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mdemontespan1667 · 1 year

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STUPID GIRL

BLIND SPOT (3)

PREVIOUS CHAPTERS

THE LONG WALK (1)

JANE DOE (2)

18+ ONLY

SOFT DARK WALTER MARSHALL X READER

SUMMARY: YOU'RE JUST DOING YOUR JOB. TOO BAD SOMEONE DOESN'T AGREE.

(I moved the dates of this to the current year instead of 2018 so hopefully my dates match. I used what character information I could find for Walter and either filled it in with the actor's info or just winged it since no explanation was ever given for his accent. I did my best to research the neighborhoods and streets mentioned. If I made a mistake I apologize.)

SERIES WARNING: NON-CON/DUB-CON/GRAPHIC VIOLENCE/TORTURE/DEATH/DESCRIPTIONS OF DEAD BODIES/VAGINAL SEX/ORAL SEX/ANAL SEX/REFERENCES TO SEXUAL ASSAULT/REFERENCES TO MURDER/STALKING/CHOKING/SLAPPING

“Detective Marshall, Is this the 8th victim of the Hennepin Hatchet?”

“No comment.”

The man bristled at the name, barely concealed disdain in his expression.

You didn’t like the name any better.

Giving murderers cutesy names took the focus off the victims.

But the Press, yourself included, had to call this psycho something.

“Get out of my fucking crime scene”

“I’m not in your fucking crime scene.”

You gestured to the yellow police tape, flapping in the bitter wind, which you were currently behind, barely.

Detective Marshall grunted, clearly annoyed.

“I’m just trying to do my job. The public has a right to know if a serial killer is operating in Minneapolis.”

Crossing his arms, he fixed you with a bored stare.

“What makes you think this is serial? Prostitutes get killed all the time. Hazards of the profession.”

“You’re joking right?”

You rolled your eyes.

“All the victims were last seen in the Hennepin area, all petite blondes, all sexually assaulted, stabbed and mutilated. There’s no way in hell this isn’t the same guy.”

“No comment.”

The dark haired Detective walked away, effectively dismissing you.

“Can you confirm Madison Harper was missing her left breast?”

Turning back he lumbered toward you.

Oh shit.

Detective Marshall was a veritable bear of a man, with a rumored temper to match.

And you?

You’d just poked him, big time.

“Where did you get that information?”

“No comment,” you sassed.

Apparently you had no sense of self-preservation.

“If you don’t get the fuck out of here,” he growled, “I’m gonna have your ass arrested for interfering with a police investigation.”

“C’mon. Give me something, anything.”

You tried your best to bat your eyes.

“Officer Barton,” he shouted to a uniform, “I need you to..”

“Ok, Ok,” you threw up your hands, “I’m going.”

You stomped to your ancient, beige Subaru.

“Fucking prick.”

Driving away, you shivered, convinced the killer was just getting started.

—----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“I sincerely hope you're hitting submit as we speak.”

“I’m working on it.”

You glowered at your laptop, its blank Google Docs page taunting you.

“Uh, you know deadline’s in 3 hours?”

‘Yeah Brent, I know. I’m..I’m working on it.”

You hit the red dot, ending the call.

Brent was a great colleague, an even better friend.

SInce moving to Minneapolis a year and a half ago he was the only person you had gotten close to.

Even so, the last thing you needed right now was more pressure.

FUCK FUCK FUCK

Milton Turnbaldt, the editor of the Digital Division at the StarTribune, had finally moved you from Special Interest to the Crime Beat.

It was the next step in “THE PLAN” you’d mapped out since graduation.

Imagining yourself a modern day Helen Thomas, visions of Pulitzers had danced in your mind.

Reality had been a bit different.

Two years writing bar reviews for Bar Fly and one disastrous year at Chicago Suburban Family had been followed by a three year stint at the Chicago Sun Times, where the closest you got to reporting anything was letting Maintenance know a lightbulb was out in the Ladies room.

Getting hired at the StarTribune had seemed like a dream come true, even if you’d had to move to Minnesota.

FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK

It was obvious this woman was the 8th victim.

Problem was every other reporter knew it, even if the cops refused to acknowledge the fact.

Your one advantage was your intuition.

The women had to have been comfortable with the killer, therefore, he was most likely good looking, charming and came off as harmless. Every victim had voluntarily left their comfort zone, something sex workers usually refused to do.

The pre- and post-mortem mutilation meant the killer felt confident enough in his surroundings to spend hours with the women, unconcerned about noise or the mess. His secondary location had to be isolated enough for his purpose but close enough to Hennepin Ave that the victims had been willing to take a chance.

Unofficial autopsy reports on each victim listed copious amounts of lube found in the vaginal and anal cavities. It wasn’t unusual for sex workers to use lube but this seemed excessive. The ME had attributed the internal micro-tears and bruising to the sexual assault. That, coupled with the lube, had you leaning in a different direction: The killer was having sex with the dying women.

Too bad you couldn’t prove any of it.

Neither could you publish the information about the missing body part or lube without totally outing your source at the morgue, although that ship had kinda sailed when you showed your hand to the detective.

FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK

Praying for Divine intervention, you started typing.

—-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“What do you think Claude?”

The overweight Tabby cat yawned.

“Thanks for the support. I’ll remember that next time you want a treat.”

Looking at your reflection in the full length bathroom mirror, you critically assessed your outfit: short, pleated black polyester tennis skirt, metallic silver cowl neck top, dingy, thigh high, white spiked boots, and a cropped, pink fake fur bomber jacket.

Heavy eye makeup, red lips and purposely mussed hair completed the disguise.

This classy ensemble, courtesy of the local thrift shop, had cost you a grand total of $53.98, an amount you really couldn’t afford.

But since the police, one surly detective in particular, weren’t talking you were just gonna have to find someone who would.

—------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Your feet were numb.

Whether it was from the insanely high heels or the -2 degrees (F) windchill you didn’t know.

Or care.

After walking the Hennepin Ave circuit for 3 hours you had a whole lot of nothing.

The sex workers definitely knew something.

Clustered in groups of 3 or 4, they murmured to themselves, cell phone cameras flashing, warning potential customers they were being watched, however, no one was willing to talk to a stranger.

A midnight blue, extended cab pickup pulled up, idling at the curb.

“Come here.”

“Uh, sorry, I’m..uh.. off the clock.”

He wasn’t the first guy who’d tried to engage you.

Maybe your refusal to leave with a client had given you away.

“Come here or I’ll bring you here.”

Tentatively you stepped closer.

“I said I’m not…Are you fucking kidding me Marshall?”

He sat hunched over the steering wheel, eyes blazing at you.

Beyond annoyed, you hissed, “Go away.”

“Get in the truck.”

“No.”

“Get in the goddamn truck now.”

Mimicking his earlier behavior, you crossed your arms.

“You can’t tell me what to….”

The cab of the truck flooded with light as he opened the driver side door.

“Fine!”

In a huff, you climbed in, fastening your seatbelt before throwing him a scowl.

He ignored you, smoothly merging with the heavy Friday night traffic.

“Where’d you park that piece of shit car?”

You refused to answer, making a show of sulking.

“Answer me or..”

“Or what?” you interrupted, “You had no right harassing me, asshole.”

“Excuse me?”

His harsh tone was a clear indicator you’d pissed him off.

“Your car?”

“It’s at my apartment. I took an Uber.”

The Detective sighed.

“Exactly what the hell were you trying to accomplish out there?”

You shrugged your shoulders.

“You’re no help so I…”

“You what? You decided to play fucking dress up? Do you have any idea how dangerous the streets are? Some freak is killing prostitutes and your stupid ass is running around pretending to be one.”

“Are you finished?”

He clenched his jaw, cheek ticking.

“Contrary to your belief I’m not stupid. I can take care of myself.”

You reached in your bag producing a sleek, highly illegal taser.

“Plus I have this. And yes, I know how to use it.”

Taking a sharp left turn he headed South.

“Um, where are we going?”

“I’m taking you home.”

“How do you….”

“Born and raised in the Gold Coast area of Chicago. Only child. Undergrad at University of Chicago, Masters in Communication from Loyola, which your ridiculously rich mother paid for. You worked at two small time local papers then the Chicago Sun where you, what? Got coffee for three years? You took a job at the StarTribune 18 months ago writing online fluff. You live in the East Phillips neighborhood, don’t drink, smoke or do drugs and generally have no social life. I like to know who I’m dealing with.”

Your mouth dropped open in shock, more than a little angry he’d checked you out.

“Pretty good,” you retorted, “My turn.”

“Born in the Channel Islands. Strict Catholic upbringing, four siblings, three boys, one girl. Attended St Michael’s Prep before transferring to Stowe School your Sophomore year, sorry, you call it Year 11. Joined the London Metropolitan Police Force in 2008, the same year you married Angie Stultz. She was interning for Warrener Stewart right?”

You rambled on, not waiting for an answer.

“Your daughter Faye was born the next year. Four years later you were promoted to the Criminal Investigations Department. You started out in Street Crime, then Organized Crime, until landing in Major Crimes in 2015. January of 2017 you and the little family moved to Minneapolis, where your wife was from but you didn’t start with the police department here for another 5 months so I’m assuming you were a house husband until your emigration papers cleared. Apparently you weren’t a very good husband, house or otherwise, cause your wife filed for divorce under “Irreconcilable DIfferences” a little over a year ago. You live alone, don’t smoke or do drugs and are generally recognized as a bully. I like to know who I’m dealing with.”

You flashed a Chesire grin.

Uh, oh.

If looks could kill, you’d be dead, buried 6 feet down, “Here lies a stupid idiot who wouldn’t keep her mouth shut” carved in the marker.

“Um, this is me.”

You pointed to a two story brick building, an empty storefront on the first floor, your studio apartment on the second.

“Why do you live in this shithole? With mommy’s money you could be living in the Carlyle or Legacy.”

“I wanted to prove I can make it on my own. And this neighborhood? It’s not as bad as people think. The Pizzeria over there? The old, Italian couple that own it let anyone who needs to use the free wifi. On the weekends they stay open late and offer a free slice and drink so the kids have a safe place to go.”

You became animated, warming to the topic.

“Mrs Freemantle, in the brownstone next door, invites me over three or four times a month. Her oxtail soup and mac and cheese are freaking amazing. She doesn't get around too well so I run errands for her once or twice a week.”

You peered out the windshield.

“Those two guys on the steps, the ones you gave the stink eye to? Andre and Tony? They fixed my car for a six pack and a pizza the last time it crapped out.”

“Probably with stolen parts,” he mumbled.

“I bought the parts, you judgemental ass.” you spat.

Jerking the handle, you exited the vehicle.

Snow swirled in the open door.

“People here care more about each other than anyone ever did in the swanky condo’s I grew up in. Thanks for the ride.”

You flung the door closed with a thud.

Trekking up the sidewalk, you quickly unlocked the outside door, your mind already on a molten hot shower.

“Honey, I’m home,” you announced to the tiny studio, tossing your bag and coat on the fifth-hand orange and green couch.

You stretched, exhausted, looking forward to…..

It happened so fast.

One second you were contemplating splurging an extra ten minutes in the shower, the next you were slammed against the kitchen wall, Detective Marshall’s forearm across your neck, other hand over your mouth.

You flailed at him, hitting and kicking.

It was like fighting a marble statue.

He leaned in, leg slotted between yours.

“Taser ain’t much help now is it.”

You pushed at his arm.

“How fucking stupid are you? You didn’t even lock your fucking door. Anyone…”

You bit his fingers, drawing blood.

He let go, surprised by your counterattack.

“Get the hell out of…..”

His hand closed around your throat.

Your chest heaved from adrenaline, his booming heartbeat matching yours.

Without warning, his lips crashed to yours.

The kiss was desperate, all consuming, his beard scratching your delicate skin.

His hand slipped under your top and cheap push-up bra, palming your breast, rough fingers pinching the already pebbled nipple.

The kiss deepened to something dark, Marshall taking control.

You rocked your hips against his muscled thigh, your core on fire.

Snaking down your belly, he slid his hand beneath the waistband of you skirt, callused digits gliding through your damp, plumped slit.

He circled your clit, applying light pressure with each pass, thumb randomly sweeping the bundle of nerves.

Lost in a sea of sensation, you mewled, the sound swallowed by his warm, searching mouth.

“Tell me to stop.”

Afraid he wouldn’t stop, even more afraid he would, you remained silent as you unzipped his jeans, freeing his heavy cock.

Gathering the sticky wetness from the tip, you stroked his length.

“Fuck.”

The whispered obscenity went straight to your cunt, fresh slick coating his hand.

He tore your black tights in one motion, leaving you bare.

Marshall lifted your leg, curling it around his waist, his cock poised at you sopping entrance.

“Last chance.”

You draped your arms around his shoulders, balancing yourself.

Taking that as a sign, he pressed into you, you channel stretching painfully.

You cried out, the burn almost too much.

His lips latched to yours, tongues sparing until his cock was fully ensheathed in your heat.

He pulled out, briefly hesitated, before thrusting in again.

Breaking the kiss, you buried your face in his neck, fingers tangling in his dark curls.

He fucked you now, hips pistoning, his fingers digging into your flesh.

Marshall’s feral grunts mingled with your needy moans.

Tendrils of electricity surged along your nerves.

He lifted your leg higher, changing the angle of penetration, his cock hitting the soft, spongy spot repeatedly.

“Please,..please..” you choked out.

“I’ve got you.”

You came with a sob, hips pumping in time with his, cunt clenching, the sheer intensity of your orgasm frightening, wave after wave threatening to drown you.

He drove into you faster, chasing his own release.

All you could do was hold on, tears staining his coarse, coal gray sweater.

You felt him swell, hips stuttering.

His muscles flexed as he came, pushing you against the wall, milky ropes of cum splashing your walls.

Fevered lust dissipating, he rested his cheek on your head.

Untangling limbs, Marshall fastened his jeans.

He didn’t stay, instead turning towards the door.

Hand on the brass knob, he paused.

“I’m sorry. This shouldn’t have happened.”

His words froze the question in your throat.

Door closed, you collapsed to the floor, head bowed, knees to chest.

“What the hell just happened.”

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#SOFT DARK WALTER MARSHALL X READER #SOFT DARK WALTER MARSHALL AND READER #SOFT DARK WALTER MARSHALL (AU) X READER #SOFT DARK WALTER MARSHALL (AU) AND READER #WALTER MARSHALL X READER #WALTER MARSHALL AND READER #WALTER MARSHALL #SOFT DARK WALTER MASHALL #NIGHT HUNTER AU #NIGHT HUNTER FIC #DARK NIGHT HUNTER FIC #HENRY CAVILL #HENRY CAVILL CHARACTERS

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hqdgs · 5 months

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#2014 soft grunge #grunge #dark grunge #aesthetic #fashion model #gay #henry cavill #outfit #alternative pop #Spotify

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imyourbratzdoll · 11 months

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hi love, the last request i had that you did was amazing so i’m here again Lol, so my idea is smut, with either soft!dark nomad!steve rogers or maybe soft!dark lumberjack!henry cavill, whichever character you prefer, he’s really possessive and is always reminding reader that she’s his. like he’d go to the ends of the earth to make sure no one even looks at his girl the wrong way. and like maybe one day he gets irritated with the reader because she’s been acting out or maybe he got jealous because of something she did, but in return he shows her who she belongs to and he’s like “who do you belong to pretty girl?” or “talk to me sweet girl, who makes you feel this good?” smth like that bcuz dirty talking is my weakness hehe 🤭 love u and ur work💗💗

hey baby! I'm so sorry for taking so long, but I hope you like it!

summary - your husbands have been noticing something off with you, and they decide to punish you until you tell them what's wrong.

warning - smut, threesome, polyamorous, slight angst, swearing, punishment, creampie, oral sex, double penetration, dark men, mentions of death, assumptions of cheating.

18+ only please, the gifs I use aren't mine, divider by @newlips

“What’s wrong with our little princess, huh?” You ignore them, not daring to look at them because you know you’d fold if you did. Steve walks over, kneeling before you and resting his large hand on your knee. “You will have to talk to us sometime soon.” Henry stands to the side of Steve, glaring down at you with his arms crossed over his chest.

“If you don’t answer, bunny. We will be forced to punish you.” You huff, crossing your arms and leaning back into the couch. You squeal as your suddenly lifted and twisted into an uncomfortable yet satisfying position. Your head hangs over Henry’s knees while your crotch aligns with his. “Fine, I guess we’re forced to do this the hard way.” A moan falls from your lips as his thick fingers begin to rub your cloth-covered cunt, circling your swollen clit. “What do you think we should do with her, Steve? Hmm?” Your core throbs with how deep his voice is, eyes practically rolling to the back of your head at how handsome your men are. But you are mad. You can’t give in to them, no matter how much you want to cum around their thick, throbbing members.

“Hmm.” Your core clenches at the sound of Steve undoing his belt and taking out his thick, leaking cock. “We should edge her, not give our little princess what she desperately wants.” Before you can argue, he slides his cock between your lips, choking you on his member. Steve’s head falls back, “Fuck, you’re mouth feels amazing around me.” His hands come down and grip the sides of your head softly, thrusting in and out, taking you apart, enjoying the sight of your saliva gathering and flowing out of your mouth. “Go on, Henry. Give our princess’s little pussy a little bit more attention.”

Henry chuckles, repeating Steve’s actions by undoing his belt and taking his prominent member out. “Get ready, bunny. You won’t be cumming at all unless you tell us why you’ve been acting like a little brat.” He groans as he slides his cock into your tight cunt, pushing past your walls and deep inside you. Your eyes roll into the back of your head, moans blocked by Steve’s cock, sending vibrations through him, causing him to groan loudly. “Aww, our little bunny is making Stevie feel good with her mouth, huh?” You try to nod, but you’re so full. “Squeezing my cock so good, bunny. You going to tell us what’s wrong?”

You whimper, sucking Steve’s cock desperately. Your hands come up and fondle his heavy sacks. Whines escape you as Henry begins to pound into you, hitting every place that makes you feel like you're on cloud nine. “Don’t be so mean, Henry. Our little princess can’t talk with her mouth full. She knows it’s rude, don’t you, princess?” You nod, fat tears filling your eyes. You can’t think properly, having two prominent men taking you apart, making you feel so many emotions. You sob as Steve pulls out of your mouth, tapping your cheek as he watches your face contort from Henry’s cock slamming into you. “C’mon, princess. Why have you been such a brat lately?”

Your eyes cross, and your hearing becomes fuzzy. “Y–You don’t love me anymore!” You sob, walls rapidly clenching and unclenching around Henry, and a whine escapes you when he stops his movements. Your hips begin to move, trying to recreate the feeling. “Keep going!” The tears are now flowing down your face, making a mess.

Henry and Steve look at each other with their brows furrowed, wondering why you would’ve thought this and what they did for you to feel this way. “Princess, we love you so much. Why would you ever think otherwise?” Steve cups your cheek as Henry lifts you to sit you onto his lap correctly.

Henry grips your hips and stares at you with sad eyes. “Steve’s right, bunny. We love you so much, and not a day goes by that we don’t think about you. You are our bunny, our princess.” You pout, mind foggy from being seconds away from an orgasm to now having to talk about your feelings. You know there’s no way of escaping this, and you know you should communicate more, especially since the last time you acted like this.

