body shattered. Blinding pleasure overtook you, ripping through your limbs and curling your toes. Your moans melted into breathless whimpers as you bucked and shuddered through your release.
Henry didn’t stop. He drove into you, prolonging your ecstasy, dragging out every aftershock until your body was nothing but sensation. Then, with one final thrust, he stilled.
A deep, guttural roar tore from his throat as he came, his body jerking against yours. The thick, pulsing heat of his release flooded you, sending another tremor through your overstimulated body.
This was what you’d been waiting for. What you both craved. The thought of him emptying himself inside you, filling you, claiming you, almost pushed you over the edge again.
You moaned softly as he grinded against you, savoring every last drop. He stayed buried deep, thrusting lazily, fucking his cum further inside while your body milked him dry.
For a long moment, he stayed there, his weight pressing you into the cushions. You shivered beneath him, but there was something grounding about his warmth, the way he kept you close.
Finally, he pulled out, and just as he promised, your combined fluids began to trickle down your thighs. Henry watched, utterly transfixed, then bent down and effortlessly lifted you into his arms.
“Now,” he murmured, pressing a kiss to your temple, “let’s get you cleaned up. So we can do that again.”
You twined an arm around his neck as he carried you into the bathroom, setting you down and ensuring that you were steady before letting you go.
As he turned on the shower, his gaze flicked to the sink, where the box for your diaphragm sat.
A slow, wicked smirk tugged at his lips.
“Always prepared, aren’t you, Little One?”
You flashed him a playful smile.
“Well… I was going to put that in later. But you caught me by surprise.”
His eyebrow arches as he eases you under the steaming water. He wasn’t sure if you were telling the truth or indulging in the kink.
“That’s good,” he purred, hands sliding over your slick skin.
“Then we can breed you again, my love.”
You shuddered with anticipation as you stood on your tiptoes to press your naked, wet body against his.
Summary: Your boss, Henry Cavill, is CEO of a company that changes lives. He is also a bit of a jerk. None of that stops you from being in love with him. And he with you. What does he do when you tell him you have a date for the lover's holiday?
Pairing: Ceo!Henry Cavill x reader au
Word count: 3.4 K
A/N: I think Henry Cavill is a beautiful man, idc, idc. He is the faceclaim to my fantasies. Today. Big props to @nissaimmortal for tolerating my lust in her inbox and giving advice. I also took a little bit of advice from @blackpinup22 . This second part is...kinda filthy? Sorry not sorry. Read, react, alladat, please. :) I am fed through your interactions, so please like, comment and reblog. I live for that shit.
Warnings: 18+ Only, Minors DNI. Read at your own risk. Smut! Idiots in love, slow burn, mutual pining, age gap. Angst, white lies, Jealous Henry, veiled threats to a romantic rival, sucking his thumb in an elevator, vulgarities, sizeeee kinkkkk, sloppy, wet blowjob, masturbation, cum swallowing, praise kink, rough nipple play, sloppy oral (f receiving), fingering, raw p in v, creampie and confession time. Someone loses a job? Maybe? Possibly.
I no longer have a taglist. Please follow @rampitupandread and turn on notifications to learn when I post! 😘
I Do NOT Consent to my work being reposted, translated or presented on any other blog or site other than by myself.
-------
“Get your coat, we’re going out to dinner tonight.”
You were a smart woman.
Henry’s reaction to you getting flowers was unexpected, not just for you, but for him. And he was just trying to take back control now with this offer of dinner out.
You had something for him.
So you got your coat, and packed up your laptop, slinging the strap of the fine leather attaché across your shoulder as you walked toward his office door. It was a gift from Henry on your first day on the job, the Aspinal of London bag perched on an ergonomic chair behind a brand new oak desk when you walked in that first day.
You loved the desk, and you dragged your fingers along the rich grain of the wood as you neared him.
Henry was putting on his jacket and coat and adjusting his tie with a smirk on his face as you approached.
“I’m not going to dinner with you. I have plans,” you said with a straight face.
Henry’s smile fell.
“Cancel them.”
He grabbed his phone from his desk and stalked past you to the elevator. You followed, and could literally see the steam coming off his ears.
Henry was close to coming unglued. He did not plan on this today.
Did he have a claim on you?
Yes.
Were you aware of that claim?
No, but that had nothing to do with it.
“Can’t. It’s a date,” came your saucy reply.
That stopped him in his tracks. Henry turned slowly to face you as you looked up at the elevator indicator.
You could feel the heat radiating off of him.
“What the hell do you mean?”
You raised your eyebrow at him and then walked into the elevator, forcing him to follow you. You pressed the button and looked up again, ignoring Henry’s stare.
You had to admit you were enjoying this.
“You expect me to not have a date tonight, Mr. Cavill?”
Henry leaned against the elevator wall and crossed his arms. He considered what day it was.
“You didn’t last year.”
You looked at him, fire in your eyes.
“I was newly hired and when you said we were working late that day, I didn’t want to rock the boat that early.”
That was true, but you were also already smitten and wanted to spend the evening with Henry.
“But I’m done letting work take over my life. I need more, Mr. Cavill. I need a life.”
Henry huffed and then stood up straight. He was exasperated because couldn’t you see that you were his life? He thought about it.
Maybe you couldn’t see it because he never said it.
He moved closer to you, determined to make you understand. In the confined space, the proximity caused the hair on the back of your neck to rise.
“What about what happened back there in your office, Little One?”
His sexy murmur and that accent almost made you weak, but you remained strong, looking at him as if you didn’t know what he was talking about. But how could you forget?
The kiss.
You cleared your throat.
“I’m not sure what that was about.”
Your eyes looked at the elevator wall.
“You kissed me and then said something about a competition. Because I got flowers.”
