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#napoleon 'i had that one deep inside me' solo
cinebration · 3 years
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Write It In a Song (Geralt of Rivia x Reader) [Part 1; Request]
Hey, how are you?? I’d love to send a prompt! I’m a sucker for angst so I was wondering if I could request either a Napoleon Solo x Female Reader or Geralt of Rivia x Female reader angst. To get more specific, how about something like a one sided love that is so unique and intense, yet doomed to be hidden in the shadows because Napoleon or Geralt have their eyes on someone else? I love it when you read something like that and you want to see how they’d react to your departure/confession/reaction, whether they’d just leave everything for that woman who would give everything up for them or they’d just stay away and wonder how could it have been if they said “me too.”... thanks in advance!! –WL — Requested by anon
I really leaned into the angst, haha. I enjoy Yennefer, but I don’t like her with Geralt.
Part 1 | Part 2
Warnings: none
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Gif Source: frodo-sam
“Fuck,” Geralt hissed.
It was all the answer you needed. You struggled to breathe, your heart seizing in your chest. The world narrowed to a pinprick in your vision.
Turning rigidly away, you fought the urge to claw your own chest open.
Deep down, in a part of yourself that you had desperately ignored, a little voice whispered, I warned you.
Stumbling outside, you scrambled up onto your horse, nudged him away from the street. You urged him on faster, trying to put as much distance between yourself and the inn.
You should never have told him. The horse shifted from a canter to a full-on sprint as the road opened in front of you. Leaning forward, you clung to him, letting his mane whip your face. Your cloak streamed out behind you, snapping in the wind.
You knew why he’d reacted the way he had. Everyone knew why. Anytime Yennefer and Geralt were in the same room, the energy crackling between them was unbearable. It had made you physically ill every time you saw and felt it. Sometimes you had retreated outside and vomited in the streets, your stomach so knotted that oftentimes you only dry heaved, nothing coming up.
Only Jaskier had ever noticed. After one particularly bad night, where you had slumped against the side of an inn and fought the urge to gag, Jaskier had appeared at your side, carefully stepping around the bile on the ground.
“You should tell Geralt,” he said.
“Tell him what?”
“You know what.”
“I…don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Should I spell it out in song?” He unslung his lute from his shoulder, strummed it experimentally. “When a maid gives her heart—”
“Enough,” you hissed. Pressing a trembling hand to your forehead, you had let the silence sit over you and the bard. Crickets chirruped, and something roared off in the distance, though man or beast, you couldn’t be sure.
“I can’t.” Your whisper rasped in your throat.
“If you don’t, you’ll just suffer and be miserable.”
“And if he says…”
“Then you know and you can move on.”
You had thought it over, still tasting bile in your mouth.
“He’ll outlive us both,” Jaskier added. “He can wait. You can’t. We can’t follow him forever.”
So that night, you knocked on Geralt’s door, praying only he was inside. He answered it a moment later.
“Can I come in?” you asked.
He nodded, frowning, and let you step inside. In the middle of disrobing, he wore only his pants and a loose shirt. Glimpsing some bare chest beneath the open collar of his shirt, you felt yourself flush, a deep ache spreading out in your chest.
“What is it?” he asked, gruff as ever. Yennefer always put him in the best and worst mood.
You thought of late-night campfires accompanied by Jaskier’s singing, you and Geralt close enough to touch. You remembered the flutters in your stomach whenever you managed to make Geralt smirk or even laugh. You recalled the pain of seeing him wounded, the recognition of the pain within him.
“I need to say this,” you managed, your tongue gummy in your mouth.
Geralt’s yellow eyes had narrowed. “What is it?”
The words lodged in your throat. Swallowing thickly, you tried to dredge them up. Geralt’s gaze bored into yours, burning in all the right and wrong ways.
“Spit it out,” he snarled. You would remember that snarl for the rest of your life.
“I’m in love with you!”
The truth hung suspended between you, poisoning the air. Time slowed down to the space between heartbeats, excruciating.
And then he hissed, “Fuck,” and you knew.
The horse carried you over a mile, then another, taking you further away. You slowed it down to a meandering walk, giving the horse time to breathe. Breath pluming out before you in the late evening air, you realized that the darkness here was absolute, the stars hardly bright enough to illuminate your path.
You let the horse lead you and felt the tears begin to fall. They stung against your skin, burned your eyes. Grief and hate rose up within you, warring for dominance. You hated Jaskier for insisting you go to Geralt, and you hated Geralt for loving a woman as cruel as Yennefer.
~~
A year later, you ran across Jaskier—or rather, he ran across you. You had earned yourself a position on the staff of a moderately sized castle. The prince there had thrown a party that night. You hadn’t been invited, it being so far above your station, but Jaskier had a habit of wandering away from parties to seduce the skirts off some woman.
Which is how he ran into you, emerging from the kitchens with a bucket of hot water. He knocked into you, spilling the water at your feet. You nearly screamed as it scalded you but bit your tongue when you saw Jaskier, your heart leaping into your throat.
His eyes brightened when he saw your face. “I can’t believe it!”
You wanted to flee, maybe even die. Instead, you mustered up a smile and said, “I’d be laughing if you didn’t just burn my feet.”
“I’m so sorry! Here, let me—”
“It’s okay.” Swatting his hands away, you set the bucket down and took a moment to sit, stripping the hot shoes from your feet.
“I’ve missed you.”
“I would imagine you did,” you muttered, thinking of Geralt’s brooding silences and how much Jaskier hated them.
“You never said goodbye.”
You looked up at him. He frowned down at you, genuinely hurt.
“I had to leave.”
He nodded knowingly. “Well, I was stuck with Geralt and Yennefer, so you can imagine how terrible that experience has been.”
You unstuck your tongue from the roof of your mouth. “Even now?”
“No, we parted ways. Yennefer was going to be the death of him, and I didn’t want to watch.” He scrutinized your face, frowning deeper, then glanced briefly over your shoulder. “He missed you, too.”
You slowly rose to your feet. “No, he didn’t.”
“Yes, he did.”
Sighing, you picked up the bucket and met his eye levelly. “I meant nothing to him. Like most everything else in his gods-forsaken life.”
“You don’t mean that.”
“Don’t worry, Jaskier. You’ll find out how little you mean to him, too, next you see him.”
Jaskier’s face hardened. “Stop that. You’re being melodramatic.
“Good, you can write it in a song.”
~~
Jaskier watched you retreat to the kitchens, the bucket in your hands. He felt ill, all the more so as he sensed Geralt melt further into the shadows of the archway to his right. He fixed the shadows with a dark stare, both angry and distressed.
���I told you, Geralt.”
He heard the witcher grunt.                          
“That’s all you have to say?” Indignation flared in the bard. “Run back to Yennefer, Geralt,” he called after the darkness. “Maybe this time she won’t abandon you.”
The darkness returned nothing but his own voice.
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coloraturadiva · 4 years
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A mistake - Chapter 3
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Pairing: Napoleon Solo x F!Reader (You)
Summary:  Napoleon realises he had made a mistake
Chapters: Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3
Warnings: angst, fluff, pregnancy (I’m sure I forgot something...)
Word Count: 2692
A/N: a special thank you to my lovely beta @iloveyouyen ! This is the third and last chapter of this story, I hope you’ll like it 😉
Disclaimer: a strict work of fiction, I own nothing except the original characters and the plot line. In no way am I affiliated to any of it.  
Feedback, reblogs and constructive criticism are appreciated!
Please don't post any of my content anywhere else without my permission. Comments and reblogs welcome!
Tagging some people that never asked for it and others that actually did: @iloveyouyen @littlefreya @aletheladyinred @madbaddic7ed @promptandpros @mrsaugustwalker @jencanbeyouryengeralt @radaofrivia @henrythickcavill @ladyreapermc @mary-ann84 @onlyhenrys @qualitynightkoala @eefjedegraaf @summersong69 @minillamakeup-blog @trippedmetaldetector @maan24​  @bichibibi​  @rn7rocks​ 
Knock knock
“What are you doing here?”
There he was. You had heard no words from him for the past 2 weeks. As he said, he came to the house the day after he left to collect his things when you were at work and left his keys in the mailbox.
Now he stood on your doorstep looking like he was the one suffering from morning sickness. He was looking terrible, not his usual spit and polish self. Pale, his lips dehydrated, the eyes dull and puffy, the hair messy: he looked like he had aged 20 years in 14 days.
“Can I come in?”
“Of course” you felt unsure about his intentions, but you let him in nevertheless . “This is still your house anyway”. You didn't hear a word from him or his lawyer. You had expected a phone call or even papers delivered to you in a couple of days, but nothing happened, and you thought that he had been whisked away on a mission before having the time to arrange the situation with a lawyer.
“What do you want?” you asked him, not daring to look at him in the eye, fearing you'd burst out crying. You had cried so much during the past weeks that you thought you had no more tears in you, but his sudden appearance made you feel teary all over again.
“I left two very important things there” he answered in a soft, but raspy tone. Even his voice didn't sound like it used to be.
“Really?” you tried to sound polite, even if a million of different emotions were raging in your head: anger, fear, sorrow, loneliness, the urge to kiss him one last time... “What? I haven't seen anything...”
“My wife and my baby”.
“What?” your head span. You didn't trust your legs and went to sit on the closest seat you could find: an armchair in the parlour.
He followed you, terrified. His face turned even paler than before.
“What happened? Are you unwell?” he kneeled in front of you, his voice trembled with worry.
Your head snapped up. You looked at him in the eye for a second and... slapped him. You slapped him with all the force you had in your body. Maybe slapping a CIA agent wasn't the best idea for your safety, but you couldn't help yourself. He had to steady himself on the nearby sofa not to fall.
“YOU IDIOT! You come here out of nowhere after having left your PREGNANT wife and you even have the courage to ask me what happened and if I am unwell?! Of course I'm unwell, you broke my heart!” you were flushed, your breath laboured.
He looked at you wide eyed.
“I'm so sorry...” he began in a pleading tone, looking at his hands: he was still wearing his wedding band. Like you. “I panicked. I fucked it all up big time. I know I don't deserve to ask for anything and I'll understand if you won't get me back, but I had to try. I couldn't let go of everything we have built this way. I wouldn’t be able to live with myself knowing I hadn't tried to get you back.”
“You did, all with your hands” you retorted bitterly.
“I know. And I'm the most stupid and undeserving man in the world. But I'm madly in love with you and I can't let you go for any reason.”