Your pout deepens, “I saw how you acted with that woman… It seemed like you would’ve rather had her instead of me because what can I offer?” You can feel yourself choke up as you remember a few days back how you had walked outside to give your husbands a drink for all their hard work, only to find them staring at the new neighbour as she spoke, a tiny dress and bouncy hair. How they looked at her was how you had wished they would look at you, and that’s when the insecurities began because they barely even noticed you after that. They always seemed to go over to help her, being at her beck and call whenever she needed them. You didn’t know if they were cheating on you when they were over there. You had no clue what was happening. All you knew was that you were losing the men you loved.

Steve and Henry could feel their hearts breaking as they realised how they had been neglecting you this whole time, making you feel like you meant nothing to them, making you think they’d rather have some bimbo over you. You never really knew that they had used that woman as fertiliser because they couldn’t have someone like that trying to break apart your marriage. You never questioned why your garden had grown more than usual, as they’d distract you with wooden things they had crafted for you. They’d only been going over to the woman’s house because they had seen some things you would like as your own, planning to gift them to you for your birthday and christmas.

“Oh, princess, that’s not true at all. You are our world. We’d never want someone so used and pathetic, and we want you, our pure little baby.” Steve leans forward and brings you into a passionate kiss, pouring all of his love into you.

“Steve’s right, bunny. You’re our little girl, our perfect little wife.” You moan as he moves your hips slowly against him, grinding you down, taking his turn to kiss your plump lips. You gasp as he lies you down, pulling you on top of him, allowing Steve to climb on top of you and slide alongside him, filling you with their giant cocks. They move slowly, pumping in and out of you, feeling their cocks harden more from the sounds that leave past your lips. “We only belong to you, bunny.” You whimper into Henry’s neck, crying from the intense pleasure.

“Talk to us, princess. Who makes you feel this good, huh?” Steve plunges into you, grunting as your walls clench around them. The feeling of their hands all over you, their cocks pounding into you, causes you to slowly slip from your mind, wondering how you had gotten so lucky. “C’mon, princess. Answer me.”

“You… Both!” Your eyes roll into the back of your head, vision becoming white as you squirt, your juices flowing out and covering your men.

“That’s right, bunny. Us.” Henry growls, pounding fast before his head flies back and his eyes close, thick hot cum flowing out of his mushroom tip and deep into you.

Steve grunts, placing soft kisses on your back as he buries himself deep inside you, his balls tightening, and he releases, filling you with his cum. Your eyes begin to flutter shut as you sag into your husband, falling asleep to them, whispering that they love you and pressing sweet kisses onto your body.

thank you for reading!

feedback and reblogs are greatly appreciated.

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drewharrisonwriter · 8 months

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Donor Part 4 (Final)

Part 1 | Part 1.5 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4

Pairings: Bestie Henry Cavill x OFC

A/N, Warnings: 18+, this is it... the last part of Donor. English is not my first language.

I’m AO3, too as MoonDjarin ^_^

“Oh…” A gasp escaped your lips, your hand instinctively covering your mouth as shock settled in. Tears welled up in your eyes as you stared at all three positive pregnancy tests resting on the bathroom counter. A silent rush of emotions flooded over you, causing your hands to tremble in disbelief as you picked one up. The cool, marbled counter became your anchor as your legs threatened to give way beneath you.

Taking a deep, steadying breath, you attempted to compose yourself. With the sleeves of your sweater, you wiped away the tears that had started to flow and went out the bathroom with one of the tests to look for Henry. Your heart is racing and your mind feels like it’s about to turn into mush, you should be happy about this, why are you so nervous?

The voices drifted from the kitchen as you reached the landing of the staircase. Passing through the living room, you moved under the archway that led to the dining area. And there stood Henry in an old and faded gray t-shirt and jeans, hands submerged in soapy water, gently tending to your 7-month-old daughter, Vivienne. The kitchen told a tale of joyful chaos—baby food scattered about, unfinished waffles sitting on the kitchen island, and blueberries on the floor.

“Mama!” A joyful squeal from your 4 year old daughter, Marianna, or Mari as you fondly call her, greeted you as she caught sight of you at the kitchen's entrance, her little sister, two year old Serena (Sisi), mimicking her with a wave.

“We cwean the house fow you!” Sisi's prideful proclamation filled the room, her adorable voice resonating with accomplishment. A soft smile adorned your lips as you warmly acknowledged your young helpers. Under your breath, you praised, “Great job, babies.”

Henry turned around with a beaming smile on his face, his laughter still echoing from moments earlier when your 7-month-old daughter had been gleefully causing a watery mess in the kitchen.

“Hey, darling, how are you feeling?” he asked, his smile tinged with a touch more concern. He gently scooped up the baby, wrapping her in a towel and patting her dry.

Your throat tightened, and your eyes brimmed with tears once more. As though Henry sensed the impending news, he shook his head in disbelief, a chuckle escaping him. "No, no way…" he muttered, his grin so expansive you thought his face might rip in half.

“Hank…” you began, your voice trembling. You trailed off, the weight of emotions overtaking you, and you broke into sobs.

“Oh no!” Mari exclaimed, getting up from the floor to hug your leg. “It’s okay, mama.” She said softly, rubbing a hand up and down your leg, and you managed to chuckle a little, running a hand through her dark curls to show your appreciation. Sisi, the ever clone of her older sister, did the same.

He moved closer, his voice soothing and warm. “Oh, no, no, no, darling. Don’t cry, just tell me,” he cooed, placing the baby in her high chair and wiping his hands on his trousers as he walked toward you and the girls, enveloping you in a comforting embrace.

“I’m so sorry,” you repeated between sobs, but he shushed you gently and the girls went back to picking up blueberries from the floor.

Henry knew.

Of course he does. He knows you so well, and you’ve been feeling sick and losing appetite the past few weeks, plus your period came in really light earlier in the month. You have been so sensitive to touch and have been feeling sluggish and sleepy.

But the icing on the cake happened the other night where you cried watching a wildlife commercial where a bird was swallowed by an alligator and Henry fought back so hard not to laugh but failed, miserably, exploding in a fit of laughter which got you even more riled up, throwing pillows at him. You both had been through this three times before, with the last one not being that long ago, he knew the signs so well by now.

He had playfully suggested you take a pregnancy test before seeing your doctor, those mischievous eyebrows of his wiggling with a teasing twinkle in his eyes. You had brushed it off, convinced it was too soon and impossible.

Yet, here you were, holding one of the three positive tests in your hand. His response was laughter, a joyful sound that blended with the soft kisses he planted on your tear-streaked face.

“I told you so!” he teased, his laughter mixing with your sobs.

Through your tears, you irritatingly asked him, “How do you find this so amusing? Vivi is only 7 months old. How are we ever going to manage?”

Henry's laughter lingered, accompanied by the cheerful chatter of his other daughters in the backdrop. In that moment, his heart felt as though it might burst from the sheer joy of the moment.

“It’s alright, darling, don’t cry,” he cooed, wiping the tears on your cheeks with his thumb.

“You’re not upset?” you were surprised by his unwavering calm in contrast to your own turbulent emotions. “Or scared?”

He chuckled, his affectionate response carrying the weight of his feelings. “First of all, I could never be upset about having more babies with you. And no, we've been through this before. You're giving me another child, for god's sake, nothing can make me happier than that.” He sealed his words with a lingering kiss pressed to your forehead.

Despite his reassurances, your fears lingered. “I’m so scared.” You admitted, “And I feel like we're not being fair to Vivi.” Your gaze drifted to your 7-month-old daughter, snugly wrapped in a soft, yellow chick towel. She sat there contentedly, fingers in her mouth, her wide blue eyes taking in the world. A cascade of curly brown hair framed her face from under the chick hoodie, still holding onto droplets of bathwater.

Henry's voice carried a reassuring tenderness. “It’s going to be alright, darling. I'm always here for you, you know that….”

You were well aware of that. For over two decades, Henry had consistently shown what an incredible best friend he could be — his generosity and love knew no bounds. However, all of that paled in comparison to the depth of his role as your husband and the father of your children.

Henry then leaned in and whispered so the kids won’t hear, “You know how much I love it when you’re pregnant, right?” You let out a brief chuckle as he nuzzled his nose against your earlobe and you buried your face in his chest, muffling your voice as you exclaimed, "Ugh, Haaaaank... how did we end up here?"

Your words were absorbed by his chest, and he couldn't help but burst into laughter once again. He gently pulled away and turned his attention to the little girls who were now devouring the blueberries they were meant to clean up from the floor.

"Guess what, my lovely princesses. You're going to have another baby sister!" Henry's excitement filled the room, while you responded with a groan. The girls cheered, their joyful leaps reflecting the news.

"How can you be so certain it'll be another girl?" You posed the question to him.

"Well, given the pattern we've got going, isn't it a safe bet at this point?" His smile conveyed his playful confidence and you only shook your head in disbelief.

Eight years have passed since you and Hank began clinically trying for a baby – as best friends. Seven years since you tied the knot, wasting no time to start your lives together just months after the events of Charlie's birthday. You spent your honeymoon in Amalfi, and bought a farmhouse outside of London, big enough for the big family you were planning.

But while your relationship and its changes flowed smoothly, your attempts to conceive were still not as easy. It took nearly two more years before Marianna was conceived naturally.

After over a year of trying, you and Henry considered going through another round of IUI, hoping that it would not lead you to the IVF path. But an accident during the final show of your tour sent you to the ER right after the last number. The standard blood work results brought an unexpected surprise – a positive pregnancy test – leaving you momentarily breathless.

Henry was overseas with Kal doing reshoots for a film he did the previous year and won’t be back for another month. You were itching to call him right then and there and tell him but you decided it’s best if you do it in person, and so you wait.

When he got back a month later, Kal immediately made a beeline for you, his tail wagged furiously as he bounded toward you, showering you with affectionate licks and nuzzles. You couldn't help but laugh, feeling his excitement to be home and to see you.

Henry smiled warmly as he entered the foyer of your home, watching the scene unfold. "Looks like someone really missed you," he remarked.

"Well, I missed him, too." You said in a special voice that you only use with the pets, cupping Kal's head in your hands.

Henry grinned widely, and asked, "And me? Did you miss me, too?" You snorted, standing up and you nodded your head in response.

You embraced him, your arms circling his neck as he drew you in for a soft, lingering kiss on your lips. Henry's voice held a hint of longing as he whispered, "I missed you so much." You echoed his sentiment.

You settled on the couch where almost immediately, your fat cats, Tuna and Luna, jumped on you in their ever so softly feline way and began settling on your lap where they softly purred in contentment.

Henry cocked an eyebrow and looked at you, “That’s new.” He remarked, knowing so well that the cats would rather lay down on burning coals than curl up with any humans. You only shook your head with a smile, gently stroking the cats who are now settling into a nap.

“I suppose when we go outside by the barn, the birds will perch on your shoulders and our chickens will begin to sing?” He joked and you let out a loud laugh.

“Shut up, you watch far too many Disney films. How was L.A.?” You asked him, trying your best to buy yourself time before breaking the news to him. You don’t know why you’re so nervous, and he picked up on it when he noticed you were chewing your bottom lip as he spoke.

“You're nervous." He stated, "What’s going on, Snow White?”

You giggled nervously, your heart skipped a beat at his words. There was no avoiding it now. You took a deep breath, meeting his gaze with a mixture of emotions.

"Hank," you began, your voice wavering slightly, "there's something I need to tell you."

“Please don’t tell me you’re going away…” His tone dripped with a hint of heartbreak, his brows furrowing at the thought of you leaving and doing long distance again. As you hesitated, he sank back into the couch, his hand pinching the bridge of his nose in a gesture of frustration. "I just got home, darling. I was hoping we could at least spend some time together aft–"

You cut him off right then, “Hank, I’m pregnant.”

His eyes shot open, his fingers still at the bridge of his nose, frozen as he processed the news. "What?" he murmured, his expression shifting from confusion to a slow, dawning smile as the news began to sink in. You repeated the words, and he shook his head in disbelief, a grin stretching across his face so widely that you half expected it to split in two.

“We’re having a baby!” He exclaimed pulling you in a tight embrace, peppering your face with small kisses and then he began sniffling.

Henry-Fucking-Superman-Cavill is crying at the news of your pregnancy.

He did the same at the first one, and again when you got pregnant with Sisi and Vivi.

And now, with baby number 4 on the way, he's just as emotional as ever.

The kids have settled in for their mid-day nap, and with the kitchen now tidy, you and Henry find yourselves sprawled out on the couch. You rest against his chest, his hand gently on your stomach, tracing soothing circles, his breath is hot and wet on your neck.

“I can’t believe we’re having another baby this soon,” You said, reaching back to run your fingers on his curls to soothe him.

“Sometimes, I don’t believe that we are living the life we have now.” he choked on his words. "I've always wanted this with you, and all those years, it seemed like a dream."

His confession, though all too familiar from the countless times he’s said it over the years, still tugged at your heartstrings, and you smiled in response.

"It's funny, because you were very reluctant to donate sperm in the first place. I literally had to beg you." you teased, a chuckle escaping your lips, followed by his own laughter.

"But I'm so glad you did, though... Look at what we have now, three beautiful princesses and another princess on the way," Henry chimed in, his laughter laced with pride.

"Stop saying it’s going to be another girl, you might be disappointed. Remember how you were convinced Vivi was a boy?" you playfully retorted.

"Disappointed?" He chuckled in disbelief. "Impossible. Doesn't matter if I'm wrong or right about this one," He splayed his hand on your stomach that's still soft from your last pregnancy and now housing another growing life. "You’re my children’s mother. That’s what matters the most." he kissed you on the temple as he gently pulled you in closer to him.

You hummed, “Thank you for agreeing to be a donor.” You laughed together.

Funny how things turned out after one silly decision that sprouted from an even sillier dream. If anyone had told you eight years ago that your life would unfold so beautifully, you'd have likely chuckled, maybe even taken a long sip from a pint of beer and wondered how it could possibly happen when all that ever happened to you up until that point is to find dead-ends in every relationship you’ve ever been in.

You had at least made bank from the sad songs you’ve written about those relationships over the years. Something that Henry would often joke about or even sing just to annoy you, and those times you often find yourself pondering on what could have been, even more.

If you hadn't mustered the courage to ask Henry to help you pursue your dream of becoming a mother, the path you tread might have taken a different turn. For all you know, you could be still touring at this moment, singing sad songs after sad songs, and not nestled in the arms of the love of your life, with your little dreams sleeping in their bedrooms upstairs in the house that you and Henry have made a home.

All of these twists and turns coalesced to lead you to this very moment.

And despite all that you both went through, you wouldn't change a thing. Even if it took nearly 20 years for the both of you to pave your way into the path that you're in now.

"I love you, Hank," you whispered.

"I love you more, darling." he whispered back, “Always.”

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#Henry Cavill #henry cavill fic #henry cavill x #henry cavill smut #henry cavill fanfiction #henry cavill fluff #henry cavill x female reader #henry cavill x little!reader #henry cavill x ofc #henry cavill x plus size reader #henry cavill x pregnant reader #henry cavill x reader #henry cavill x short!reader #henry cavill x wife!reader #henry cavill x y/n #henry cavill x you #henry cavill characters #henry cavill imagine

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impala-dreamer · 2 months

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Wonderstruck

A Magical Short Story

~ Attending a wedding alone is rarely fun. Add to it a bunch of people you don't know all hidden behind masks, things can get a little shaky. But sometimes, if you're lucky, magic can happen...~

Henry Cavill x F!Reader

3,160 Words

Warnings: Nothing but romance and magic and fluff and mystery!

A/N: Yes, it's me. No, I have not been kidnapped. This was written in part for my personal goal of branching out a bit, but moreover as a Valentine's gift for @mariekoukie6661 and @kittenofdoomage <3

Impala-Dreamer’s Masterlist ~ Patreon ~ Published Works

Her dress was sleek and as dark as midnight; her heels were high and deadly. Her lips dripped with crimson; a silver mask hid beautifully sad and strikingly painted eyes.

She kept to the edges of the ballroom, ducking behind round tables clad in expensive linens and gold inlaid china, skirting billowing gowns as they spun on the dancefloor. She slipped in and out of the shadows with a slowly emptying champagne glass pinched delicately between two fingers.

Despite her annoyance in being there, she could not deny the beauty of the night. The massive room was decorated in glamorous gold and pearl accents. Heavy velvet curtains hung over the windows on each wall, letting in a glimpse of the moonlit garden outside. The floors were marble that had been polished to perfection, and a warm candlelight glow illuminated the room.

It felt as if she’d stepped into a fairy tale.

A fairy tale about a sad girl watching the party from afar, alone but for the bubbles in her glass.

Which, sadly, were now gone.

Y/N sighed heavily and looked across the dancefloor at the long bar that stretched across the back wall of the ballroom. A hundred guests in suits and gowns, feathers and masks, twirled in front of her, blocking the path. Silently, she weighed the pain of entering the waltzing throng over going another moment without a healthy buzz in her head. She took a breath. She took a step.

Her heels clicked rhythmically as she laid her course for the bar. She kept her eyes on the goal, carefully maneuvering through the dancing couples, wondering if they’d all been to some class she hadn’t been invited to. All their steps seemed identical; all the women spun with the same flourish. She shook her head. Life should never be so choreographed.

After nearly tripping over a dragging tail of taffeta, Y/N finally made it to the bar and braced herself on the top. As she caught her breath, a deep but soft laugh hit her ear.

She turned toward the sound and spied a large man leaning on the bar a few feet away. He turned as she did, leaning one elbow on the bartop and kicking a long leg over the other. His tuxedo was immaculate and perfectly tailored; his shoes shined like the stones below. He wore a mask of black with silver adornment, and two crisp blue eyes scanned her form from beneath. She could feel them sneak down her body, lingering a bit in the deep curve of her waist and at the globe of her ass.

She cleared her throat, drawing his eyes up to hers.

“Something funny, Slick?” she asked, lips pursed in clear annoyance.

The man grinned. His lips were full and pink beneath a thin scruff of a beard.

“I liked your dance,” he said in reply.

She was startled by his accent - elegant and somehow too perfectly English, as if he were pretending to be from across the Atlantic. She bit her lip and narrowed her eyes at him, trying to figure him out.

It was nearly impossible. The masks were a problem.

Y/N rolled her eyes. She didn’t know why, but she felt that he needed to work a little harder to get her attention. Maybe she was bored, maybe the shock of his voice had her aflutter. Whatever it was, she turned up the sass.

“Yeah, well, I was a ballerina in a past life.”

Again, he laughed. A little louder, a little more enticing.

“I can see that. Prima ballerinas often trip over themselves and end up slamming into tables.”

She bit back a laugh and turned back to meet his gaze. “We take a special class for that.”

The man cocked his head towards her champagne flute. “And with an empty glass, no less.”

“What can I say, I’m very good at my job.”

Slowly, he pushed himself up from the bar and took a step closer. “May I buy you another?”

Her eyes slid up from his shoes to the loose, curly mop of black hair atop his head. He was tall and broad, and looked as solid as a statue. Her pulse quickened.

“I’m pretty sure it’s free,” she teased.

He stopped a foot from her side. “Still…” With a quick snap of his fingers, he called for the bartender and ordered them both another round.

“A dirty martini, Mr. Bond?” She smiled at his order.

“Shaken, not stirred,” he replied, lifting his glass.

His smile was as intoxicating as the golden liquid in her glass and butterflies swirled in her stomach.

