Chapter Text
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 and 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.
@ramp-it-up / ramp-it-up.tumblr.com
ramp-it-up Badge image.Badge image.Badge image.
6h ago
Boss
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 and 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.
But you were about to find out.