“Except an unwanted child” you bashed him.
He bowed his head.
“I... I wasn't expecting it. Coming home and seeing you with a bump...”
“No, you never wanted it, it's not the surprise factor. That would have caused you to stay speechless, to panic for ten minutes, to say something stupid, not to leave me in less than two minutes, without giving me the opportunity to explain, with those bitter words.”
“Bitter words?” he asked lost.
“I knew a baby would have come to separate us. That's what you said. It's not the baby's fault! How can it be? It's your fault! You went away treating me like a broken object, without even looking at me. Not even an animal deserves to be treated that way! And you started to talk about divorce papers in less than three seconds after having realised I was pregnant. That broke my heart, you know that? That physically broke my heart! That evening I thought I was gonna die right on the floor, where you had left me! And why did you do that? Because things weren’t going like you wanted, because I displeased you! How awful! And it happened ONCE. Once in all the years we have been together! Well, sorry, but I was not born with the sole purpose to please your cravings and your ego, I’m human too and I have my interests and my wishes as well. You always knew, from the very start, that I wanted to build a family with you, but you were so obsessively against the idea of having kids that I renounced my own wishes because I wanted to be with you. I’m sure you believe that I did get pregnant on purpose, but I didn’t do it, I swear. I was as surprised as you when I found out. I’m not the one that goes behind other people's backs, you are... So you wanted to punish me for something that’s not my fault, or, at least, is your fault as well. Of course! You are the important one here, while I’m the stupid, lovesick woman that offended you by getting pregnant, but I’ll never feel sorry about loving my baby! You can’t throw away people like a broken toy because things aren’t going like you have planned. I won’t accept it.”
He felt ashamed of himself like he never felt in his whole life. Stealing, the black market, spying, that was nothing compared to what he had done to you without even realizing.
“And you know what's the worst part of it?” you continued. “That I loved you. I kept on loving you anyway. Even if you had treated me so bad, I couldn't bring myself to hate you. Hating you would have made everything easy, but it was impossible. When I arrived home after work the day after you left, I hoped to find you there, or at least that you hadn't come to take away your things. That would have meant that you were in doubt, that you were still thinking about it. But when I arrived home, I saw that all was gone. Your wardrobe was empty, your drawers were empty, your library was empty, even the comforting smell of you was gone from this house. My heart broke yet again. It was really the end...”
You started sobbing, all the emotions of the past weeks washed over you at once. You felt overwhelmed.
"Do you want to know why I left?" he asked looking at the floor after having taken a deep breath. "Because I'm scared…"
"Oh, don't tell me!" you answered sarcastically. "The hero, the great secret agent is scared of a baby! Please, I'm not that stupid…"
"I'm not scared OF a baby." He whispered. "I'm scared FOR the baby. And for you".
"What?" you asked not getting his point. What was to be scared about? Women get pregnant and babies are born everyday. It's normal, it's natural.
"I… I've always been worried about your safety…" he hesitated. "You know who I am, you know what I have done, you know what I do… I can't control everything, I can't be here to protect you all the time. I'm constantly worried that one day someone could decide to seek revenge against me by hurting you. It's something that has been burning me from the inside since the very first time I saw you. I can't bear the thought of you getting hurt because of me. You don't deserve it, it's not right. I've done my fair share of bad things, but you are innocent, you shouldn't be in this mess… But you are right, I'm an egoist. Even if I wanted you to be safe, I loved you too much, I wanted you to be mine… Even if it was a risk for you… That's why I never wanted a baby. Thinking of you being in danger is already a big hardship for me, but a baby… That's too much. That's not a life for a baby. I know very well how it hurts you having me to stay away on missions all that time, not knowing if I'll come back all in one piece. That's wrong. A baby and a young mother shouldn't be living like that… That's why I panicked, that's why I left. I thought that with me gone, maybe you could have been safe, you could have built a new and better life for the two of you. Maybe with a better man… That’s it. I panicked and in my head, going away was a way to protect you..." he paused for long minutes, playing nervously with his wedding ring. "What can I do to make amends?” he begged. “Please, tell me.”
You kept on crying. You had no idea. You loved him, but he had hurt you so much you didn't know what you really wanted.
He was devastated. Seeing you crying, so trembling and fragile and all because of him made him feel physically sick.
He didn't think too much about it, or at the consequences: he went to sit on the armrest of the armchair and took you into his arms. He didn't move, he didn't caress you, he just held you still.
At first you were stiff, unsure about the unexpected contact, but soon enough you melted in his arms. It felt so good to be back where you felt you belonged after such a long time. You were unsure if you could ever forgive him, but you also knew that you couldn't live without him.
“What made you change your mind?” you suddenly asked in a whisper. “Why did you come here today?”
“You. Both of you.” He hesitated, his voice trembled. He sounded deeply emotional. “I mean, I love you. It's you, it's our baby. I don't want you to be with another man… I want to see our baby grow… I know it's a risk and I don’t know if I can protect you, but at least I want to try. I can't let you go… "
“Our baby” you sobbed.
“Yes, of course you were right. Like you are always right. It takes two to make a baby. I can't blame everything on you. I'm sure I did my part… I’m just a scared idiot, but I love you. It only took me too long to realise how much I love you and how important you and the baby are for me. More important than my fears.”
“The baby as well?”
“Yes, the baby as well. I love both of you so much”.
You sighed. He sounded like he meant his words. He sounded like himself again. A tired Napoleon, but your Napoleon.
“I... Your... Your grandmother visited me.”
“My grandmother? How? I don't know where you are staying now. How does she?”
“She probably has been a secret agent for all her life and never told a soul. I can't find a different explanation” he smiled. “Her methods are also quite... effective. I was there, tormenting myself to decide when was the best moment to come to you, if today was too soon, or already too late, when she knocked on my door, stormed in and gave me a lecture. She talked for 15 minutes straight, I think. She didn't let me say a word. And she beat me with her walking stick.”
“WHAT?”
“I told you her methods are effective. I said something that displeased her, and she wanted to make it clear.”
“You probably deserved it...”
“Indeed. I deserved that and your slap too.”
“You had already decided to come back before her visit?” you changed the subject.
“Yes. Two days after I left you, when I found myself with all my things in a house that wasn't ours and without you and having left you alone, I realised that I made the biggest mistake of my life.”
“That was nearly two weeks ago...”
“I know, but I didn't have the courage to come, I had no idea what to say...”
“And waiting made a difference?”
“Yes, because the more the days passed, the more I was sure that I missed you and that leaving you alone wasn’t the best way to keep you and the baby safe. I realised that I made a big mistake. Not being with you was a mistake… By leaving you I was only hurting you, not protecting you...”
You both fell silent. One secretly praying to not have ruined it all with his own hands, the other reflecting on her feelings, trying to understand if forgiveness was an option.
“Could you ever forgive me?” he asked tentatively after several minutes, still holding you in his arms.
“No.”
He froze. He felt like he had been slapped again. But more forcefully, this time.
“I already did. The moment I let you in, I had already subconsciously forgiven you. I love you too much to live without you, I want to have you there with me. And you came back to me...” you sighed. “You know I can't stay mad at you for too long...” you softly smiled.
“Even after what I did?” he still didn't dare to look you in the eye.
“Even after what you did... I would like to believe that I'm doing it for the baby's sake, but the truth is that I'm doing it for myself. I'm terribly greedy when it comes to you.”
He dared to kiss you on the top of your head. You didn't resist.
It felt so good. It felt simply right.
You suddenly disentangled from his arms and got up from the armchair. You started to walk away.
Napoleon was startled. What was happening? Why did you start to move so suddenly? The kiss was too much?
“Come with me”. He heard your voice from the corridor and bolted in your direction.
He caught up with you in the guest room.
You turned to face him, standing close to a big box.
"Yesterday I saw this crib in a shop and even if it's a bit early, I had to buy it. But I'll need your help to put it together" you smiled weakly.
Napoleon looked at the big box. It was white, decorated with cute pastel green Teddy bears. He always had a penchant for beautiful (and expensive) things, he was an expert in art and antiquities anyway, and was used to treating himself with ridiculously expensive clothes, but had never paid attention to these kinds of things, thinking they would never interest him. However, right now that box looked to him as magnificent as a Raffaello painting.
He neared you gingerly, afraid of doing something wrong.
"Are you sure?”
“Yes. I want to put this crib together  with you. And all the rest of the things for the baby. And us. I want us to be together...” you trailed off.
“I miss you”.
“I miss you too.”
You looked down at your growing belly.
“Come here” you threw your arms around his neck. One of Napoleon's hands went instinctively to your belly. You looked carefully at his face. He looked like he was on the verge of tears, but was trying hard not to break apart in front of you.
“How are you?” he sounded suddenly concerned about your health. “How do you feel?”
You cupped his cheek.
“I'm good now” you smiled at him.
“I'm sorry. For everything” he uttered, deep affliction clearly ringing in his voice. "You'll be safe. Both of you. I promise…"
“I know” you answered softly. “Let's forget about the past weeks, shall we? Let's start anew from today.”
“I love you Y/N”.
“I love you Napoleon”.
Thanks to everyone who read my story and made it to the end! 😘
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strictly speaking.
Request: Anonymous - I am not sure you are open for ideas, if not just feel free to ignore me. I have this in my mind for a while but I know I couldn’t write it as you. So: Our guy is Napoleon Solo, who is on a plane with his lady, a fellow spy (their relationship is secret). Because they are on a plane with others, they can’t do it, but they started to talk what they would do to each other if they were alone. So it’s basically just talk, but a steamy one. I could die to read that. 👀👅
A/N: Thank you for the request! Sorry it took so long, I really appreciate your patience! I hope you enjoy it! This is my third attempt at Napoleon, and I had a lot of fun writing this!
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“Solo, keep your hands to yourself. We are in public.” You say softly, crossing your legs and flipping the page of your magazine.
“Well, you are no fun.” He says as he puts his hand back in his own lap.
“I am a lot of fun. You were reminded of that this morning.” You say cheekily, looking at him through the side of your eye.
He just smirks as he leans over toward you, pretending to look out the window, watching as you pass the clouds. “This morning was the morning. I want you now.” He whispers hotly in your ear. 
Your hands shake for a moment at the sound of his voice, so calm yet so dominate.
Taking a deep breath, you flip another page. “We are in the middle of an airplane. The toilets are too small. And I am very comfortable.”
“Let me make you uncomfortable, my dear.” He sits back down in his seat, grabbing the paper he stashed in the pocket upon sitting down. “What do you say to a little game?” He asks, opening the paper with a snap.