Each took a sip, swallowing slowly with their eyes locked. The blue crashed over her and Y/N lost herself in the sparkle of his smiling gaze.

Worried that she was staring too hard, she tore herself away and let out a hard breath.

“So… how do you know the bride?” she asked, trying to pry his identity free.

He licked a drop of vodka from his lip. “I don’t.”

She laughed gently. “Wedding crasher, huh?” She leaned closer, dropped her voice to a whisper. “Don’t worry, I won’t turn you in.”

He moved in even closer. A warm scent pulsed off of him, flooding her senses with leather and vanilla and something she couldn’t place. Something spicy that made her mouth water so much she forgot that she was supposed to be playing hard to get.

“That’s kind of you,” he whispered. “I don’t think Charlie will press charges though.”

She smiled. “Ah, you’re on the groom’s side.”

“And you?”

His eyes fell to her lips and Y/N’s cheeks burned.

“I, uh… I work with Chloe, the- the bride.”

He nodded and took a sip of his drink. “Charlie and Chloe,” he said with a light laugh. “So many Cs.”

He was too cool, too confident yet sweet. She almost hated him.

“Who are you?” she asked, confused and irked. She had not come to the wedding to meet anyone, let alone a gorgeous, blue-eyed Brit, who may or may not actually be British.

Another slow sip guided her eyes back to his lips and she wondered if he tasted as good as he smelled.

“Henry,” he said softly.

She laughed. “Of course you are.”

“Why’s that funny?”

“Because of course your name is Henry. With your perfect accent and your sexy tuxedo…”

He stood up, suddenly towering over her, and tipped his head, eyes swiping over her again.

“And what about you? You’ve got to be called Celeste or Audrey or something classic and elegant.”

Y/N drained the rest of the champagne at the bottom of her glass and stood to face him properly. “Well, Prince Charming, why don’t you just call me Cinderella.”

Henry reached for her hand and she gave it jokingly.

His kiss was no joke, landing softly on her skin and making the rest of her shiver. She held her breath and nearly fainted when he looked up.

“Pleased to meet you, Cinderella.”

Her head swam a bit and she wondered if that was what swooning was.

“Charmed,” she said with a dreamy smile.

He held her gaze, swept a warm thumb over her knuckles. His touch was like fire and she wanted to run. Away from him or into his arms - she couldn’t decide. All she knew was that there was magic in the air and she could not seem to tear herself away from the mystery of his face. His eyes were tragically beautiful, as if she was lost at sea on a broken raft, thirsting and alone, but she had the comfort of the blue waves to keep her safe. She thought herself insane. He was just a man in a mask at a fancy wedding. Just a tall, impossibly fit, perfectly dressed man at a masquerade ball. A deliciously gorgeous man who smelled like drinking in front of a roaring fire in a cozy library filled with old books in some ancient castle in Scotland. A man who was still holding her hand and her gaze, stealing too many moments and breaths from her day.

Y/N shook herself and pulled her hand from his.

“I should… go…” She turned toward the room. She had to get away, had to free herself from the captivating stranger and return to ignoring her coworkers and the bride’s overly friendly family. “It was nice to meet you, Henry.”

His frown nearly cracked the earth beneath her feet.

“Don’t leave just yet,” he pleaded. “I… Well, I don’t really know anyone here and you’re…”

She looked back over her shoulder as he hesitated. “Yes?”

He blushed and sought comfort in his shoes. Such a beautiful sight: a strong, confident man instantly melting into shyness.

Blue eyes looked up. “Beautiful and enchanting and… I was hoping that we could dance.”

She nearly fell over, knocked out by his voice and charm. A quick breath steeled her nerves. “Sadly, I cannot.”

He stood up fully but somehow still seemed small. “Dance with me?”

“Dance at all,” she corrected.

He laughed. “Well, how about another drink and some conversation?”

With a sigh, Y/N looked back at the crowd, into the sea of indistinguishable masks and unfamiliar forms. Giving in, she nodded politely and spun around to the bar.

They ordered another round and took up residence at the end of the counter, half hidden in shadow, invisible to the other party-goers. Music soared above their heads but they could barely hear it, so engrossed in each other’s stories.

They spoke of simple things- movies they’d loved as children and that well-worn paperbacks were still tucked into their bookcases. She asked him about home and he talked about the London traffic and how he preferred to stay around the house on rainy days playing games on his PC. He poked her about work and she glossed over her job, insisting that they keep the conversation light and free from day-to-day struggles. They drank and laughed and fell even deeper into each other’s gaze.

It was strange to have a conversation with a stranger in a mask. She knew that he was handsome- his eyes were brilliant, his lips perfectly plump. His jaw was tight and his neck was thick. He was big and sturdy, yet gentle and bashful. Though most of his face was hidden, she knew he was perfect.

Perhaps a little too perfect.

But as the alcohol flowed and the night wore on, Y/N couldn’t find a reason anymore to run. The night had cast a spell around them and there was no escape. There was magic in the gilded accents around the room, in the symphony of violins that danced above their heads, in their true smiles and tentative touches.

Even if he wasn’t perfect, she thought, the moment was.

And the moment was suddenly broken.

A firm hand on her wrist dragged Y/N from her place at the bar and onto the dancefloor. The bride would not be ignored and refused to take no for an answer. Pained by the intrusion and the demand, Y/N reluctantly took Chloe’s hands and twirled her around. The skirt of the massive wedding dress billowed like a cloud around Chloe’s small frame and Y/N laughed as she was nearly caught up in the fabric.

Heart racing and smile wide, she turned back to Henry but was shocked to find his place empty. Their glasses sat abandoned on the bar and Prince Charming was nowhere to be found. She felt a tug in her chest and a dampness behind her eyes.

Before she could shrug it off as just a random encounter and push his blue eyes from her mind, a tap on the shoulder made her gasp.

She spun on the spot and found him there with a sweet smile and open arms.

“May I have this dance?” he asked, dipping into half a bow.

Excitement rushed through her and Y/N bit her lip. “I told you, I’m not a good dancer.”

Unwilling to let her back away, Henry scooped her up and held her close, one hand capturing hers and the other pressing gently into the small of her back. He leaned in and teased his lips at her ear.

“Then let me lead…”

His fingers pulsed against her back, guiding her to move against him. They turned a few times until she was dizzy in his arms, laughing as he whispered into her ear:

“Left… right… back… you’ve got it…”

His breath on her skin was like a gust of summer air, warm and delicious, flooding her body with calm.

“See? You’re not too bad at this.”

Y/N looked up into his eyes and felt the world fade away. They rose up together off of the dancefloor, floating gently above the other guests, impossibly alone in the crowd. She knew she was drunk, knew she’d pay for it in the morning, but she didn’t really care. She didn’t care that her friends were watching, probably whispering about the mysterious man she was dancing with. She didn’t care that she’d twice stepped on his toes or that there was no way she could hide the fact that being so close to him wasn’t turning her into a melted, lustful shell of what she usually was.

The music crescendoed and Y/N held her breath. Henry dipped his chin, blue eyes locked on her hers. The world slowed down, the seconds stretched on forever. She closed her eyes, savored his exhale against her lips. His hand slid gently up her back, fingers wove through her hair. She felt her legs grow weak, her stomach tensed, her heart skipped. He took a breath.

The band stopped short and Y/N startled as the crowd shited. The moment was gone, ripped away once more by the party swelling around them.

A rush of silk; the click of hundreds of heels. Cheers rose throughout the room as a giant cake was rolled out onto the dancefloor. It towered up to the ceiling with beautiful rows of white creme roses and pearls strategically placed to make the fondant glow in the warm light trickling down from the chandelier above.

As the guests closed in, Y/N was pulled out of Henry’s arms and her heart ached as he once again was out of her sight.

Black suits swarmed around her, heavy gowns brushed against her legs. Voices rang loud. Bodies closed in on all sides.

Breathless, she spun, searching for an exit, for a way to push through the throng.

A hand appeared and reached for her. She clasped his fingers and Henry raced toward the big doors to their left, pulling her free of the mob.

They tumbled out into the cool air and found relief as the doors closed behind them, blocking the music and the excitement, leaving them alone in the night.

The garden was dark but magically aglow with warm, golden light. Fairy lights twinkled around them, strung from bushes and topiaries, highlighting a stone path. Beyond, a labyrinth of tall evergreen waited for curious souls to venture inside, daring the branches to keep them from reaching the end.

Wonderstruck by the evening- the dramatic escape, the music, the champagne and Henry’s crystalline eyes- she stumbled. One single step turned her ankle and the deadly heels she never wore took her down.

Her gasp tore through the garden, but Henry was there to catch her fall. She swung in his strong arms and her fear turned to laughter.

“This is just absurd!” she said, steadying herself with a palm over his chest.

Henry was calm and stable, easily holding her upright. “What’s that?”

“I mean… You literally just swept me off of my feet.” She shook her head and with a blushing smile, pushed away. “This is getting silly.”

Away from his grasp, she teetered again and Henry took her hand before disaster could strike.

“Why don’t you sit down for a moment,” he suggested, nodding towards a stone bench not far away. “Those shoes are dangerous.”

“You have no idea.”

She let him help her to the bench and watched in awe as he fell to one knee. Like an actual Prince Charming, he took Cinderella’s ankle in his hands and gently ran his fingers over the thin strap holding the shoe in place.

“You’re not swollen,” he reported. “That’s good.”

When he looked up, concern fading from his eyes, she gave up trying to suppress the enchantment of the night and took a deep breath.

Hands cupped around his face, she leaned in and finally met his lips.

Startled but delighted, Henry pushed up to meet her, taking her once more in his strong arms and kissing her properly.

Tiny lights flickered in the breeze, soft music seeped out into the garden, and Prince Charming and Cinderella found each other in the dark. Lips hungry and hands wild; heat mixing between them like a budding fire.

When the clock struck twelve, it chimed loudly and they broke apart, laughing.

“Seems about right,” she joked, looking towards the wedding. “Party ends at midnight.”

Henry dragged a thick finger over her collarbone. “Does that mean you’ll turn into a pumpkin and disappear?”

She laughed softly. “I don’t know when the last time you read Cinderella was, but… no.”

He licked her taste from his lip. “So you don’t need to go then?”

Her smile fell. “I do…”

“You could stay…” He dipped his chin and looked up through the mask, blue eyes dark in the light. “We could… find a spot-”

Y/N shook her head and reached for his hand. “I can’t, I’m sorry. I have to be back in the city tomorrow for work.” She lifted his fingers to her lips and left him with a final kiss.

Henry sighed. “Pity.”

She nodded and gathered her strength to stand and do what she should have done hours ago- run. Except this time, she was certain she meant it to be into his arms. Only this time, she couldn’t.

“I’m sorry…”

Quickly, she turned, carefully stepping back onto the stone path and away from the mystery man with his intoxicating voice and perfectly engrossing kiss.

He stood and called to her, desperate for one more look at his Cinderella.

“Wait-”

She paused, hand on the big glass door, heart in her throat. “Yes?”

“Don’t I even get to know your real name?”

She looked over her shoulder and smiled. “It’s Y/N.”

Henry bowed his head in thanks and when he came up, the mask came off, slowly revealing a face she’d only imagined in her dreams.

He blushed at her shocked stare and laughed gently.

“It was nice to meet you, Y/N.”

She sighed, blissful and lost in a dream that she prayed would last the rest of her life.

“You too…”

2024 Forever Tags (Always Open! Send an Ask!)

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#henry cavill fanfiction #henry cavill x reader #fluff #romance #one shot #maybe more if it goes well i have ideas

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f10werfae · 1 year

Text

You’re already so sexy

pairing: Lumberjack!Henry Cavill x Wife!Reader

Summary: Henry has to uplift his woman after she has some major insecurities about herself and his pussy, but all she needs is him (Major Dom Henry)

Disclaimer: This story is fiction and should not be taken literally, the behaviour is simply imaginative and the content may be inappropriate

requests are open/likes, comments and reblogs are appreciated♥️

Henry Masterlist, Full Masterlist, Taglist form

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

“See sugar, you don’t need all that if you don’t want it, think you’re so pretty without it”Henry growled shoving two fingers into the crying woman’s mouth, her mascara leaving dark trails down her face as his cock plummeted in and out of her core. “I-I love you Hen, love you so much” She whined out around his fingers, her drool covered face being cleaned up by his tongue.

“Sugar, are you doin’ your makeup? Is that for me, lookin’ pretty?” Henry smirked watching his wife apply another layer of mascara, her face lovingly done up. “Mm just wanted to be prettier, saw all my friends doing it n’ maybe I should start shaving down there too?” She pouted at him through the vanity he made for her. “But butterfly, you’re already so sexy n’ gorgeous even without all this” Henry growled pulling at the string of her dress, causing the chest part to fall off.

“Whose pussy is this? Is that my pussy? This pretty lil pussy belongs to me now, don’t u dare touch it” Henry groaned putting one hand on the back of the vanity and the other was now holding up her other trembling leg. “Awk baby, look your puffy clit is all swollen, should I help her?”

“Mhm help her please, need more bear” Y/n whimpered rutting her hips against his cock, her fingers holding open her hood to show off her clit even more. “That’s my good girl, I know what’s best for you, I do. You’re sexy as you are sugar, don’t I know it.”

Y/n just nodded helplessly, feeling Henry’s thick calloused fingers pinch and rub at her raw clit, spitting into it lewdly before slapping her tits. Her tongue outstretched as he spat onto it, watching her swallow it gratefully. “Well then say it baby, come on”

“I-i’m your good g-girl” Y/n moaned grabbing Henry’s hand putting her cheek to the palm of it; rubbing her cheek softly with his thumb Henry leant forward, “N’ what else pretty girl? M’ waitin’ “

“I’m beautiful” Y/n cried letting more tears stream down her face, Henry only smirking in satisfaction as he found her repeating that phrase as the orgasm washed over her. “That’s right, you’re beautiful, gorgeous and everythin’ else” Henry cooed thrusting his hips before pulling out swiftly, “Now let me just show you how purty I think your tits are” Henry smiled kissing her lips softly, coaxing her off the vanity and onto the hardwood floors he had set down himself.

“Push em together to make my own pocket pussy baby, would fuck you everywhere if a’could” Henry felt himself harden even more at the sight of her pretty manicured fingers struggling to push the globes of flesh together, his cock pushing itself between them. “S’too big” She whined kissing the head of his dick softly, licking up the juices erupting from it.

“Fuck honey do that again and i’ll cum all over your gorgeous face” Thrusting his hips upwards he couldn’t help but moan at the feeling of her soft fleshy tits enveloping his cock, her lips frenching his cock every time it reached the surface. “Baby you’re kissing my cock like it’s my lips, dirty girl” Henry chuckled seeing her so desperate for his cock, when it was this time last year that he was so desperate for even a reply from her in conversation.

“Cum on my face bear, wan’ it so bad on my pretty face” She smiled moving herself to fuck his cock even more with her tits, her eyes sparkling with need as Henry’s face formed an ‘O’, her lipstick smudged all over his lips and cheeks.

“Yeah I will honey don’t you worry” Henry said wiping a bit of the mascara trail, her makeup all smudged and running down her face from the tears, sweat, and drool.

“M’ready baby” She moaned fondling his balls, noticing how it made him go on edge, and within seconds her face was painted white with his cum. Picking up some of it on her cheek with her finger, she kept Henry’s eyes as she sucked it off cheekily, maintaining that sweet soft smile on her face.

“C’mere you” Henry laughed grabbing his discarded shirt and wiping as much of her face as he could, his dominant (slightly mean and grumpy) demeanour returning. “Stop laughin, i’m embarrassed” Y/n whined now standing up, her hand intertwining with Henry’s large one as he walked them both into the ensuite bathroom.

“You sit there while I prepare us a bath” Henry said pointing to the toilet seat, turning on the hot tap and pouring in some of her favourite bath scents. “My face is so messy” Y/n said finally looking at herself in the mirror, her thoughts interrupted as Henry brought a warm washcloth and gently dabbed over her face with it, “but you’re my beautiful mess, you’re mine. Forget those stupid friends of yours baby, you don’t need them. You need me “

———

Taglist Tags (Form is up there^^): @ggmimitf @ninasw0rld @acornacre @keiva1000 @spencerreidat4am @diyabhanushali1 @angelmather1 @hp-hogwartsexpress @lastwandastan @fdl305 @alexxavicry @bookfrog242 @alina02 @i-beg-your-pardon-laufeyson @aerangi @sparklemarysunshine @oliviah-25 @mischiefsemimanaged @nikkitc0703 @hallecarey1 @misshale21 @girl-of-multi-fandoms @mansaaay @princess-paramour @stormcloudss @uwiuwi @marvelgurl @mysticfalls01 @kebabgirl67 @athena-roy @tinyelfperson @madebylilly @dumb-fawkin-bitch @vrittivsanghavi @beck07990 @kimhtoo17 @thereisa8ella @pandaxnienke

#henry cavill fandom #henry cavill #henry cavill x reader #henry cavill imagine #henry cavill fanfiction #henry cavill x female reader #henry cavill smut #henry cavill rpf #lumberjack!henry cavill

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angryschnauzer · 1 year

Text

On Your Knees

Summary: As general maid for 221 Baker Street, you assist most of the residents. However on one quiet night when most of them are out, only one resident returns to his home... a little worse for wear. He thanks you in the easiest way possible.

Fandoms: Enola Holmes 2, Henry Cavill

Pairing: Sherlock Holmes x Female Reader

Warnings: 18+, Smut, NSFW, Drunk Sherlock, Oral Sex (Female Receiving).

Here is my masterlist and AO3

Wordcount: 1854

I do not run a tag list, instead please follow @angryschnauzerwrites and put that blog onto notifications, you’ll then get an alert each time i post something new. My AO3 also has my entire back catalogue of stories (going back to 2013).

On Your Knees

The cold wind rattled the fragile glass in the frame, a chill advancing into your room even further as the dark night continued. The building of 221 Baker Street was colder than usual, most of the apartments empty for the night due to various parties and festive events happening this time of year meaning the tenants wouldn’t be back until the morning.

As the scullery maid of 221 Baker Street you were in and out most of the apartments each day, tending to the fireplaces and delivering meals if required. The housekeeper who supervised you telling you where to go and what to do wasn’t around either, though her instruction was rarely needed anymore, you knew the routines of all of the tenants and could read the calendar hung in the kitchen showing who was home and who wasn’t.

At that moment the wind rushed against the window again and you pulled your dressing gown further around your body, shivering beneath your quilt. Glancing at your own laundry you’d hand washed that evening, your bloomers hung on the wooden airer where the chimney breast rose through the building. With every pair you owned doing little to dry in the cold attic room, you cursed your schedule for not giving you time to do it earlier in the day when the sun had been coming through the window. Now you just had your thin nightgown and woollen stockings to keep you warm beneath your dressing gown.

You were drawn from your thoughts by the sound of movement in the hallway far below your room. Freezing you wracked your brain to try to remember if any of the tenants were due back tonight, but none were. Through the eerie quiet of the house there was another bump and a quiet curse. You reached for the large floor brush that still sat beside the door to your room with its dustpan, lifting the brush as a weapon as you opened the door and carefully stepped out onto the old floorboards to peer down through the stairwell. Clinging to your brush you leant forwards over the bannister and peered through the darkness, a single lamp in the hall four floors down barely illuminating the entryway before you suddenly saw a shadow move. Letting out a small gasp you clamped your hand over your mouth as you watched, but that tension evaporated when you recognised the wide shoulders and curly dark hair of the tenant in apartment B;

“Detective Holmes!” you called out, the figure below swivelling rapidly before spinning and looking up.