“Because someone else sent you flowers. Out of the blue! In all the time we’ve worked together, not once have you mentioned a boyfriend or dating. So, who the hell is he?”
You gave him a side eye.
“I don’t need to tell you who I’m seeing, Mr. Cavill,” you said with a smirk.
“If you want him to have full use of his limbs, you will.”
Your eyes widened, and you took a step back.
“Cancel your plans. This guy, whoever he is,” he snarled, “can wait another day.”
Henry just wanted a chance with you. All that mattered was that you spend tonight with him.
“Did you just threaten my date?”
For some insane reason, that made you hot. Your nipples were tight and aching, and your pussy was slick and pounding.
You shook your head and looked back up at the elevator indicator, willing it to go faster. This lie of yours was getting more involved, and the pit of your desire was getting harder to crawl out of.
“Are you still planning to go out with him tonight?”
You just stared at him.
“This is not a competition, Mr. Cavill. This is my heart.”
His expression flickered, just for a second, then his jaw tightened, and he leaned in again, voice dangerously low.
“You think this is just about winning?”
You didn’t answer. Not right away. Because you weren’t sure you wanted to know what happened if the answer was no.
The air between you thickened, his question hanging between you. His eyes were holding you captive and you felt like you should look away, should deflect, but you couldn’t. Before you could think better of it, your breath stuttered.
Henry's eyes dropped to your lips again, the tension taut. He grabbed your hand, his fingers brushing against your wrist, just enough to send a shiver through you.
His control was slipping more and more, and as much as he didn’t like that feeling, he realized that maybe he loved you more.
He took in that serious pout, those beautiful eyes, and the luscious hips he wanted to hold on to as he made love to you. A slow smirk tugged at Henry’s lips as his eyes slipped over your ass pencil skirt and he licked his lips. He wasn’t trying to cover his salacious looks at you.
You needed to know that Henry’s baser instincts were about to take over.
He needed to show you, physically, how urgent this feeling was.
His mind was filled with visions of the two of you fucking like rabbits. In the office. In his penthouse. On a beach. Wherever he could find a flat surface, that’s where he would take you.
“Mr. Cavill, you can’t tell me when I can go out on dates and when I can’t. You’re my boss. Not my man.”
Your eyes shot fire at him. And damn you, the smirk that came over his face when you did that threatened to make you burst into flames.
“I’m going on my date tonight. I will enjoy the company of a man who’s interested in getting to know me. And then, maybe…”
You paused, allowing the silence to fill in the worst of Henry’s fears. Another man having what was his, at least in his mind. It was tearing him apart inside.
The elevator finally reached the ground floor and before the doors opened fully, Henry stopped them and then pressed the button for the penthouse.
You were so frustrated that you stamped your foot like a child when you looked up at him in fury as the elevator rose again.
“What the hell do you think you’re doing?”
Henry smiled down at you and advanced even further. Your stomach flipped and it was tethered to your pussy.
“So you’re planning to fuck tonight?”
You gasped as you backed up to the wall. Henry followed and put his hands on the railing on either side of you, caging you in.
“I don’t think that would be a good idea, Little One. Whoever he is, he’s not good enough for you. Never would have been able to handle you. Not in a million years.”
You shivered as he stared down at you.
“You don’t even know who he is?”
“Doesn’t matter. I know what I know.”
Your teeth captured your bottom lip and Henry looked at it lovingly, reaching up to pull it free, and then caress your chin.
Your mind couldn’t help thinking that Henry could handle you. You took a deep breath trying to clear your head, but his scent was surrounding you. And his warmth was beckoning.
Then, your cunt did the talking for you.
“And who do you think could handle me?”
Henry smiled then, eyes flicking down to your lips as his hand palmed the back of your head, his fingers threading to your scalp. His thumb was still on your lips.
“I think you already know the answer to that, Little One,” Henry whispered and you whimpered, earning a small moan from him.
“So what’s changed? Why now?”
“Seeing those flowers made me realize that I can’t stand the thought of you with anyone else. You belong with me, Little One. Only me.”
His possessive words sent a shiver through you. Part of you wanted to argue, to assert your independence. But another part thrilled at his desire for you.
You looked up at him as the tip of your tongue ventured out and lightly brushed the skin of his digit. You watched in real time as his eyes dilated, the beautiful multicolored blue changing to black.
“Fuck…”
Henry pressed his thumb further into your mouth and you sucked heartily, keeping eye contact as your tongue swirled around him and caused his half hard dick to stand at full mast. He pulled his thumb out with a plop and then rubbed the wetness around your lips.
Then he leaned down and licked it off of them before slipping his tongue into your open mouth, his hand coming up to fully palm your head now.
“You say you need a life. Now tell me you want to go out with some other man, or do you need me to show you what kind of life you could have?”
That dangerous eyebrow cocked as the elevator doors chimed open.
“Show me.”
Henry bared his teeth in a sinister smile and you knew that you were about to be ruined. He took your hand and led you down the hallway to his door, and you stood there as he input the code for entry.
Once inside, your coats were thrown off and your hands were all over each other as you tried to get skin to skin. You pulled his shirt out of his pants, he was bunching up your skirt to get to you, until you both stopped and laughed at the comedy.
“Let’s slow down a bit so we can get to the good parts,” you whispered, between quick wet kisses and gropes of Henry’s hands on your body.
His cock throbbed in his pants, demanding attention as it strained against the fabric.
“I don’t know if I can slow down my Little One. All that matters is sinking inside you and imprinting my name on your perfect pussy, which no other man will ever touch again. You belong to me; always have, always will.”
“Fuck, Henry!”
Henry took you in, flushed with desire, your pupils blown wide.
“Yes, yes. I am going to fuck you my angel.”