“How dirty are we playing?”
He says nothing for a long time, seemingly engrossed in whatever article he is reading.
“If we weren’t called in today, what would we be doing?” He asks finally.
“Most likely spending the day in bed. It would have been our first day together in a while.” You turn the page, seemingly uninterested.
“I bet if we were at home right now, you would be on your... third orgasm. Maybe fourth.” Your eyes snap open and your legs clench together.
“Leon, don’t start something you can’t finish.” You hiss.
“Dear, I can get you off without even touching you. Trust me, I am perfectly fine.” His blue eyes slide to yours, shinning with mischief. “For instants, you look good, but imagine how good you would look with my fingers inside of you.”
You let out a soft laugh at that, shaking your head at him. “Whew, and here I thought you were actually going to say something smart. That is just pitiful, Leon. Try again.” Your smile doesn’t slip as you turn your gaze outside the window. 
“You don’t want my fingers?” He asks, his own eyes shifting back to his paper.
“If I was looking for a quick fix, sure. But, if we were to be home, I was hoping you would use that wicked tongue of yours first.” You slip your hand onto his thigh as you give it a quick squeeze, letting your fingers brush against his crotch before pulling it away. “You know how much I love the things you do with it.”
“What makes you think I will give you what you want from the start? We would have all day together, I’d love to take my time with you. Reacquaint myself with your body.” 
You let out a soft laugh at that, shaking your head as you turn your attention back to reading. “Leon, you and my body are very much acquainted. I fear you may know it better than me.”
“Of course, I do. Only I know that if I were to lightly run my fingers over the inside of your thigh, your nipples will harden and your will breathing will catch.” He says huskily, watching you as you slip your hand between your legs, your fingers dancing along the soft, tender skin of your thigh. As your fingers move up, you can feel your breath becoming harder to come by, your legs start shaking as your nipples harden against the rough material of your dress. “Just like that.” He says, his satisfied smirk audible. 
Straightening your back, you move your hand back to the magazine, flipping pages. “Okay, I’ll give you that. Only because I love having your hands on me.” You can see his smile out of the corner of your eye. “But, you, my sweet, love my mouth on you. The way my tongue glides over your harden length, playing with your slit as my lips wrap around you, sucking and biting.
Leon shifts in his seat slightly, but other than that, he is unaffected by your words. “Let’s see, if you would already have me at my fourth orgasm, that means we would have to take a small break, get you back to full mast.” A smirk graces your lips as the images swirl in your head, the two of you lying in bed, light sheen of sweat covering your bodies. The midmorning sun illuminating Leon with an angelic glow as he tells you how good you were for him, how well you took him as he runs his fingers softly across your cheek.
As the scene plays in your mind, you speak your actions out for him softly, breathlessly, as if it were a dream you never wanted to forget. “I’d kiss you softly before rolling you to your back and climbing on top of you, running my greedy little hands along the plains of your body as I move lower, my lips leaving a trail of nips and kisses as I reach your half hard cock. Oh, Leon, the way I would look up at you as I take you in my mouth. Letting my tongue trace every vein and ridge on you, my teeth scratching against you as you moan for more.
“You would thread your fingers in my hair, pushing me lower and lower, wanting me to take you all in.” You stop, tilting your head back against your seat, one of your hands coming up and resting on your throat. “I can just imagine the way you would feel moving in and out of my throat. Feeling the way your velvety skin would slide against my tongue.” You turn your head ever so slightly in his direction, seeing his hands clenching his paper tightly. “I can practically taste your come in my mouth, my dear Leon.” You whisper out.
“I should fuck that mouth of yours, teach it a lesson. It is very filthy.” Your eyes roll back into your head at the sound of that, loving it when he is rough with you. He grabs his jacket from the floor, laying it casually across his lap. “Whoever taught you that kind of language?” He chides, giving you a side eye as you turn back to the window.
“Attention passengers, we will be starting our descent. If you would please put your tray tables up, your seats forward and give your trash to the air hostess. On behalf of the crew, thank you for flying with us and we hope to see you soon.”
“Only the filthiest man I know.” You can’t hide the smile from your voice. “But, back to the good stuff, your cock down my throat.” Napoleon chokes a little at your brazen words, you can see his body vibrating next to you. “Let’s see, after you get hard again, I would pop off you, your cock red and covered in my saliva, ready to take me. Would you let me ride you, Leon? Let me take control for a bit? I’m sure it would be worth your while.
“My pussy taking your thick shaft, slowly sliding down, feeling you twitch for me to go faster. But, of course, I won’t.” You shift your eyes to his, waiting for him to look at you. It takes a moment, you have been quiet far too long, his curiosity nipping at him as he turns, meeting your heated gaze. “Because, we have all day together.” You say seductively. 
“And once I bottom out, I would just sit there, letting my walls clench around you, massaging your very generous girth as you beg me to move.” Napoleon lets out a huff at that. “Trust me, baby, you will beg.” Turning back to your magazine, you continue, “You always do.”
“Sir, can you please put your tray table in the upright position? We will be landing in about 5 minutes.” The air hostess says brightly, snagging Napoleon’s attention away.
“Of course, how silly of me to have forgotten.” He dazzles her with a bright smile and you watch her eyes wonder down his body. With a satisfied click of her tongue she walks off, swaying her hips obnoxiously. “Where were we again?” He brings his voice lower, eyes dragging back to his paper. “Please, tell me more about how I will be begging for you.”
“Actions speak louder than words, my sweet Leon. The way you will shift your hips, the way the muscles in your abdomen will clench, how you with be fisting the sheets to stop from touching me. All those signs tell me everything I have ever needed to know. You beg, baby, and you look so good while you do it.” You turn the page, “When I would be ready to move, I would place my hands against your stomach, using it as leverage to pull up, feeling you slide out of me. But, I would keep your head in, letting my walls clench at the feeling of you not being inside me anymore before dropping back down.”
You clench your legs together at the thought, feeling yourself get wet at your own imagination, remembering just this morning how it felt to have him inside you, slowly fucking you awake. Letting your climax be your alarm, to be your precursor for how your day was supposed to be.
“I would get tired of your teasing really fast. As much as I love watching you move on top of me, I would let you finish. I do love watching you come, the way your body shakes, how your nipples beg to be pulled and sucked, how your pussy clenches around my cock. How you make these little pants and gasps, begging for more.” 
The plane lands and starts taxing to the gate, your game almost over. “What would you do with me?” You ask, feeling your core throb, in desperate need of attention.
“I would wait until you were just about to come back down, grabbing your wrists in one hand and rolling us so I was on top of you. Pinning your hands above your head, I’d start fucking you. And not that sweet, slow, torturous fuck from this morning, no. This will be hard and fast. The only sounds being heard will be our skin slapping each other and your moans, begging me for more. Because you sound like such a good girl begging for my cock. Wanting it to go deeper, to fill you up.”
The plane stops, and the people around you start unbuckling their seatbelts and standing as the air cuts off. “Leon, tell me more.” You whine, your hand gripping your magazine tightly, trying to keep your mouth closed in fear of crying out.
He says nothing for a long time, just folding his paper and stuffing it in his bag and taking his seatbelt off as well before shifting in his seat to face you. You look at him, begging him silently to put you out of your misery. You were so close, and you have only just been talking about it!
With a satisfied smirk he reaches over, unclasping your belt and setting his hand on the top of your thigh, giving it a hearty squeeze. His fingertips pressing into your inner thigh making you shake even more. “And then you come, crying out my name. I get to feel your walls clench around me again, feel them drain my cock of my come as I spill inside you, filling you before pulling out, watching as it drips from your quivering pussy. Soiling the sheets in the best way possible.”
He slides his hand up higher, his signet ring brushing ever so slightly against your aching clit, making you gasp. Placing his lips against your ear, he whispers one command you can’t help but follow as your eyes roll to the back of your head and your body shakes.
Come.
My requests are closed. For those that have sent me one, please know I am working on them slowly. Thank you for your patience.
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iwriteabouthim · 3 years
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Underneath It All - Chapter 1
Napoleon Solo / OFC
Napoleon is interested in the treasures of an old aristocratic family from England. It takes him one visit to learn he could treasure more than precious stones and art.
Fluff, Smut and a bit of Angst I guess. 
A/N: I’ll try to tag any possible trigger but please, let me know if I miss something. Also, I need a beta, if someone is patient and free :)
Ellie Cavendish is the daughter of the Duke of Devonshire - not that she really cares about ranks and nobility of any kind, but she loves history and that made her fall in love with the Chatsworth House property since she was a kid. Now, after 2 degrees and a lot of studie she’s the manager of the place and nothing could make her more happy. Ellie is really devoted to her job, while her brother Charles lives in Ireland spending the family money pretending to work at the renovation of the Lismore Castle with his wife Adele Asteire, the sister of the Hollywood star.
It was Adele who begged her to let them throw the party happening at the beautiful garden, the sounds of laughter entering the painted hall almost distracts Ellie from directing the right place for the big mirror to be suspended to. The moment the mirror is placed, she can see a tall handsome man right behind her, just before he leans closer, whispering in her ear. “Now I’m even more upset I’ve been out there for so long. So many beautiful things inside.”
A goosebump runs through her body and Ellie turns around, inexplicably out of breath, admiring the man’s strong jawline and hypnotic blue eyes. “Hi. Are you..?”
“Napoleon Solo, at your service, Miss.” he takes her hand and presses a kiss to the soft skin, making her blush. 
“Ellie. Ellie Cavendish.” 
“Charles sister, huh? You have an amazing place here, Lady Cavendish. I was thinking about wandering around a bit and I guess lucky found me for you must be the best guide one can get. If you’re free, of course.” Mr. Solo is so confident and charming that she’s not even sure she remembers how to say anything other than yes, proceeding to show him the painted hall.
“Are you familiar with the history of Chatsworth, Mr. Solo?” she tries to say in an even tone, a hard task when she can feel the soft fabric of his perfect blazer against her back when he ushers her closer to 
“No if it means you’re going to tell me.” She blushes even more, not used to being flirted with. “Don’t be shy, Lady. I know some basic things... the house of the 1st Duke of Devonshire, The State Chambers built to hold Court to the King - I need to say I’m excited to finally see the paintings at the ceiling of the second room, of Mars and Venus, the lovers caught by Vulcan.” He reveals he knows way more than basic information and she hopes this is not Adele’s playing cupid, or worst, a thief.