“Ah. There you are…” a soft hiccup followed as he swayed on his feet.

“I’ll be right down Sir”

Just last week Mr Holmes’ sister helped him into his apartment having had too many drinks at the pub, and it would seem he’d done the same again tonight. Padding on stocking clad feet you descended the stairs quickly, soon arriving in the hallway as Mr Holmes swayed a little on his feet;

“Can i help you to your apartment Sir?”

“Oh that would be *hiccup* wonderful Darling”

Hooking your arm around his back and pulling his own arm over your shoulders, you started to help him up the stairs one at a time, before arriving at his apartment.

“I have a… I have my… dammit” Mr Holmes cursed as he fumbled for his key, and as you glanced down you could see that the bunch of keys in his pocket had caught on the fabric and were stuck. Without even thinking you batted his hand away and slid your much smaller hand into his pocket, moving the keys around until they were no longer snagged on the fabric. You tried not to think of the heat radiating from Mr Holmes thigh, barely separated from your touch by a thin layer of cotton, nor the firm muscle beneath the fabric that flexed as your delicate fingers brushed against it. He answered your silent thoughts with a grunt, before you pulled the keys out and unlocked the door, all whilst he had his arm around your shoulder.

His body was firm and heavy, a welcome weight against your cold frame, and as he swayed you did so too, before he finally pulled his arm free of your shoulders and started to shuck off his coat and scarf, struggling as he went about the task.

“Mr Holmes, Sir, please let me help…”

He swung around, shrugging his shoulders, his coat now held on his arms around his elbows, his wide shoulders only accentuated by the white shirt and silk waistcoat that clung to his torso. Whilst distracted you didn’t spot his flailing, one stray arm of his coat socking you around the chin, and although not hurting you, caught you by surprise and knocked you back where you lost your footing and fell on your bottom.

“Ta-da! Done it!” he proclaimed proudly, before spinning around; “Where did you…?”

Climbing to your feet you took the bundle of coat from the floor;

“Ah, there you are Darling, didn’t get you did i?”

“Just a little Mr Holmes. Let me hang this up for you”

As you hung the coat onto the hook near the door you heard a gasp and a soft thud, turning to see Sherlock on his knees before you;

“Mr Holmes!”

“My Darling, i am so sorry, so very very sorry”

He had big puppy dog eyes as he looked up at you, his drunken state obviously accentuating his normally muted emotions; I should have been more careful… a heinous crime I have committed to sock a young lady around with my coat, please… please forgive me…”

You tried very hard not to laugh, for this was so far removed from what Mr Holmes was like normally, but also it stirred something within you, to see this big man on his knees before you, his face mere inches from your stomach.

“Please Darling…” He edged closer, wrapping his arms around your bottom and pressed his cheek to your stomach; “Please forgive me…”

At first you were frozen with fear, this was not only completely out of character for Mr Holmes, but wholly inappropriate, but the long days and lack of sleep perhaps clouded your judgement and you cautiously rested your hand on the top of his head;

“It’s… it’s ok Mr Homes, Sir”

He turned his head and peered up at you;

“Let me make it up to you”

You could only watch in shock as he moved his hands to rest them on your stocking clad ankles, before he started to inch those warm palms up your legs. When he reached your knees his fingertips rubbed soft circles against the backs of your thighs, your nightgown bunching at his wrists. For the whole time you kept eye contact, unable to draw your gaze away until his fingertips reached the top of your woollen stockings and he let out a small grunt of appreciation. He ducked his head forwards and pressed a single kiss to the skin just above the tied ribbons that secured the stockings in place.

“You smell divine” he muttered softly, inhaling deeply before he bunched your nightgown up in one hand and pressed his nose to the apex of your thighs.

“Oh! Sir!”

He pressed a kiss to your soft mound, before his fingers stroked softly along your seam. Never breaking eye contact he lifted one leg over his shoulder, opening you up like a spring blossom. A warm puff of breath warmed your skin before he leant forwards and his tongue found your silken pearl. If it wasn’t for his firm shoulder your leg was hooked over you would have damn near fallen to the floor, you did lose your footing a little, your back falling to rest against the door behind you and your hands found their way to his dark curls.

The slight tug on his hair seemed to spur him on, his wicked tongue parting your folds, and the appreciative murmur that came from his muffled lips only excited you more. Sherlock knew exactly what to do, and you can’t believe you had never even considered that this fine specimen of a man would be skilled in the art of lovemaking, but because of his cold demeanour it just hadn’t been something you’d thought of.

You tried to concentrate on the look of bliss on his face, but the way his long tongue was pushing at your secret canal, his nose rubbing against your pearl, it was almost too distracting. Your head slowly fell back until it rested on the wooden door behind you, your eyes fluttering shut as pleasure grew in the pit of your belly. It was only when he moved a little, his lips finding your pearl again and he slid a thick finger into your tight channel did your eyes spring open;

“Oh lord!”

A quiet chuckle came from between your thighs, looking down to see the mischief in his eyes and he winked at you just as he slid a second finger in alongside the first. He crooked them just so as he moved them slowly but firmly, stroking at your velveteen walls, his lips and tongue increasing their efforts until you felt a surge of pleasure, a white hot fire bursting forth from your core and you climaxed with a loud cry of his name;

“Sherlock!”

As your body trembled he slowed his fingers, before pulling them free and holding them up to the faint candle light, inspecting the stickiness on them with a learned curiosity, before he sucked them both clean. He looked up at you as you trembled above him, slipping your leg off of his shoulder and he went to rock back onto his feet, but unfortunately losing his footing and topping back onto his behind;

“Oouf!”

As your nightdress fell back around your ankles and on unsteady legs you rushed forwards to help him to his feet, his eyes a little glazed from his drunkenness. He was like a lead weight, swaying on his feet until you managed to half carry half drag him to the chaise lounge and unceremoniously drop him on the soft cushion, watching as he twisted his body until he was on his back;

“What was i saying? I’m sure i should have thanked you for something…” he was already nodding off to sleep, oblivious to the rich smell of your sex now hanging in the room.

You let out a sigh before turning and to the quiet background noise of his snores you lit a fire in the hearth to warm the room. Making sure a heavy yew log was placed in the centre of the grate to ensure a long slow burn, you set the fireguard in place. Spotting his long blue dressing gown hanging over a chair, you carefully laid it over his sleeping form, and with one last glance back at him you exited the apartment. At least with the fire in his apartment now going a sliver of warmth would seep into your room that cold night.

#sherlock holmes x reader #enola holmes movie #henry holmes #henry cavill

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fallenangelkitten · 9 months

Text

False Power

Synopsis: Henry urges you to ride his muscular thigh in the sauna.

Warnings: thigh riding, praise, overstimulation, light punishment, brat taming, semi public

Notes: I used to be fallenangelbb here on the Henry Cavill side of tumblr but deleted my account and have regretted it ever since. So here I am reposting my work :)

Your pupils blown with lust as you hungrily looked at one another. You were the only two in the sauna; the perks of having him rent it for an hour. “Kitten,” Henry groaned, unknowingly pushing you hard against his thigh, the tips of his fingers digging hard into the soft skin of your hips. “Our time is almost up in here, the next group will be in,” he warned, but his tone said something else entirely.

“I guess we’ll have to be quick then, huh?” You spoke, your lips grazing his ear as you purposely pressed your chest against his. An uncontrollable groan erupted from him, a moan so delicious that you found yourself getting aroused just from hearing it.

No wonder Henry loved hearing you; there was just something about making him lose absolute control from your touch, wanting nothing more than you.

Your hands twisted themselves into his curls, slightly shaking from nervousness as you’ve never really taken charge until now. You let your lips trail down his neck and collarbones, feeling his blood pump under them as his chest heaved.

”(Y/n)-“ Henry spoke as he tried to regain control, but you ignored him, instead sucking and purring against his skin. You could feel him tense up, head thrown back and eyes closed. You had him right where you wanted him. “Fuck,” he swore loudly, a growl erupting from him as you let a hand leave his hair and trail down his damp body.

The way you made Henry squirm under you gave you a burst of confidence. You could feel the muscles in his stomach tense beneath your touch, letting your claws drag against his skin.

Feeling his warmth against you, his erratic pulse, you grounded yourself against his muscular thigh. Pleasure shot through you as you effortlessly slid back and forth against his leg. You moaned, pulling back slightly as you rubbed your clit and folds against him, the thin fabric of your swim suit bottom letting every stroke reach you.

You pressed your lips against his neck, nibbling and sucking hard with the desire to leave your mark on him as he has to you oh so many times. Henry swore under his breath every time your teeth gently grazed his skin, helpless and heated sighs leaving those pouty lips of his. You smiled proudly to yourself, admiring the work of art you created, faint marks that trailed along his neck, his collarbones- you were lucky he wasn’t filming anything for the next few weeks. You could hear him hiss beneath you, his eyes ablaze as he gazed at you, “You didn’t- you gave me hickies?”

You sheepishly grinned, leaning against his chest, nibbling his ear as you said, “We’re matched now.” You giggled but he growled. Without warning, his palms pressed your hips down against that thick thigh, forcing your body to twist at such an angle that your mouth hung agape as your clit rubbed against him roughly.

Your head fell against his hairy chest as you gasped. But Henry didn’t give you a chance to breathe, his hand gripped your chin and made you look into his eyes. The look he held had you trembling, cunt clenching with excitement at how much trouble you were in.

“You think just because you're on top, you’re in control?” A dark laugh left his smirking lips. “Oh, how wrong you are. I’m the one in control, kitten.”

His face fell against yours, not bothering to be gentle, biting your lip as you whined under the beginnings of his torment. His hands were already playing with the straps behind your back, causing you to pull back and witness the naughty smirk tugging on his lips, “You said to be quick, hmm?”

With a swift tug, the strings were undone. It was only then you noticed how steamy the sauna had gotten, the tension and heavy breaths adding to the haze. Your hands instinctively went to cover yourself, but Henry was faster. With your wrists caught in his large hands, he made his command, “Don’t hide from me. Ever. Understand?”

“Yes, sir,” you barely whispered.

“Good girl. Now, let me hear those beautiful little moans of yours, can you do that for me, Kitten?” Henry cooed, lips grazing your neck, earning him a groan.

Your freed hands dug into his shoulders; feeling the way he slowly worked down to your chest. His hands skimmed the skin right below your breasts, just barely touching you. You rocked your hips against him in frustration.

“Please-“ you whined, your tone so embarrassingly needy. You could feel Henry’s lips form a smirk against your skin, pulling away just slightly as he looked up at your face.

“What’s wrong? Does my little brat want something?” He mocked.

He let his fingertips trail along the skin of your breasts, his touch faint and so dreadfully close to your hardened nipples. “Henry,” you gasped, shuddering under his touch once again, but he only snickered.

“Use your words, Kitten. I want to hear you say what you want.” You pouted, looking away bashfully. He laughed, his tongue, running down your chest before you could feel his hot breath right at your nipple. You whimpered, nails digging into his skin; the last fucking straw.

“T-Touch me!” You cried, an embarrassed blush flooding your cheeks. But you needed to have him touch you and relieve you or it was going to kill you. His mouth latched onto your breast with his own moan tingling your perked up nub, tongue taunting. His hand pinched your neglected nipple, ensuring it got just as much attention.

Your head fell back as your groans echoed through the sauna. You let your hips grind against his thigh; your bottoms were soaked, and it wasn’t because of the damn steam. It clung to you, adding another sensation along your throbbing slit as you helplessly sought a high off of his leg. As if Henry knew, he tensed his muscles to create even more friction.

“H-Henry, it feels so good,” you moaned as your eyes closed and head fell back. He pulled away from your breast, his hand replacing his glorious mouth as he growled.

“I can’t wait to make you cum on my thigh, watch you become a mess above me,” his voice was husky, deep with lust. His thigh tensed under you once again, but this time you didn’t bother trying to lessen the moans that escaped your mouth as you rubbed yourself against him. You didn’t want to cum- not like this- but the way his hand pushed you against him, guiding your hips had you thinking otherwise.

Your breasts bounced as you moved back and forth. You were a mess; a wet sheen covering your body as you panted. It felt so good, the feeling of Henry’s burning skin and muscles against you, the way he looked as he bit his lip as he watched you. “You love this, don’t you kitten? Those pretty moans leaving those fuckable lips of yours,” Henry groaned, his words causing you to blush, but you didn’t stop moving.

As if he could sense it, he spoke, “You going to cum for me?” You cried out, the pressure building inside of you, itching to be released. He rolled your nipple between his teeth. “Be a good girl and cum for me. Now.” He gripped your ass, pressing your cunt so hard against his thigh, biting your neck- and you lost it.

Your eyes shut, head falling into his neck, not a sound escaping you despite your mouth hanging open. You could feel your body shutting against him.

He roughly slid you against his leg as you rode out your high, your body jolting every time your clit hit him. You knew a slick mess would be left in your wake.

You couldn’t think straight, faintly hearing Henry’s cooes in your ear as he rubbed your back, “You did so well for me.” But despite his comforting words you could feel the grasp on your hips tighten, forcing you to keep riding his thigh.

Your eyes widen, a whimper leaving you as you gasped, “H-Henry, it’s- it’s too much-“ you cried, your body twitching from oversensitivity.

The dark chuckle that erupted from Henry, clicking his tongue as he purred into your ear, “Did you think I forgot how much of a fucking brat you are? You need to be punished.” Your body flushed, realizing what you had gotten yourself into.

“I-I can’t cum again,” you whined, your body jerking beneath him. But hearing his controlling, commanding tone? You knew you would be.

Then you felt it; his fingers gently tracing your slit over your bottoms. He was able to part your lips through the fabric. You could feel yourself clenching around nothing, the need to be filled taking over.

You swallowed down your own pride. “Please, sir. P-Put them inside.”

“What a good girl, using your words.” He pushed the fabric aside, gently stroking your folds, nudging your clit, teasing your entrance. You couldn’t take it anymore. You bucked your hips, feeling his finger slide into you in one single motion. Your walls clenched around his digit, pulling him in.

Only then did you realize that Henry wasn’t even guiding your hips anymore, that you were already grinding yourself against him, another knot building inside of you. He slid his finger in and out of you, moans escaping as he squeezed your ass with his free hand.

“More,” you panted, and you could hear Henry chuckle, “Funny, I thought you couldn’t cum again?” He teased.

You whimpered again as tears started to form from the building pressure at your core. Your body was quivering, the knot growing tighter.

“Please, Henry, more-“ you cried, you needed more. You needed to feel full, even if it wasn’t his cock and just his fingers stroking your walls. Without another plea, he pulled his finger back, only to shove a second in.

You felt your legs stiffen, tightening around his fingers as your mind began to fog. “You gonna cum for me, kitten?” Henry grunted, his fingers furiously pounding you. You couldn’t speak; you nodded your head as you shook over his body.

With a final thrust, you screamed.

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wildestdreamsblog · 2 years

Text

Just to Seal My Fate

Pairing: Bodyguard!August Walker x Reader

Warnings: Soft!Dark August Walker, Swearing, Alcohol consumption, Sexual themes, mention of death, violence, drama. If you’re not 18+ please, PLEASE, do not interact. Be mindful of the warnings. Let me know if I miss anything.

A/N: It took me six months to finish this omg. Please support content creators by commenting or reblogging their works 💖 I will also no longer be keeping a taglist. Thank you my loves!

No Rules in Breakable Heaven: Beginning, Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, End

August was playing the gracious host. Or rather, a doting kidnapper. You couldn’t exactly call him a hostage taker, because when you offered to give him half of your wealth, he ended up giving you a sympathetic smile, nodded his head before tapping down on his phone and showing to you just how much he was worth. Your wealth seemed so small in comparison to his.

Short to say, you didn’t know why you even bothered paying him for months on end. Right..your trusted secretary revealed to you later on that August didn’t touch any of his salary. Thousands of dollars were deposited to his account, and to date, it was still sitting there untouched. It became clearer to you that he wasn’t doing any of this for money. It was clearer to you that you didn’t want to know what his motivations were. And maybe, it terrified you to understand his mind.

“Princess,” August called you, his footsteps smooth across the floor as he walked near you. You turned to look at him, his dark look and devilish handsome face still managed to take your breath away. Your mind knew you should hate him, but your heart still skipped a beat when he was near you. Suffice to say, love was complicated. Love, you learned from him, doest not need to make sense. “I’ll be back soon.”

“Where are you going?” You might hate what he did to you, but he was still the only one you knew in the huge castle he brought you in. Despite your aversion to his betrayal, his was still the familiar face. And you were not comfortable to be left in this castle with his butler who was almost robotic.

August smirked before running the back of his hand on your cheek. And you did flinch, just a second too late before you saw his patient smile at you. “Oh, are you worried, my princess?”

You slapped his hand away, “No, I’m not,” you huffed before crossing your arms.

“I’ll be back soon. In the mean time, you may familiarize yourself in our home.”

Home was an understatement. This was a castle. You found yourself roaming the room you woke up in, your legs carrying you to every nook and cranny of the spacious room, looking for any form of escape. This was even bigger than the room you had in your own manor. You entered the expanse of the closet. August’s crisp and expensive shirts were neatly hanged, but beside that were dresses with tags still on. You ran your hand over the cloth, your frown deepening as you realized they were all your size, they were all your style, even down to your favorite brand. With a horrified look on your face, you managed to move on to another section that housed accessories- and beside his expensive watches were jewelries that were same as what you owned.

It became clearer to you, this was not a temporary thing to August. No, this was permanent for him.

Hours passed and yet, there was still no August. The maid ushered you down the stairs to the fancy dining room- all your favorite meals laid down on the long table. The cold butler, ever the gentleman, helped you in your seat. You didn’t know whether you could trust August, you didn’t know if there was still any chance that he wanted to end your life. You couldn’t trust anyone. And so you watched over your lashes as the butler dipped his head a little before leaving you all alone in the room. That was when you stood up, your senses alert, your survival instinct on the highest setting as you walked briskly, looking for an escape. It was becoming suspicious even to an untrained person such as you to approach the main door without anyone stopping you. Your hand almost touched the door when the butler silently approached you from your side.

“Lady Walker, are you going somewhere?” He asked politely, his suit impeccable and without any crease.

“I’m not Lady Walker,” you snapped, your patience wearing thin. This had been a long day for you. First you thought you were going to get married to your childhood friend, and the next thing you knew you were being drugged and kidnapped by your deranged bodyguard turned lover, and now you were in an unknown palace so far away from civilization, and people you literally only met today were calling you Lady of the house, their Lady Walker. Up until now, you could confidently say that you were handling it calmly. But you were almost in your tipping point with no form of communication to your people, with only having him to rely on, with being dragged back to his side- it was enough to make the calm and kind you to snap at someone for the first time in years.

The butler only smiled understandingly at you, not once flinching from your ire. “May I know where you are going so we can prepare your security and inform Sir August?”

You felt a burning feeling in your chest, one that was ready to explode any second. “I want to leave on my own.”

“I’m afraid we cannot let you leave without security and without his express approval-“

“So I can’t leave on my own?” Your voice had the challenging tone you never used. “So am I a prisoner, then?”

