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ellethespaceunicorn · 2 years ago

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I Want a Little Sugar in My Bowl

Title: I Want a Little Sugar in My Bowl

Rating: Explicit, 18+, Minors - DNI

Pairing: Napoleon Solo x Reader

Fandom: The Man from U.N.C.L.E.

Word Count: 2.5K

Summary: Napoleon wines and dines.

Warnings: barely any 60s references so if you were looking for that I'm sorry, incorrect table manners, a little bit of Daddy kink, unprotected p-in-v because these are fictional characters

A/N: The title is taken from the song “I Want a Little Sugar in My Bowl” by Nina Simone. Literally the naughtiest and sweetest title at the exact same time. A very sexy song, if you have never heard it, do yourself a favor!!! Unbeta’d, we die like people who tried their best.

Dividers by: @saradika

Support/Reblog banner by me

Cover Art by me

My Masterlist

“What is a lovely little rose like you doing all alone in a place like this?”

The voice startles you as you sip your espresso at the corner cafe. Of course, being alone in a cafe had its downsides. This wasn��t the first time you were approached here. This wasn’t the first time you were approached today, even. You look up to see who the voice belongs to and you almost drop your teeny cup.

The jawline alone had your panties in a cinch. But the eyes, those are what draw you in. The blue of his eyes was like out of a painting, and you could hardly say you’d ever seen anyone with a tiny golden-brown spot in their left eye. Was that his only flaw? From here, it appeared so. The suit he wore was perfectly tailored. His shoes were shiny like a new penny. You were shaken from your ogling by his voice again.

“Have I passed inspection, Miss…?” You give your name and he tests it out on his tongue. “A beautiful name for a beautiful rose,” With a flick of his wrist, a gorgeous and very real rose appears in his hands and he hands it to you.

You sputter out a laugh as you reach for the rose. He tilts his head as he watches you lift the flower to your nose, inhaling its sweet scent. He walks around the table and sits across from you, almost daring you to tell him to get lost. But, of course, you don’t. You are delighted to see where this may lead.

“So, what is a man dressed so well doing talking to a girl like me? Surely, you must be on your way to some type of important, or at least, fancy meeting?” You sit back, eyeing the man whose name you still haven’t caught.

“I’ll let you in a little secret. I’ve seen you here before. I know you go to the local college and after class, you like to stop here for an espresso before boarding a train back to wherever it is that you live. You’ll be happy to know I have not followed you back to your home. But, sometimes you get a sweet treat. A cinnamon roll on Mondays, perhaps a cherry and cheese danish on Wednesdays, but on Fridays? You spring for something devilish.” He ends his sentence just as your slice of devil’s food cake is set in front of you by the waiter.

“You really have been watching me. A girl with a different head on her shoulders may be nervous knowing she’s being watched. But, you don’t scare me,” you smile at him and start to dig into your cake, “If anything, I’d love to know why you find me so interesting. I mean, there are girls here with shorter skirts than mine.”

“The skirt wasn’t exactly what I was after,” his eyes linger on your mouth as your fork slowly glides back out of it, “Company. That’s mostly what I’m after. Your company. Not theirs.”

“I don’t even know your name, Mr…” You eagerly wait to hear the mysterious man’s name.

“I’ll give you my name, but I’ll need a promise that I may cook you dinner. No dinner, no name. And we act like this little conversation never happened,” he licks his lips, watching you watching him, “So, what do you say, my little rose? Will I introduce myself or will I walk off, doomed to enjoy dinner alone?”

You set down your fork, suddenly uninterested in the last bite of your cake. But instead of pushing the plate to the side, you run your pointer finger through a bit of the icing left behind. Raising your hand and pushing your chair back, you saunter over to the man’s chair. Sitting in his lap, much to the chagrin of the other couples on the terrace. You wipe the icing on his bottom lip. Leaning in while keeping eye contact, you lick away the chocolate until you take his bottom lip between your teeth. His eyes close for but a second and the slightest grunt escapes between his lips and into your mouth.

“I believe I’ve made my intentions clear but I’ll make sure they are crystal. I’m not some delicate flower, I can handle myself. And as handsome and mysterious as you are, if you try anything I don’t feel comfortable with, I’ll handle you as well. We have an understanding, I presume?”

“You presume correctly. And please, I didn’t call you a poppy or a tulip. You’re a rose. A beautiful flower, but the thorns are treacherous. I’ll make sure you keep those at bay.”

“You owe me a name, pretty boy.” You insist, adjusting your seating in his lap and feeling a hefty bulge underneath you.

“Napoleon Solo.”

“Let’s go, then, Napoleon. I’m famished and I could use something a bit more substantial than that tiny slice of cake.”

Napoleon rises, his hands on your hips as he sets you on your feet. He waits for you to pick up your belongings, walks around the table, and grabs your hand to lead you off the terrace. He walks you to his car, opening the door for you to get in. This was your last chance to change your mind, but, you were having way too much fun.

You ride to his apartment building, and a valet takes the keys to his car before he opens the door for you to exit. A swanky place where it looks like the only people who can afford to stay here must have Esquire or some kind of title attached to their name. You decide to toss caution to the wind because it isn’t like you are staying here. It’s Napoleon who is, and you are is his guest.

You take the elevator up, making out with the tall and gorgeous stranger. The elevator rises as well as his hand up your skirt. Just as his hand reaches the top of your thigh, the elevator signals your arrival on the fourth floor. Napoleon takes your hand and leads you to Apartment 412. He unlocks the door and lets you enter first.

“So, my little rose, I was thinking for dinner I will make us Beef Bourguignon. And for dessert, what say we make it up as we go along?”

“As long as you don’t expect me to do all the cooking, I’m happy to sit back and eat and be merry, Napoleon.”

“Perfect, my little rose. Feel free to make yourself a drink, and do turn on some music. I do better with a bit of background noise.”

You busy yourself with making an Old Fashioned, finding everything at your fingertips and ready to go. You take a sip and groan inwardly as the bourbon warms your insides. You walk from the little makeshift bar into the kitchen and offer Napoleon a sip. He applauds your drink-making skills and ushers you back out to the record player as he dons an apron and begins to cook.

You busy yourself with looking at records while soon the smells of sauteed beef reach your nostrils. You only refresh your drink once while listening to Nina Simone Sing the Blues. Her dulcet tones woo you as the bourbon in your drink loosens you up. You don’t notice that you are being watched as Napoleon walks over and fixes himself a White Russian.

He watches as you sway and sing along with Nina. It’s only a matter of time before the timer in the kitchen sounds and he leaves you to your enjoyment of the music. He makes your plates, sets the table, and lights the few candles that sit therein. He pours you both a glass of pinot noir. His last step is to come and beckon you to your dinner. He does so by sidling up behind you and placing his hands gently on your shoulders as his lips dip down to your ears.

“Dinner’s ready, my little rose.” He takes your hand and leads you to the table, pulling your chair out for you in a gesture that wasn’t necessary but is quite romantic. If you weren’t already a bit light-headed from the Old Fashioned, that would have done it!

“Napoleon, this smells amazing. Are you sure you didn’t have some minions in the kitchen helping you to prepare this?”

“I promise, it was just me. Try it, tell me if it needs anything.”

You take a bite of the aromatic beef stew and it melts in your mouth. You can’t exactly help the satisfied groan that escapes your lips, much to the enjoyment of Napoleon.

“I take it you like it then?” The smug smile looks good on him, damn that man.

“Oh, I like it, Mr. Solo. You sure know your way to this woman’s heart. And that is through her stomach.”

He raises his glass of wine, and you raise yours as well. “To my little rose, may she only leave here satisfied. In every which way she chooses to be.”

You clink your glass against his and take a sip, knowing full well that you are going to sleep with this man before the night is over. Or at least, you hope to. You’d like to see what his face looks like in the throes of passion. And there is nothing sexier than a man who knows how to engage all of your senses in one meal.

You finish dinner and wipe your mouth, feeling for all the world like a stuffed pig. You were happy and you were tipsy and you wanted Napoleon to know just how grateful you were. But weren’t you promised dessert?

“So, dessert then?” You ask.

“You stay seated, I’ll get these out of the way before we start on dessert.” Napoleon wipes his own mouth and comes to collect your plates and take them to the kitchen. When he comes back to the table, he easily pulls your chair back and lifts you easily onto the dining room table. At your look of confusion, he smirks yet again. “Did I not tell you that I would be enjoying you as dessert, my little rose?”

“No, I don’t believe you mentioned that. But, I do believe we both will enjoy that. Do your worst, Mr. Solo.” You position your thighs for Napoleon to remove your panties. He sits in your chair, pulling himself up to the table and setting your legs over his shoulders.

He kisses your thighs slowly until you are whimpering for him to take you out of your misery. He obliges by pulling your ass to the very edge of the table and using the flat of his tongue to lick a strip up your sex. An inhuman sound exits your mouth and you have absolutely no fucks to give at this point.

“You taste like Heaven, my little rose,” he kisses your swollen nub and looks up at you, “but how do you feel?” He uses a single finger to circle your button a couple of times before drawing a line to your entrance. He enters your core slowly and his finger is a perfect fit. Not too much, not too little. Just enough to start to open you up. He starts to kiss and suck at your clit until your hand finds purchase in his chestnut locks. He lets you pull him down into your pussy, savoring every little spasm of your canal.

Before long, a second and a third finger join the first and your moans bounce off of the walls. With one curve of his fingers, he finds your inner bundle of nerves and you reward him with a squeezing of your cunt and the melody of your orgasm. He licks up every drop of your nectar off you, and as he pulls out his fingers, he sucks them dry as well.