“The exposition is not open today, but you know that, right Mr. Solo? Why do I have a feeling that you came here with a mission?”
“Because you’re a really smart woman. I saw you from my table about an hour ago but since something inside was keeping all your attention, I decided to come in and compete for it. You’re a  beautiful woman, Miss Ellie.” The ability of Napoleon to render Ellie speechless is a new occurrence, as is the fast beating of her heart at the sound of his deep voice. “I can wait for the visiting day to see the paintings, but I would like to keep your company if you’re not already compromised.”
“I have some errands…” she tries to say before he interrupts pulling her closer, a hand finding a perfect place in her neck, his thumb caressing her jaw.
“Be brave, Ellie. Whatever you want.” he enigmatically whispers and she can feel his breath in her lips, tempting her as nothing before. Reaching a hand to adjust his tie, she licks her lips wondering what to do with this daring man. She wants to take him to her room and let him have his sweet way with her but this is so far from her natural state.
“You had an hour to decide you wanted me, give me the same courtesy.” she finally tells him.
“One entire hour without you after feeling your soft skin and your amazing scent? That’s torture, honey. Leave with me at least the promise of a kiss.”
Lost in his eyes, her intention was to give him a soft chaste kiss, but when she felt his lips the air left her and the parting of her lips performed as an invite for him to delve his tongue inside her perfect mouth, a kiss with an intensity none predicted. She leans her body closer when their lips finally part, using him for balance.
“I would wait a lifetime for another kiss from your sweet lips, Miss Ellie, but I hope your kind heart takes pity on me.” Napoleon kisses her cheek and walks outside, back to the party. For Ellie, the torture is to find any reason not to run after him right away.
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itsthestutterforme · 3 years
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You Left Me (A Man From U.N.C.L.E.)
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Y/N was undercover when she met Illya. They both fell in love with each other, but Y/N was taken out of the mission and Illya never saw hed again. They meet again for the nuke mission and Illya has a very interesting reaction.
Characters: Napoleon Solo, Gaby, Illya x reader,(moderate smut)
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"Wait a minute, you said that there were already three undercover agents on this assignment?" I ask. "Yes," "Then why do you need me?" "Because you can back up every position." "They're men, it's going to be hard for their meat heads to process." "When has that ever stopped you?" I roll my eyes as a deep sigh left my lips. "I'll be there,"
I land in Berlin an hour before the meeting and take a taxi the address the boss sent me. I keep my walk down the brick pathway to the restaurant filled to the brim with primarily male customers. They must be apart of a ruse. "Y/N, it's so good for you to make it," Boss says.
The three other men with them looked to me and one stood up. I look to the man to notice that it was Illya, the man I dated when I was undercover for a mission. "You were a spy?" he says angrily. "Easy honey," "Do not call me honey!" He flips the table and makes his way over to me .
What are you to do, Y/N? I ask myself. Before my mind could process, I am being lifted off the ground by my throat and thrown on the table. My brain started to pulsated against my skull. I hold his wrists in my hands and wrap my legs around his neck. I apply pressure to throat and his grip on my throat started to decrease.
Once he loosen his grip enough, I hit his chest with both of my legs, sending him crashing into another table. "Are you serious? You have the audacity to put your hands on me?!" I stand over him and press my knife against his groin. "I should kill you for that." I add. "That's enough, Agent Y/N." Boss says. When Illya tries to get up and kick him back down. I cross my arms and say, "You failed to tell me who was involved,"
"Didn't think it mattered, agent. We'll let you all get acquainted." Boss, another man and the rest of the restaurant left. "I was surprised to hear that you were apart of this. Even more surprised that he was the case you were demoted for." "Kiss my ass, Solo. I wasn't ecstatic when I found out I was helping you either." Illya groans as he stands up from the ground. "Well this is going to be interesting," Solo says.
The next day, me and Gaby decided to go shopping with Solo. I had bags full of clothes from Coach and Versace and Gaby was in the middle of trying on clothes from Dolce and Gabbana when Illya came. "Let me see what you bought," Illya says as he approaches me. He reaches for the bag and I slap his hand away.
"You don't have to worry about what I'm wearing because I'm not the one you're married to. She is." "I'm sorry?" Gaby asks. "Undercover business. It makes sense to have you and Illya are engaged because it makes for an easier way in, don't you think?" "She has a point," Solo says. "Great. See you guys in Rome." I take my bags with me and hop into my car to leave.
Y/N was shopping at the nearest grocery store from the hotel. Solo was explaining to Iilya that it has been over an hour since she left. Illya told Solo to keep an eye on Gaby while he went searching for Y/N. Solo and Gaby thinks it's obvious that Y/N and Illya still have feelings for each other. Y/N was going to a stroll around some car shows emphasize her cover as an engineer.
Illya was following her and Y/N was about to go home until she realized that she was being followed by both Illya and a thug. She turned on to an alleyway and hid behind the dumpster. She waited until the thug passed behind slicing his achilles tendon. She thought that was the end she heard a gun cock. Everything happened in the blink of an eye, her being pushed into the wall and Illya being shot.
Y/N opened fire on the other thugs until there was no movement. "You're such an idiot." she says as she examines him. He has a bullet wound in his left arm so she decided to take off her belt and put it above the wound to lessen the blood flow. She helps him to his feet and drives him back to the hotel.
They took the elevator to her room and took out the first aid kit. Before tending to his wound, she called Solo and Gaby and told them what happened. A few seconds later, they walked into the room. Y/N had a flask of vodka that she offered him. "No thank you," "Drink it," she enforces.
Y/N POV
Illya finally drinks the vodka and I take some curved tweezers to dig the bullet out. His hand finds its way to my hips as I continue to dig around for his bullet. "What happened?" Gaby asks. "A couple of thugs were following me. I had it handled but he stormed in and blew the whole thing. Getting shot in the process." I explain.
I finally take out the bullet and press some fresh gauze to clean up the fresh blood. "The bullet didn't knick any major arteries, that's good." I say before pouring some rubbing alcohol in the wound. Illya's face rests on my shoulder and a quick chill came over my body. I thread the needle and set the tip of the needle under the fire before stitching the wound up. He squeezes my hip and leans his face deeper into my chest.
"Alright, he's all set, Gaby." I say as I push him so that he is sitting upright. "Wait," Illya says as he holds my hand gently. "We'll, uh, give you guys a minute." Solo says before leaving the room. "What?" "Answer this question and I'll leave you alone." "Alright," He drops his hands and asks, "Did- was anything that happened between us real?"
"Why did you think I was a complete bitch to you before I left? I was internally fighting myself and lost." I shove my hands in my pockets before adding, "So they pulled me out and never put me in a undercover relationship again," I slowly looked up to meet his gaze. Its been so long since someone looked at me like that.
His ocean blue eyes dilated and he licks his lips before saying, "Lock the door." His accent became thick and his voice was husky. "No," "No?" "You're injured. Anything we do could pull your stitches." "The last time I checked, I wasn't left handed." I take a moment to let that sink in before shaking my head no.
"Don't make me put you over my knee," he whispers into my ear, sending cold chills down my body. "Lock the door," he adds. I release a sigh I didn't know I held and I walk towards the door. I locked the door and left my hand on the cold, wooden door. I feel one hand over mine and the other on my waist. I lean the back of my head on his chest.
He presses a kiss on the crook of my neck. I am turned out and pressed against the door. He links one of his hands with mine and uses his left hands to wrap my around my throat. He presses a warm kiss on my lips and I moan when he swipes his tongue across my lips. I pull away from his hand and hold the back of his neck as I continued to kiss him.
My body craved his touch more and more with every kiss. It felt like my entire body was on fire. He tries to lift me into his arms but I pull his hands away from hips. I walk him to the backwards on to the bed. He falls on his back and pulls me closer by my neck as I straddle his upper torso. I pull away from his lips to take off my shirt and I unbuckle his pants with one motion.
I slide my hands into his pants and slowly pump his soft member. He arches his back softly and presses his head into the bed. I kiss his neck warmly and pick up the pace with my pumping. He grabs the headboard and continue pumping until he came all over my hand. He lays normally on the bed and breathes heavily. I lick the cum off of my fingers and kiss up his stomach and chest.
He holds the back of my head and presses more kisses on my lips. He used his right hand to unbuckle my pants and pulls his boxers down. I sink myself into his member and slowly bounce on it. I softly moan into his mouth as I feel the tip of his dick brush up against my g-spot.
I grab the headboard of the bed and continued to find the spot over and over again. The headboard slammed against the wall rhythmically and my legs clenched as we both finish. I slide off of his member and fall to the side. "I missed you," he says, making me chuckle. He wraps an arm around me and kisses my neck warmly. "I've missed you too," I say as I caress his arm.
Boss's voice echoes in my mind. "We're going to pull you out," "What? Why? I thought you needed me here?" "You were right. They've got it handled and we need you elsewhere." "How much time do I have?" "Until tomorrow morning. Spend your time wisely."
"Y/N?" Illya's voice, snapping me out of my thoughts. "Are you okay?" "Yeah, I was just thinking about something," "Something like what?" "Something you're not going to like." I turn around so I am facing him. "Boss pulled me out of this mission." "What? Why?" "Im needed somewhere else," "What time do you leave?" "At first light tomorrow,"
"No," "Excuse me?" "You're not going." "You and I both know what happens to us when we don't comply, Illya." "Not if we run," "Don't be ridiculous. We'll never pull that off." "You're right. We couldn't, but you could." I sit up on the bed and cross my arms. I chew on the inside of my cheek in thought.i shake my head in disbelief. This is such a manic idea, but you only live once, Y/N. You might as well do it with the man you love.
"We leave within the hour," I whisper and he grabs the side of my face and presses a kiss on my cheek. "There's something else you should know," "Da," "I set everything up with the thugs. I wanted them to follow me because I knew that they had your father's watch." "Why didn't you say that if you knew I was following you too?" "That would have ruined the surprise," "You never seize to amaze me," he says with a smile.
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wendimydarling · 4 years
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Who’s in Charge?
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Title: Who’s in Charge?
Summary: What happens when Illya’s authority gets tested?
Pairing: Illya Kuryakin x Napoleon Solo x Gaby Teller
Word Count: 3048
Warnings: 18+, NSFW, Blowjob. That’s it.