As Henry watched you get undressed, he rid himself of the rest of his clothes and then grabbed you, bridal style and carried you into his bedroom, setting you down in your bra and panties on the extra large king bed there.
You leaned back on your hands and watched with wide eyes as Henry took down his boxers, your mouth hanging open at the very large cock that he was hiding inside them. You bit your bottom lip as Henry smiled at your reaction and took himself in hand, stroking slowly as his large fingers encircled his considerable girth.
His glove size made sense now.
“I’m afraid I may not last long. Every night I stroke myself and imagine what it would feel like to be inside your tight warmth; whether you’d be a screamer or try to keep quiet, making pretty little noises in your throat; whether your nails would rake down my back. So many questions, Little One…”
You arched your back and ran your hand down your body. You could see precum bubble over Henry’s fingers when you put your hand in your panties and heard him moan. You stood and then kneeled in front of him, earning a straight out groan from your employer.
Your own private fantasies involved the show that was happening in front of you right now.
“We’ll figure out the answers together, but maybe I can help you out. Y’know, teamwork and all of that.”
You reached out and saw Henry’s shudder as you touched his warm, satiny smooth cock, trying, but failing to close your fingers around him. You moaned in your throat as you tried to jack him and his hand quickly came up to guide yours as he bent down to stick his tongue in your mouth in a filthy kiss.
“Been waiting so long for this moment. Little One. Open wide.”
He grins down at you.
“And tap my thigh if it’s too much.”
You sat back on your shins and opened up as Henry lubricated your lips with his fluid, then slapped your outstretched tongue with his heavy member. Your hand came up and weighed his balls, your spit dripping down them to the floor as he shoved his dick into your mouth.
You took as much as you could in your mouth and made eye contact for more. Henry grimaced as he slid cock past your tonsils into your throat. You carefully breathed through your nose and looked up at him.
“Those eyes, Little One. That mouth, that neck. Doing so well for me.”
You smiled around your full mouth and began to move, bobbing on him, making sure to pay special attention to his engorged head. Your combined fluids were everywhere as you jacked what you couldn’t fit in your hand and Henry’s head was alternating between hanging back between his shoulders and looking down at you, blue eyes gleaming.
“You gonna take my cum, Baby? Be a good girl for me?”
You reached forward and grabbed Henry’s ass, bobbing faster and humming around his girth.
“Holyyyyyyy fuck… Little One!”
Henry shot off and you gulped the only cum you ever wanted to swallow down your throat.
You collapsed back on the rug as Henry leaned down and easily picked you up to place you on the bed. He jerked the rest of his cum out of his still half-hard dick onto the juncture of your thighs, eyes full of delight.
“Thank you for that, love. Now I can do this properly. I’m about to make my intentions very, very clear. I thought our first time was going to be beautiful. And it is, but it will also be quite pornographic.”
Henry fingers were inside your panties, playing in the cum that soaked through to your clit, rubbing nasty circles around your throbbing bundle of nerves. You loved giving him that blow job. He looked up and down your body as he pulled your panties to the side.
“Henry…”
“So fucking beautiful. This pussy is so fucking perfect. Need to taste all of you, Little One.”
And with that, Henry leaned down and licked your nipple through the lace of your bra. When he found the ultra stiff peak there, he took it between his teeth as you writhed and moaned beneath him, then he turned to sucking you, hard, not waiting until his other hand deftly unhooked your foundation.
Your bra practically flew off as he handled your breasts roughly, spitting on them and then slurping up the saliva as he held eye contact and nibbled, licked, and sucked you to nirvana.
The moment he so much as touched your clit again, you flew apart in his hands, screaming his name.
“Yes. Yessss. Little One. Let me hear you scream my name. None other.”
You were busy trying to breathe, your back flat on the bed when you felt Henry’s hands tear your panties off, then clamp around your thighs and hold you open.
You felt his hot spit land on your clit and then his warm breath on you for a split second. You were overstimulated and so you tried to stop him from–
“He-Henry, Nouuuunnnnggggghhhhhh! Fuck that feels….”
You looked down to see Henry’s smile and his wide tongue doing unspeakable things to the seam of you. He licked a wide, wet, wonderful path from your ass to your clit and then latched on to destroy your soul.
“Good Godddddd!”
You arched up into his face and began to ride it, pulling on his curls as if they were some kind of magical reins.
His mouth ravaged you and when he inserted two thick fingers inside you, bent and scissored them, you squirted into his waiting open mouth.
You must have blacked out for a second, because the next thing you knew, Henry was standing and wiping his face with the back of his hand. His cock seemed even larger than when you sucked it. Your cunt wanted it, but your brain was frightened.
“That sweet pussy is all mine, Little One. No one else gets near it.”
You nodded, breathless, and agreeing to anything.
“Yes, Mr. Cavill, Sir.”
Henry grinned and eyed you.
“Such a good girl. Can’t wait to be inside you.”
He was stroking himself again, looking at your pussy as if it were gold.
“Promise to make you feel good.”
He looked in your eyes.
“You’ve already ruined me for any other woman.”
You blinked up at him as he descended between your legs.
He swiped his long, hard, thick length between your wet, swollen folds, making you whimper with ecstasy. You wrapped your legs around him, crossing your ankles at his back.
Henry pushed the head of his cock to your entrance and it slid in like a hot knife through butter. You moaned loudly, clenching him tightly with your inner muscles. He pushed slowly and steadily, letting you get adjusted.
You groaned and your eyes opened to see the corner of his mouth raised in a soft smile.
“I’ve got you, Little One.”
You nodded and took a deep breath because he was fucking huge. Henry slid a hand between you and began rolling your clit in mind-blowing circles.
Your body relaxed and accepted him.
“That’s it, love. Give it to me,” he rasped out before plunging his tongue into your mouth.