“No, Madame, you are not.”

“But I’m not free to go anywhere I like.”

“You can. We just need to inform Sir-“

“You are describing a prisoner.”

The butler sighed before fixing his glasses, “No, Madame,” he started before looking up at one of the cameras located on the ceiling, “You are Sir August’s most prized possession.”

“I heard you didn’t eat anything since I left.”

You jumped from your position. You were lying down on the bed, trying to get some peace when the bane of your existence materialized once again.

“Did you miss me that much?” The bed dipped from his weight, his ring adorned hand rested on your waist as if he had a right to still touch you.

“Where were you?”

He regarded you for a moment, his head tilting to the side, “Your lovesick suitor is proving to be a nuisance,” he commented lightly before he drank from the whiskey he was holding. Now you could see that his knuckles were bruised and bloodied.

“What did you do?” Maybe he heard the hysteria in your voice as you sat up, aware now more than ever that you were in the presence of the devil hidden by a beautiful face.

He smiled coldly at what you said as if amused by you and how you automatically thought that he was the one at fault. Well, he would be at fault if you ever try to leave him.

“We’ll eat, and then we’ll talk, my princess.”

Your eyes drifted repeatedly to the stairs as you bit your lip, second guessing whether you should trust her. But she did say to use this if you ever wanted the truth. And now, you needed the truth. You didn’t know if you could trust whatever he was going to say, but this was worth the risk.

What more could you lose, right?

And so, you opened the small vial she gave you, poured the whole content to his glass of whiskey, and mixed it. You watched the liquid swirled, and with it, the truth you had been denied to for months on end.

It didn’t take long before August finished with his shower and went down, and sat in front of you, his legs spread, his stance that of a man so comfortable in his own space. His dark eyes went to the whiskey in front of him before his lips formed into a smirk. He gestured to you, “Eat, my princess. I didn’t bring you here just to starve you.”

You glared at him before pointedly looking at the food laid in front of you. “How do I know they’re not poisoned?”

He nodded, your concern was understandable. He grabbed his fork before digging in on the food, showing you that they were in no way tampered. Only when he swallowed and nothing happened did you start drinking the juice served in front of you. The two of you ate in comfortable silence, it was too comfortable that you almost forgot you were in the presence of one of the most dangerous people on the world. Only when you finished eating, no matter how small you ate, did he address you.

“Go on, princess,” he drawled, swirling the almost finished and contaminated glass of whiskey in his large hand. The signet ring you gave him on Christmas twinkling form the light on the chandelier. “Ask me your questions. You know I can only say the truth.”

You froze, your eyes slowly sliding to his dark ones. “You knew.” You surmised, the utensil you were holding suddenly felt heavy that it made a clanking noise when you accidentally dropped it.

He smiled at you, “I do.”

“Then why did you still drink it?”

“Because,” he started before looking at the glass of whiskey, “You have my heart in the palm of your hands. You deserved nothing but the truth.” Of course, August knew. He was too trained to know when something had been tampered with. He knew she approached you. He knew he gave her that vial. Nothing missed his eyes when you were apart from him. But you didn’t need to know that. Just because he wanted you to know the truth did not mean that you needed to know everything. You were already wary and terrified of him, no need to add to that.

He wanted you to treat him like before, as if he was the only safe space in this world for you.

You frowned as you watched him gulped the remaining whiskey. You should not have underestimated the August Walker.

He smirked at your astonished expression before lowering the glass with finality. “Ask me, my princess. You won’t get another chance to poison me.”

He was right, and you knew it.

You soldiered through his intense gaze, straightening your back, and tilting your chin forward, you asked the thing that would hurt you the most.

“How many times did you try to kill me?”

And without any pause, he answered, “Four times.”

You slumped down to your chair, your expression defeated as you laughed humorlessly. Despite what they had all been saying, there was a small part of you that said, ‘no. August wouldn’t do that to me. They were all wrong.’ But now, the truth was sitting in front of you and he was looking at you with no remorse. You squeezed your eyes shut.

The truth was, you were falling in love with him while he was busy killing you.

“I assumed the first time was the yacht.” You stated, your tone deadpanned as you waited for him to confirm.

“Yes.”

“Why did you save me, then?” Was he that twisted? Did he want you to experience the trauma time and time again? To live with the fear that anyone might end your life? To feel the anxiety and stress and pain? “Are you that cruel?”

“Yes, I am.” He confirmed with a nod. Of course, he was unapologetic about his cruelty. He poured himself another glass of whiskey, “I shut the engine down, each and everyone of you in that yacht were screaming, running to safety, running away from the fire. You were the only one who froze like a deer caught on a headlight. I remember that day as if it was yesterday, you were wearing that red dress. You were looking at the ocean, so separated from the people celebrating behind you. But then the chaos, you were hit by a fire extinguisher that exploded from the fire. But before that.. you looked behind you. You looked at me. You probably couldn’t remember. But you saw me. And then you fell in the ocean. And then it started. I couldn’t let you die. I didn’t know why, but I saved the life I intended to end that day.”

Your lips were trembling at that point, tears streaming down your face as he looked at you unemotionally, the serum still in his system that he could give you nothing but the cruel truth that cruel summer.

“The second time I tried was in the manor when you woke up in the middle of the night and saw me holding that knife. That was for you, my princess. But I ended up tasting you and becoming addicted that night, sealing our fate. The third time was when the car exploded, that day you said that everyone was just looking for love. I meant for you to explode with the car, but at the last possible second, I pulled you away from danger that I orchestrated.”

“And then the last, at that gala. You were so beautiful that night, and you were so warm. I was supposed to shoot you dead, but alas, I shot the man I trained with. Did you know they sent a second killer that night because I kept on failing? Well, they did. And I killed him. Because no one is to touch you, my princess-“

“Enough.” You whispered. It was true what they said. Ignorance really was a bliss.

“Too much, princess?” He asked, concern laced on his velvet voice. You didn’t look up at him, didn’t even acknowledge him when you felt him walked and kneeled beside you, his large palm cradling your head as he waited for you to get your breathing under control. Always patiently waiting. “Ask me if I love you.” He ordered quietly.

You shook your head, not wanting to know.

“Ask me.”

“Do you love me?”

“With every twisted part of me, I love you.”

Your eyes found his sincere ones, his handsome face looked so angelic despite his cruelty. “How can you love anyone? You are a bad person.”

“I changed for you,” he professed, his other hand tilting your cheek to him, “I stopped the end of the world for you. I eradicated my men for you. I loved for you,” he whispered the last part as if confessing a secret that only you could keep. “And if you ever decide to leave me, I will burn this world to ashes.” You felt him touch the ring he gave you, the one you left, the one he now had possession of, “So what is your choice, my princess?”

“This doesn’t feel like I have much of a choice,” you chuckled humorlessly. You were so tired. You were so drained. You could no longer fight his touch off of you.

August shrugged calmly, “Take it as it is.” His demeanor may show you that he didn’t care either way, but his eyes told you to choose him. To please choose him.

“I care about you-” you started when he cut you off.

“I need more than that. I need your love.”

You looked deeply in his eyes, your hand for the first time since you left him willingly touched the hand he was using to cradle your cheek. “You have it.” You said truthfully, because he did. He always had your heart, even though you ran from him, even though you were conflicted, even though he was technically an evil incarnate, he had your heart. He managed to capture it, sinked his claws so deep that you had no way of wrenching him away from you that in no way would make you bleed. Losing him would maim you.

“But this isn’t right. You have to let me go.”

August closed the distance between the two of you, his lips seeking yours in a passionate kiss, one that was done so deeply you knew you couldn’t feel like this for anyone. There was no chance you would feel as much as you did for him for anyone. He was holding you as if he was apologizing for all the things he did, as if he was promising to do better, as if he was begging you to just give him another chance. And if you wouldn’t, he would take. You were moving your lips shallowly against him when the whole mansion vibrated from an explosion.

And then everything went loose.

You were shoved behind August’s broad back, his movement quick and efficient as he pressed a button, alerting his army of men. He grabbed the gun from under the table, his eyes glinting that of a killer, his eyes trained on the door waiting for the assailant.

One.

Two.

Three.

A powerful kick on the door sent the wood flying, as the number of men dressed on a tactical gear with their gun pointed at August surrounded the room, entering one by one. And at the end of the line was your old friend, Earl George.

Your eyes widened when you saw his disheveled face, his face freshly bruised, his neck sporting a bloodied bandage.

“Oh my god, George-“

“Let her go, asshole. This will never end well for you.”

And then August laughed. He laughed so hard that the men looked at him as if he was insane. Maybe he was. August shoved his palm in his pocket, his stance was so relaxed, as if he had no care that there were guns pointed at him.

“Did I not beat you right awhile ago, Earl?” He inquired curiously before he softly looked at you before letting go of you wrist.

Was he… was he letting you go?

He tilted his head, urging you to decide.

“Go on,” his commanding voice resounded on the silence of the mansion. “Go with him. But first know that once you stepped outside with him,” he drawled before walking ever so calmly, as if no army was pointing their guns at him, following his every move. “His head will explode.”

What?

The Earl looked at him with anger in his eyes, “What are you talking about? You cannot threaten me. You are thoroughly outnumbered.”

August roamed his eyes on the men surrounding him before shrugging his broad shoulders. “The wound I gave you on your neck. Did you not have it check?” He asked as if genuinely curious. Earl was about to answer when he waved him off, his hand showing the phone he was holding. “Nevertheless, long story short, there’s a device inside your precious neck that can be detonated by me. And no, you cannot remove it. Your head will explode if you do.”

How can he be so calm while discussing the crime he committed?

You shook your head slowly, your eyes looking at his and you knew that the truth serum was still in effect, There was no way he was telling anything but the truth.

“No,” your voice was pleading, you were pleading for it to be nothing but a horrible dream. One that you would awaken from and not the reality where you have no choice but to stay with the man you were in love with, with the man who attempted to kill you, with the man who did numerous wrongs in his life that it was almost unforgivable, and the man that was now threatening the life of your longtime friend who did nothing but support and love you.

“You wouldn’t,” your voice sounded sos mall, but he heard you. He was always in tuned with you, always.

“Try me, my princess.”

Earl George snapped from his reverie, “He’s lying-“

“I may or may not be lying. Do you want to risk it?”

Earl George quieted, his head hanging so low, his hand sheepishly touching his neck. His stance was that of a defeated man. He met your eyes, his was so apologetic and yours was that of a gentle defeat and understanding. He mouthed, ‘I’m sorry’ to you, and you only nodded. There was nothing that could be done. And you understood. Your fate was sealed.

And with trembling hand, you reached for August’s outstretched ones. Once you did, he clasped yours in his powerful hand and pulled you to him, sealing your fate.

Days, weeks, months passed. And you were back to your old life. Your charity was in full operation. From time to time, you saw the earl as you ran in the same circle, but he could never meet your eyes. And you understood, now it was only small smiles that had too much understanding and history. Your hand rubbed the small bump in your stomach, your hand adorned with rings from him.

They never connected any of August crimes to him. In the end, the Earl called off all searches and investigations once August stopped committing them. Everyone followed Earl George’s example. And once again, August was just a simple citizen. He married you in front of the society, moving so fast as if he was terrified of losing you. To this day, you were sure this was all wrong. And each night, he reminded you why this was right. And often you asked yourself:

When you love a villain, does that make you a villain, too?

okay goodnight (that coffee was strong)

#soft!dark august walker x reader #soft!dark august walker #soft!dark august walker x you #august walker x y/n #august walker fic #august walker x you #august walker x reader #possessive august walker #august walker #henry cavill fic

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holylulusworld · 6 months

Text

Sex you up - Kinktober 18

Summary: You attend a Halloween party.

Pairing: Henry Cavill x Plussized!Reader

Warnings: flirty Henry, meet cute, RPF, size kink, implied smut

A/N: We are having Henry in his Walter Marshall era because this one has me in a chokehold. Suffer with me.

Trope/Kink: Size Kink

Idea by: @sultryfandoms

Kinktober vs Flufftober 2023

Halloween always has something magical to you. Not only because of the people celebrating it, or trick or treat. It’s not only the costumes, drinking, candy, and having fun.

The air is thick with mystery on Halloween, and you think about its origin and the truth behind the legend on October 31st.

“Y/N, hurry up and stop staring at the pumpkins,” your friend groans as you take another picture of the decoration outside the house. “Babe, we got invited to the party of the year. Stop being a nerd for one night.”

You harrumph. Chelsey is your friend, but her words hit home. You always were a little shy, and insecure. When you got older and turned from a girl into a woman it got better.

Still, sometimes you are self-conscious and shy away. Especially at parties with too many people, you do not know. “Coming,” you grumble under your breath. “It’s just, that the decoration is breathtaking. Look at all the jack-o-lanterns. The house looks like a gothic castle from a horror movie.”

“Yeah, spider webs and all,” Chelsey rolls her eyes. “Babe, all I want is to get waisted, and find a cute guy for the night.”

“How about you go inside, and I look at the decoration for a little longer. I’ll be right there.”

“YES!” She pinches your cheek. “I’ll get you a drink and wait for you.”

This time, you roll your eyes. Chelsey will forget about you the moment she finds some cute guy. “Go ahead. Have fun.”

She enters the house without looking back, making you sigh. Chelsey promised you are going to have a ladies’ night. Now you are on your own once again.

“You know, Halloween’s origins date back to the ancient Celtic festival of Samhain,” you squeak, and press one hand to your heart as a man stands next to you. “Sorry, sweetness. I didn’t want to scare you. On Halloween out of all days.”

You dip your head to get a better look at him. The stranger must be the tallest man you have ever seen, with broad shoulders, a wide chest and curly hair. He’s wearing a beard, making him look wilder than he really is. His soft eyes tell you he’s got a good heart.

“It’s fine. I was just admiring the decoration and got distracted,” you give him a soft smile. “Are you invited to the party too?”

“Guilty,” he returns your smile as he steps a little closer. “I see you came as a wolf. A cute one.” The man grins as you look down at your body. “I like it very much.”

“It was the only one left at the store. Well, the only one fitting me.”

“You look…” He looks you up and down, licking his lips, “Excuse my choice of words, but you look like any wolf would love to eat you alive.”

“I’m a wolf too,” you retort. “What’s your costume? Grumpy sweater lover?” You smirk.

“I’m a werewolf,” he grins, revealing sharpy canines. “See, I’m hiding behind a nice face. But if you give me the chance, I’ll sink my teeth in your flesh and eat you, sweetness.”

“Eat me?” You swallow thickly. This man is a stranger, but you feel drawn to him. His eyes drop to your chest, and you shudder under his gaze. It’s his sheer size dwarfing you that makes your body tingle.

“I bet,” he steps even closer, cupping your face with his large hands, “you make the cutest noises when I use my mouth on you.”

He flashes you a dark smile, revealing his sharp teeth to you. You shudder and press your legs together. “Maybe we can skip the party and get to the part where you eat me…”

"Oh, Mrs. Cavill, you have been a naughty girl," your husband purrs against your lips. "Let's skip the party."

Tags in reblog.

#henry cavill #henry cavill fanfiction #henry cavill x reader #henry cavill x you #henry cavill x female reader #henry cavill x y/n #Sex you up - kinktober 18 #kinktober vs flufftober 2023

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sourcherryandsprinkles · 1 year

Note

heyy, maybe prompts 13 and 18 for mindy meeks martin??

‘’Shut up.’’ ‘’Why don't you come over here and make me.’’ + ‘’You have no idea how much I want you.’’

Warnings: smut, masturbation (there was a lot more to the plan, but it was getting too long)

my taglists are here (I added one for SCREAM) + you can requests here at any time

—

If you and Mindy were a romance cliché, you would be the roommates trope. Chad liked to make fun of his sister for falling into a cliché when all her life she’s been emphasizing on how different she was.

When your relationship became serious, you and Mindy did some rearrangement to the dorm. You pushed the beds together to make one big bed, tired of having to squeeze into one of the twin beds, and got rid of the shirtless Henry Cavill poster that the previous girl had left there. It was really not your vibe.

A sight left your lips, filling the quiet of the dorm. You had been playing on your switch while Mindy was sitting at her desk, working on her film class assignment. It was due for tomorrow so she really needed to get it done before joining you for your nightly movie. You had started this little routine as a way to unwind and spend time together, as if you didn’t already spend 80% of your day together.

You turned your video game off and called Mindy.

‘’I’m almost finished, babe. I just really need to write about this one aspect that I know will get me a lot of bonus points and then we’ll watch a movie.’’

You liked her cinematic-nerd side, but these assignments were getting longer each time.

Another sigh left your lips and you grabbed your phone, scrolling on social media for a few. Quinn had posted a thirst-trap of herself in a tight dress, either heading to a Tinder date or trying to attract DMs from the male gender.

Taking inspiration from Quinn, you put your phone down and decided to tease your girlfriend.

‘’Mind!’’

‘’I’m almost finished,’’ she repeated, her eyes not quitting her laptop screen. ‘’Give me twenty minutes.’’

‘’Mindy!’’

This time, she peeked a glance at you over her shoulder and groaned, feeling her core tighten when seeing your breasts pulled out of your shirt. ‘’Fuck. How am I supposed to focus on school work now? You know I can’t think straight when I see those.’’ Mindy narrowed her eyes, giving you a pointed look. ‘’Are you trying to sabotage my grades?’’

You gave her your best innocent look. ‘’I’m bored,’’ you said, reaching your hand up to your left breast and rubbing your nipple.

Watching you touch yourself and not being able to join you was torture for Mindy. She wanted to ditch her assignment so badly, but she doubted Mrs. Crane would find your teasing a valid enough reason to not give her a bad mark.

You pulled your bottom lip between your teeth, groping your other breast and making it even harder for Mindy to resist.

‘’You have no idea how much I want you. I really, really want to suck on those pretty nipples, but I have to resist the temptation and finish this assignment first. Then—’’ Mindy’s face switched, giving you a dark look, her eyes sparkling with mischief. ‘’Oh, I have a lot in mind, my love.’’

Her words sent butterflies to your pussy, making it tingle with excitation.

Instead of being good and patient, you decided to push your teasing a notch further and rid yourself of your skirt and underwear. You parted your legs open and brought one of your hands to your folds, sliding your finger up and down a couple of times, drawing out a sigh of pleasure.

It was evil, but you were in a naughty mood…and craving your girlfriend’s attention.

The soft sounds coming from your mouth caught Mindy’s attention, a curse slipping from her lips at the scene behind her. Might as well call it a personal X-rated live-show.

You raised your head, eyes meeting Mindy’s before you raised it to rub slowly against your clit. ‘’Aah, Mindy.’’

She couldn’t tear her eyes away, watching intently as you now pressed two fingers to your clit, rubbing in hard, fast circles as your other hand pulled at your nipple.

You moaned at your own touch, then dropped your fingers lower and pushed two inside yourself. ‘’Mmh. I wish it was your mouth on my clit and your fingers instead of mine—‘’

‘’Shut up.’’ Her voice sounded deeply frustrated.

A grin crossed your lips. ‘’Why don't you come over here and make me.’’

You didn't need to tell her twice.