He stands, unbuttoning his slacks and fisting his cock while looking at your sweet blissed-out little face. “Can my little rose take some more dessert?”

“Yes, Daddy, please?” You whine, wrapping your legs around Napoleon’s waist and drawing him closer.

“That’s my good little rose,” he praised, lining himself up and entering you swiftly, “Ohhhhh, you take me so well. Best dessert I’ve ever had.”

He leans down to kiss you as he pulls out slightly and slams back in, swallowing your moans. Holding your face in his hands, he begins a steady rhythm inside you and hits your spots as if you had created his dick in a lab in some odd science experiment.

Soon, he drags orgasm after orgasm out of you until all you can say is Daddy and Yes. An endless stream of nonsensical noises comes out as well, but Napoleon is all too happy to commit those to memory while not commenting on them. He just continues to pound into you mercilessly, chasing his own release now that your juices cover the front of his slacks.

“Are you ready for Daddy to fill you?” He asks, a bruising hold on your hips as he plows into you.

“Yes, Daddy, yes!” You gasp, tears falling down your cheeks as you are overstimulated.

“Fuuuuuck, such a good little rose!” He exclaims as his hips settle flush against yours.

You can feel every twitch of his dick as he empties inside you. You watch as the sweat from his brow drips down his temple as his eyes close. You hear his breathing pick up as he tries to steady himself. The heady scent of sex in the air intoxicates you. You grab him by the tie and pull him down to kiss you. All five senses are ablaze with Napoleon Solo.

Your hand through his hair is what allows him the strength to open his eyes again. He looks at you as though you hung the moon. He remains inside you as he slots his lips against yours before resting in the crook of your neck.

“Gotta love a man that cooks. You can always stuff me twice.” You laugh, not being able to stop yourself from accidentally pushing Napoleon out of you.

“Really? A joke right now?” He laughs, standing to his full height and looking down to see his spend leaking out of you.

“I couldn’t help myself, Mr. Solo. It just…came to me.”

“I bet, my little rose.” He helps you down from the table and ushers you to the bathroom as he cleans the rest of the table up.

You clean yourself up and meet Napoleon back in the living room as he sits on the couch. You enjoy listening to some more music and having a few more drinks with him, forgetting all about your train home.

You wanted a little sugar in your bowl, after all. And you got it and then some. This man was sweet enough to give you cavities ten times over and you wouldn’t have it any other way.

**Tag List**

@brattymum96 @ambinxe @avengersfan25 @kebabgirl67

@astheskycries @enchantedbytomandhenry

[@mayloma @littlefreya I tagged you both because of the reblogs earlier lol]

**Let me know if you wanna be added to the tag list and for what plz 😁**

#henry cavill #henry cavill characters #napoleon solo #napoleon solo x reader #ellethespaceunicorn fanfic #napoleon solo fanfic #henry cavill fanfiction #henry cavill fanfic #napoleon solo fanfiction #the man from uncle fanfic #the man from uncle fanfiction #napoleon solo fic #the man from uncle #i want a little sugar in my bowl

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ellethespaceunicorn-masterlist · 1 year ago

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Love, Napoleon Masterlist

Rating: Mature, 18+, Minors - DNI

Pairing: Napoleon Solo x Black!OFC

Series Summary: Love letters can only do so much, sometimes you need a grand romantic gesture. This is the love story of Napoleon “Leon” Solo and Roberta “Bobbie” Collins.

Spotify Playlist is here.

YouTube Music playlist is here.

Dividers by: @firefly-graphics (envelope), @saradika-graphics (hearts)

Cover Art by me

Support/Reblog banner by me

Chapters: Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5 (TBD)

My Masterlist

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raccoon-eyed-rebel · 2 years ago

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Part 18 - Leon

Masterlist

Series Masterlist

Part 17 -- Part 19

Pairing: Napoleon x ofc

Summary: The guys throw a New Years Eve party at 179th Crescent Street...

Warnings: SMUT, NSFW, 18+, MINORS DNI, oral (m receiving), drug use (alcohol, weed), minor violence (someone gets punched).

Word count: 3.8k

A/N: Alright! Here we finally go! These chapters have been in the making for just over 3 months, and I sincerely hope they live up to expectations. I've written these from the 1st person perspective of the boys. It's a little experiment, and it was tougher than I initially thought it would be.

For those who don't know what the plan is: There will be a NYE chapter for each of the guys. That means I wrote the same party 8 times - which is why it took so long: the details had to align... I hope you guys enjoy ^^

@deandoesthingstome @geralts-yenn @summersong69 @peaches1958 @fvckinghenrycavill @keanureevesisbae @livisss @sillyrabbit81 @ellethespaceunicorn @ylva-syverson

I look around the room, where we’ve pretty much managed to get everything set up for the party tonight. I say ‘we’, but I’m fairly sure I’d get my ass kicked by everyone in the entire house if I ever dare say that out loud - so I don’t.

“Where have you been?” Sy asks as he closes the door behind him. I reach into my pocket right when Mike comes into the kitchen to see me toss the bag of weed on the kitchen table.

“Internet is up again,” he says. One look at the table has him grinning widely. “Nice.”

“I knew there was a reason we kept him around.” Charles appears next to me and slams a fist into Mike’s shoulder.

“Yeah, it would be so awful if you couldn’t watch porn for one night.” Charles elbows me in the arm because I laugh at what Dani said, but I can’t help it: she’s funny. And she’s good for Mikey.

“I don’t think I’ll be needing any tonight,” Charles replies dryly. He’s not even smug about it, and with good reason, but he can’t resist adding a very inappropriate wink at Dani.

“Think you can still get laid with a broken nose and a black eye, Brandon?” It’s not that Mike is threatening, per se, but he can throw a punch and he’s fast. It’s no wonder Charles backs down.

I would say it’s a miracle Charles has never been punched in the face for getting a little too friendly with one of our roommates’ girlfriends, but I’d be lying. He has in fact been punched in the face for exactly that. Repeatedly. By Geralt, of all people, so quite frankly, it’s surprising he still has a face. And all of that was after a very firm knee to the nuts from Solveig herself. Good times. Well, for us… I doubt Charles looks back on the events as fondly as we do. I turn my attention back to the goings on in the kitchen. They’re going to accuse me of not doing much, which wouldn’t be factually incorrect, per se, but since I’m paying for most of this nonsense, I figure I have a right to sit back a little. Whatever I’m not putting up, is sponsored by Charles. We don’t exactly know how rich his family is, but his father owns the house we all live in. Despite that fact, I tend to think of it as my house at least a little bit - and I know Charles agrees. It’s me and August who run this place, with Charles being more of a silent benefactor.

“Where’s Sherlock,” I ask when I notice he’s the only one who isn’t here.

“In his room,” Mike replies, “he wouldn’t last five minutes tonight if he had to deal with all of this, too.” He’s probably right, and I’d hate for our little brother - he’s too rational to hate it when we say it, but we know he doesn’t exactly like it - to miss the party, so I say nothing and help them set up the last few things to get ready for tonight.

I look in Charles’ direction a few times, but he’s too busy eye-fucking every woman in the room to notice. Even though I’m well aware of his reputation, I can’t stop myself from wondering how the hell he does this; The living room and kitchen are filled with people, most of whom I’ve never even seen, let alone spoken to. Charles was right when he said he wouldn’t need porn tonight; girls are flirting with him from every corner of the room. Of course I’m equally as lucky, but my attention goes to two ladies who just walked through the door, guided by Danielle. She introduces them to Mike, and then points out the others one by one.

“And that’s Napoleon,” she finally says when she gets to me, which I take as my cue to walk over.

“Leon!” Danielle greets me happily. “Let me introduce you to my roommates!” Her roommates, huh?

“This is Sloane and-” I stop her before she gets to her other friend.

“Ariel Ryker.” The Art History bachelor is roughly as popular as you’d expect: not at all - which is why I recognize this girl. I wouldn’t want to be dramatic by calling her ‘the bane of my existence’, but whatever counts as the non-dramatized version of that would be a perfect description.

“You two know each other?”

“Napoleon is the number two of our class,” Ariel says sweetly, flashing me a pearly white smile that makes my cock twitch for some reason that’s completely beyond me.

“Who’s the first?” Alright, so Sloane either isn’t very bright, or she likes to stir things up - and from the challenging grin on her face, I’m guessing it’s the latter.

“That would be her.” I’m hoping I manage to keep my voice polite even though the sight of her makes my blood boil. “For now.”

“Oh, and how do you plan to change that, Solo?” Her tone is annoyingly challenging and I would love to wipe that smug smile off her face.

“You’re not far ahead of me,” I say nonchalantly - I hope.

“But ahead of you nonetheless,” she says in an almost condescending tone.

I spend the next hours of the party in several heated discussions with her, among which a particularly feisty one about gothic architecture - which is unfortunate for me because architecture is far from my favorite subject within my degree - and I can’t help but notice how pretty she is, even when she is telling me off. Maybe especially when she is telling me off.

“Alright, I give up, Ryker,” I finally say, “do you want another drink?” I gesture to her empty glass and offer to refill it for her. A flash of doubt crosses her face while she contemplates whether or not she trusts me enough to let me get her a drink. Apparently, she does. It would have offended me, if it weren’t for the fact that I am very aware that men are - largely - trash, and even though some women indubitably consider me and Charles to be pretty much the bottom of the barrel, neither of us would ever resort to drugs to get a woman into bed. Of course, neither of us need to, but even if we did… Never.