A/N: Okay, a little background on this one might be needed. Gaby is in a formal Dom/Sub relationship with Illya Kuryakin. They have invited Napoleon Solo into the relationship as a second Dom, but it’s Illya that holds the reigns. This was originally written for another story but never panned out, so I changed some things around and made it a one shot. If anything’s unclear, don’t hesitate to ask! As always, I’m open to constructive criticism, and if you want to be added to the tag list or I forgot to tag you, just let me know!
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Gaby was exhausted. Her work day had been long and arduous, full of customer complaints and sexual innuendos from her male co-workers. Someone had let slip the nature of her relationship with Illya, and now it seemed that every human in the office with a penis was suddenly interested in her "as a person". Needless to say when she left that evening she had a headache, and she supposed a little bit of heartache too. People would never understand. 
When she arrived at Illya's apartment, he and Napoleon were in the living room, arguing heatedly over whatever game was glaring at her from the iridescent tv screen. A few empty beer bottles sat abandoned on the coffee table; Gaby guessed the game was too exciting for the guys to take a break and add to the collection.
Her presence unnoticed, she wordlessly slipped into the kitchen and poured herself a large glass of wine. After downing most of it, she poured herself another full glass, then watched her lovers while she put the bottle away. Illya was standing at this point and Napoleon was so close to the edge of the couch he seemed about to fall off it, both of them yelling at their team through the television as if their words could be heard by the coaches. Gaby shook her head and smiled, conceding to the fact that she would never understand men and sports.
She pulled two beers from the fridge and opened them, took them over to the guys, and placed a bottle in each man's hand and a gentle kiss on each of their stunned lips. 
"How long have you been home?" Illya asked her, clearly confused. Napoleon remained quiet as he leaned back across the couch and took a swig of his beer, quite entertained by the fact that he and Illya had been caught by surprise. 
"About ten minutes ago," Gaby responded, laughing at Illya's expression. She exchanged a glance with Napoleon as he laughed with her. Illya was rarely caught off-guard and did not like it, nor did he like being laughed at, both of which she knew she would pay for later. For now though, she was enjoying her brief moment of triumph.
Napoleon was still laughing, and Gaby focused on him. He had a beautiful laugh, deep and throaty, and the lines around his eyes told her that he laughed often. She liked that about him, his enjoyment of life; she would give anything to see the world in a humorous light. His eyes twinkled and he winked at her, sending a slight pang of arousal into her now tipsy belly. She gave him her best seductive grin, then turned back to Illya.
"Work was hell today, so I'm going to take a bath," she told him. The look on Illya’s face at her lack of request kicked her submissiveness into high gear. 
"Need anything else before I do, sir?" She offered, looking at the floor and hoping that it was enough to satiate him. He came over to her and tilted her head up, forcing his gaze to his. 
"No, I'm fine. Next time come greet me first," he commanded her, his tone authoritative. Gaby breathed a sigh of relief and, noting the anger still lurking behind the hazel in his eyes, leaned forward to kiss him, satiating him for now. 
"Yes sir. Well, I'll be in the bathroom then," she stated, and turned once again to Napoleon. 
"Feel free to join me when your game is finished," she smirked at him, lingering on his gaze as long as she dared. Looking once more to Illya (who was too busy glaring at Napoleon to look back), she grabbed her wine and headed to the bathroom.
The bath was luxurious. Gaby had long since finished her wine and felt relaxed and uninhibited, letting the delicious scent of candles, the hot water, and the soft music soak away the stresses of the day. She let herself doze, her body weightless in the water. Gaby was close to sleeping when the door flew open loudly, startling her awake. Illya and Napoleon walked in, both sporting a mischievous grin on their face.
"What are you doing?" She asked, receiving no answer. The guys exchanged a glance, and then all Gaby could do was stare wide-eyed as she watched Ilya slowly begin to undress Napoleon, peeling Napoleon's shirt up over his head. Her mouth fell open into an 'O' as Illya removed Napoleon's pants at a snail’s pace, then came back up and did the same with his boxers. She tried to look away from Napoleon's erection (which was growing harder by the second at the sight of her naked in the water), but the amount of alcohol she had consumed that night prevented her from being discreet. She thought back to the few times Napoleon had joined her and Illya, and Gaby realized that though she had felt him, she had never actually seen Napoleon fully naked before.
"Boy, you really can't take your eyes off of his dick, can you?" Illya remarked, jealousy evident in his voice. It did nothing to sway Gaby's stare however, her eyes remained fixed to Napoleon's lower half. Illya addressed Napoleon. 
"Told you she was a cock-lover. Look at her salivating, I bet she can't wait to take you in her mouth." Gaby’s arousal sparked at the filthy words and she squirmed, but she waited to see what Illya's plan was. She looked from him, to Napoleon, to Napoleon's cock, back to Illya, and finally landed on Napoleon's face. He met her gaze proudly, no shame written anywhere on his handsome features. Her gaze shifted down again and came to rest on his member. She licked her lower lip then bit down on it, and was rewarded with an involuntary twitch from Napoleon.
Illya seemed extremely agitated then, watching the exchange between Gaby and Napoleon. 
"Well go ahead and join her, tell her what you want her to do," he huffed, perching himself on the countertop to watch. Gaby understood then; Illya wasn't punishing her, he was punishing Napoleon. Illya knew her skill, had told her more than once that she was the best blow he'd ever had, and she guessed that Illya wanted to establish who the higher-ranking Dominant in this triangle was. Gaby looked at Illya, and Illya gave her a look that told her what she was supposed to do. She became a temptress and sat up, splaying her legs and resting her hands on the floor of the tub. She pressed her breasts together with her arms, and crooked a finger towards Napoleon with a "come hither" motion.
Napoleon looked at Gaby, eyes dark with desire. 
"I heard you were fairly talented with your mouth," he purred, slinking towards the tub. She inwardly laughed at his naivety as he lowered himself slowly into the hot water. He had no idea what he was in for. 
"I might be," she teased, swinging her legs behind her and grazing his stomach with her breasts as she slid up to lightly kiss his jaw. "Depends on who's asking."
Gaby placed another soft kiss on Napoleon's lips this time, waiting for him to command her. 
"Well then love, why don't you show me?" He retorted. She kissed him a little harder, licking a little line from inside to outside his upper lip. He responded by opening his mouth and attempting to draw her in for a deep kiss, but Gaby pulled back before he succeeded, leaving him confused. 
"Doms have to be more specific," she directed him, "what talent with my mouth do you want me to show you?" For emphasis, she began sucking on the pulse point in his neck, which made him exhale heavily and throw his head back. 
"I want you to- hah!" Napoleon exclaimed as Gaby's fingertips found his cock. She ever-so-gently brushed two of them along his length, relishing his reaction and the control she was being given.
Illya never let her give him a blowjob anymore. He wanted all control at all times, which was disappointing for Gaby, though she understood why. To be able to make a man become completely undone under her touch, to have him begging, to have that much power over another individual, she got why Doms chose to be Doms. The feelings of satisfaction and power were addicting, and she knew Illya much preferred to feel in charge; he did not like being powerless and at the complete mercy of someone else as she did. It's why she chose to be a Sub, the helplessness turned her on more than the power. Still, she did occasionally enjoy being the one with the power, and she took advantage of those rare moments when they were given.
Letting her thoughts come back to the present, Gaby swirled one finger around the tip of Napoleon's swollen member and trailed it lightly down the underneath to his base. Napoleon's eyes were closed and his lips were pressed tightly together. She could see him frantically trying to regain the control that he had so quickly lost, could see him wanting to be the one leading the situation, as any Dom would. She chuckled softly at that notion, knowing full well that she was calling the shots right now. She looked up at Illya, who still hadn't lost his scowl. He huffed again and spun his finger in the air, telling her to move it along.
She looked back at Napoleon, who had opened his eyes again, though his head still rested against the back of the tub. 
"I'm sorry, Mr. Solo, I didn't catch what you said," she taunted, her other hand sinking beneath the water to join its teasing partner by stroking his balls. Napoleon was too fast though and caught her wrist before her fingers reached their destination, pulling her face towards him with his free hand. 
"I want. Your mouth. On. My. Dick." He told her, the authority in his voice sending shivers down her spine and waves of arousal through her stomach. "Please," he amended, and she had to smile. One of Napoleons's best qualities was that he secretly hated diminishing others, and she knew he would never make a good Dom. Still, she liked him, and she had been ordered by her Dom to pleasure him, so she obliged Napoleon's request.
Gaby place a slow, steady line of kisses down Napoleon's chest, applying gentle pressure with her fingers to the backside of his legs until he got the hint and exposed his groin to the air. She was good at what she did, but still, she couldn't breathe under water. She used the pads of her fingers to steady his erection, and continued the line of kisses down his length. Napoleon's breath hitched in the back of his throat at the contact of Gaby's lips, but he kept his eyes open this time, watching her go to work.
And go to work she did. She was slow and methodical, teasing him with the lightest touches, waiting until he would close his eyes only to surprise him by taking him full in her mouth. She would alternate licking and sucking, tasting him fully. Napoleon quickly began writhing, breathing heavily and trying his best to hold still so that he wouldn't thrust up and choke her. He couldn't think straight. This woman was taking him apart seam by seam and he found that he didn't even care. He chanced a look at Illya, who's eyes were fixated on Gaby's mouth with a murderous glare. Gaby chose that moment to hum loudly, and Napoleon's head snapped back towards her, meeting her gaze. Her eyes smiled devilishly at him and she hummed again, causing Napoleon to swear in a most undignified manner. 
"Told you she would take you down a peg," Illya finally spoke. Gaby smiled around Napoleon's cock at those words and grazed her teeth up his length, relishing the desperate need behind his eyes. She began to suck on just his head, and all the resolve Napoleon had not to beg disappeared.
"Oh dear god," he panted, wondering if this would never end. He had never felt such pleasure in all his life. Illya had been right, she was far more talented than he had originally guessed. He also surmised that Illya had known Napoleon would underestimate her, and had wanted to see him like this, to see him taken apart and weak in order to show his dominance over both Napoleon and Gaby. Napoleon had been reduced to an absolute mess of a man and he looked like a fool in front of Illya, but he didn't care; it felt too good. Gaby kept sucking his head. It still wasn't enough to get him off and she knew it, but Napoleon wanted to cum, so against his pride he started begging.