There was an orchestra of sensations as his tongue, his hand, his penis, worked together to fuck you and it felt like beautiful music. Your orgasm blossomed and exploded throughout your body.
You came in long, crashing waves that shook your body from head to toe, and yet he didn’t stop. He fucked you deeply, reaching spots you didn’t know existed, making you beg and praise and yes, rake your nails down his back.
At the end, you blacked out again, everything fading away but Henry.
—
Later, after turns in the shower and the bath, you finally had your romantic dinner in bathrobes in Henry’s breakfast nook, cartons of take out shared between you.
You look at Henry’s face, filled with a happiness you had never witnessed before and felt guilty.
“Henry. I’ve got to tell you something.”
Henry smiled at you angelically and raised an adorable eyebrow.
“You want to tell me that you never had another date. That you sent those flowers to yourself.”
Your mouth dropped open in amazement.
“How…?”
Henry grinned.
“I knew it the moment I read the card. The look on your face was classic.”
Then you got mad.
“So you let me…you ass!”
You hopped up, ready to retrieve your clothes and leave. But Henry caught you by the hand and pulled you into his lap.
“You were willing to push me to see what I would do. So I let you. It helped you to finally admit that you wanted me.”
Henry murmured down at you and you quieted, those eyes mesmerizing you.
“And it helped me too. I was able to finally show my feelings for you, Little One. Oh, how I love you.”
You smiled and reached up for his curls and pulled him down for a kiss.
“I love you too, Henry, but you realize there’s a problem, right?”
His smile faltered slightly.
“What problem?”
You sighed.
“Workplace relationships. HR nightmares. You’re my boss, Henry.”
“So?”
You arched your own brow at him, incredulous.
“So? You’re the one who follows the rules to the letter.”
He leaned back to get a better look at your face.
“Are you saying you want to quit?”
You gulped, “Well…”
It was Henry’s turn to sigh.
“If I fired you, there would be a severance package. But I don’t fire people without cause.”
Your lips twitched.
“And what if I gave you cause?”
The smile returns, slow and dangerous.
“Then I suppose you’d have to find a very compelling reason for me to let you go.”
You slid down to the floor, robe slipping off of your shoulders.
Summary: Your boss, Henry Cavill, is CEO of a company that changes lives. You and he changed your life when you both finally admitted how you felt for one another. Tonight, Henry takes you to the Opera.
Pairing: Ceo!Henry Cavill x reader au
Word count: 2.3 K
A/N: I think Henry Cavill is a beautiful man, idc, idc. He is the faceclaim to my fantasies. Today. Big props to @nissaimmortal for inserting her lust in my inbox and giving advice. Feed me through reblogs, comments, and likes. Also asks are fun!
Warnings: 18+ Only, Minors DNI. Read at your own risk. Smut! Employer/employee dynamic, age gap, masturbation, fingering, edging, orgasm denial, public sex acts, raw p in v. praise kink, breeding kink, squirting, creampie.
I no longer have a taglist. Please follow @rampitupandread and turn on notifications to learn when I post! 😘
I Do NOT Consent to my work being reposted, translated or presented on any other blog or site other than by myself.
-----
The knock at the door sent a shiver of anticipation down your spine.
You took one last glance in the mirror, smoothing the silk of your dress before making your way to the door.
The second you opened it, Henry was there, standing tall and incredibly handsome in his classic black tuxedo, the crisp bowtie and neatly folded pocket square adding a touch of effortless sophistication.
His dark curls, which were artfully tousled, framed his handsome face, and his strong jaw and piercing blue eyes held an allure that was both polished and rugged.
And those impossibly beautiful eyes swept over you with an appreciation so intense that it made your breath hitch.
A slow, wicked smile curved his lips.
"I was prepared to be impressed," he murmured, accent lilting as he stepped inside your door as if he owned the place.
That BDE was in full effect. And rightfully earned, you knew from delicious first hand experience.
"But this?”
Henry’s hand grazed your bare arm, causing goosebumps to raise on your skin.
“This is dangerous, Little One."
You tilted your head and raised your eyebrow, letting the compliment curl around you like Henry’s scent. A chord struck in your brain and you wanted to be naughty.
"And here I thought you appreciated a little danger."
Henry’s eyes traced the curve of your neck down to the cleavage that your gown elegantly displayed. He stepped forward into your space and you craned your neck so that your lips were available.
But instead of kissing you, he looked down, reached out, and fingered the high slit of your dress, his touch barely there, but potent.
"Oh, I do. But we have an opera benefit to attend. And if I linger here much longer…"
His voice trailed off, the promise thick in the air, as he leaned down and pressed his lips to your pulse point, earning a quiet whimper from you. Your nipples pebbled and you wanted to drop to your knees as Henry pulled back.
With a smirk, he offered his arm, leading you to the elevator. The moment the door shut you were facing off in the enclosed space and Henry’s eyes were all over you, taking you all in, but pausing several times at the tight nipples that your gown showcased.
You were a vision, a goddess, and he felt extremely fortunate to be in your company tonight.
His cock pounded in his pants and he licked his lips, then cleared his throat. He lifted his eyes to yours and ran his fingers around the collar of his shirt, as it suddenly became too tight.
“I want very much to ask if you are wet, but I can’t know the answer to that right now.”
“Oh.”
You lifted your hand to your neck and trailed it down your dress, stopping to circle your own nipple through the silken fabric, then continued down to the slit in your dress. You reached inside and fingered your pussy, collecting the wetness there.
Henry’s mouth dropped slightly open to gain air and his eyes dilated as you touched yourself, looking boldly in his eyes.
As you reached the bottom floor, you moved toward him and stuck your fingers in his mouth, and he wrapped those strong lips around them and sucked them hard.