“I think it’s time to get the fuck out of here.” That is definitely Charles, and everything surrounding that sentence sounds like a commotion of the violent kind. My suspicions are confirmed when I step back into the living room, where Mike has his arm wrapped around a very upset-looking Dani, and Charles stares at a guy I vaguely recognized as a member of the soccer team, who is holding his nose and making a break for the door.

“Are you alright, Dani?” Charles asks while rubbing his knuckles as inconspicuously as he possibly can. I hand the glass of wine that is intended for Ariel to her and raise my eyebrows.

“What happened?” The room is still a little quiet after this little… kerfuffle.

“Alright, folks, nothin’ to see here, back to your business,” Sy’s voice carries through the room with ease. Anyone would think twice to ignore what he is saying. For some reason, if Sy tells you to do something, you do it.

“Tony - the guy Charles punched - was getting handsy with Dani, she told him to stop, he didn’t, Charles saw, warned him - twice - and then when he still didn’t stop…”

“Where was Mike?”

“Rolling a joint, not paying attention.” Ariel scoffs and takes a big sip of her wine.

“He’s a good guy, Ariel,” I say, knowing exactly what that scoff means. Mike isn’t a bad kid, he’s just easily distracted, which Ariel would know if she’d spent more than five seconds with him, but she clearly hasn’t.

“We only met him today,” she tells me, “they’ve only been going out for… what? Two weeks?” Something like that, I confirm, I’m not exactly clear on every detail, either. Not that I care - a lot.

The clock inches closer and closer to midnight and Ariel and I spend that time bickering some more about art. Painting this time, which puts me in a much more favorable position than that lovely talk on architecture did. Now, I know Ariel Ryker is good at what she does, and she’s not one to let herself get trapped, which means that if I manage to do it, it’s going to be because she lets me - and it looks like she will let me, because she makes a mistake. The timing is absolutely perfect; we’re interrupted by the countdown and just as everyone scrambles to stick his or her tongue down someone else's throat when the clock strikes twelve, I turn to her.

“I’d kiss you if I weren’t so appalled at what you just said,” I say with a soft chuckle and watch her as she raises her eyebrows at me.

“And what did I just say that has you so appalled?” I repeat her words and she scoffs as if she fully believes she’s right.

“There’s a paper on my desk that proves you wrong,” I say. My eyes are definitely more hopeful than they should be, but who can blame me? If she takes this, I’m in.

“Show me,” she says. There’s a challenge in her eyes, and all I can think is: bingo.

We’re barely even through the door of my room or my lips are on hers and her hands are tangled into my hair. She’s a good kisser; fierce, not too sloppy. I run my tongue along her bottom lip, vaguely remembering that she was wearing lipstick when we came in, but that’s definitely already ruined. We make it to my bed without any problems, and she pushes me down.

“Easy,” I warn her. I’m not one to complain about a woman in charge, but she’ll have to earn it. She falls on top of me and crushes her lips back against mine. Her moans are loud - who am I kidding? So are mine - and every time I hear the sound, my cock twitches in my pants. She’s grinding on me, which definitely doesn’t make it better. Her hands work on the buttons of my shirt, and as looks at me while she sits up to give herself more space to undo them, she laughs.

“Your lipstick is absolutely everywhere, isn’t it?” I ask, and she nods and giggles. “Well it’s all over your face, too.” I take off my shirt while I talk; it’s a rather expensive one I’d hate to see ruined. When it’s on the floor, I give her a look, telling her it’s her turn, and she seems happy to oblige. Her fingers work deliberately slowly as she keeps grinding on my cock while taking her blouse off. It looks like she’s particularly fond of the sounds I’m making, I notice, and her own moans follow mine. I dig my fingers into her thighs and pull her tighter against me, mimicking the movements of her hips with my own.

Shortly after she kisses me again, I leave her mouth alone and focus my attention on her neck while slipping the shiny satiny material - polyester, sadly - of her blouse off her shoulders. For a moment, I pause to take in the underwear she has on.

“Just take it off,” she growls as she licks a path along my jaw to my ear. My chuckle turns into a grunt when she takes my earlobe into her mouth and sucks on it softy. It’s definitely a weak spot of mine, and I can’t express how glad I am she found it. My whole body reacts when she drags her nails down my sides and back up again, and the soft chuckle she lets out directly in my ear makes me harder than I ever even thought possible.

“What if I want to take a good look?”

“Take a good look at my tits, instead,” she says. It’s definitely an attitude I’ve never come across before. I’ve been told to slow down often enough, and I've been accused of being an insensitive asshole for going too fast more times than I can count, but a girl actively encouraging me to hurry up… Honestly, I should probably find it incredibly hot, but I’m mildly insulted, instead.

And then, as a gorgeous woman tries to get me out of the rest of my clothes, I hear myself say the words I never thought I’d say in my entire life: “Can you slow down for a second?”

I don’t know who Ariel Ryker thinks she is, but she’s messing with my head, and that’s something I’d very much like her to stop doing.

“No way,” she says, “you’re the guy who everyone always says is up for anything.” Well, ‘everyone’ isn’t wrong - usually.

“Yeah, well…” I probably should have thought about how that sentence was going to end before I started it, but I didn’t, and now we’re here. Ariel is still grinding on my lap, which makes it impossible to think, let alone talk my way out of this. The only thing I can think of is ‘I swear this never happens’, and I hate how exceptionally true it is.

“Cat’s got your tongue, Solo?” I swear to god I want to answer her, but the words are just gone. For fuck’s sake, if I don’t get laid tonight, I don’t know who I’m blaming, but it sure as hell isn’t going to be me!

“Do I make you nervous?” What? No! Obviously not! This time, my face gives away what my mouth won’t say out loud, and it makes her laugh. The sound is fantastic, for whatever backwards reason, and I can’t help but moan when I hear it. She leans over to kiss me again, and I feel like I’m frozen in place. Her lips leave mine and travel all over my chest with newfound patience, moving further down until she’s forced to get off my thighs. I growl appreciatively when she reconvenes on the floor; it’s an absolute treat to see her on her knees in front of me. It’s basic biology; men love gorgeous women on their knees. Especially when they’re covered in lipstick and clearly planning on wiping whatever is left on their faces off on your cock. Again: I’m not complaining - though my ego is pretty bruised from giving in to her so easily.

It’s quickly forgotten when she runs her hands over my crotch, and a little bit of that bruise on my pride heals when she gasps and loses a bit of her patience again. She makes quick work of the button and zipper of my pants. Her hands are small, I notice, and I chuckle softly. Small hands are a godsend. They make my dick look bigger. Not that I need it, but it’s still nice. I clench my jaw involuntarily when she wraps her hand around my shaft - not completely; she can’t make it, which makes me grin.

“Intimidated?” That I can say? The stupidest goddamn… oh well, it’s out now. She gets up and kisses me again.

“If you want me to suck you off at all, you’re probably better off keeping your mouth shut, Leon,” she says. She’s clearly amused, which means I didn’t screw up completely.

I know I’m thinking something around the time she wraps her lips around my cock, but I couldn’t tell you what it is if my life depended on it. Her mouth is wet and warm and she knows exactly what she’s doing. I somehow manage to figure out that she has her tongue pierced, and she’s more than aware of how to use that to her advantage. It’s only a matter of time before I lose control of my voice.

When the first moan slips out, I know it’s over. Best to just give in to it now, so I can actually enjoy what she’s doing. We’re talking seconds before I’m a growling, swearing mess in her hands - well, mouth, technically - which she clearly seems to enjoy quite a lot, judging from her own moaning. Her tongue, her hands; everything feels incredible, and I’m lost in the sensations like never before. This may very well be the best blowjob I’ve ever gotten.

“Oh, really?” Fuck. Apparently I said that out loud. It’s too bad that it makes her stop, other than that, I don’t think I have much of a problem with her knowing.

“Yeah, you’re a minute away from finishing me off, actually,” I say, stifling a moan when she gives me the biggest, most innocent eyes I’ve ever seen. “Half, if you keep looking at me like that.”

“Let’s not,” she says as she gets back to her feet and pulls me into another kiss. I sit on the edge of my bed and allow my hands to wander her body, pulling her close so I can finally take off that bra she’s been wanting me to take off for a while now. Her boobs were already spilling out of it, but now that it’s gone… They’re amazing. As a matter of fact, I’ve never come across a pair that wasn’t - and believe me when I say I’ve searched far and wide. She moans when I roll one of her nipples between my fingers while my mouth takes care of the other one. Her nails dig into my shoulders. It doesn’t hurt and she lets go pretty quickly - a shame on both counts, really. I take it as my cue to pull her back onto the bed, and take charge of this situation again.

When I try to go slow, she tells me to get to it again, and I look at her as I take her other breast into my mouth and slowly circle her nipple with my tongue. I take a moment to enjoy this, watch her reaction, play with her, and then I slowly start making my way down her body, only to be completely taken by surprise when she stops me.

“Leon, just… Just fuck me,” she says. I don’t get it. I’ve had women beg me to eat them out, but I can’t recall one ever asking me not to…

“Please?” I can’t believe I just asked that - especially with that uncharacteristically confused tone to my voice. It’s pathetic.

“Are you seriously asking if you can go down on me?” And now she’s mocking me?

“Yes.” I’m not about to lie. Something’s going on and I’m going to find out what. If she just wanted to remain in control, she could have allowed me to continue after I’d pretty much begged her to let me taste her.

“I’d rather you didn’t,” she says. All of a sudden, she sounds shy. This calls for a different approach.

I move to actually get my head on a pillow and hold my hand out by means of an invitation. She joins me - hesitantly, but still - and I wrap my arms around her.