"Okay Illya, you win. Shit, you both win. Oh my god, please, just—Jesus Gaby, fuck!—oh god, I'm... I want to cum, I can't take it anymore, I can't; I need to—it's not enough, oh god..." Napoleon shut his eyes and leaned his head back on the wall, still babbling incoherently. Gaby ignored his pleas and continued her torturous pace, watching Illya and waiting for him to give her the go ahead. Napoleon was shaking his head at this point, moaning and gasping interrupted only by the occasional curse. Gaby's mouth was getting tired, but Illya had not yet granted her permission to give Napoleon release. She knew that she would be severely punished if she didn't wait for Illya's command, so she backed off a little and stared at him pointedly.
Illya was watching Napoleon's face with wicked satisfaction. Gaby saw the jealousy written all over Illya, and she grunted her displeasure at him, inadvertently making Napoleon gasp and jerk up. He slammed into the back of her throat and she gagged hard, doing her best to breath while her lips remained closed around his dick; giving Napoleon a break now would also result in punishment later. Napoleon groaned out his apology, but didn't open his eyes. The incident seemed to shake Illya out of his trance though, because he finally looked at Gaby, smug. 
"Finish him off," he stated with an air of pride, thinking to himself that he could have lasted longer than Napoleon. Gaby gladly complied. Prepared for it this time, she relaxed her throat and took Napoleon's entire length into her mouth, sucking hard. Napoleon’s eyes shot open and he cried out, crunching his torso forward and watching Gaby swallow him whole. His face twisted in painful pleasure at the sudden sensation and he felt his release building very quickly. 
" Gaby , I'm gonna, I can't hold it, I'm-" he tried to warn her but she just looked up at him and briefly put her fingers over his mouth, relentlessly sucking him to climax. He cried out as his orgasm hit him, further turned on as he watched Gaby swallow every drop of seed he shot into her mouth.
Napoleon shuddered as he finished and relaxed against the back of the tub, closing his eyes once more to savor the gentle open-mouth strokes Gaby was giving him during his post-orgasm high. Breathing heavily, he opened his eyes as she slid off him, grinning like an idiot when she slid her body along his to come up to his face. Tenderly, she cupped his face in her hand, and he responded in kind by clasping the back of her neck and bringing her in for a kiss. He moaned as he tasted himself on her lips, grunting in displeasure and pain as his cock twitched far too soon after coming.
Napoleon broke off the kiss and looked over at Illya, but all he saw was the sink, Illya was gone. 
"Where did Illya go?" He asked Gaby, stroking her hair. Gaby laid her head on Napoleon's chest and sighed, knowing her Dom was off pouting somewhere. 
"He gets very jealous," she admitted, tracing a finger along the lines of Napoleon's muscles. "He's probably out there on the bed, figuring out how to punish me for giving you attention." 
Napoleon looked at her, confused. 
"But Illya's the one who brought it up; he instigated the whole thing, said he wanted to watch you take me apart. Why would you be punished for that?" 
"Because I went beyond what I should have," Gaby said vaguely, pulling the plug so that the water in the tub could escape and standing up to get out. She grabbed a towel and stepped out of the tub, wrapping herself up to keep warm. 
Napoleon remained in the tub for a minute, his brain still trying to process everything that had just happened. Gaby laughed and tossed him a towel, catching him off guard. 
"Don't try to understand his reasoning, sometimes he just doesn't make sense," she told him, drying off and slipping her nightshirt over her head. Napoleon stood up and joined her outside the tub, wrapping the towel around his waist. He circled his arms around her from behind, looking at her in the mirror. 
"Well, thank you for the sex," he chuckled, "I can honestly say I've never had a more excellent blowjob in my life." Gaby laughed out loud. 
"I believe I should be thanking you. I never get to do that anymore and I miss it. It's fun." She winked at him, then turned in his arms. He kissed her again and she kissed back, but pulled away far sooner than he wanted her to.
"I'd better go find Illya," she sighed, heading toward the door. "Better to face my punishment now rather than later." 
" Gaby?" Napoleon stopped her, grabbing her hand in his. 
"Yeah?"  
"Would you... would you care to join me for breakfast tomorrow morning?" he asked her, heart pounding. She was someone else's Sub, and though he had been invited to join them as a third party, he couldn't believe he had just asked her out, knowing she would say no. Gaby smiled at him though, and squeezed his hand. 
"I would love to," she stated firmly, and pressed one last kiss to his lips before slipping out the door.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Tag List: @littlefreya​ @sciapod​ @thiccgeralt​
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el3anorrigbyworld · 4 years
Text
The one who stayed and the one who left-My unfinished Napollya fic for @bryonyashley (a rough update of the next chapter as I still need to work on it, lol)
—————————
As the wind changes direction, the sudden driving rain pounds the window, reducing visibility further. Napoleon thinks it could not get any worse when the engine suddenly gives an ominous wheeze and the propeller slows, gains speed, then stops.
“The engine,” Napoleon sighs as Illya tries to restart it.
“We will have to glide it down, Cowboy, as long as there's somewhere to land,” Illya says quietly, checking their altitude and looking out the side window. Even if he tries his best to stay calm, Napoleon still could sense that isn’t case.
“Over there is our best shot,” Napoleon says after a while, as he points to his side.
Illya sees a stretch of narrow, flat land. It will have to do.
“We’ll make it,” Illya replies, peering over Napoleon's shoulder as he turns the plane. “but it'll still be rough landing, Cowboy.”
“Do what you need to do,” Napoleon nods.
***
As the plane slowly loses height, the dull shine of what appears to be a lake which he failed to notice earlier, spreads out before them, barely visible as the rain continues to pelt the windscreen. Napoleon watches the dark forms of trees below them, disturbingly close as the plane shudders against the punishing wind.
For a moment Napoleon feels an eerie calm, then the world explods around them. A howling wind, a stomach-lurching dive, a screeching metallic sound, and the scent of pine needles fills the cabin. Cold air pools around the floor of the plane as Napoleon slowly becomes aware of what’a happening. Illya struggles to keep the plane level, but there is another thump and wrenching sound as part of a wing shears off, almost turning them around. Then they are clear of the trees, but plunging fast and steep.
***
Napoleon gasps and struggles not to black out as Illya puts one arm across his body, bracing him as the plane slaps across the water.
“We were supposed to land on the ground, Peril!” he shouts, struggling to focus as something dark looms up ahead and the plane slams to a stop and Illya's urgent voice is in his ear. He shakes his head to clear his mind, opens the door and flops like a fish onto a jetty. Quickly rolling clear as the jagged metal of the wing slices by him, he turns to see the plane lurching over and slide into the water.
***
They are by the side of the lake. Not surprisingly, Napoleon cannot remember how they had got there. Illya must have swam them ashore. It’s a miracle they are even alive.
He stretches out a hand as Illya tries to reach out for him. “I thought I'd lost you for a minute.”
Illya pulls himself up and lay down on the ground beside Napoleon, heaving deep breaths. “Not so easy to get rid of me.”
Napoleon smirks then holds up one hand to the pouring rain and laughs for a moment, before turning serious, “we need to move.”
***
“Base ops, do you copy?”
“Anything?” Napoleon asks Illya again as his friend frantically tries to contact UNCLE.
“Comms are dead,” the Russian mutters.“What is your best guess on our coordinates?”
“We can’t be more than forty minutes south-west of our destination,” Napoleon answers and when he turns to move, Illya notices he is bleeding through his right shirt sleeve. “You are hurt.”
He reaches out to check on his injured arm but Napoleon pulls back before Illya could touch him.
“I’m fine,” Napoleon immediately dismisses his concern. “Okay, we still have eight hours until our meeting with our mark. Which means on foot, we’re going to miss our window.”
Suddenly, distant engines are heard.
“That’s not good,” Napoleon says.
“THRUSH,” Illya affirmed.
They both turn and start to take whatever they could from what Illya had managed to salvage from the plane before making a dash through the hilly forest. Moments later they could see two trucks heading their way.
“They are going to see us, we’ve to move, Cowboy.”
***
“I think we’re clear,” Illya confirms after a while.
“Yes, for now.”
They stop to take a breather. But Illya has not forgotten Napoleon’s injured arm and insists that he takes a look. Napoleon gives in this time and let’s Illya roll the torn sleeves up, so he could check on his wound. Illya sucks in a breath at what he sees. He knows the wound needs to be cleaned up and tended to. But there’s no time. A makeshift bandage from Napoleon’s torn jacket would have to do. And while he works on it with hands that are too gentle, Napoleon feels a tug inside his chest. Sensing that he’s being watched, Illya tears at the cloth around Napoleon’s arm abruptly, making his partner winced.
“What’s that for?!”
“That’s for your behaviour on the plane.”
Napoleon would argue but he keeps his mouth shut.
They walk for miles after and then the silence between them starts to get a little hard for Napoleon to take. “Listen, earlier, on the plane…”
“It’s okay. Forget it, Cowboy.”
“It’s the only thing I could count on, the way it felt to be with you. How easy it was to work together. But now, that’s all gone.”
“Solo.”
“How are we supposed to get along? To be just friends again? You’re right, Illya. It’s damn right ridiculous. And after what you now know? It’s practically impossible.”
Illya narrows his eyes. This man in front of him will be the death of him, he’s sure. But he can’t keep on pretending that everything will be okay. Because it would not. Even if he wants to push Napoleon away, even if he knows that is the right thing to do, Illya could not. Death had stared them in the face and Illya doesn’t want to lose the chance of telling Napolen how he feels. Again.
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pleasereadmycrap · 4 years
Text
Never Thought I’d See You Again
Pairing: Napoleon Solo x Reader
Warnings: violence, mild cursing and smut
Summary: Somebody from your past shows up on a job.
A/N: Finally something that’s not Ransom. I’m thinking of writing a prologue to this. Let me know what y’all think.
You slipped into the back room of the nightclub, escaping the noise of the main room. You tugged on your tight dress to make sure that it hadn’t rode up and was still hugging you in all of the right places.
“You asked to see me?” you said in a high and flirty voice as you slipped into the dark room.
2 men were sat across from each other at a round table, playing a hand of cards with a bottle of vodka between them. There was a larger one who you knew well. He had hired you.
The other one you were not familiar with. Although, judging from the fact that he was playing cards with one of the most powerful men in Russia and winning from the looks of it, he was equally important.
“Yes!” the larger man called out with delight in a heavy Russian accent. “This is the thief I tell you about,” he said, gesturing wildly to his friend and betraying just how much he had had to drink. “They say she can steal anything.”
“But she’s a woman,” the smaller man replied with a stiff English accent.
“And a very special one at that. Y/N, come sit! There’s always a place for you right here,” he said as he patted his lap with a wink.