Your pussy clenched down and you realized that you played yourself while you were trying to get him caught up.
Henry pulled off with a plop, and then extended that wide wet muscle of a tongue and licked your fingers again.
You wanted to cry.
“Hmmmmmm. Delicious. You’re not wearing any panties, are you, Little One?”
Henry’s eyes were lust blown, and you had to concentrate to breathe. Luckily, the elevator doors opened to give you more air.
“No, Sir.”
Henry held you in his glare of steel as his jaw clenched, then came close and placed his hand on your bare back, made possible by the low cut of your dress. He extended his hand before you.
“After you.”
Henry was the epitome of restraint.
You walked out of the lift through the lobby to the waiting car. After climbing in behind you, enclosing you in the intimate darkness of the leather-clad interior, Henry turned to you, his gaze burning.
"Do you have any idea what you are doing to me tonight? This dress, your skin, your taste? Your incredible verve. God, you make me feel so alive."
His voice was coffee and fire, rich and dangerously low.
“I swear that I’m going to make you feel a fraction of what you do to me. And it will practically burn the place down tonight.”
Your breath caught as he leaned in, his fingers tracing the curve of your thigh. His hand slid beneath the slit, fingers teasing, exploring, daring you to keep still. His long thick finger caressed the keyhole and the slit of you, teasing, but never quite reaching where you needed him to be.
The city lights flickered past, but all you could focus on was Henry, the way his lips hovered near your ear, his whispered promises dark and intoxicating.
“You’re so soft, wet and hot, and you’re all that I want forever, Little One.”
You reached over and felt the steel rod in his pants and he let you, but he kept you at arms length for the entirety of the drive, your soft whimpers and moans the most beautiful prelude to the evening’s events.
By the time you arrived, your pulse was unsteady, and your skin was flushed with barely restrained desire.
Henry, cool as ever, adjusted his cufflinks as if he hadn’t just unraveled you in the backseat of his car. He stepped out first, then offered his hand, his grip firm as he helped you onto the red carpet.
He led you into the grand entrance of the opera house, his dark eyes sweeping over you once more, this time with a knowing smirk. The chandeliers cast golden light over the room, illuminating the way his gaze lingered at the plunging neckline and the scandalous slit that teased just enough to make him scowl a little with disapproval now that you were around other people.
He didn't want anyone else to see you like this, beautiful with need. But then he smiled at you, wicked, dangerous.
“You’re breathtaking,” he murmured, stepping forward, his fingers grazing the bare skin of your arm as he leaned in.
His voice was a low hum, like a perfectly played overture.
“We should have skipped the opera altogether.”
A slow smile tugged at your lips as you met his gaze.
“And miss the performance?”
His fingers trailed lower, brushing the delicate silk of your dress.
“The only performance I’m interested in,” he whispered, “is the one where I have you gasping my name.”
Your pulse fluttered as he offered his arm, ever the composed gentleman despite the wicked promise he just made. He led you through the entrance, his touch possessive yet controlled, a stark contrast to the hunger you can already sense beneath the surface.
You passed acquaintances, and Henry introduced you as a consultant, a new title gained when you were let go of the company and formed your own. Your office stayed the same, right beside his, but your responsibilities and pay increased greatly.
Henry was ever the professional, and charming as he spoke, but the glances he gave you were unsettling.
You knew something was coming.
—----
When you were finally ensconced in Henry’s private box, the velvet of the balcony seat was plush beneath you, though it was nothing compared to the warm, firm pressure of Henry’s hand on your thigh.
The lights dimmed, and the orchestra swelled, a cascade of violins trembling with anticipation. Your breath caught as Henry’s fingers traced lazy circles just above the slit of your dress, his touch featherlight.
“This aria is breathtaking,” he stated lowly, lips dangerously close to your ear as he pulled your legs apart and settled his hand between them.
“But I can’t seem to keep my attention on the stage.”
You barely registered the soprano’s soaring notes as Henry’s hand slid higher, fingers grazing the silk at the juncture of your thigh and your hip. A low, slow burn rolled through you that had nothing to do with the grand romance playing out below.
“Henry,” you whispered, half warning, half invitation.
His lips quirked in amusement, but his fingers didn't stop until he reached the very apex of you. And all the while, he feigned that he was watching the stage.
You certain sure that what he was focused on was driving you mad.
“Shh,” his breath teased the sensitive skin of your neck as his fingers did the same to your wet and aching slit.
He found out just how wet you were as his fingers glided through your slippery pussy lips. You were on the verge of begging as he rocked his knuckle back and forth, never quite penetrating you, but making you dream dreams of him deep inside you.
“I need it.” You rushed, gaze locked on the stage as Henry looked lovingly at you.
“Need what, Little One?” Henry asked.
“Need you to finger me.”
Henry tsked and he pulled his hand away, turning away from you a bit. You wanted to cry and scream and beg for him to touch you again. He watched your agony for a moment then patted your thigh and rested his hand there.
You heated up all over again.
“Good girl. We wouldn’t want to cause a crescendo before the second act.”
A shiver coursed through you as the audience below sat in rapt attention, oblivious to the far more sinful performance unfolding in the shadows of Henry’s box. The forbidden thrill of it had your pulse racing, your breathing staccato.
Henry teased you for the better part of an hour, driving you as mad as Anne Boleyn. He drove you to the peak of your fulfillment, and then snatched you away from the crown jewels time and time again.
As the opera neared a crescendo, so too did Henry’s touch, his fingers stroking your wet and aching slit, and slipping your over-sensitive clit between his knuckles. He was playing you like a piano, and it made you want to sing.
“You’re trembling,” he murmured, pressing a slow, deliberate kiss just below your ear.
“Tell me… is it the music? Or me?”