“A, you don’t like the way it feels. B, no guy has ever made it feel good. C, someone told you once that your pussy looks weird and now you’re not letting anyone down there in case he was right. Am I getting at anything here?” I can be blunt if I have to, it’s just that I prefer not to be. In this case, I don’t think subtlety is going to get me anywhere, so the Walker-approach it is…

“I hate you,” she says, “but C is pretty dead on, actually.” I should have known I wasn’t going to feel triumphant about getting that right, but I hadn’t expected to feel this bad for her, either. As always, though, I think I have a solution…

“Blindfold me,”

“What?”

“You heard me,” I say plainly. From the way she looks at me, I can tell she isn’t quite getting how much I’m not messing with her right now.

“You’d do that?” She scoffs as she says it, which makes me raise my eyebrows.

“Why not? Wouldn’t be the first time.” Judging by the look on her face, she’s definitely considering it.

“Make it a new year’s resolution,” I say, “start the new year off good.”

“You really like going down on girls, don’t you?” I do, but I also have a near pathological need to help women overcome insecurities. It’s an ego thing - I have in the past tried to convince August and Charles it wasn’t. That didn’t work, and that’s probably because they were right, and it absolutely is. Of course, I’m not going to tell her that, so I just nod.

“What I think,” she says, and I immediately realize my mistake, “is that you have a pathological need to help women overcome insecurities because it’s a way for you to feel good about yourself.”

At this point, it’s fair to say that Ariel is annoying the everloving fuck out of me.

“What I think,” I throw back at her, “is that you have a pathological need to be right and to do everything on your own that’s actually getting in the way of feeling good about yourself. But I’ll cut my losses.”

“Good, are we finally going to do what we came here to do?” The way she says it honestly has me starting to think I made a huge mistake hooking up with her. Not that I can think of anyone else I’d rather be with - which is unusual, I’ll admit.

“Christ on a bike! Do you have somewhere else to be?” Ariel goes quiet; she clearly wasn’t expecting my question. I put a hand on her cheek and am about to pull her into another kiss when we’re disturbed by… a disturbance in the hallway. I’m far too curious to not check on that, so I quickly get dressed and head for the door to take a look.

“What’s going on out there?” Ariel says as she fastens the buttons of her blouse. I’m surprised she asks: she had to have heard some of it. Including Marshall telling me there was nothing to worry about, and to go back inside. It didn’t seem like he had a handle on the situation, but there was no need for me to get in the middle of that.

“Nothing important,” I say. And then it really registers what she’s doing. Is she serious? “You’re leaving?”

“Yeah,” she says with a sigh, “this was a mistake.” I mean, I can’t deny that, but I was still intent on actually making that mistake. Something about the way she looks at me tells me she doesn’t actually want to leave, but she actually walks out the door, and I’m left standing there alone and confused. Very, very confused.

#henrycavill fanfic #henry cavill characters #napoleon solo #napoleon solo x OFC #napoleon solo smut #napoleon solo fanfic #179 crescent street #179CS #henry cavill smut #179cs18

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mrs-solo-walker · 2 years ago

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"Gentleman don't be mad at me, but I have to go to bed. Solo I'll update you tomorrow."

"Sleep tight Missy and get some rest."

Solo gives me a kiss on the cheek presses his glass into Walker's hand and kiss him as well.

"Good night to you too."

Walker scowls after him.

"He's getting weirder too." Grumbles Walker, wiping his cheek.

#august walker #napoleon solo #august walker fanfic #napoleon solo fanfic #wip #fanfic

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chestnut-devil · 2 years ago

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Rating: Not Rated

Archive Warning: Graphic Depiction Of Violence.

Category: Gen

Relationships: Illya Kuryakin & Napoleon Solo & Gaby Teller, Illya Kuryakin & Napoleon Solo, Napoleon Solo & Gaby Teller

Characters: Napoleon Solo, Gaby Teller, Illya Kuryakin

Additional Tags: Nightmares, Torture, Child Abuse, Whumpuary 2023, Whump, Napoleon Solo Whump, Illya Kuryakin Whump, Hurt Napoleon Solo, Insomniac Gaby Teller

Language: English

Summary: A bead of sweat trickles down Solo's head and neck, trailing down his spine. His heart was stuttering unevenly in his chest, his lungs aching, his hands clammy, and all his nerves felt like they were on fire. The exposed light bulb swinging over his head sent sharp stabbing pains into his eyes every time it came around.

Rudi was a disembodied voice in the darkness that faded in and out. It didn't matter to Solo, though. He knew how it went. Rudi had reached the part where he was gloating about the photo page - in full colour - that had been reserved for Solo.

Whumpuary fill for Day 1: Failed Escape | Concussion | Nightmares and Alt 4: Torture

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justabigoldnerd · 3 months ago

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Thank you so much @cha-melodius for the tag!!!

Here's seven sentences from "Children of The Discreet"

Illya tosses his head free, but Solo isn't deterred. He tries again, this time with a whispered, “Settle, Peril. They're here to help.” The second attempt is successful in making Illya look at him, but his fur is still bristled with distrust and he's panting. Solo soothes a hand over the top of Illya's head until he's holding the wolf's face under the thick flaxen fur. “It's okay. You did good. Go back to sleep.”

No pressure tagging @huggiebird @happybean17 @falling-into-peril @heytheredeann @pippinoftheshire

@bighandsforabigheart @kcscribbler @yallwildinrn @the-golden-comet @thattripleabattery

@too-young-to-fall-in-love @times-up-alone-tonight @vnyu73 @nicijones @prettyboynapoleonsolo

And an Open Tag for anyone else who wants to join!!! 💕💕💕

#tmfu #the man from uncle #tmfu movie #illya kuryakin #napoleon solo #napollya #fanfiction #fanfic #ao3 #seven sentence sunday #tag game

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drmaddict · 2 years ago

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Gray Hair

Summery: Napoleon reveals his biggest fear

Trigger warning: mention of Alzheimer's

English is not my first language so be gentle.

(gif is not mine)

Napoleon Solo is a man who paid insane attention to his appearance. He paid meticulous attention to his clothes, his hair, his shoes, the watch he wore. His hair knew its place. None would just jump out of place for no apparent reason.

His skin was well-groomed. His face always shaved.

He didn't overeat, never drank too much, and trained his body with an iron conviction to mold it to the image he deemed appropriate. Every morning without fail before the rest of the world even got out of bed.

Napoleon was a man who knew how he affected others and how to act to change that effect. He was a born manipulator. So it wasn't unusual for him to take longer in the bathroom than I did. But today it went too far even by his standards.

I sat on the bed, bored, waiting for him to come out of the bathroom. I was used to waiting. Napoleon took his missions more seriously than I would have thought possible at the beginning of our partnership. He proved me wrong. He let me into his world, into his heart. Which led to me to also opening the little locked door to my heart for him.

I had learned over time to love and respect this man. With all his quirks, but even I had my limits.

Annoyed, I stood up and walked to the bathroom door. "Napoleon?", I knocked at the door.

No response. "I know you take your appearance very seriously, but you've been in there for over an hour now. What are you doing?"

"Just... Just 5 more minutes... I'll be right there," I heard the frantic reply before a muffled clink sounded. I furrowed my eyebrows in confusion.

He was stuttering. He never stuttered. Even when a gun was held to his head, he still had a casual line on his lips. The clink. With him, every move was spot on. He wasn't the best pickpocket in the world for nothing.

"Are you sure about this? You sound kind of... confused? Should I tell Illya and Gaby? Should we cancel the mission?"

"NO!.. No. I... I'll have it in a minute."

But after five minutes, still nothing was happening, so I grabbed the hairpin from my hairstyle, which was purely for decorative purposes, and stuck the deliberately sharpened end into the door until I heard a soft click. I pushed the door open just as quietly. What I saw was definitely not what I expected.

Napoleon clung to the sink and looked in the mirror in panic.

"Napoleon?", I asked timidly.

His head shot around to me and big eyes start at me. His right hand shot up and abruptly rested on the right side of his head, where it covered his hair.

I drew my eyebrows together in irritation. "Napoleon what's wrong? Talk to me!" I walked toward him. He stalked away from me until he bumped into the toilet behind him and sat down surrenderd on the lid. His hand still pressed to his head. I squatted in front of him and gently tried to dislodge his hand from his head. He refused at first. Did not look me in the eye. I pulled on it jerkily and I had a clear view of the covered area underneath.

My face reflected more confusion. No wound. His hair laying as it always did.

I looked irritated at his face, but he just had his eyes squeezed shut and his face turned away from me.

"Napoleon you have to talk to me. What's wrong? I don't understand? Are you hurt? What? Napoleon are you crying?"

I gently turned his face toward me and wiped away the tears.

"Napoleon what-"

"How can you not see it?" he snapped.

"See what?"

He looked at me out of wet, hysterical eyes. "The hair!" he said, as if that explained everything.

I glanced at his strands of hair. At the part he had been so panicked to cover. There it was. A delicate silver shining hair in a sea of black. THAT was the reason for this reaction?

"Leon.", I sighed. "That's just..." I stroked his cheek with my thumb. "Honey I know you... You know you're only human. An outstanding, talented, insanely good looking humanbeing, but still just a humanbeing. That's perfectly normal."

He shook his head. "I need more time. I... This can't be happening already. I still have so much to do. I still have so much to show you. I need... I need more time." He clung to my wrist hysterically. He was completely out of it. I reached for the mic on my garter and turned it on. "Illya Gaby? We can't go with you... I sprained my ankle. You'll have to go on your own."

"Understood." came the short and practical reply from Illya.