—

Scream taglist: @misfityanii @beautybyfire @iluvscream191 @mariposa555 @bella7866 @o638 @lulubelle14 @luvvtxinityy @frasersgf @Eddiefrickenmunson @jasperr-the-friendly-ghost @ghostf4cee @thesebitcheslovesosadotcom @wandaswigglywoos @xjennyx2 @jennasslut @thatonesblog

All and more taglist: @spiokybirdstarfish @kenqki @liidiaaag @hawkegfs @gillybear17 @areaderinlove @acornacreacure @black-rose-29 @fudge13 @cece05 @rosie-cameron @Caxddce @laylasbunbunny @gemofthenight @beautyb1ade @hi-bored-as-fcuk-rn @lovelyy-moonlight @mellabella101 @vxnity713 @marzipaanz

#mindy meeks martin imagine #mindy meeks martin x reader #mindy meeks martin #mindy meeks martin smut #scream 6 imagines #scream 6 #scream

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hqdgs · 1 year

Text

♡

#grunge #aesthetic #soft grunge #dark grunge #aesthetic inspiration #justice league #justice leauge dark #henry cavill #oblivion #y2k grunge

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peyton-warren · 9 months

Text

Roses and Flame

Characters: plus size female reader, Captain Syverson

Pairings: Sy x Reader

Fandoms: Sandcastle, Henry Cavill characters

Word count: 2097

Type: fluffy birthday smut

Warning: 18+. Minors DNI. P in V, Oral (f receiving- this is Sy we are talkinga bout), Daddy Kink, ass appreciation

Summary: Sy has a birthday present waiting for his girl when she returns home. (The present is birthday sex)

Author's Note: @ellethespaceunicorn asked for a horned up Sy for thier birthday fic, and i get bonus points for mentioning thier big booty. Hopefully this fits the brief, hon. If it doesn't, lets blame it on me having covid. Thank you to @adulting-sucks for the beta.

Ask Box: Open

Masterlist

“Happy birthday, Pretty Girl,” the familiar rumbling voice cuts through the darkness of your shared home as you step through the door, flush from your evening out with friends and the few drinks you’d had.

As you close the door, you hear the unmistakable sound of a lighter being sparked to life, and you are mesmerized to watch Sy light a single candle, illuminating his face. Dropping your bag to your feet, you grin as you move towards each other in the darkened room, Sy softly humming the song appropriate for this day, his eyes dancing in the tiny flame. “Happy birthday to you,” he finishes just above a whisper as he stops in front of you, holding a plate with a single cupcake on it.

Grinning widely at him for a moment, you close your eyes and make your wish, before blowing out the flame, leaving you in darkness. You giggle. “Now what, handsome?”

His empty hand expertly finds its way to your waist, settling on your hip, drawing your bodies closer as his other hand moves out from between you. Even in the darkness of the room, you could see his smile as you heard him settle the plate on a shelf behind you. “Now I get to give the birthday girl her wish,” he smugly answers, narrowing the distance between you even more. His wickedly playful smile makes you back up until your shoulders and heel come in contact with the built in bookshelves in your living room. Your hands land on his chest, not so much to push him away but just to feel him.

“And you think you know what my wish was?” you ask, your voice fading as his lips brush yours, stray bits of his beard making your skin sing a tune all its own.

Sy hums in the affirmative as his teeth nipped at your bottom lip. “I know my girl. Inside,” suggestiveness dripping from his lips like honey. “Annnd out.” His hands loudly land on your ample backside, grabbing two hands full and holding you fast to him as his lips finally meet yours.

As your mouths share a fiery kiss, your hands skirt up his chest, over his shoulders. One hooks on the back of his neck to steady you as you stand on your tiptoes, eager to meet his passionate kiss. Your other hand curls into the muscle around his clavicle, as you press closer to him.

You feel his fingers on your ass begin to bunch the skirt of your dress up, inch by inch. But as short and tight as the skirt is that you wore out to dinner with your girlfriends, it isn't very long before you feel cool air caressing your delicate skin where your thighs met your ass. Once it is fully bunched at your waist, one of his thick fingers traces the lace string that runs between your cheeks, choosing to pinch and pluck it, snapping it back against your skin, making you jump a little closer to him with a giggle.

The hand on his shoulder slides over his chest, nails scraping over the soft material of his well worn shirt, making Sy hum into your mouth as his tongue twisted with yours. Your fingers find their way under the shirt, skimming over his belly, making his skin jump at your touch. You match his hum as the warmth of his skin fills your digits and you chase the hair on his abs, following down to his waist. You hook your finger over the button at the top of his jeans, tugging enough to make his hips hiccup towards you. The man hovering above you growls lowly against your lips, meanicingly as his tongue snakes back into his mouth. “Yup, I guessed what your wish was,” he eagerly admits, hooking his hands under your thighs, and hauling you up his front, rubbing as much of him as he could against as much of you. You hiss at the feel of your hardened nipples rubbing against him through the silky tight material of your dress.

Turning with a few determined steps, Sy deposits you on the couch, his lips never leaving yours as he settles one knee between your legs, his body hovering over yours. You hook your hand behind his neck, trying to draw him down on top of you, but he had other thoughts. Wrapping his beefy hand around your wrist, he pulls your hand from him, holding it over your head as he moves to kiss your neck. His tongue and teeth conducted a concert against your delicate skin, in perfect harmony with his whiskers rubbing against you just this side of too much. When you tried to move your hand to grab his head, his grip on your wrist firmed, not letting you do anything more than wiggle your fingers. “No, ma’am, stay,” he growls as his other hand deftly unties the straps of your top, pushing the silky material aside to get to his current destination. With an appreciative hum, Sy dips his head between your breasts, depositing an admiring peck in the valley, while his beard teased and tempted your skin. When you arch off the couch to try to get more of the sensation, he wraps his other hand around your hip, keeping you flat to the sofa while giving you a warning nip against your breast. “Uh-hu,” he chides.

“But it's my birthday,” you half whine, a pout forming on your lower lip that he could sense even in the dark. With a low chuckle, he raises his head and pecks the pout. “And I am giving you my present, and you will be grateful for it,” he insists as his lips wrapped around one of your nipples sucking hard while swirling his tongue around the peak, making you whimper at the feeling.

“Yes, Daddy,” you acquiesce.

Tightening his grip on your wrist he smiles against you. “Good girl, my Pretty Girl,” he mumbles into your breast, biting gently as he slips the material of your dress lower, followed closely by his mouth. Skipping over the pooled dress, Sy settles on his belly on the couch, releasing your wrist. “You keep that there, yes?” he instructs.

“Yes, Daddy,” you grit, wanting to chase his head with your palm, wanting to feel his half grown out curls in between your fingers but follow his instructions. You feel the heat of his breath against your mound as he answers you -“My good girl”- a half second before you feel his tongue tease along the scrap of lace between your legs. Anticipating your movements, Sy hooks his arms over your hips, his forearms pinning you down as his hands reach for your breasts, squeezing them in tandem with the movement of his mouth against you. Your whines pierce the air as you wither under him, twitching, trying to direct his movements to where you want him, but he is not having it, and doubles down on the pressure to your hips. With a maneuver that still astounds you, the man uses his teeth and tongue to move your thong to the side allowing him access to your most sensitive flesh, his tongue lapping at the wetness he found there. “Goddamn, beautiful,” he mutters against you as your taste hits his palette, as if it was the first time. You feel the lower portion of the couch move, and you know he's rubbing his clothed cock against the cushions, a poor substitute for your flesh but the one he chose for now until he was satisfied that you were sated below him first.

With an abruptness, Sy sits up yanking your thong from your body, possibly with a snapping noise. Before you can object, he also hauls his shirt over his head, tossing them both to parts unknown before settling back between your thighs, with a sharp smack against one. He hums low, following the smack with a gentle bite. “Could eat you up, darlin,” he mutters into the stinging flesh of your leg. You smile to yourself as your legs settle over his shoulders, feeling the heat of him pressing to the back of your thighs as his tongue swirled through your pedals, from back to front. The tip finds your hidden pearl with practiced ease, sweeping over it, teasing it, making your fingers curl into the cushion above your head as your hips arched into him.

Sy slides one of his fingers through your slick, dancing at your entrance until your whimpers are at a fever pitch. With a little extra flare, he slides two fingers into you, curling them just right to stork across the spot that made you see stars. You whined happily as he began suckling on your clit, the flicks of his tongue matching with his fingers movements, working in perfect concert. It doesn't take him long at all to make you forget yourself, as your hand brackets his head, nails curling into his hair. “Yes, yes, right there,” you could feel him smirk against you as he doubled his efforts, expertly taking you apart with just his fingers and his tongue. His assault does not cease until you are a quivering mess below him, melting into the cushions below you.

Your brain is still fuzzy as you hear him chuckle, and you open your eyes to find him grinning down at you, his clean hand brushing hair back from your face as he looks at you adoringly. “There she is,” He mutters, looking rather pleased with himself. In your haze you had missed him turning the light on the side table on low.

“That all I get for my birthday?” you teased, leaning up to kiss him, pulling him in closer, nipping at his bottom lip as feeling trickled back into your body, into your limbs making them less limp and more movable. Tongues flared over each other as you kissed him, sated but not yet done.

With a smirk you could feel against your lips, Sy stands beside the couch and peels his jeans off, taking his boxers with them, standing beside you as naked as the day he was born, his cock proudly extended, looking angry and weeping. “Of course not, girl,” he growls. Grabbing you by the hips, he effortlessly lifts you and flips you over, settling you on your knees. Drawing your ass into the air, he spears his cock into you before you can even draw a breath. “Goddamn, pretty girl, this recoil of yours,” he mutters, thrusting into you, making your ass jiggle and wiggle with each movement, his eyes entranced. You didn’t even hide the giggle and pleased smile that it encouraged from you as you looked over your shoulder, watching him watch your ass. It was always his favorite part of you, not your boobs, not your pussy. Caleb Syverson was an ass man, your ass man.

Catching you watching him, Sy growls loudly and pushes you forward, making you collapse onto the sofa, pressing you down with all of his weight. As your thighs close, you both hiss at the tight sensation it adds to your coupling. One arm braces on the back of the sofa, Sy buries his face in your hair on the back of your head, inhaling your intoxicating scent as he continues to attempt to fuck you through the living room furniture. HIs mouth finds your ear, tugging on an ear lobe as his hips increase their pace at your hum of pleasure.

“You with me, Pretty Girl?” he asks into your neck. You could do little but nod as the pleasure spirals from your belly outward. At the feel of his teeth against the back of your shoulder, you had no choice but to explode around his cock, your body responding hard to him, tightening around him, making him groan louder against your skin. “Good. Girl.” he punctuates each word with a slam of his hips against your ass. Grabbing the ass cheek towards the outside of the couch, Sy pushes it aside to look at where you are joined. That is Sy’s undoing. He growls between clenched teeth as he empties himself inside of you, rocking against you, eyes focused on the jello-like movement of your backside as he moves.

With a sudden smack on your ass, he drapes his weight over you, tucking his arms on either side of you and in a way hugging you tight for a brief moment. “Happy Birthday, sugar,” he mumbles to you before pecking your cheek.

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viking-raider · 2 months

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Love At First Sight > Part One

Summary-> Henry finds himself standing at the altar for the celebrity version of Love at First Sight, where he marries Alexa. Once married, nearly every moment of their new life will be documented for a year.

But the real question is, will they be married at the end of that year?

Pairing-> Henry Cavill/OFC (Alexa)

Word Count-> 9.6k

Warnings-> PG: Arranged Marriage, Language, Banter, Alcohol

Inspiration-> Nick and Vanessa Lachey's Love is Blind on Netflix.

Author’s Note-> The correct post! Hopefully the next parts won't so long. Not doing a lo of warning. But there's not many to do. I hope you enjoy! Line divider by @FIREFLY-GRAPHICS!

-> If you would like to get notifications for my writing! Just follow my Tag List blog, @VIKING-RAIDER-TAGLIST as well as my @VIKING-RAIDER-LIBRARY and turn on the notifications for it! It’s that easy!’

–The Wedding–

Henry was terrified as he paced his dressing room, his shaking hands fiddling with the buttons of his suit jacket. He was dressed to the nines, in a dark blue, three-piece suit with a charcoal, button down dress shirt and black tie, sporting thin gold stripes. He glanced at himself in the mirror for the millionth time, seeing his neatly brushed curls that he'd cut the afternoon before in preparation for the event, and the smoothness of his cheeks, lightly adorned with his sandalwood aftershave.

“God, what have I gotten myself into?” He fretted, biting his bottom lip as he turned on the heels of his shining, black dress shoes, to pace the length of the room again. “Marrying someone, I don't know, with the world watching, then having our every moment followed afterward for the next year.” He felt his heart thunder harder.

Henry's agent had come to him, saying that a casting agent for a show about celebrities who marry each other, at first sight, on the altar, after the show's team of matchmakers, therapists, relationship experts and host of other people match them with each other. Once married, a small film crew would follow them around for a year, to see if they would stay married or divorce. At first, Henry declined the offer, four or five times. But, when his agent came back to him with the show's last offer, a week before his thirty-eighth birthday, Henry had been in a mood, feeling his 'clock' ticking on finding a wife on his own, after so many failed relationships, and starting a family.

So, he had impulsively said yes.

Now, eight months later, Henry was dressed in his wedding suit, waiting to be taken out to the altar so he could meet his future wife. Only knowing her first name, Alexa. He had tried to think of all the famous 'Alexa's' he knew, that had the potential to be paired with him, based on the criteria they'd given him. Such as not marrying him to a woman more than ten years his junior, but there were very few and he wasn't allowed to contact them to ask.

There was a soft knock on his door and Henry paused, turning as it opened and the crew member taking care of him popped their head in.

“We're ready for you, Mr. Cavill.” He smiled at Henry, giving him a warm and encouraging smile.

“Right.” Henry smiled back, trying to exude a calmness, following him out.

The crew member directed Henry to the stage, where they had set up the gorgeous altar, motioning to Henry's mark by the Humanist Chaplain, Preston Larson, who also offered a smile and slight nod.

“How are you?” He asked, in a low voice.

“Nervous.” Henry chuckled, smirking at him.

“I would be shocked, if you weren't!” Preston laughed back, reaching out to rest his hand on Henry's shoulder. “But it'll be great.” He told him, hoping to instill some confidence in him.

“I hope so.” Henry mumbled, taking a deep breath, his eyes moving towards the French doors he'd come through, watching the crew close them, signaling that things were starting to really progress and the moment of no return had come.

The assistant director behind the camera signaled and the wedding music started, sending Henry's heart into his throat. Everything he had been worrying over and thinking about for the last eight months rushed him. Who is she? What did she do for a living and how would it interact with his career as an actor? What did she look like? Would they get along and like each other? Or would they end up hating each other? They both had already signed a contract that stated they couldn't divorce or separate, until the one year mark, for the benefit of the show's content, and obviously the ratings. They could live apart, but that was about it. They would still be obligated to see each other for filming, however.

It would be a draw to see them struggle and argue, or just be cold and ignore one another.

The double doors opened and Henry felt his back straighten, his cerulean eyes widening a fraction as his soon-to-be wife appeared around the corner to stand in the doorway. He felt his thundering heart skip a beat and pause. He vaguely recognized her as one of the many 'Alexa's' he had looked up. She was Alexa Forsberg, a thirty year old musician from Norway. Alexa and her band were quite accomplished, having numerous albums and singles out, topping charts and going platinum. Henry was sure he even had a few of their songs on his Spotify playlist.

He thought she looked utterly gorgeous in her dress, as well. She was wearing an elegant lace, fit and flare, applique on tulle dress, that had a beaded and sheer illusion adorned with thin beaded spaghetti straps and a sweetheart neckline. Its finishes were a lace up back closure, matching lace embellished hem and a chapel length train. Her snow-white hair flowed down her back, but was adorned with beautiful braids. He also noticed her left arm, from the top of her shoulder to the crease of her elbow, was tattooed.

Alexa's nervous expression turned to one of surprise, seeing Henry standing at the altar, awaiting her. Of all the people she considered meeting at the altar, the amazing and handsome Henry Cavill was not on Alexa's list. Long or short. She figured he would have women climbing all over him, that he'd have someone in his life.

Seems not. She thought, slowly making her way towards the Brit, manic butterflies swarming her stomach.

Henry instinctively reached a hand out to her, as she reached him, momentarily forgetting the rolling cameras and the promotion photographers that were on them. Alexa smiled and took Henry's hand, feeling the gentle, but strong grasp he had on hers, the signet ring on his pinky cooling her heated skin. He smiled down at her, his blue orbs glittering in the lights, Alexa's knees formed into jelly as she stared up at him, feeling all of his attention on her, and only on her.

“Hi.” Henry greeted her quietly, feeling a jitter of another kind.

“Hi.” Alexa replied, grinning and shyly biting her bottom lip. “It's nice to meet you.” She giggled softly, blushing.

He laughed, his head bowing forward slightly. “It's great to meet you too.”

“Shall we?” Preston gently interrupted, smiling between the two of them.

Clearing his throat, Henry helped guide Alexa up onto the raised altar, before joining her. “I'm ready, if she is.”

Alexa took a deep breath and nodded. “I'm ready.” She said, smiling over at Henry.

Reaching over again, Henry took her hand and gave it a squeeze, knowing that they both were in this weird and strange situation together, wanting her to know he was there, even though they just met. Preston looked between them, sensing a bond forming between them, a rare occurrence on the already four complete seasons of the show. He had a small suspicion that Alexa and Henry could be one of the few successes.

“Today, Henry and Alexa, before I marry you today, it is my duty, before God, to remind you of the solemn and binding character of the vows you are about to take.” Preston declared, reciting from the small black book in his hands, before casting his kind, hazel eyes to Henry. “Henry Cavill, do you take Alexa Forsberg, to be your wife and do you promise to stay true to her, as long as both of you shall live?”

A small lump began to form in Henry's throat, before he felt the light pressure of Alexa's hand, it filled him with the courage and calm he needed, on the outside. “I do.” He nodded, glancing down at her, the smile on his lips widening, upon seeing hers.

Preston smiled at them both. “And Alexa, do you take Henry, to be your husband, will you honor and cherish him, as long as you both shall live?” He asked her, seeing a shy and nervous sparkle in her icy-blue eyes as she nodded.

“I do.” She answered, sounding positive.

“Do either of you have anything to say?” Preston asked, glancing between them.

“I know this is unconventional and we only just met,” Henry spoke up, biting his lip and glancing down at their joined hands. “But I promise to do right by you.” He swore, glancing back into her eyes.

Alexa melted, feeling the weight of his words. “I have all faith in you.” She replied, squeezing his hand. “And in us.”

Preston closed his book, hugging it to his chest as he regarded them. “Henry and Alexa, it gives me great pleasure to declare that you are legally husband and wife.” He announced, clapping.

It was a mindless impulse that caused Henry to carefully cup one side of Alexa's face in his large palm and lean in to kiss her. Not catching himself, until he felt his lips on hers and her momentary hesitation, before returning it. Pulling away, Henry took her hand again and they walked down the aisle, back towards the French doors and backstage, where they would get a little alone together, before doing interviews. After that, they'd be able to change out of their wedding outfits, so they could leave and head towards the airport, where they would fly to their destination honeymoon.

Which, at the moment, neither of them

They made it into the dressing room that connected theirs, with Henry's on the left and Alexa's on the right. It was decorated with roses and rose petals, a bottle of champagne on ice with two champagne glasses, their silver stems curved, so they formed a heart when side by side. Mr. Henry Cavill, Groom, engraved on one and Mrs. Alexa Cavill, Bride, engraved on the other.