You turned your head, lips inches from his, eyes dark with need.
“Both,” you admit.
“Please put your fingers inside me,” you begged.
Henry smiled, dark and knowing.
“Hmmmm. Let’s see if we can make this night end on a high note.”
The soprano held the final note that filled the grand hall. But nothing could compare to the symphony Henry played with your body. His digits slipped further, exploring you with slow, deliberate intent.
His touch turned demanding, each movement calculated as he coaxed you higher, unraveling you right there in the box. Henry's long thick fingers crooked and pressed deeper inside you, reaching that bundle of nerves, and made your body hug around his hand.
Tiny stings of pleasure dotted across your skin with your goosebumps and Henry sighed.
“Fuck you’re tight.”
His words made you topple over the edge into bliss, the risk of being discovered heightening every sensation. You barely suppressed a cry, fingers digging into Henry’s arm as your pleasure crested, wave after wave crashing through you.
He leaned in, his breath warm against your ear as he whispered, “Exquisite.”
Your breath was ragged, heart hammering against your ribs as you fought to stay composed. Henry withdrew his hand, smoothing the fabric of your dress with infuriating nonchalance.
“We should stay for the second act,” he mused, eyes flicking to the stage as if nothing had happened. You stared at him mutely, telegraphing your need.
“Or… perhaps you’d like a more private encore? I mean, it wouldn’t do to leave a puddle of my cum on the opera house floor.”
You whimpered at the image, but you stood, legs still unsteady, and barely able to suppress the smirk tugging at your lips.
Henry led you down the stairs and out of the opera house, and you didn’t know why you were surprised to see the car exactly where it was a little over an hour earlier. You brushed your body against his as he ushered you into the back seat.
As soon as the car started rolling, Henry’s cock was out and in his hand. Your attention was torn between his magnetic stare and the glorious organ in his fist.
“Climb on,” he gritted, and you didn’t hesitate to move.
You hiked your skirt up and positioned your legs on either side of his thick muscular thighs, trembling as he swiped the thick, swollen mushroom head of his cock through your sopping wet cunt.
“You drive me absolutely….mad! Fucckkkk!”
Henry gasped as you slid down his dick. He leaned back as you rose and fell on his thick shaft, coating his cock with your sticky, sweet fluid. His huge hand wrapped around your throat and held you in place while he drove up inside you, thumb on his other hand collecting your wetness as he tortured your clit again.
He pulled you down for a filthy kiss, the first of the night, and then smacked your ass. When he was done ravaging your mouth, he purred in your ear.
“This is the best pussy I’ve ever had. The hottest, the tightest, the wettest.”
You threw your head back and Henry took the opportunity to mark you up. After breaking capillaries on your neck, he growled at you.
“Cum one more time for me. My balls are so fucking full of cum from watching you in that box tonight. Gonna fill you so full of my seed Little One.”
One hand grabbed your slicked back bun and pulled your head back, making you arch for him, a feast for his eyes. His fingers travelled down your collarbone to your breasts and free them from the least restrictive neckline ever.
“But what if you get pregnant?”
He looked at you when you clamped down around him, eyes burning through your soul.
“Won’t it be amazing when you’re round and full of my child? I’ll be able to pull your sweet sustenance for my self. These beautiful breasts will be even more sensitive to my touch. Your curves even more bounteous and enticing.”
As his fingers and lips, tongue, and teeth teased your hard nipples, you picked up speed, your ass slapping against his thighs. You were breathless at his words, the epiphany of his sentiments such a turn on.
“Oh shit,” you moaned, cumming and holding on to him for dear life.
You wound your arms around Henry’s impressive shoulders as he pistoned into you until you released all over him and the fine leather seat, screamed his name, and shivered as his hot seed shot inside you.
“With this kind of performance and work satisfaction, you deserve more money for your services.”
“I hate you,” you chuckled.
Henry kissed your forehead as you fought sleep against his broad chest, his heartbeat lulling you into slumber, and him still half hard inside you.
You’d figure out how to get out of the car when you got to his place you thought distantly.
Steven Grant Rogers is Bucky Barnes' best friend and business parter in crime. He has decided to get out of the life with Bucky, not for love, but because it's the right thing to do. When Steve meets you at one of his businesses and lies to you about a myriad of things, It becomes a sticky situation, especially since the attraction you feel for one another is so sweet. Will you give up your grudge for love? Will it be a disaster, or the best thing that ever happened to both of you?
Part of the Bucky Barnes Knock You Down Series.
Read
I, II, III AFTER BB KYD You've Got Me thinking
IV, V, VI, VII 7.5 (The Matrimony)
Ties That Bind
Show Off
Pop Fly
Say Yes
Say Please
Read Everything In Order, Knock You Down and the Peach Fics.
Pairing: Art Collector (Mob Boss) Steve Rogers x Reader (Peach)
Summary: Steve learns to dance
Word Count: 298!
January Jumbles Scribbles Day 7 Prompt: "Do you love me now that I can dance?”
A/N: This is Prompt #7 of the #JanuaryJumblesScribblesChallenge. This is was so naturally a Peach Fic for me.
Warnings: 18+ Only, Minors DNI. Not Beta’d. Read at your own risk. All fluff, no smut! Mob Steve, dancing, love and marriage and baby. Peach and Steve. This one is for me. 🥰
------
Steve had first watched you dance in bad lighting and worse intentions.
You’d been on stage in that Atlanta club because you had a goal. Every shift another brick laid toward the dance school you were building. You moved with intention then.
You’d eloped months later to a little chapel in Connecticut, no guests, no fuss, just instinct and certainty with a promise you’d learn how to keep as you went.
Love first. Details later.
Now you were learning.