Napoleon was still in his own world. "Honey you... you're not going to die tomorrow. It's just a gray hair."

He shook his head. "I'm going to forget everything. I'm going to forget you. The paintings. Me. That's... That's how it starts. First comes the gray hair

and then..." he shook his head to stop himself.

I reached for his face again. "Look at me. Napoleon come on. Look at me. Good. Now breathe with me. In and out. In and out. Good... Good."

He was slow to calm down, but it worked. "Now, I need you to tell me what's going on."

He took a deep breath. "My father...he was the smartest man I knew. He... hell he was a janitor, but always the smartest man in the room. He was one step ahead of everybody. Until the gray hair came. Until he forgot who I was. Who he was. He was in a wrong time. He didn't know what world he was in anymore. Age took away everything he was."

I looked at our clasped hands. "Alzheimer's?", I asked. He nodded.

I stroked the top of his head. "Gray hair doesn't make you old. I know a girl who went gray at twenty-two." He rested his head against my shoulder and I continued to stroke his strands of hair. "Not every person who gets old has Alzheimer's. I can't promise you it won't affect either of us, but you have more than enough time before that could even be an issue. Leon. You still have time. For the world. Your paintings. Me."

He was silent. "If you find out, you'll have to take me away." He lifted his head and looked me straight in the eye. "I don't want anyone to see me like this. Not even you. If it starts and you notice, you'll take me away under a fake name and leave me behind. I want people to know me as a man. Not...not as a decay."

I was literally struck by his fear, but nodded bravely.

He dropped his head back against my shoulder. "What am I going to do now? I'm supossed to be the young bachelor out there. I can't have gray hair."

"I'll just get hair dye. You're in luck as usual my good man. Black is an easy color."

I scratched the back of his neck. He put an arm around me and pulled me closer. He smelled my scent. "I love you. I can't imagine ever forgetting that."

#napoleon solo #henry cavill #henry cavill characters #napoleon solo x reader #napoleon solo x oc #napoleon solo fanfic #henry cavill fanfiction

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ellethespaceunicorn · 2 years ago

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Holy...sweet baby Jesus!

*presses thighs together*

Yeah, this? Very hot. Like the perfect temperature. I loved it so much.

🛁 - A nice, relaxing bath

Leon looks tense...

Napoleon Solo x OFC Amina Ahmadi

warnings: fingering, oral (f receiving), unprotected p-i-v sex (it's the 60s, guys, we're smarter now, right?)

word count: 1,7k

A/N: Nina, thank you for this ask. It made me really nervous at first because Napoleon and me, we haven't been talking before. But damn, that was a pleasure to write. I had so much fun. Hope you like what I made out of it.

Anahita is the Persian goddess of water, fertility and healing

summary: After a hard job in Isfahan, Napoleon tries to lose some tension in the hamam of his client, the Shah

Moodboard

dividers by @firefly-graphics

Napoleon carefully brushed his shirt over his bruised shoulder. The last 24 hours were filled with a little too much action for his taste. He preferred jobs that required his skills of persuasion and trickery. But when it needed to be done, he wasn’t shy of using his muscles like he did last night, even if it meant that he couldn’t enjoy his last day in Isfahan to the extent he had planned. In no way was he capable of taking care of Amina in the way he had intended to.

A deep groan escaped his mouth through gritted teeth as he started to undo his pants. His ribs burnt in his chest with every of his movements.

But as his suit pants dropped to the floor, the most difficult part was done. He slipped on the silk bath robe that was given to him at the reception and made his way to the entrance of the antique bath house. Leon had gladly accepted the invitation of the Shah to his private bath. He knew to appreciate the luxuries that his job brought with it.

As the minutes passed by in the heat of the steam bath, Napoleon felt how his muscles began to relax, the tension evaporating from his body with every drop of sweat that ran down his chest.

The bright sound of a bell signaled him to move to the heated marble table. Napoleon carefully dropped on the warm stone and lay on his stomach, not fighting the moan, as he felt the pain running through his chest.

A pair of warm hands settled on his shoulders. “Mr. Solo, I am delighted to hear such sounds coming from your lips, but I didn’t expect to hear them before I even lay my hands on you.” The voice was soft and seductive.

Napoleon jerked in surprise, only realizing by then that he shouldn’t move so briskly. His head turned, but he couldn’t see more than some caramel toned hips leaning against his side.

“Amina?” he asked, although he already knew it was her sweet voice. The hands on his back slowly ran up and down his spine with just the right amount of pressure.

“Sh, Leon, we better not be talking too much. This is not exactly a situation we both want to be found in. Just lay down and let me take care of you.”

Napoleon wasn’t used to being in the position of accepting care instead of giving. He was used to being in charge. But after all what happened in the last few days, it felt incredibly good to give up on taking responsibilities for once. And so, he just lay there and savored the touch of his Persian rose.

Soon, he felt not only her soft hands on him, there were her plush lips pressing against his neck, and the mounds of her breasts ever so slowly brushed over his back as she reached for his arms, her pebbled buds teasing him. Now, this was enough for Leon to take. He was happy to risk being found in this very inappropriate situation when it meant being able to feel this gorgeous woman.

Carefully resting his weight on his elbow, he turned and wrapped his other arm in a smooth motion around Amina’s waist, pulling her close to his chest. The scent of jasmine filled his nose.

He pressed his lips on hers, and she opened them for him, letting him explore her mouth and taste her. After a teasing bite on her lower lip, he pulled away, only far enough to be able to speak.

“Tell me, ātashé del-am*, do you want me to take you here on this stone or where do you want me to take you?” His hot breath grazed over her humid jaw as he mouthed his words. Amina broke away from his embrace with a smile playing around her lips.

“We might enjoy the warmth of the thermal spring, my dear,” she hummed and held out her hand for him to take.

As he wasn’t able to move fast, Leon took advantage of his slow way of moving by admiring her divine body from head to toe. He walked behind her, and watching her derrière swaying from side to side as she guided him to the steaming pool, he felt his cock twitching in anticipation.

*) Farsi for “fire of my heart”, often used to call a lover

Amina let Napoleon take the lead as he stepped down int the hot water. He sat down on the tiled bench and closed his eyes, taking a deep breath as the warmth settled around his body. Amina followed him and straddled his thick thighs. She devoured his lips once more, feeling how Napoleon got more demanding, more impatient with every second that they spent kissing.

His hands dropped below the surface, one settling on her firm breast, rolling her nipple between his digits, the other one heading deeper, finding its way between her legs. His fingers, skilled to move perfectly, feeling every variance, soon had Amina squirming over him. He alternated between teasing her swollen clit and working her open with two of his fingers, curling inside her to find her sweetest spot. Finally, he felt her tightening around his fingers as she came. Her breath was shaky, and she bit on her lip to suppress the treacherous moans.

When she was coming back from her high, she took him in her small hands and stroked him. Napoleon gasped as he finally felt the friction he graved so much. Amina raised her hips and positioned him. And then she sank down slowly on him until he was sheathed completely between her velvet walls.

She started moving in a slow rhythm, rolling her hips up and down on him. Napoleon reveled in the sight in front of him. Amina’s bosom sank into the water just to rise out of it again, droplets running down her soft, dark skin. He couldn’t keep his mouth any longer from her. His lips were roaming over her neck, her shoulders, her collarbones, just every inch of skin that he was able to reach.

Feeling him so deep inside her, Amina lost all her self-control. Her pace got faster, harder. As she felt the tension building in her core, ready to bring her over the edge any moment, she desperately grabbed his shoulder.

The grunt that came deep from Leon’s chest was not one of the lewd sounds head been voicing until now, it was a sound of discomfort and pain. Amina immediately recoiled, her eyes shooting up to Napoleon’s face. But the pained expression was already gone. Leon smiled at her apologetically.

“Don’t hold back, dear. I can take it.” Without waiting for an answer, his hands were on Amina’s hips, and he pulled her close to him. After taking a deep breath, he stood up, wrapping her legs around his waist and placed the surprised woman on the edge of the pool. This time he bit back the groan that wanted to escape his lips as his ribs burnt in his chest.

His hands pushed at her knees to make her open her legs for him. Napoleon knelt on the bench and his hands and lips slowly proceeded their ascent along her calves, her knees and her inner thighs.

Amina quivered in anticipation as his head disappeared between her legs. But Leon didn’t grant her wish to feel his mouth on her just yet. Instead, he just stopped and stared in wonder.

“Just look how beautiful you are, ātashé del-am. Opening up for me, sharing your most precious part with me. Thank you, my dear.” And then he started to devour her, diving into her core like a starving man. His tongue lapped through her folds and teased her pearl.

When at first Amina yearned for his fingers to join, she soon lost every ability to think at all, just feeling how Napoleon brought her to her next climax just with his mouth.

Panting heavily, she felt how Leon left his place between her thighs after a few more lazy licks over her drenched pussy. He stepped out of the pool and knelt down between her still spread legs.

“I want you on your knees, my love.” Leon sounded pained, but determined. And Amina couldn’t think of anything else she wanted more than to be taken by him right here and now on the stone floor. She went on all fours, raising her buttocks invitingly for him.

Leon took the invitation and was behind her in an instant.

His hands guided her to lift her bottom even further while arching her back down onto the bed. He let his fingers run over her bare cheeks, squeezing her flesh tight. Amina bit on her lower lip, aching for him to take her.

“Mm, this is a glorious sight!” Leon cooed. Amina turned her head to look back at him, to see his eyes were dark and full of desire. Napoleon slowly let his fingers run through her folds, playing with her arousal while he was stroking himself.