Seeing the glasses solidified the situation even more to them.

“I'm sorry about kissing you.” Henry blurted out, carding a hand through his hair.

Alexa giggled, her cheeks turning a light shade of pink, her lips still tingled from the contact. “It's more than all right, Henry.” She assured him, moving over to take a seat and slip off the cut-out heels she was wearing. “I'm sure it's something we'll be doing more of.” She commented, looking up at him.

“True.” He nodded, moving towards the bubbly. “Are you thirsty?” He asked, motioning to it.

“I am.”

Peeling the gold foil off, Henry carefully popped the cork and poured her a half-glass, handing it over, before pouring himself one. “Can I ask, why did you decide to do this?” He inquired, taking a sip and moving to sit across from her.

Alexa blushed again and looked at her engraved name, considering his question for a moment. “I don't know.” She finally answered, her brow creasing as she searched for a better explanation. “Almost all of my brothers are married.” She said, finally taking a drink of champagne, enjoying the dry crispness. “The ones that aren't are either engaged or have kids. Then again,-” She laughed, shaking her head. “I say, almost, like two of them are old enough.”

“Wait.” Henry shook his head, confused. “How many siblings do you have?”

“Oh!” She smirked over at him, leaning back in her chair. “You have quite the gauntlet ahead of you. My parents had eight kids. Seven of which are all boys. Minus myself, obviously. I'm dead center, at number six, with my twin brother, Jakob.”

“Christ alive!” Henry gasped, eyes wide. “And I thought I had a lot of brothers, at four. Who's the oldest and youngest?”

“My brother, Erik, is the oldest. He's forty-four, and the youngest is Einar, who just turned eight.” She informed him, a fond smile on her face. “I can recite everyone else's names for you later.” She giggled, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear.

“You'll probably have to tell me a couple times, till I meet them.” Henry laughed back.

“True.” She nodded, amused. “But, I figured I should probably get into a relationship, before Einar beats me to it, and this came up. So, I thought, what's the worst that could happen? A divorce lawyer?” She quipped, but saw a glimpse of light in Henry's eye, telling her he didn't find it quite as funny. “Well, it can't go any worse than my previous relationship. How about you?”

Henry pressed his lips together and stared into his champagne, his shoulders stiff for a moment. “I was engaged once before, when I was in my late twenties, but it didn't work out.” He explained quietly, a sore strain in his voice. “I figured I would be married and have, at least, one kid by now. Yet,-” He heaved a heavy sigh, biting his lip. “Well, I don't. I originally turned the show down a couple times. But, as the thought of hitting forty soon, and not having either of those things, or one of them, hit me. I figured this was, sort of, my last chance at getting that dream, of having what my brothers have.”

He looked over at her, his brow creased and his eyes troubled and slightly glassy. “Do you want kids?” He asked, a worried bubble in his stomach, realizing Alexa could possibly not want to have children.

“I do.” She nodded, honestly, feeling the urge to get up and soothe him. “I'd like, at least, two.” She told him something never talked to anyone about her dream of children before. “Having an only child, being from a large family, is just an odd feeling and it doesn't seem right, knowing the bond siblings give each other.”

Henry felt a tightness that had wrapped around his chest, like a rubber band, snap with relief. “I feel the same way.” He smiled, licking his lips.

“So, where do you think they're sending us on our honeymoon?” Alexa asked, cocking a brow at the black gift box, wrapped in a deep-red satin ribbon-bow.

“Hopefully somewhere warm.” Henry laughed, remembering the pouring rain as he hurried out of the car to get into the building several hours before. Setting his glass aside and picking the box up, he balanced it in his palm, before carefully tugging the bow free and opening the lid.

Setting the lid on the table beside his champagne, Henry reached inside the box and pulled out a card with two plane tickets. “Looks like we'll be spending our two week long honeymoon at a sweet, little villa, in Tamarindo, Costa Rica.”

“Ooo.” Alexa cooed, finishing off her drink. “I haven't been to Costa Rica in a long time.”

“I've never been to Costa Rica.” Henry commented, setting the tickets aside.

“It's beautiful.” She smiled, fondly. “I'm sure you'll love it.”

“I'm sure I will.” He replied, smiling back at her, holding her eyes and felt a bubble and spark in the pit of his stomach, before shifting his gaze to her tattooed arm. He'd never dated a woman so heavily tattooed before, he did have a few exes with one or two in discreet places, but nothing like Alexa's half sleeve.

“Does my sleeve bother you?” Alexa asked, following his eyes.

Henry started, blinking rapidly to try and clear any expression that came across as disapproval or as if it would prevent him from being attracted to her. Which he was. “No!” He blurted out, quickly. “God, no.” He said, in a more natural tone. “It's just I've never been with a woman with such an intricate tattoo before. Two girlfriends I've dated that had tattoos, had them on their ankles. A butterfly and a little, blue heart.”

“This isn't my only tattoo.” Alexa chuckled at him, an amused and playful light in her blue eyes, holding her arms out to him, showing him the tattoos there.

Tattooed on the inside of her left wrist was a heart and pentagram combination, forming a Heartagram, the logo of the Finnish band, HIM. While on right arm, just below her elbow, on the inside, was an infinity symbol with a semicolon interrupting one side of the loop.

“I have a few other tattoos, one is on my back. It's Family, written in Ogham, or Middle Irish, surrounded by my family's zodiac constellations.” She explained to him, unconsciously reaching back to touch the general area where it was. “And what is actually my biggest, and arguably my most important, tattoo is actually on my side.” Alexa touched her left side, biting her lip and hoping she wasn't putting Henry off. “But it sort of branches out to my back and stomach.”

“What's that one?” Henry asked, curious.

“It's the tree of life, Yggdrasil.” She told him, with a sort of pride. “But it's also sort of combined with a Cherry Blossom tree. I love Cherry Blossom trees.” She confessed to him, beaming. “I suffer, I'll tell you this now, from chronic depression, and have since I was a kid. Winter, while has been, ironically, my favorite season, doesn't do wonders for my depression, with the dark and gloominess. But, there's always been this cool sweet spot to it, for me, because outside my flat, there are three Cherry Blossom trees. They're early blooming trees. They're sorta known for being the first sign of Spring being heralded in, and Winter ending.”

“Seeing those teeny, delicate flowers blooming, while everything is still rainy or snowy and dark, right outside my window, is such a breath of fresh air. Like, they're helping me out of my own winter.”

Henry softly nodded, his expression understanding and empathetic. “I can relate to that.”

“Yeah.” She mumbled, looking into her empty glass. “Anyway, I digress! My tattoo is Yggdrasil, but I have Cherry blossom flowers on the branches, with the leaves. The leaves and blossoms mean something, themselves. I add a leave for a person I've lost in my life, with their initials inside of it. While, with the cherry blossoms, I add a blossom for someone that's made an impact on my life. I don't have one for all of my family, I think that would clutter the entire tree.” She giggled, twisting the end of one of her braids. “But, I do have leaves and blossoms for my parents, siblings and grandparents. As well as, one of my uncles.”

“That's very deep.” Henry observed, leaning forward to rest his elbows on his knees, wondering if one day he'd have the honor to be one of the Cherry Blossoms.

“Have you ever considered getting a tattoo?” Alexa asked, cocking her head at him. “I know as an actor, it can be a pain for a wardrobe to cover up, if need be.”

“Yeah, they can be quite cross about things like that.” He laughed, nodding his head. “But, yeah, I have actually considered it. Especially, there's a company that can make tattoo ink from cremated ashes.” He explained to her, chewing on the inside of his lip. “I've thought about, when the time comes, to turn some of Kal's ashes into ink and get some sort of tattoo to honor him.”

“That would be so super sweet.” She smiled, warmed that Henry was so devoted to his dog.

“So, what did your parents think about you coming on this show, to marry some random celebrity?” Henry asked, smirking at her.

Alexa laughed, shaking her head with amusement, recalling her family's reaction to her telling them she would be doing the show. “They weren't thrilled. My brothers think I'm crazy and my parents think I should be finding a guy the traditional way. How about yours?”

“They were surprised, but they're supporting me.” He replied, looking down between his feet. “Especially if I end up happy.”

“Well,” Alexa lifted her glass to him. “Here's to us, hopefully, ending up happy together.” She smiled, holding his eye with an expression that told Henry she was being genuine.

“To us being happy together.” He echoed, raising his glass, gently touching their rims together.

There was a knock on the door and a crew member popped into the room, looking between Alexa and Henry, as if expecting to find them either sucking face, being cold and awkward with each other or arguing. But his face changed to one of pleasant surprise, finding them sitting easily with each other, enjoying the bubbly.

“We're ready to start the interviews.” He informed them. “Who wants to go first?”

“Why don't you go first?” Henry suggested, looking at Alexa. “That way, you have more time to keep your heels off.” He said, looking down at her feet, seeing the rosy marks from the heels straps pressing into her feet and the slight swelling, puffiness.

“Thanks.” She smiled at him, grateful for the gesture, since her feet were starting to kill her, standing and following the crew member out of the room and down the hall, where they had a little room set up for the interviews.

Henry got up and poured himself a fresh glass of champagne, before crossing over to his dressing room, while he waited for his wife to return.

– Alexa’s Interview –

Alexa got comfortable on the seat in front of the black and red, damask backdrop they were using to narrow the room and keep the focus on her, with no distractions in the background. She looked towards the camera, watching the crew fuss around behind it and smiled at the assistant director, Riah, who sat perched on a stool, a thick binder in her lap with Alexa and Henry's names on the front.

“How are you feeling?” Riah asked, off camera.

“I feel really good.” Alexa smiled, despite feeling the glass of champagne she had with Henry.

“I'm glad.” Riah smiled, nodding her head, before looking over her shoulder. “Are we ready?” She asked the cameraman, who mumbled something to her. “Great, here we go!”

The light on the camera popped on, signaling it was rolling and Alexa took a deep breath, readying herself for the questions Riah was about to fire at her.

“So, Alexa, you just got married, at first sight, to Man of Steel and The Witcher himself, Henry Cavill!” Riah grinned, nodding her head, like she was trying to instill a bubbly and happy energy into Alexa. “How does it feel?”

“It feels great and surreal!” Alexa answered, blushing softly and giggling. “Of all the people I thought I'd see at the altar, Superman wasn't it. But I'm excited to get to know him, as my husband.”

“Are there any reservations about getting married to a stranger?”

Alexa's brow creased for a moment. “I think to have some concerns would only be natural, in a situation like this. Henry and I have never crossed paths in life before, so we don't know anything about each other. We're bound to find something about the other that creates a conflict or a stress on the marriage. I just really hope, whatever it is, we can work through that.”

Riah grinned at Alexa, giving her a devilish look. “Are there any feelings of attraction going on with you? Do you feel yourself already falling for him?”

“I think you'd be crazy, not to be attracted to him!” Alexa chuckled, smiling. “He's incredibly handsome and--” She paused, licking and biting her lip for a moment. “Yeah, I am feeling a stir of something for Henry. Whether or not, it'll develop into a full blown attraction and love, I think is, maybe, a little too early to say.”

“The two of you just got to spend a little private time together, what was it like?”

“It was very pleasant. He's such an easy person to be around. I feel that I could be myself around him and that I'll be able to trust him. Henry is a real gentleman and I think he'll make a great husband.”

“Do you think you'll be sharing a bed with him, when you arrive on your honeymoon in a couple hours?”

Alexa was caught off guard with her question, not having thought that far into the future yet. “I don't know.” She squeaked, throat tight. “Maybe. We'll have to see when we get to our destination and what the mood is like.”

“What Henry is feeling on the subject.”

– Henry’s Interview –

The wood of the chair was still warm under Henry, from Alexa sitting on it not moments before. He felt oddly at ease in front of the camera, supposing it was because he spent so much time before one for his job. But he felt the gentle simmer of nerves beneath his calm, knowing he and Alexa would be leaving the venue soon for the airport, so they could start their honeymoon. He kept thinking about what it would be like to live with her and if they would manage it.

“Henry, how does it feel to be a married man?” Riah asked, beaming at him as the camera started to roll. “I know you mentioned in several previous interviews, it was a dream for you.”

A startled expression came over Henry's face, not expecting her to bring it up. “It's-uh, it's going great so far! Alexa is very kind and beautiful. I look forward to spending more time with her and learning more about her, to develop our marriage.”

“Have you talked about a living situation yet?”

“Um, no. We haven't spoken about that, quite yet. We just talked about general things. How our families felt about us doing the show and kids.” He replied, shifting in his seat.

Riah's brows went up. “You haven't discussed how you're going to live together, but you've talked about having kids?”

“Yeah.” Henry nodded slowly, realizing his mistake. “It came up, when we were talking about our siblings.” He said, trying to recover.

“Do the two of you want kids?” Riah asked, narrowing her eyes at him. “Should the two of you make it through?” She added an edge in her voice.

Henry didn't answer for a second, wishing he could back track. “We both do, yeah. We'll see through.” He said, carding a hand through his hair, awkwardly. “When we do get through our first year together.”

“Are you attracted to her?” Riah inquired, sensing a bit of tension in Henry’s voice.

“There’s something there.” Henry replied, biting the inside of his cheek. “She’s amazingly beautiful and intelligent. We, I think, have started to connect. So, yeah. I think there’s an attraction starting to form with her.”

“You think the two of you will share a bed?”

“At some point, yes.” He nodded, smirking at her, his smooth cheeks warming up. “Whenever Alexa becomes comfortable with it.”

Getting back to his dressing room, Henry let out a hard breath and loosened his tie, relieved that everything was finished. Now, all he had to do was get out of his suit and gather his things, so he could head to the airport for their flight to Costa Rica.

“With my new wife.” He thought aloud, taking a seat on the couch to unlace his shoe and slipped them off, flexing his toes as he set them aside.

He looked up at the door that led to the adjoining room, then across to Alexa’s, where she was no doubt doing the same thing he was. He wondered if they would be going to the airport together or separately. He hoped they’d be going in the same car, it would give them more time together, on top of the time on the plane to their honeymoon spot.

Sighing, he stood up, unbuttoning his jacket and waistcoat, carefully laying them out on the arm of the couch, then took his pants off. He grabbed the duffel bag he’d come with and grabbed his casual clothes, a tan colored pull over with four buttons on the right shoulder and a pair of dark wash, blue jeans, with his favorite pair of worn, brown boots.

Dressed, he neatly put his suit away in its garment bag and tucked his shoes into his bag, Henry slung the duffel bag across his body and crossed the adjoining room. He paused a moment, considering another glass of champagne, but noticed that the two glasses had vanished.

“Alexa?” He called, lightly knocking on her door.

The door opened and Alexa stood before him, she had gotten out of her dress while Henry was in the middle of his interview with Riah. Exchanging it for a pair of black joggers, one leg pushed up to her knee, a blue and yellow, gunge crosshairs symbol on the thigh, with a Stranger Things Hellfire Club raglan t-shirt. Feet bare other than her multi-colored, flowery and retro-striped Bombas socks. Her hair was braided shill, she had uncoiled several and pulled her hair up into a bun, away from her face and off her slender neck, but one of the thin braids hung down and rested against her chest.

“Hey,” She smiled up at him. “I'm almost ready.”

“That's fine.” He assured her, licking his lips and biting the inside of his cheek, even out of her dress, he found her beautiful. “I was just wondering, if you had grabbed our champagne glasses?” He asked, twisting his upper body towards the table.

“Oh!” She squeaked, blushing with guilt. “I did. I'm sorry.” She nodded, looking down at her feet.

Henry grinned down at her, touched and amused. “It's all right.” He reassured her, gently. “I was just wondering where they went, that's all.”

Alexa looked up at him, biting the corner of her lip. “Do you want yours?” She asked, quietly.

“I'm positive, it's in good keeping with you, Alexa.” He told her sweetly, daring to reach out and tuck her free braid behind her ear. “I'm ready, when you are. No rush, love.” He added, moving away to lounge in the shared room, pulling his phone out, to open the Cavill family WhatsApp group chat.

Henry: I'm officially a married man!

Charlie: Congratulations! Wish we could have been there.

Piers: Cheers, little brother! Can't wait to meet her. What's her name?

Mum: Congratulations, Henry. Your father and I are happy for you.

Henry: Thanks all. It means a lot to me. Her name is Alexa, and I can't wait to introduce her to you all. We're headed off to Costa Rica on our honeymoon, for two weeks. After that, we should be off to meeting family and friends.

Simon: Can you take pictures and share them?

Henry: We can take photos, but there's no sharing any. They want us to get through the honeymoon first. That way, if there's any trouble between us, there's no raging media posting or anything. It also keeps production under wraps a little bit longer. The production for the show will be announcing the show and who's on it after our honeymoon. Since we're celebrities, it's hard to keep something like this secret for long.

Charlie: That makes logical sense.

Henry: Yeah. Once that NDA clears, I'll send you guys photos of her. She's really beautiful.

“I'm ready to go, Henry.” Alexa said, coming into the room, her backpack over one shoulder and dress draped over her arm.

“Great.” He smiled, standing up and pocketing his phone. “Let's hit it.” He said, heading for the door going out into the hallway, but paused. “They might be waiting for us out there.” He told her, not wanting her to feel ambushed.

“True.” She nodded, taking a deep breath, readying herself.

Nodding back at her, Henry opened the door and stepped into the hall, sure enough, down the hall a short way was the cameraman, his camera resting on his shoulder and pointing up their direction. He hit record as soon as he saw Henry appear, followed by Alexa. The exit was exactly behind the cameraman, forcing them to walk in front of him, while he strode backwards. Henry reached behind him and felt Alexa grab his hand, squeezing it hard as she pressed closer to his back.

“Are you excited to relax in Costa Rica?” She asked, looking up at the back of his head.

“I am.” He smiled at her over his shoulder. “It's been a little while since I've had a vacation from work.” He admitted, remembering the last break from work he had, back in 2018, when he took his brothers and sisters-in-law to Fiji. “I look forward to relaxing there with you as well.” He added an impish twinkle in his blue eyes.

Alexa giggled. “You're going to be a handful.”

“To say the least.” He chuckled back, pausing to shove the exit door open and allow her to go ahead of him, then followed her to the awaiting car the show had to take them to the airport.

The cameraman filmed them putting their things into the car's trunk, then got into the back and drove away.

“How long will it take us to get there from here?” Alexa asked, resting back in her seat. “Do you know?”

“Almost nine hours.” Henry answered, pulling the tickets out of his jacket pocket. “But it looks to be a private jet. So we should be nice and comfortable.”

“Mmm, that's nice of them.” She commented, having expected first class on a flight.

“It is.” He agreed, tucking the tickets back into his pocket, chewing on his bottom lip as he thought about getting on the plane, his leg bouncing anxiously.

The ride was quiet, but it wasn't an awkward silence, the two of them watching the rain patter against the dark tinted windows. Their shoulders gently rested together, in an unconscious reminder that the other was there. As the airport came into view, Alexa leaned forward and unzipped a compartment of her backpack, pulling out a black beanie and secured her bag closed again. Henry watched her pull the cute, almost oversized, beanie over her head, a pair of black horns sticking up at the top.

“What?” She frowned over at him, the beanie pulled lower on her forehead.

Henry grinned even more. “You looked adorable with that beanie on.” He told her, lightly flicking one of the horns.