Salsa night had been your idea. Steve stumbling at first, you laughing, correcting him with patient hands. Until his body caught the rhythm. Until you stopped leading and started trusting.
Now, at your home, the music played low. Kit slept down the hall, finally worn out after fighting bedtime like it was a personal insult. The penthouse was quiet in that precious way that only came after chaos.
Steve swayed with you in the living room, your back to his chest, his hands sure at your waist. No stage. No audience. Just you two, watching the New York skyline
In sync.
The realization hit him hard enough to make his throat tighten. You’d chosen each other before you’d truly understood each other. And now, you were catching up.
He swallowed.
“Do you love me now that I can dance?”
What he meant was Do I fit into the life you dreamed of?
You turned in his arms and looked up at him, eyes warm and steady. Your hands slid up his chest.
“I loved you before you knew how,” you said softly. “I love you because you learned.”
Steve pressed his forehead to yours, smiling.
“I love you,” he said, now. “Because we’re moving together.”
Pairing: Art Dealer (Mob Boss) Steve Rogers x Reader (Peach)
Word count: 2K
A/N: @Seitmai along with others asked to see the wedding in this ask. Sweetie, I hope you like it. 😅
This fic is a Peach Fic and is connected to the Bucky Barnes Knock You Down AU, and IN THE MIDDLE OF the events in Peach VII. Your interaction is life so let me know if you like it by commenting and reblogging.
Warnings: 18+ Only, Minors DNI. SMUT. Read at your own risk. The proposal (naked) and the elopement (casual). References to marks left during sex, raw p in v, the elevator scene! Helicopter rides, a wedding officiant who is not amused, and the wedding! Not Beta'd. All errors my own.
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———
Steve…. looked like a little boy.
And then he asked you a very grown up question.
You leaned up on your elbow, the sheets of the hotel bed swirled around your body as you watched him warily.
You were flushed, your skin still tingling from the way Steve touched you, and the way he moaned your name like it was a prayer from his mouth to God’s ear.
Steve hadn’t stopped looking at you, like he was trying to memorize every detail, your flushed cheeks, the way your lips were still slightly parted, that spark in those beautiful eyes.
Yes, he was going to do this, because there would be no more wasting time.
You and he would be one forever.
You watched as he stood, the glow of the bedside lamp casting long shadows over the sharp angles of his jaw. You noticed that the curve of his lips that were still swollen from pressing against yours.
Your eyes traced his bare chest, his hard abs, the place where his hips cut into his torso, and the long, thick length swinging between his legs.
You drew in a shuddering breath of desire, because the lines of his body were still marked with the evidence of your passion; there were scratches where your sharp nails left memories of bliss.
Then you looked up into his eyes again.
Steve ran a hand through his messy hair, exhaling like he was bracing himself for something big. You could tell that what had been a joke was becoming a very real possibility.
Steve chuckled, shaking his head like he couldn't believe he was about to say what he was about to say.
Then, he dropped down on one knee, naked as the day he was born, but ready to commit to you until the day he died.
Your breath caught in your throat as you realized the urgency of the situation. He was really about to do this. But Steve looked at you like he’d never been more sure of anything in his life.
“Ever since the first time I saw you in Atlanta, I’ve been making plans for you, Peach.”
He took your hand, pressing a kiss against your knuckles like a sacrament.
“Marry me,” Steve said, voice quiet but certain. “Right now. Tonight.”
Your heart was pounding so hard that you could barely hear him.
“I don’t want to wait,” he continued, eyes locked onto yours.
“Not another day, not another second. I want you. Forever.”
His finger traced the line of the flush in your face. He knew you so well.
“Let’s go to some place in Connecticut where we don’t have to wait 24 hours and say screw it to everything else. Everyone’s expectations, all of those arbitrary rules about courtship and marriage. Fuck all of that shit.”
His voice was raw now.
“Because this, Peach?”
He motioned between you.
“This is you and me.”
You smiled slowly, sitting up and leaning forward until your fingers tangled in his hair, not caring that the falling sheet left the upper part of your body uncovered.
“You do realize what you’re asking for, right?” you murmured, tilting his chin up so that he those baby blues were looking directly at you.
“A lifetime of absolute chaos. Of me pushing every one of your buttons, popping off, and making you question all your life choices. Think you can handle that, Rogers? Can you handle me?”
You were halfway joking, but also serious, wanting to make sure that he knew that you were a lot. The last six weeks you’d known each other had been evidence of that, but you wanted him to be certain.
Steve laughed, a beautiful sound, and his grip on your hand tightened.
“I know I can. And I think you’re underestimating how much I love the chaos. Don’t underestimate how much I love you, Peach. I’m not going to make us wait forever for forever.”
You bit your lip, feeling unreasonably happy.
“So will you marry me Peach?”
Looking into those storm blue eyes and feeling the sincerity of his love for you made you throw your arms around his neck. He wrapped his arms around you and pushed you back onto the bed as you laughed breathlessly.
Steve kissed you, helpless and under your spell. His tongue asked the question again, wordlessly this time.
“Buckle up, baby,” you whispered against his lips.
“Because this is gonna be the wildest ride of your life.”
Steve's hand began to roam your body as he looked into your eyes.
“I’m counting on it, Peach”
He buried his mouth in the fragrant cleave of your collarbone and you buried your fingers in his hair.
“Yes. I will marry you Steven Grant Rogers,” you whispered in his ear as your leg came up and wrapped around his slim hips.
He kissed you again, hard, desperate, just like the rest of his body that was entering you in one smooth stroke. He filled you up like a promise, breaking you apart and putting you back together like he never wanted to stop.
—--
New York was the city that never slept, but you and Steve were wide awake for a different reason an hour later.
It was well after midnight when you left the hotel; and your heart beat wildly as you ascended toward your ride to the wedding, which waited atop the Rebirth building.