Finally, she felt the tip of his cock between her folds again. Amina cried out as he buried himself deep inside of her. Every bit of caution they both had not to get caught was gone by now. They couldn’t keep quiet any longer.

Napoleon grabbed Amina’s hip, sinking his blunt nails into her skin. His thrusts were hard and fast, finally searching his own release

He moaned with every thrust now and Amina reacted to his sounds with pure lust. She moved her hips in the same rhythm as him, trying to feel him as deep as possible.

Amina felt another orgasm build up and begged Leon to take her harder. He obeyed, giving all he had to give, not even noticing his broken ribs any longer.

When her walls clenched around his cock, Leon lost his rhythm and rutted into her desperately. Finally, his body tensed, he shuddered and then Amina felt him spilling his seed into her. After another few slow thrusts he collapsed next to her. His chest was heaving while he was trying to catch his breath.

Amina pressed a small kiss on his shoulder. “Mr. Solo, I hope you are satisfied with our service?” she whispered with a smile on her lips.

Napoleon chuckled softly. “I am very pleased and would be delighted if I could take advantage of your endeavors at my suite tonight once more, Miss Ahmadi.

taglist:

@raccoon-eyed-rebel @deandoesthingstome @mayloma @fvckinghenrycavill @ylva-syverson @ellethespaceunicorn @kebabgirl67 @dopegardensaladhuman @kingliam2019 @liviss @identity2212 @enchantedbytomandhenry @valacircareads @summersong69 @poledancingdinos @liveoncoffeeandflowersss @mrsevans90 @henryownsme @myaimlessuniverse @itsrubberbisquit @uunotheangel @hannah9921 @sycochick @mary-ann84 @littlefreya

#napoleon solo #yenn answers #my writing #napoleon solo fanfic #napoloeon solo x ofc #anahita #fic rec

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ellethespaceunicorn · 9 months ago

Text

Love, Napoleon!: Chapter 4

Chapter 4: Sweet Desserts and Sweeter Kisses

Rating: Explicit, 18+, Minors - DNI

Pairing: Napoleon Solo x Black!OFC

Fandom: The Man from U.N.C.L.E.

Word Count: 1.9K

Series Summary: Love letters can only do so much, sometimes you need a grand romantic gesture. This is the love story of Napoleon “Leon” Solo and Roberta “Bobbie” Collins.

Chapter Summary: Bobbie and Leon entertain Gaby and Illya.

Warnings: p-in-v sex, creampie, fluff

A/N: Unbeta’d, we die like people who tried their best.

Dividers by: @saradika-graphics

Support/Reblog banner by me

Cover Art by me

Series Masterlist

My Masterlist

“Leon! It’s been six months. You are now legally obligated to introduce me to your friends.” Bobbie moves around the kitchen, checking on various dishes on the stove and in the oven.

“Gaby is beside herself to meet you,” Leon acknowledges from his post, leaning in the doorway to the quaint kitchenette.

“Well, see? Gaby is excited, so why aren’t you?” She challenges, pulling out a baking dish from the oven and setting it on the counter.

“It’s not Gaby that I’m worried about. She’s a sweetheart once you get past the tough exterior. But Illya? Tough is all he knows. I can’t exactly blame him,” he says, looking over to where Bobbie picked her head up and looked at him for more information. “And I can’t exactly tell you why that is. Sorry, love.”

“Right, right. Need-to-know basis. But not to worry; I’ve got a secret weapon for Illya. I made a dish specifically for him. And if I know anything, it’s the way to a man’s heart, and that is through his stomach. So, even though this is nerve-wracking as all get out, I think he’s going to at least tolerate it,” she huffs, balling up a dishtowel before tossing it on the counter.

Napoleon walks up behind Bobbie and wraps his arms around her, his head resting on her shoulder as he pulls her into him. “You know, I am so proud of you for putting all this together for my friends. You’ve done so much to make everything perfect, and I think you deserve a little treat of your own.”

“What are you-” Bobbie starts, only to be cut off by the shock of Napoleon’s hand smoothing down her sweater-covered breast and further down over her corduroy knee-length skirt. When it disappears under the fabric, she squirms. “Leon, they’re gonna be here any minute!”

“Well then, I’d better make this fast,” he whispers. Walking backward, Napoleon rests his hips against the counter behind him. Holding Bobbie against himself with one hand across her middle and one in her panties, he continues toying with her swelling clit until her legs buckle. “There she is, so close already.”

“Leon…please,” she trails off, her wringing hands at her sides. She knows if she reaches for his hand, he will stop. Throwing her head back against his chest, she looks up into his face and witnesses how much he truly enjoys having this power over her. That doesn’t stop her from pleading with her big brown eyes.

“Oh, you know exactly what that look does to me,” he growls, leaning down to capture her lips with his own. His hand that was around her middle comes up to cradle her face, his thumb caressing her cheek as she stands on her tiptoes to deepen the kiss. Breaking the kiss, Napoleon turns them around to face the counter, pulling Bobbie’s skirt up and her panties down. “That kiss of yours is going to be the death of me.”

He has his pants unzipped, his cock pulled out, and inside of her in record time. He knew he wouldn’t last long, not that it mattered. His main goal is to get her off so her mind clears. He moves his hips back before slamming them back in, and she is already putty in his hands.

Within minutes, he has Bobbie on the brink of her orgasm. He’s holding her there, his hands on her hips, as he maintains a punishing pace. With every thrust, he pushes her closer to the edge, only to catch her before she can fall. Only when he’s ready will he allow her to come crashing down.

Judging by the footfalls and the sound of the front door of the apartment building closing, he doesn’t have much time. Luckily, he knows how to play her body. His right hand finds her puffy clit while his left hand migrates to her throat.

Whispering into her ear, “Come for me, pretty girl. Let go and show me you can follow directions like I know you can.”

As if by a magical spell, her walls clamped down around him. He had every intention of fucking her through her orgasm; he really did. But the grip her pussy had on his cock was enough to send him right over the horizon with her. His hips are still as he empties inside her, all while still managing to hold up both of their bodies.

Extricating himself from her hold, Napoleon squats down to pull Bobbie’s underwear back up her legs and rights her skirt again before fixing his clothing.

“I am going to be thinking about my cum leaking out of you all night long,” he sighs, kissing her forehead when she turns around to face him.

Just as she opens her mouth, three sharp knocks sound on the door to her apartment. They fuss over each other for a moment, making sure it doesn’t look like they were just having sex. Once done, they go to the door to greet their guests.

Bobbie swings the door open, greeting the couple in her apartment. “Gaby, Illya. I’m Roberta, but you can call me Bobbie. So nice to finally meet you. I was starting to believe you might be a figment of Leon’s imagination.” She takes their coats, and Napoleon gets drinks ready for them.

“I hope Leon’s imagination flattered me, at least,” Gaby laughs, sipping her dirty martini and winking at Napoleon.

“I only told her the good stuff,” Napoleon replies, bringing a Sazerac to Bobbie and a Manhattan for Illya.

Illya nods to Napoleon, smiles at Bobbie, and remains silent.

Bobbie ushers everyone to the dining table before she starts to bring out dish after dish of foods that are almost too beautiful to eat. Leaving dessert as a surprise, she comes back to the table, and everyone starts to serve themselves. As the first bites are taken, compliments are given to the chef.

“Bobbie, this is delectable,” Gaby hums, covering her mouth with her hand.

“Darling, you have outdone yourself,” Napoleon praises.

“Thank you. I’m so glad you like everything. I’ll be honest, I was nervous that I was going to burn something or undercook something. I was a wreck,” Bobbie giggles, looking over the faces of her boyfriend and her guests. “Eat up; I have a treat for dessert, and I hope you all like it.”

Illya eats in relative silence, not one emotion gracing his face. Bobbie has been secretly staring at him for most of dinner. When the meal is complete, Gaby volunteers to clear the plates away, and the women retreat to the kitchen. While they are out of earshot, Napoleon turns on the record player, and the smooth sounds of Peggy Lee’s Fever fill the air.

“Peril, what game are you playing at?” Napoleon cuts to the chase, motioning for Illya to sit on the couch with him.

“It’s been a long time since I had dinner with a civilian. My social skills may not be the best. If I don’t say anything, I won’t accidentally-”

“Have a good time?” Napoleon supplies, cutting off Illya.

Illya rolls his eyes. “I’m not afraid to have a good time. I'm worried about getting close to new people. I don’t know how to be a civilian. I’m an agent,” he says, crossing his arms.

“She’s not going to say anything, so I will. You’re on the verge of being rude. So, do yourself a favor and speak to my lovely before she thinks you don’t like her; that’s if she doesn’t already think that,” Napoleon huffs, tilting his head at Illya.

The girls come out of the kitchen with dessert already plated with a big scoop of vanilla ice cream. Gaby places two plates on the coffee table while Bobbie serves Napoleon and Illya. Noticing the look of surprise on Illya’s face, Bobbie thinks the worst.

“Is there something wrong?” she supposes.

“Not at all. I haven’t had sharlotka since I was a little boy. My mother used to let me help make it for special occasions,” he marvels, taking a bite and closing his eyes before nodding and saying, “This is perfect. So was dinner. I apologize for my earlier silence; please don’t think I am dissatisfied with you.”

“Don’t worry about it. I figured you would be the hard sell. Luckily, I had the idea for the sharlotka and knew if anything, you’d at least be impressed by me,” Bobbie jokes, taking a bite of the dish. “Oh wow, you weren’t kidding. That is going in the recipe book, for sure.”

“I’ll have to get that recipe from you. I think you’ve made Illya’s new favorite,” Gaby chuckles, smiling at her husband when a blush creeps up on his face.