“Oh.” She blushed, biting her lip and scrunching her shoulders. “It's one of my favorite beanies.” She admitted to him. “One of my brothers got it for me, for my birthday a couple years ago..”

“I like it.” Henry said, fussing with his green, Royal Marines Commando hoodie for a moment, as the car pulled up to the doors of the airport, before he got out and moved around the car, opening her door for her.

“Thank you.” Alexa grinned, slipping out into the light rain, securing her bag over her shoulders, before following Henry to the back to grab her dress from the boot.

She watched him pause to pull a worn and faded brown Kansas City Chiefs hat out and secure it on his head, tugging it low over his blue eyes. Alexa understood what he was doing. As much as Henry was using the hat to shield himself from the rain, momentarily, he was using it to hide his face and hopefully keep any potential fans and paparazzi from spotting him. Drawing attention to him and Alexa being together, spreading word through social media that something was up.

“Thank you.” Henry said to their chauffeur, extending his hand to the man, who shook it with an appreciative nod.

Alexa had a gentle smile on her face at the gesture, seeing how kind and much of a gentleman her new husband was. Turning his attention back to Alexa, he extended his hand to her, which she took, with no hesitation, despite all others she felt inside of her. She allowed Henry to guide her through the double-automatic doors and into the hustle and bustle of Heathrow Airport. Biting her lip, she moved a little closer to Henry, who easily weaved a path through the throng of people coming from or going to their boarding gate, carrying or wheeling their luggage.

“You seem to know where you're going.” She pointed out to Henry.

“I've flown out of this airport a few times by private jet.” Henry replied, heading almost straight for security, that would get them through to the VIP area and their terminal.

When they got through security, their jet's crew hadn't arrived yet, so they slipped into the VIP bar across from it to wait. Henry ordered a whiskey on the rocks and Alexa asked for a Dr. Pepper. It was as she sipped at it, that she noticed Henry only grasped the glass in his hand, thumbing the rim and shaking his leg, while his vivid cerulean eyes were distant and cloudy.

“Henry.” She said softly, cocking her head at him, slightly.

“Hm?” He hummed back, only turning his head a fraction in her direction, his eyes never focusing.

“You're not--” Alexa laid her hand on his wrist. “You don't have flight anxiety, do you?” She questioned, concerned by the sudden realization.

Henry cleared his throat hard, finally picking his drink up and taking a deep gulp of the sharp, honey-amber liquid. “I do.” He admitted, with a straight tone. “It's usually not so bad, because I have my dog, Kal.”

Licking her lips, Alexa shifted beside him, her alarm in her eyes, concerned for Henry. “What can I do to help?” She asked, closing her hand around his wrist, trying to be reassuring.

“I don't know.” He answered, finishing his whiskey off.

“What does Kal do for you?” She inquired, rubbing the inside of his arm.

Henry floundered at her question.

Kal was Henry's best friend. He had the American Akita, since he was just a little pup, before his ears could stand up on their own. What very few knew about Kal, was he was a registered Emotional Support animal. For Henry's anxiety, not just on planes. But he helped best, when Henry had to fly. He had wished to bring Kal with him, but had been asked not to, by the production of the show, so he wasn't a distraction on his and Alexa's big day, then their honeymoon. Once that was over, he was more than welcome to be around them.

But he couldn't put to words how Kal actually helped him get through his anxiety from take-off to landing. Just having the Bear close to him, put Henry at ease, like a warm security blanket out of the dryer. So, to that point, he wasn't sure how Alexa could help him keep it under control, during the nearly nine hours they'd be on the jet.

“Have you ever tried surfing before?” Alexa asked, leaning against him.

Henry blinked, confused by the sudden change in conversation. “No, I haven't.” He answered, looking over at her.

“Mm.” She smiled up at him. “When we get to Costa Rica, I want to teach you how to surf.” She said, resting her chin on the top of his shoulder. “So, I hope you have a good sense of balance.”

“Is that so?” He answered, starting to smile uneasily at her. “I think I have pretty good balance. I look forward to seeing you try. Have you ever been scuba-diving?” He asked, feeling the hot knot in his stomach start to relax.

“I've done it once or twice.” She nodded, wrapping her arms around his thick one.

“We'll have to do it while we're there.” He told her, reaching up to brush his fingertips across her cheek.

“I'd really like that.” Alexa beamed, tilting her head lightly into his touch. “I looked up some things to do in Costa Rica, while you were doing your interview.”

“Did you?” Henry cooed, his anxiety down to a manageable level. “Like what?”

“There's some great nature walks, with amazing waterfalls and hot springs, or you can go whale watching, zip-lining and see the island's wildlife. Obviously, there's stuffing your face with the local food.” She rattled off the things she remembered from the website she'd checked, while waiting for Henry to come back from his one-on-one interview.

“The hot springs sound nice.” He commented, cocking an interested brow. “These old, sore muscles could use a nice spa day.”

Alexa giggled at him, shaking her head. “You're not old, Cavill.”

“I'm not young either, Cavill.” He teased back, looking into her eyes.

“Oh,” She sighed, biting the inside of her bottom lip and blinking slowly. “I highly doubt it slows you down any.”

Henry's throat bobbed and a silent shiver ran down his back, realizing she was flirting with him. Seeing the way her eyes darkened and pupils dilated, caused the forming flame in the pit of his stomach to grow in warmth.

“Mr. and Mrs. Cavill, your flight crew are aboard the jet and ready for you.” An attendant announced, as she came up to their table.

“Great, thank you.” Alexa smiled up at her, feeling the muscles of Henry's arm tense up again. “We'll be right there.” She nodded, hoping the attendant would return to station, so she could focus on getting Henry to relax again.

Smiling at the two of you, she turned and exited the VIP bar, Alexa looked to Henry, resting her hand on his board back and scooting closer to him.

“Breathe.” She whispered softly.

“I'm all right.” Henry muttered back, but still took a slow, deep breath. “I'll be all right.” He repeated, nodding his head and sliding out of their booth.

Alexa gave him a gentle look as they made their way to their gate, handing over their tickets and finally boarding the exceptional jet. Henry dropped his bag by one of the seats and turned towards the bathroom, halfway towards the back of the plane. She wished she could do more, as she set her bag down and slid into her seat. Drumming her fingers against the table in front of her, Alexa tried thinking of something she could do that would distract Henry.

Even for a little while.

An idea hit her and she leaned sideways for her bag, digging through it to pull out her Switch and the portable tablet monitor she had for it. Alexa had finished setting it up just as Henry came back from the bathroom and sat down across from her.

“I challenge you.” She said, sliding the blue controller across the table to him.

“To what?” He replied, catching it before it slid off the edge.

“Mario Kart Deluxe 8.” Alexa grinned, turning the game on. “Best winner, five out of ten, decides what we're eating for dinner.”

Henry stared at her for a long moment, he knew what she was trying to do and appreciated it. He felt the bubble of his competitiveness form in his stomach, pulling a smile across his face as he clutched the controller in both hands and rested back in his seat.

“You're on.” He cooed, confidently. “I hope you like curry.” He teased, picking his driver.

“Bowser.” Alexa giggled, nodding her head. “An interesting pick.”

“Who are you going to pick? Princess Peach or Daisy?” Henry teased back, wiggling his eyebrows at her.

“Ha!” Alexa laughed, scornfully, before picking Shy Guy. “Shy Guy all the way, baby!”

“You're going to get your butt kicked, love.” Henry tisked, watching her pick a track and readied himself, watching the countdown from the monitor Alexa had positioned between them. “Do you play any other games?” He asked, just as the counter finished and their drivers shot across the starting line.

“I have a load of other games on Switch.” Alexa answered, eyes laser focused on the screen, determined not to let Henry distract her.

“Anything good?”

“Define good?” She asked, cocking an eye at her driver.

Henry chuckled, smirking. “What do you have?”

“You're trying to distract me, Henry.” She commented, shaking her head. “It's not going to work.”

“I assure you, my intentions are pure.” He smirked, tensing for a moment as the track parted and Bowser jumped the gap, colliding with a clear spinning, but iridescent, box with a question mark on it. “Ooo, I got a banana peel. You best watch out!” He warned her, bouncing his brows at her.

“Oh, just a peel? I picked up a shell a lap back.” Alexa replied coolly, but her eyes were mischievous. “I have Zelda, Animal Crossing, a couple Mario Karts, Crash Bandicoot, Spyro, which is one of my favorites. I used to play the original Spyros on the first PlayStation.”

“Showing your age.” Henry teased, playfully.

“I know, right!” She giggled, not offended. “Anyway, I also have Hollow Knight. Oh, and a game called Spiritfarer! Ugh, that game is amazing, but it is an emotional trauma!”

“How is it 'emotional trauma'?” He huffed, frowning over at her for a second.

“The game starts with you playing Stella, who takes over the job of Spiritfarer from Charon.” She began to explain, but paused, seeing Henry's Bowser up ahead of her Shy Guy and focused to catch up to him, the hint of a smile making the corner of mouth twitch, as she primed the turtle shell she'd been hoarding.

“Don't you dare!” Henry warned her, straightening up in his seat, eyeing the glowing blue, speed-boost stripe up ahead of them, then glanced at the banana peel he was sitting on. He didn't want to use it. He was hoping to use it as a last-ditch effort, if need be, to toss out at the finish line, in an attempt to stop her from winning.

“Or what?” She huffed, amused. “Are you going to toss your peel at me?” She taunted him, sending out her shell.

“Shit!” He barked under his breath, swerving in an attempt to avoid it.

“Use those reflexes, Superman!” Alexa laughed, smirking at Henry's maneuvers.

“What about yours!” Henry asked back, tossing out the peel.

Alexa gasped, knowing it was too late. “A cruel fate!” She sighed, watching Shy Guy spin out into the barriers.

Alexa yawned as she exited the jet with Henry, it was almost one in the morning. He looked back over his shoulder at her and smirked, shouldering both their bags.

“I told you, you should have taken a nap.” He cooed, having dozed for a few hours, after they played a couple games together on her Switch.

“Mmm.” Alexa hummed back at him, she had continued to play on her Switch, too worried about Henry's anxiety coming back to fall asleep. “I'm starving though. What are we eating, oh Master of the Mario Kart?”

Henry let out a barking laugh, his wide shoulders shaking with its mirth. He had won seven of their ten games, declaring himself Master of Mario Kart. “I have no idea what they have open at one am, but the Villa will probably have something.”

“Odin, I hope.” She sighed, stifling another yawn.

They got out of the airport and found a car waiting for them.

“Welcome to Tamarindo, Costa Rica, Mr. and Mrs. Cavill.” The driver greeted them, opening the back door.

“Thank you.” Henry nodded, motioning for Alexa to slide in first. “Do you know anything about our Villa?”

“I do, Mr. Cavill.” The driver replied, nodding back.

“Is there any room service or way to get food, this late?” Henry inquired, glancing into the car, licking his lips. “My wife,” A small lump formed around the word, it felt so strange for him to say. “Is quite famished.”

“The Villa does room service, with a twenty-four hour kitchen; should anything strike your fancy in the middle of the night.” The driver assured him, with a soft smile.

“Excellent, thank you so much.” Henry smiled, relieved, before getting in beside Alexa. “We're in luck. The Villa has all day room service, so we can order something to eat, when we arrive.”

“Thank Odin.” Alexa hummed, sighing softly, her blue eyes heavily half-lidded.

Henry smirked at her, gently wrapping a thick arm around her shoulders and pulled her into his side, coaxing her head against his shoulder. Alexa didn't protest, nuzzling and curling up against the warmth of Henry's body with a soft moan, losing the battle with her eyes. He gulped, feeling her body grow heavy, knowing she would likely fall asleep long before they reached their destination, forty minutes away.

“We've arrived at the La Villa de Playa, Mr. Cavill.” The Driver whispered, looking through the rear-view mirror and into the back seat, seeing that Alexa was out cold.

Henry looked out into the darkness on the other side of his window, to a sweet, little one-story, white stucco building. It was brightly lit and nestled in the palms, as well as mango, lemon and coconut trees. A short walk to a beautiful, private, white sand beach, to which Henry could hear the crashing waves, even from inside the car. He couldn't wait to explore the property and island with Alexa.

“Thanks for getting us here.” He said, before the driver stepped out to open the door for him, offering to take their bags, so Henry could carefully maneuver Alexa out of the car, hoisting her up into his arms, bridal-style, and turning toward the front door.

“Allow me.” The chauffeur offered, pulling the envelope taped to the door down and opening it, ignoring the little card inside for the key and slotting it into the lock, opening it for Henry and setting their things just inside the door. “Have a good evening and congratulations.”

“Thank you.” Henry mouthed, nodding.

Smiling softly, the chauffeur returned to his car and left Alexa and Henry to themselves.

Looking at his slumbering wife, Henry smiled gently at her. “Welcome to our villa, my love.” He whispered to her, kissing her forehead, before stepping over the threshold with her and pushing the door closed with his foot.

Henry managed to find the master suite and laid Alexa down on the king sized bed, gingerly pulling off her black, slip-on converse and her beanie, before pulling the folded down blankets over her. Groaning, Henry tugged his hoodie over his head and tossed it in a chair across and sat down on the bench at the foot of the bed, removed his boots, flexing his toes and glanced to the crescent wall of sliding glass windows that went out to a private veranda, a large hanging chair at one side and a glass-bead fire pit on the other.

The loud grumble of his stomach pulled Henry from his thoughts and he stood, padding into the bathroom for a moment. Closing the door to relieve himself, he noticed that the black two-person, whirlpool tub was outside. It was positioned in the center of a little enclosed courtyard, shaded by a wooden pagoda, with a bubbling pond and river rock waterfall behind it.

“I wonder if she likes baths.” He hummed to himself, moving over to wash his hands, then tiptoed out of the master and into the kitchen to see if there was anything in the refrigerator to eat. “I need to get some of my supplements over here.” He commented, jerking open the door, finding a reasonably stocked fridge, but nothing that really peaked his growling stomach's interest.

Snagging a cold bottle of water, Henry found the telephone that allowed him to call for room service and a booklet, neatly organized for breakfast, lunch and dinner, along with some desert items, the chef's favorite and the option to customize.

“Kitchen of La Villa de Playa, how may I help you?”

“Yes, this is the Cavill Villa.” Henry answered, frowning down at the menu, balanced on his knee. “I would like three of your chicken Empanadas with some rice and beans.” He ordered, before biting his lip and thinking of Alexa, worried she would wake up hungry. “As well as one of your beef tamales.”

“Of course, Mr. Cavill. We'll have your food done presently.”

“Thank you.” He replied, before putting the phone back on its cradle and carding a hand through his hair, feeling the cool metal of his signet ring.

He looked down at his left hand, his ring finger bare, as was Alexa's. It was to be part of filming, the two of them going out to look for their wedding rings together. His heart skipped and his stomach clenched at the idea of looking at rings. What kind of ring would Alexa want? He remembered the engagement ring he'd proposed to his ex with. It was a simple little thing. He wasn't making the money back then, that he was now. It was white gold, half-carat, cushion shaped diamond, that had cost him just over two grand. She didn't have the best reaction towards it, but at the time she'd said yes to him asking to marry her.

However, they broke up a couple months later.

Sighing, Henry shook the thought from his mind, reminding himself that Alexa wasn't his ex and this relationship wouldn't be the same. He'd do better. He'd be a good husband and prove his worth to Alexa.

Alexa stirred, moaning softly as she woke up, finding herself alone in bed and sat up, frowning into the darkness of the bedroom. “Henry?” She called out, tossing the blankets back and got out of bed in search of her husband. “Hen?” She called again, opening the half closed bedroom door and made her way into the living area, finding Henry sprawled out on the couch with a pillow and blanket.

A smile pulled across her face, seeing his long body stretched out on the short couch, bare feet hanging off the edge, uncovered. She shook her head and detoured into the kitchen, discovering a note from Henry on the island.

I wasn't sure if you'd wake up hungry or not, but I ordered you something to eat. It's in the fridge. -Hen.

“He's so attentive.” Alexa muttered, turning to the fridge and opening it, finding the wrapped plate with her tamale on it.

She found the silverware and perched herself on a stool at the island, digging into her food, moaning at how delicious it was, especially stone cold. Once she was finished eating, she went back into the living room and leaned over Henry, resting her hand on his chiseled chest.

“Henry.” She cooed, looking into his relaxed face, her heart fluttering at how handsome and boyish he looked as he slept, one thick arm flung up over his head. “Henry.” She hummed again, running her hand over his torso, rousing him.

His sleepy blue eyes fluttered open, taking a moment to focus on her. “Are you all right?” He asked, becoming alert.

“I'm fine.” She grinned at him, sweetly. “But why are you out here on the couch?”

“Oh,” He rumbled, licking his lips, brows creasing. “I wasn't sure if you'd want to sleep together and wasn't about to just climb into bed with you, asleep, before we had a discussion about it.” He confessed to her, gulping thickly. “So, I just took the safer option of sleeping on the couch.”

Alexa bit the inside of her lip, touched at his gesture. “I don't mind, if we share a bed together, as long as you don't?” She assured him. “Besides,” She looked him over. “You're not going to be feeling very tip-top, if you sleep on the couch.” She pointed out, smirking.

“No.” Henry sighed, smirking back at her, sitting up with his pillow and blanket.

“Thanks for the food, as well.” Alexa said, as they headed back towards the master.

“Oh, you're welcome.” He answered, perking up a little bit, hearing she'd eaten. “I hope what I got you, was all right?”

“It was great!” She giggled, pulling down the bed's blankets. “I actually love tamales.” She confessed, smiling at him.

“Nailed it, then.” Henry smiled back, moving around the bed.

“Are our bags in here?” Alexa asked, glancing around.

“Uh, yeah.” He nodded, sitting down on the mattress. “I put them in the closet.”

“Cool, I'll be right back.” She said, heading into the walk-in closet.

Henry nodded, then got the bed ready to sleep, looking up as Alexa came back out, in a tank top and a pair of black, Jack Skellington short-shorts. He bit his lip, looking her over, his Adam's apple bobbing in his throat.

“Did you make a pillow wall?” Alexa giggled, sitting on the bed with him, seeing the line of pillows in the middle of the bed, between her and Henry's sides.

“I did.” He nodded, laying down and pulling the blankets over himself.

Alexa laid down with him and grabbed one of the pillows, smacking him in the chest with it. “Are you afraid of your wife's cooties, Henry Cavill?” She teased him, giggling harder at the offended expression he gave her.

“Not married for twenty-four hours and spousal abuse already.” He huffed, grabbing one of the other pillows and whopped her back with it. “And no, I am not afraid of whatever cooties my wife may or may not have.”

“Well then!” Alexa huffed, grabbing the last pillow and tossed it in his face, before moving into the space the pillows had been, their legs touching. “Have my cooties!” She said, burrowing under the blankets.

Henry looked at her, almost hidden in the blankets and smiled. “All right then.” He whispered, turning onto his side to lay facing her. “You can have my cooties too.” He mumbled, draping his arm over her waist and resting his chin on top of her head.

#henry cavill #henrycavill #viking-raider fics #Love at First Sight #Love at First Sight *fic*#Henry Cavill x OFC #Henry Cavill x Alexa Forsberg (OFC)#Henry Cavill x Original Female Character #Henry Cavill/OFC #Henry Cavill & OFC #Henry Cavill RPF #Fluff #arranged marriage

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