“Thank you, Mr. Volkov, but you know my rules. I don’t sleep with clients.”
“Shame. Well, anyways I would like for you to meet my most favorite friend. May I present to you Mr. Studebaker.”
“Nice to meet you,” you said as you extended a dainty hand for him to shake.
“How did a pretty girl like you end up in a job like this?” he asked regarding you with a quizzical gaze.
“Times were tough after the war. You do what you can to get by,” you replied glibly. “Are we almost ready to start? You still haven't told me what you would like me to steal.”
“Oh no! We are waiting on one more associate,” Mr. Volkov said. “He is coming.”
At that moment, the other door at the back of the room burst open with a crash. Standing in the doorway was a man you never thought that you would see again, and wished to God you weren’t seeing him now.
“Mr. Winston! It is so good to see you!” Mr. Volkov called out from where he sat. Mr. Studebaker just gave the newcomer a cordial nod.
Winston. That was a new one.
“You have already met Mr. Studebaker, but you must meet the darling Miss Y/L/N.”
“We’ve met before,” Mr. Winston replied with a blinding smile in your direction. It was the same smile that used to make you melt into a puddle on sight. You just smiled tightly in response.
“Good! Good! So we are all acquainted then. Wonderful!” Mr. Volkov said heartily.
“I think it would be best if we got straight to business,” Studebaker interjected before Volkov could continue.
“Yes! Yes, of course. Straight to business! Miss Y/L/N, as you know you have been hired to steal something. Studebaker, here will provide you with the information. Winston with help with communication. From now on he will be your liaison between you and us. Studebaker?”
“Miss Y/L/N, we have heard tell that the Germans are trying to make a plane that is faster than the speed of sound and will be undetectable on our radar. We need you to find the plans for these plans and bring them to us,” Studebaker explained.
“But I thought that your governments were in control of Germany?” you asked.
“We are, but we got a bit distracted and may have given them more freedom than my government originally intended,” Volkov said, filling in the blanks. “Do you have anything to add, Mr. Winston?”
“Just that I look forward to working with Y/N again” he said with a sly smile in your direction.
“Well if that’s all gentleman, I think I’ll take a smoke outside.”
“Thank you, Miss Y/L/N. Yes, from now on all of our plans with be related to you through Mr. Winston. He’ll be in contact shortly.” Mr. Volkov said before he stood up and exited back into the mainroom.
You stood and walked out the back door to stand in the damp alleyway behind the club. You pulled out a cigarette and placed it between your lips.
“Need a light?” came a deep voice from behind you, causing you to jump and drop your cigarette.
“What are you doing out here, Mr. Winston.”
“It’s been a long time, Y/N.”
“Not long enough,” you replied sharply.
“Look, just come back to my hotel room, and we can talk about this.”
“I don’t sleep with my clients.”
“I’m not a client and I never was,” he whispered in your ear as he pulled in by your waist. “It’s not safe to talk here and you know that. Don’t be difficult.”
“Fine,” you sighed as you leaned into his touch lightly.
After a silent cab ride back to his hotel, you finally made it to his room.
“Is the room clear?” you asked as soon as the door swung closed behind you.
“It’s clear,” he answered. “I’ve missed you Y/N.”
“It’s a pity I can’t say the same, Napoleon,” you replied quickly putting extra emphasis on his name. “Winston’s a new one. When did that happen?”
“When I blew all my old aliases, and the CIA comes up with my covers for me now.”
“You’re working for the CIA now?” you asked in disbelief.
“They backed me into a corner. I didn’t have any other options.”
“Napoleon Solo didn’t have any other options?”
“They caught me red handed. It was either this or jail!”
“Sell out,” you muttered.
“How have you kept yourself off of their radar for so long?”
“Because I don’t suffer from terminal male bravado.”
“I’m wounded,” Napoleon joked with a brilliant smile, and you could feel yourself giving in to his charm.
“So why are you here?”
“The US is worried that if the Russians get their hands on those plans, all of our international turmoil could come to a boil,” he answered. “That dress must be digging into you. Why don’t you slip into something more comfortable?”
“You’ve got to be kidding with me,” you sighed with exasperation. “That’s never happening again.”
“You can’t blame me for trying. We were so good together, Y/N.”
“You left me in Paris. I was forced to go to Belgium alone without the artwork our employers had already paid for and that you had stolen out from under my nose. I was forced to pay the consequences for that alone.”
“I’m sorry, but we’re thieves. Stealing is what we do.”
“Not from each other!” you shouted as you moved to the door. “Goodbye Napoleon. Call me when you have information about the job.”
“Hello,” you asked groggily as you picked up the telephone and rubbed the sleep from your eyes.
Who could be calling you this early?
“Good morning, princess! Did I wake you?” Napoleon’s voice asked sarcastically on the other end of the phone.
“Do you have news about the job?”
“Yes. It’s happening tonight. I’ll pick you up at 8. You know what to wear.”
“Yes,” you said before disconnecting the phone and trying to go back to sleep.
That night you were waiting in the back alley of your hotel, dressed in all black, when Napoleon pulled up in his car.
“Does it have to be so flashy?” you asked as you slipped inside.
“I think it’s a perfectly fine car,” Napoleon said as he patted the dash appreciatively.
���Whatever,” you sighed, knowing that it wasn’t worth the fight. “Where are we going?”
“There’s a missile base near here. Volkov has provided us with a way in. It should be a quick job. The guards will be heavily armed though, so watch out for that. The plans are in a locked drawer in the commander’s desk. I trust you’re still good at lockpicking.”
“Don’t worry about me. I can handle myself.”
“Okay. I’ll be covering you from the outside. You can radio if you get into trouble. You’ll meet me in the same place that I will drop you off.”
“Got it.”
“It’s a long drive to the base. How have you been?”
“Don’t try to make small talk with me, Napoleon. It doesn’t work.”
“Fine,” he sighed. “I was just trying to lighten the mood.”
“Well, don’t!” you snapped.
When you finally reached the base, you exited the car and approached the gates furtively. You cut a hole through the wire and crawled inside. Once you were in, you found a door and picked the lock on it. You slipped inside and made your way down the narrow hallway.
According to the plans that Studebaker had obtained, the commander’s office should be just ahead on your right. When you reached the door, you were shocked to find that it was already open. You rushed to the desk and quickly located the drawer that the file was located in. You skillfully picked the lock and located the file.
You stood up from behind the desk, shocked at how easy this job had been, when you found yourself face to face with an angry German soldier wielding a gun.
With no other choice, you leapt over the table at the soldier, hoping that he wouldn’t have time to fire. You pinned him to the ground and began to punch him in the hopes of knocking him out, but unfortunately luck was not in your favor. Maybe it was something in the water that was keeping this soldier going. You finally managed to grab a mug from the desk and knock out the soldier with that.
“Uh, Solo?” you asked into the radio. “I’m gonna need that exit soon. Things aren’t looking good.”
“Got it,” came Napoleon’s staticky voice from the other end.
You raced down the hallway at top speed and flew out the door, tripping God only knows how many alarms. You could hear sirens start to blare behind you as you burst through the gates. You were closing in on Napoleon where he sat in the car that was already running. Just a few more feet, and you felt yourself get hit. You were down.
“Napoleon?” you asked as you sat up in bed and winced. You looked down and saw bandages wrapped tightly around your torso. “What’s going on?”
“It’s okay. You’re safe,” he said as he swept into the room.
You had never seen Napoleon look so casual before. He was wearing khakis and a T-shirt that was two sizes too small.
“Do you remember what happened?” he asked as he pulled up a chair to sit beside the bed that you were laying in.
“We were on a mission. What happened?”
“You were shot.”
“How long was I out?”
“Two weeks. You’re mostly healed now. How are you feeling?”
“Good. It hurts to move a little though.”
“Well, I made you some soup. I’ll bring you a bowl, and I can get you some more medicine for the pain,” he said, heading into what you assumed was the kitchen.
“You always were a good cook,” you said as he set a bowl down in front of you.
“I’m glad you’re okay, Y/N.”
“What about the mission? Volkov? Studebaker?”
“I told them that you had died, and the mission was a failure.”
“Thank you,” you said softly as you sipped some of your soup.
“If you want, there’s a place for you at the CIA. We could work together again.”
“I’ll think about it,” you said as you smiled softly into your chest.
“Where am I?” you asked as you took a look around at your unfamiliar surroundings.
You were in a cabin kind of place. Although it was sparsely decorated, it felt homey. There was a fire roaring in the fireplace across from you and you could smell dinner cooking in the room next to yours.
“My house.”
“We’re in the States?”
“No, I have a cabin in the south of France, and this is it.”
“When did you buy this. Why didn’t I know?”
“I bought this five years ago when I thought that you and I had a future.”
“You bought me a house?” you asked incredulously.
“Yeah,” Napoleon answered as he focused intently on the floor. “I always meant to come back for you in Belgium, but when I got there, I couldn’t find you. The men who hired us lied and said that you had left me.”
“I didn’t know.”
“You couldn’t have.”
You leaned up gently and pressed a soft kiss to Napoleon’s lips. He kissed you back slowly, careful not to hurt you. You pressed harder.
“Are you okay? Is this okay?” Napoleon asked as he pulled away.
“Just kiss me, Solo,” you said as you grabbed hold of his shirt and pulled him closer.
You took his shirt off and ran your hands over his strong chest and arms. You had missed this. He was slowly pulling off yours, trying not to touch your bandages. He pulled off both your pants and panties in one swift motion and settled himself between your thighs. You moaned deeply as he ate you out.
“Please Napoleon,” you panted. “I want you inside of me.”
Not needing to be told twice, Napoleon finished undressing, and climbed back on top of you. He kissed you deeply, and thrust inside of you. He set a slow pace at first, but got progressively faster.
“I’m so close!” you shouted as your fingernails dug into his shoulders. You came all over his cock and he followed close behind you.
After you had both cleaned yourselves up, you snuggled into his side and sighed happily.
“You know, I think I will take that job with the CIA,” you said as you kissed him like it was something you were planning to do for the rest of your life.
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iwriteabouthim · 3 years
Text
Underneath It All - Chapter 2
Napoleon Solo / OFC
Napoleon is interested in the treasures of an old aristocratic family from England. It takes him one visit to learn he could treasure more than precious stones and art.
Fluff, Smut and a bit of Angst I guess.
A/N: I’m so happy I got some likes and I hope you guys like this part too. Please, let me know what you think! :) 
I still need a beta..like, desperately.