When dessert is done, the couples talk for a while over coffee before Illya notices Gaby nuzzling into his side and suggests that they end the night’s fun. By this time, Napoleon is already a pillow for Bobbie as she leans into him from her spot on the couch.

Napoleon picks up Bobbie’s head from his lap, depositing it on the couch after he gets up, not wanting to wake her up just yet. He walks Gaby and Illya to the door, saying goodbye on behalf of himself and Bobbie and promising to tell her that they enjoyed themselves.

Closing the door behind them, he walks over to the couch, where a tired Bobbie is now hanging halfway off the couch. He knows today was a struggle for her; planning an entire dinner and entertaining is no short order. He is so proud of her, not just for today but in general. He thinks the world of her, and nothing could change his mind.

Picking up her limp body from the couch, he takes her into the bedroom and lays her down. He removes her shoes and his own before climbing into bed next to her. He laughs when she cuddles into him and wraps an arm and leg around him possessively. He plants a kiss on her forehead and is met with a mumble from Bobbie.

“What was that, little one?” He presses, cradling her sleepy face in his hand, unsure of what he heard.

“I said I love you, Leon,” she confesses, ducking her head and looking up at him.

Napoleon breaks out into a grin and leans down to kiss Bobbie, only to stop at the last second before their lips touch. Looking into her eyes, he says, “I love you too, Bobbie.”

Bobbie melts in his arms. She knows how Napoleon dotes on her and spoils her. But this love confession of his means the world to her. She also knows that she has loved him for some time now, but the timing was never right to tell him.

Until tonight, this moment could not happen. Napoleon knew that if she didn’t get along with his fellow agents, it would be quite tricky. But watching her win over Gaby so easily and Illya so charmingly cements in his mind that she is worth every ounce of his love.

Of course, if you ask him, he’s loved her since their first kiss. If he’s honest with himself, he still feels butterflies when her lips touch his.

Chapter 5 (TBD)

A/N: This story is far from over. OMG, I missed my babies so much.

**Tag List**

@deandoesthingstome @cakesandtom @brattymum96 @ambinxe @avengersfan25 @kebabgirl67 @kingliam2019 @astheskycries @enchantedbytomandhenry @rebelangel1102 @thabiddie23 @sweetandgentlecreature @foxyjwls007 @art2emily @titty-teetee @juliaorpll78

Let me know if you wanna be added (or removed) 😁 If you are crossed out, I couldn't tag you

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ellethespaceunicorn-masterlist · 4 months ago

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Henry Cavill Masterlist

Here you will find all of my Henry Cavill works, arranged by character and type of work.

One-Shots

Forever And A Day - Explicit - Geralt x Black!OFC - Geralt and Lavinia share a passionate reunion.

Events

You're Mine | Geralt of Rivia + Female Reader + Daddy Kink + “Can you feel how much I want you?” + Darkfic (Sweet Treats Events 2024)

Series

Bright Like The Moon (ongoing)

Touch and Go (possibly ongoing)

The Howling in Claw Creek Forest (ongoing)

Requests

Get My Pretty Name Outta Your Mouth - Explicit - Walter Marshall x Reader - You hate everything about Detective Walter Marshall. He feels the same about you. Now, kiss!

Challenges

Fifteen Minutes - Explicit - Walter Marshall x Unnamed Black!OFC - What Walter does with 15 minutes of his time.

Headcanons

Hobbies

Events

A Little Fresh Air | Walter Marshall + Female Reader + Public Sex + “Hmm, you’re not very patient, are you?” + Smut (Sweet Treats Event 2024)

One-Shots

Hold Me Til I Scream For Air To Breathe - Explicit - Sub!Clark Kent x Domme!Reader - Clark needs to give over to his submissive urges, specifically he yearns to be tied up and owned.

Some Things You Just Can’t Refuse - Explicit - Dom!Clark Kent x Sub!Reader - A collection of first times with Clark Kent, and one last time.

Don’t Kill My Vibe - Explicit - Clark Kent x BestFriend!Black!Fem!Reader - You help Clark ease the pain of his broken heart.

Requests

Happy Birthday, Cupcake - General - Clark Kent x PlusSize!Reader - Clark surprises you for your birthday.

Praise You - General - Clark Kent x Insecure PlusSize!Reader - Clark Kent loves everything about you, especially what you think are your flaws.

One-Shots

What Are You Doing, StepBro? - Explicit - Humphrey x Stepsister!Reader - You and Humphrey don’t have the best start, but before long you will reach an arrangement.

Requests

Doing Something Unholy - Explicit - Charles Brandon x Reader - This is a prompt fill for some teasing of Charles Brandon and then him taking over.

Series

Scrapbook (finished) - Side characters include Walter Marshall, Evan Marshall, Syverson, and Gus March-Phillipps

One-Shots

Make That Kitty Purr {DARK FIC} - Explicit - Mike x Reader, August Walker x Reader - Hellraiser: Hellworld x Mission: Impossible - Fallout, Crossover AU - Uncle August doesn’t give a shit that you’re Mike’s girlfriend.

Make That Kitty Purr [Director’s Cut] {DARKER FIC} - Explicit - Mike x Reader, August Walker x Reader - Hellraiser: Hellworld x Mission: Impossible - Fallout, Crossover AU - Uncle August doesn’t give a shit that you’re Mike’s girlfriend. This is the darker pre-edited version.

Series

Love, Napoleon (ongoing)

One-Shots

I Want a Little Sugar in My Bowl - Explicit - Napoleon Solo x Reader - Napoleon wines and dines.

Series

Daddy Knows Best (possibly on hiatus)

One-Shots

Treat Me Like A Slut - Explicit - August Walker x Reader - August has had enough of your antics, and you’re going to pay for it.

Requests

Executive Temptation - Explicit - CEO!August Walker x Employee!Reader - You’ve caught the eye of CEO August Walker. What happens when he asks you to go to his private office?

One-Shots

Sometimes The Silence Guides A Mind - Explicit - Sherlock Holmes x Reader - As you were getting close to Sherlock, he stops visiting. You pop over to Baker Street and share an eye-opening moment.

Requests

The Paganini Problem - Mature - Sherlock Holmes x Wife!Reader - Being Sherlock’s wife proves to be difficult when a case stumps him.

Series

The Howling in Claw Creek Forest (ongoing)

Challenges

There Is A Light That Never Goes Out - Mature - Syverson x Reader - When an unexpected pregnancy rocks your already uncertain world, you decide the best option is to run. Apocalypse AU.

Requests

Shape-Up - Explicit - Syverson x Black!Reader (Peaches) - Syverson and his girl, Peaches, try and trim his beard without causing a ruckus. Spoiler alert: they fail.

Drabbles

My Little Strawberry - Mature - Syverson x Black!Reader (Peaches) - A follow-up to Shape Up. Sy has a conversation with his baby girl while she’s still in your stomach.

Events

Say It Again | Captain Syverson + Female Reader + Phone Sex + “Hmm, you’re not very patient, are you?” + Smut (Sweet Treats Event 2024)

One-Shots

Nothing More Than An Animal - Explicit - Henry!Wolverine (Cavillrine) x Female!Reader - After entering a dangerous biker bar alone, you’re almost assaulted. You are saved by a mutant with metal claws who might be more animal than man.

Walter Marshall (Night Hunter)

Geralt of Rivia (The Witcher)

Clark Kent (Man of Steel, BvS, Justice League)

Humphrey (Stardust)

Charles Brandon (The Tudors)

Mike (Hellraiser: Hellworld)

Napoleon Solo (The Man from U.N.C.L.E.)

August Walker (Mission: Impossible - Fallout)

Gus March-Phillips (The Ministry of Ungentlemanly Warfare)

Will Shaw (The Cold Light of Day)

Sherlock Holmes (Enola Holmes films)

Captain Syverson (Sand Castle)

Evan Marshall (Blood Creek)

Melot (Tristan and Isolde)

Thomas Apreas (Hotel Laguna)

Chas Quilter (The Inspector Lyndley Mysteries)

Stephen Colley (I Capture the Castle)

Henry!Wolvie AKA The Cavillrine (Deadpool & Wolverine)

I DO NOT WRITE RPF FOR HENRY

FULL MASTERLIST IS HERE.

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raccoon-eyed-rebel · 2 years ago

Text

Baby, it's cold outside

A/N: Another little something I wrote for @sillyrabbit81's milestone event. I still can't stop taking screenshots so there's a slight chance this may not even be the last one.

You can find the masterlist for the event here! (And my masterlist here)

Pairing: Napoleon Solo (Jack Deveny) x OFC (Evangeline Dubois)

Prompt: Playful & Happy + Uniform or Costume

Summary: A stewardess recognises a certain Mr. Jack Deveny from her flight earlier in the day. He just so happens to be staying at her layover-hotel.

Word count: 2.2k

Warnings: Actually... There's some kissing and groping but other than that...

@geralts-yenn @fvckinghenrycavill @deandoesthingstome @summersong69 @peaches1958 @keanureevesisbae @ellethespaceunicorn

From the corner of her eye, she spotted him. He had been on her flight. A Mr. Deveny, row 7, chair B. Handsome, charming, and practically the only male passenger that hadn’t propositioned her. Even the pilots didn’t always grant her that courtesy.

Of course she was pretty; she was a stewardess for Pan Am, after all. Beauty was part of her job description, but why did that have to mean she had to endure countless more-than-friendly hands sliding up her thigh with a smile on her face? On the one hand she was glad that Mr. Deveny hadn’t made any untoward advances, but on the other… Was she not attractive to him? And if so, why not?