The elevator rose and you used the opportunity to watch Steve’s handsome features. He caught you looking and winked down at you as he gripped your hand, his thumb tracing circles against your skin.
"Before we get started, do you want to get out?"
Steve stared you down like he was serious. Then he cracked up laughing, giddy. You shook your head and laughed with him, hitting him on the arm as he wrapped you up in them.
Steve kissed your forehead and grinned, the energy rolling off him; you could practically feel his urgency to make you his wife. You got it; you couldn’t wait for him to be your husband.
As the numbers climbed, he exhaled and squeezed your hand.
"Wait here. I’ll be quick."
The doors slid open with a soft chime, and Steve stepped out into the dimly lit hallway of his penthouse, his shoes silent against the polished floors. The doors closed again, and suddenly, you were alone, the city stretching out in all directions behind you through the glass walls of the elevator.
Your reflection stared back at you, leggings, sweatshirt and sneakers, messy bun, the ghost of a smile still lingering on your lips after the effects of a good night’s fucking.
Was this really your life?
You exhaled, pressing your palms against the metal railing as you waited for him, your heart pounding in your ears. What if he’d changed his mind?
The doors slid open again, and before you can spin around, Steve was there, changed out of the suit he wore to your hotel room and into dark sweats and a Dodger’s cap, a small velvet box in his large hand.
He stepped in, pressed the rooftop button, and the doors closed again. He looked down at you and kissed your nose.
“You ready?”
You smiled up at him.
“Yes, I am, Mr. Rogers.”
Steve took your hand again and just like that, the elevator rose.
—--
The rooftop access door was heavy, but Steve shoved it open, and the night air whooshed around you. The helicopter’s blades sliced through the darkness, the thrum of its engine drowning out the sounds of the city.
You scrambled out to the aircraft and Steve helped you in first, putting on your headset and then sliding in beside you.
His hand found your thigh before the door was shut and his grip was firm, grounding to the present. When the chopper lifted off, you didn’t look down. You looked at him.
"You still with me, Peach?"
How could his voice be sexy even through a helicopter headset?
You turned just enough to brush your lips against his jaw. "Try and lose me."
He grinned.
"That’ll never happen."
You finally looked down to see the city shrinking beneath you and Brooklyn disappearing into the darkness as you soared toward Connecticut. You exhaled, pressing into Steve’s side. He drew you even closer, his arm tightening around you.
—---
Connecticut was quiet.
It was a contrast to the 20 minute helicopter ride out there.
The chapel was in the middle of nowhere, an old, quaint little brick building with ivy curling up the walls and nestled between stately oak trees. It was the kind of place people go on a whim, people like you and Steve.
The night was cold, snow swirled outside the stained glass windows, aided by the slowing wings of the helicopter. Candles glowed inside and reflected light off the worn wooden pews of the little church, making everything glow, like the evening before at the conservatory.
The officiant stood at the altar and waited for you to finish the paperwork, looking groggy but amused, hands tucked into his coat pockets.
He was entirely unfazed by the urgency of it all. He’d seen this kind of thing before: two people so wildly, crazy in love that waiting wasn’t an option.
He should have been more impressed at the money Steve paid him to get out of his warm bed, but he wasn’t.
You handed the forms to him and then he directed you to stand before your fiancé of roughly 90 minutes. You stood with Steve, your hands locked together, your heart hammering so hard you’re sure he could feel it through your fingertips.
His hair was tousled from running through the snow, his cheeks flushed, his blue eyes glowing. He looked at you like you were his whole world.
“Are you sure?” you whispered, even though you know the answer.
Steve grinned the grin that made your knees weak.
“Too late to back out now, Trouble.”
You raised your eyebrow at the moniker and you two shared a heated look, like you would take each other down on this altar, causing the officiant to clear his throat, clearly used to chaos.
“Shall we begin?”
You both straightened up and nodded, trying to be good, but your energy was threatening to overtake you both.
“Do you, Steven Grant Rogers take—”
“I do,” Steve interrupted, squeezing your hands, eyes wide at his faux pas.
Your mouth dropped open and you laughed as the officiant blinked but barely reacted, as he turned to you.
“And do you—”
“I do,” you said just as fast, laughing when Steve let out a relieved breath like you were actually going to say no.
The officiant smirked.
“In that case, by the power vested in me—”
Before he could finish, Steve surged forward, cupping your face in his hands. He pressed his lips to yours in a kiss that nearly knocked you off balance. You felt his smile against your mouth, his laughter, and the sheer joy radiating off of him.
“Well,” the officiant chuckled. “That’s one way to do it.”
Steve pressed his forehead against yours, causing your breaths to mingle together, just like your futures.
“You’re my wife,” he murmured, like he couldn’t quite believe it.
You grinned, looping your arms around his neck.
“And you, Steve Rogers, are in for a lot of trouble, husband.”
He just laughed, picking you up and kissing you again as your legs wrapped around his waist. The officiant just shook his head and walked off.
“Please pull the door to when you’re done, Mr. and Mrs. Rogers.”
This man was going back to bed.
—---
The helicopter was loud, but all you could perceive was Steve, his presence, his warmth, and his heartbeat where your head rested against his shoulder. His arm was draped over you lazily, but his fingers toyed with the hem of your sweatshirt.
"Still got that adrenaline, sweetheart?" His voice was teasing.
You looked up to meet his gaze.
"What do you think?"
His grin was slow and dangerous.
"I think you’re mine now. Officially."
You smirked, tugging at his hoodie, pulling him down to you.
"Yeah?"
He kissed you deep and slow, like you had got nowhere else to be.
And maybe you didn’t.
The world could wait for a few hours.
At that moment, it was just you and Steve, about to descend into forever.