Napoleon – though to anyone in this room he would introduce himself as Jack Deveny – glanced at her from behind his newspaper. His eyes did not habitually deceive him, and so he was fairly certain that it was her; the stewardess from his flight. She was still in her uniform – against regulations, no doubt – which had that particular shade of blue that anyone would recognize from a mile away. He headed over to the bar, right when she did. A terrible coincidence, of course.

She ordered a glass of white wine. Not an unusual choice, as it was July in Paris. He noticed her French was absolutely flawless – as far as he could tell, anyway.

“Allow me,” he said before she could take her wallet out of her purse.

“No need, Mr. Deveny,” she said without thinking. He looked at her from the corner of his eye, only turning his head so far as was absolutely necessary, while a smug smile tugged at the corners of his mouth.

“You remember my name,” he said. It became immediately clear to you that you didn’t have to be concerned with inflating the man’s ego. It could hardly become bigger, anyway. Yet he didn’t have the usual air of brazen arrogance to him that they usually had. She wasn’t special to him, she knew that. Just another pretty face in what was no doubt a fairly large collection of pretty faces. Luckily, she did not mind, as she kept her own collection of pretty faces that he would slot into quite nicely. Men of his character were usually well-rehearsed in the art of physical affections, and they made long layovers so much less dull. Besides; her employers paid her well, but nowhere near enough to see the inside of a room on the higher floors. She flashed him a smile and turned away.

“Thank you for the drink, Mr. Deveny,” she said as she took the glass in her appropriately white-gloved hand and prepared to walk back to the table where she had been reading.

“My pleasure, miss…” His implicit question stopped her in her tracks, and she looked at him with a sweet smile.

“Dubois,” she said demurely, “Evangeline Dubois.”

“Where are you from, miss Dubois?” He asked her. In her mind, she rolled her eyes at his impeccable ability to keep his voice and face free of any overt implications or unsavory ends.

“New Orleans,” she answered him truthfully. He nodded. That explained the French.

“Normally, I’d ask what brings you here, but…” He gestured briefly to her attire. “I fear the question in this case would be redundant.”

“Don’t tell me that your ability to hold a conversation ends there, Mr. Deveny.” He was dangerously close to her, she noticed. His tall, broad frame hovering over her, the scent of his cologne seducing her slowly.

“Allow me to prove it indeed does not,” he said, and only then did she realize what she had fallen for, “join me for this one drink.”

The invitation naturally led to the offhanded mention of a rather expensive bottle of complimentary champagne that was currently sat in his room, waiting to be opened, but of course she had to decline the offer.

“Should you change your mind, miss Dubois,” he said as he got up from his chair, “I am in room 809.”

“This is a very nice room you have, Mr. Deveny,” she said softly as she stepped into the room. It was much larger than her own, and much more luxurious in every aspect. She noticed that the man in front of her didn’t seem the least bit surprised that she had been unable to resist his invitation, and she commanded his restraint and skill in hiding the utter smugness she was convinced he felt as he saw her standing there. He had taken off his jacket and tie, and for the first time she got a good look at the way the buttons of his shirt were struggling to do their work against the forces the size of his chest exerted on the fine fabric.

“Indeed it is,” he replied. “Champagne?” He gestured to the already opened bottle that sat in a cooler on the small table, and the already poured glass next to it. He himself sat down in the armchair next to it. There was something outrageously presumptuous about that glass, but she lifted it from its tray, nonetheless.

“Santé,” she said as she raised her glass. The glances the pair shared were different now. Not that decorum was completely out the window, just yet, although either of them knew it was only a matter of time. The bubbles in the sweet liquid tickled his tongue as he took a sip from his glass. His eyes never left her figure, though they didn’t quite stay on hers. In fact, they scanned her complete form rather thoroughly. Of course, any stewardess in a similar uniform looked fantastic, but there was something about the way she wore it that aroused Napoleon more than he ever thought possible.

“Why don’t you sit down?” He asked her nonchalantly, knowing very well that he currently occupied the only chair – a fact that she did not neglect to point out to him.

“Oh my,” he said, “how inconvenient?” With a few steps, she closed the distance between them, but she didn’t dare sink down onto his knee until he caught her hand in his and guided her closer to him. She now rested comfortably against his chest, while he used one hand to pull her legs over his other knee. Almost painfully slowly, his hand crept up her calf, fingers tracing the fine seam at the back of her stockings, until he reached the hem of her skirt. He pulled his hand away unexpectedly, taking his glass into his other hand again and drinking in silence as she leaned against him.

Finally, a quick brush of his lips against hers put things in motion, and she smiled demurely when he looked at her again.

“I shouldn’t have come here,” she said, feigning shock with obvious ostentation.

“I disagree,” he said as his lips curled into a smile. Of course he disagreed. They always did.

“I have to go, Mr. Deveny,” she said, this time more sternly, but still clearly hoping for a particular response. A response she wasn’t going to get from him, or so it would seem. These conversations were usually over much quicker, but he seemed to be in a mood for playfulness.

“I know.”

“I couldn’t possibly stay.” He chuckled softly at the way she betted her eyelashes at him while she said it. He knew exactly the response she was after, but why should he give it to her immediately?

“Of course. You are a lady, after all.” As he spoke, her irritation grew. Was this man arrogant enough to expect her to throw herself at him, begging him to spend the night with her? She was in no way inclined to do that, and more than determined to let him know.

“Indeed I am,” she answered almost coldly, barely able to hide her displeasure at the way he played his games.

“With a sense of decency,” he continued, the same cocky smile still present on his face. She couldn’t quite figure out why he was dragging this out. He should know she wasn’t opposing his intentions; she’d had every opportunity to get up and walk out.

“Exactly, Mr Deveny.” She could no longer keep impatience and dissatisfaction from seeping into her voice, and he laughed. The glint in his eyes caught her attention. It was something devious. Rakish. Bold in the most careful, calculated way. God, how it made her want him even more.

“You have no choice but to leave.” The playful undertone in his voice got stronger as he feared that keeping her guessing for too much longer would actually get her to up and leave, and she picked up on it immediately.

“There will be talk.” It was her mistake for using the present tense, she figured as the smile disappeared from his face and was replaced by a stern look that sent shivers down her spine. She had enough trouble controlling her breathing as things were, and she cursed in silence his good looks and charm.

“What if I insist that you stay?” The sound of glass against metal told her that he put down his glass on the tray again, which was confirmed not long after, by nimble fingers who slid up her leg, resting just above her knee to toy with the hem of her skirt.

“Well, I would need a good reason to do so.” She bit her lip when she moved to put her own glass away, accidentally brushing her leg against the bulge that was evident in his pants. His face showed no embarrassment, or anything resembling an apology.

“Well, it’s late.” She stifled a laugh when he said it; it was barely 8PM.

“Very late,” she agreed as she swiftly opened the top buttons of his shirt before sliding her hand across his chest.

“No gentleman would send a young woman out on the streets at night, unaccompanied.” Another absurd excuse – after all, she was staying in the same hotel – mumbled this time against the sensitive skin on her neck.

“It would be dangerous,” she replied. Napoleon’s fingers abandoned the hem of her skirt and slid further up her thigh. She squealed when they dug into the soft flesh of her rear, biting her lip as she looked at him with devised outrage.

“Far too dangerous,” he said with a smile, “there’s all kinds of people out there.”

“Men, Mr Deveny, all kinds of men.” It was a subtle commentary on his forward behavior, though she was the last person to ask him to stop. They had been playing this game for more than long enough, she decided.

“With unsavory intentions,” he spoke again, “you’ll be much safer here.” He pulled her in closer, squeezing her ass again, as he planted a soft kiss in her neck.

“Without a doubt,” she sighed, no longer trying to hide her arousal from him. Without further ado, she undid the buttons of his waistcoat and the remaining ones of his shirt, and allowed her hands to explore the exposed skin of his chest. His lips moved from her neck to her ear, leaving a trail of kisses in their wake. Occasionally, she felt the pressure of his teeth on her skin, and she moaned.

“And it’s cold,” he whispered directly in her ear before taking her earlobe in between his teeth and biting down on it softly. It took everything she had not to laugh, as the excuse was just as preposterous as the last; it was July in Paris.

“Terribly so,” she gasped as Napoleon continued his exploration of her neck while his fingers worked on opening the buttons of her blouse. He was less adept at the practice than she was, she noticed, but soon he slid his hand beneath the fabric. He hummed softly when his fingers met the lace of her bra. They carefully sought out her nipple, making her gasp as he drew careful circles around it.

“You wouldn’t want to get sick,” he said plainly. Their lips met – briefly at first, and then… He kissed her – really kissed her, and she lost her train of thought easily. Soon, his tongue traced her lip, begging for entrance, and she did not leave him begging for long. When he broke the kiss, they were both out of breath.

“That would be most unfortunate.” She moaned the words rather than said them as he shifted her in his lap so that she was straddling his thighs, her skirt riding up as she spread her legs, revealing the delicate fabric of her underwear.

“I really think it best if you stay.” He lifted her with ease, firmly holding her thighs, which she wrapped around his waist. Within a few steps, they were next to the bed.

“I tried,” she managed – barely – between ragged breaths.

“Certainly,” Napoleon said with a wink before he once again kissed her neck. This time, his affections were rough and uninhibited, but he did lower her carefully until her back hit the mattress.

#napoleon solo x ofc #napoleon solo #napoleon solo fanfic #henrycavill fanfic #henry cavill characters #henry cavill fanfiction #henry cavill #rabbitsmilestone23

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