Chapter 2
After the most amazing kiss of her life and still a little out of her own mind, Ellie walks to the Chapel, her heels clicking at the marble floor and her eyes falling at the painting of Doubting Thomas. That is a sign, she’s the doubting one, always has been! How would she find love if she doubts every man that gets closer? Napoleon was not like any man, though. He was so direct and self-assured that...scrap that, he’s fucking hot, sex on legs, handsome as hell and she is feeling her panties getting damp. Great, now I’m sinning at the Chapel she thinks before leaving the room.
Deciding that waiting for one hour is the most stupid thing she thought about, she leaves the house searching for Mr. Solo, that was back at the garden talking to a tall man while drinking champagne. She gets closer and observes him excusing himself from the talk as soon as he sees her; she reaches for his flute and takes a big gulp of the drink, looking nervous but determined.
“Who told you ‘Mars and Venus’ is my favorite painting?” she asks, still fighting some nervousness.
He smiles genuinely and wraps his hand at her elbow, wanting to show her some support. “Well, you, just now. I wonder what else we have in common.”
“Yes, I was wondering something like that, too…”
“That’s why you’re here after deciding you needed an hour?”
“Yes. God bless me but I’m curious, Mr. Solo.”
“If you call me Mr. Solo again I’ll have to kiss you in front of everyone. I’m not sure how you feel about public displays of affection.”
“Public displays of lust, Mr. Solo.” Ellie whispers in an attempt to be firm. It all vanishes when the man takes a step closer and mumble back at her, just a centimeter away from her ear “I see you’re taking my advice and being brave, sweetie. I like it. Take me inside.”
Unfortunately, before she can say anything a young employee coughs behind them to get her attention and causes the woman to take a step behind. “Lady Cavendish...I’m sorry for interrupting but your father is on the phone.” 
“My father? Ok, I’ll...give me a minute, Vince.”
“My Lady.” The young man nods in a strange reverence and leaves, leaving a flushed Ellie behind. Napoleon finds her mortification adoring and smiles at her - he never smiles that much, but she brings something in him.
It’s hard to look at him without wishing to be his, to feel his lips and move her hands all over his body, but she manages to divert her train of thoughts and excuse herself from his presence. “I have to get that. Don’t disappear."
“Never.”
At the phone, her father had interesting news about the police concerns over robbery complaints from other families with possessions. Mr. Cavendish asked to be watchful and double the security at the property for some days. She’s usually way more attentive with her dear father but this day she was only half listening, Napoleon’s body playing a bigger role in her contemplations. It took her a second to find Mr. Solo again, two women talking animatedly with him, that this time was turned back from her and couldn’t see her coming.
“Mr. Solo?” Is that jealousy flying from her mouth?
“Darlin’. I hope everything’s okay with your dad?” Oh, how dare him act so perfectly!
“Yes. Just some reports...” she looks from him to the women at his side but they don’t explode as she so wishes.
“Great. I was just telling these nice ladies I am being constantly left all alone by my Lady, but I’ll gladly follow you around like a damn puppy. Are you finally free?” Napoleon’s words work as a charm, a spell that makes her weak and dutiful and she loves and hates the power he has...she doesn’t even know him!
“I am. Do you want to go inside?” 
“I think we should, gorgeous. Excuse us, ladies.”
Leaving the garden to get back inside, Napoleon rests his hand at the small of her back. “Where do you want to go?”
“Anywhere?”
“Yes.”
“The belvedere.” he states.
“The belvedere?”
“Take me to the belvedere, gorgeous, let me show you something.”
She couldn’t do anything other than take him there, and anywhere else he might want to go. Ellie wants him to talk to her forever, closely, softly, in that delicious deep voice of his...she’s a goner. Usually she’s the only one that goes to the north tower these days, part of it is being restored and she likes to see the team of specialists working. Today, it is only her and Napoleon, she takes him by the staircases at the northeast corner of the main block and they reach the big and open space with the majestic pillars, overseeing the beautiful landscape hills and the river.
“Why here?”
“I want the gods to see us, but not too much, I’m afraid they’ll get envious and try to steal you from me.” Napoleon thinks to himself how unfair he’s being at not telling her the truth, that he thinks she’s a goddess, with her beautiful curves and delicious lips surely made to torture him into becoming whatever she wants him to be. He must be losing his mind. A shiver runs through her body and before she can say anything - not that she’s able to form any sentence - he kisses her deeply, a hand holding her by the hair, something no man had ever done and that she discovers to be the door to her darkest desires.
“What are you doing to me?” is all she can say between his desperate kisses.
“Me? Are you real, my sweet Venus? I can’t get my hands out of you.” his hands move all around her body, bringing her closer, walking her backwards till her bottom touches the balcony railing, lifting her till she’s sitting at the old marble, scared of falling. She looks down and tries to get out, back to the ground, but he holds her and brings her face towards his again. “Trust me.”
“Napoleon…” she still tries to disengage herself from him, but he gets between her legs, pressing her body on his.
“Just trust me.” Something on his voice makes her stop and look at him. A kind of agony hidden into the command.
“That’s not how it works”
“No. But it’s not even an hour yet and I already want you to love me. To need me.” she gasps with the intensity of his words. Trying to find something else in his eyes, something she might be missing, she let go of the strong grip she has in his arms, making his hold on her the only security keeping from falling from the highest place of the house.
“Trust me in return, Napoleon. Tell me what’s wrong. Something is wrong.”
“I’m an agent. CIA. And I need to steal something from you.” Her heart stops and she feels like she is falling.
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popatochisssp · 5 years
Text
Me: I don’t have time to do headcanon posts right now, I’m having enough trouble getting chapter updates out as it is.
SU Movie: *premieres*
@llamagoddessofficial & @egglord667 : *doing awesome gem-skele stuff, right in front of my salad*
Me:.............alright maybe just one...
(Note: I’m basing this entirely off of the gem types and castes we’ve seen in the series so far!)
Sans (Undertale): A sapphire! But...kind of a defective one-- his predictions are only about 70% accurate, which is still good but...mmm. He, uh...he does his best to cover for it by just being good at reading people and situations, no future vision involved, but he also does a lot of internal sweating about being wrong about something important and being found out. He has a round-cut gem in place of his eye-socket.
Papyrus (Undertale): He’s a hessonite, a type of garnet, meant to command armies and lead soldiers into battle. He’s strong and bold and...and also very friendly and kind, to the point that it’s hard for underlings to take him seriously. He’s always doing weird stuff, too, like looking for peaceful solutions and refusing to end lives. Even with a technically perfect cut, he’s just a bit of an oddball. His gem is a trilliant cut right at the top of his sternum.
Sky (Underswap Sans): A quartz soldier, specifically a chalcedony. ...Overcooked, naturally, smaller than he ought to be, but as he’s eager to show off, just as tough and strong as his taller counterparts. Maybe even stronger, since he’s worked so hard to compensate for the circumstances of his creation instead of just coasting along on natural ability. One thing’s for sure, anyone who underestimates him in a fight is going to regret it very, very quickly! His gem is a basic cabochon on his spine, between his shoulder blades.
Paps (Underswap Papyrus): He’s a zircon, but his superiors realized pretty quickly that he just didn’t have the temperament to argue any actual cases, unsuited to the stress of conflict and responsibility for the fates of other gems. Still, he’s smart and has a good head for details, so there was no need for drastic shattering action. He handles a lot of filing and other such document preparation for cases instead. It’s a boring job, maybe one they could get a pearl to do, but he likes the work and usually helps craft pretty strong cases-- even if he’s not the one who goes out to argue them. His gem is oval cut, on the back of his left hand.
Jasper (Underfell Sans): Ironically, he is not a jasper lol He’s a ruby! Dime-a-dozen soldiers, not worth all that much on their own... Yeah, story of his life. He’s a pretty strong fighter, even solo, but that might be because he’d have collapsed under the weight of his own self-worth crisis if he couldn’t hold his own as the very thing he was created to be. It’s...it’s still pretty bad as it is, but he has a bit of notoriety as an impressive soldier now and not even the ‘for a ruby’s that follow it up can dampen the pride of that completely. His gem is hidden on the underside of his sternum, just a basic square cut.
Pyre (Underfell Papyrus): Bixbite, AKA red beryl (you may know its green counterpart a little better-- green beryl, AKA emerald). He’s a pretty high-ranking gem and commands his own space fleet, and his ego is just as inflated by that as you’d guess it would be. He’s fair, though, all things considered, and he takes good care of those under his command, probably more than most of his kind would bother to. In spite of his theatrics and cutthroat tactics in battle, he has real respect for living things, organic or gem, friend or foe. His gem is on his left shoulder, naturally an emerald cut.
Mal (Swapfell Sans): He’s an agate, a crazy lace agate, if you must know, in a unique purple dye, specially commissioned and everything! ...Which is why it was kinda unfortunate that, much like his non-’fell counterpart, he was in the ground too long and came out smaller than he ought to be for the thing he was made for-- some not-so-peaceful peacekeeping of much bigger gems. There was talk of limb-enhancers, maybe even scrapping him to start over...? But he handily proved there was no need for either by fulfilling his function perfectly, scaring the ever-living hell out of any gems under his supervision who tried to goof off, step out of line, or otherwise be rowdy. Napoleon complex? Maybe, but he gets results and no one can deny that! His gem is a perfect marquise shape, low on the front of his spine, about navel height (if he were human and had a navel).
Rus (Swapfell Papyrus): A topaz...a very slim and lanky topaz, who is very, very, very aware that most other topazes are about three or four times his width. He’s not a bad guard, even so: he follows orders well and his default expression and posture is intimidating enough that he’s rarely ever had to actually do anything but stand around and look scary. On the inside, he’s sweating profusely and praying nobody tests him or tries to slip past him while he’s on duty, but...nobody else has to know he’s a giant wuss, right? His gem is a tapered baguette cut along his right femur.
Slate (Horrortale Sans): Like his canon counterpart, a defective sapphire...but with a crack. Not a worsening one, thankfully, but still deep and that causes its fair share of problems. The biggest one is his mental state, since the cracking of his gem impacted his future vision. Not only is it still only a 70% of being an accurate vision, but now he occasionally loses track of when he’s using it-- so lots of deja vu, lots of derealization, lots of times where he has to stop and try to think, “wait...did that actually happen? or will it happen? or did i see it, but it’s not going to happen?” He gets...confused, often, and needs to be handled with patience! Round cut, eye-socket gem, cracked almost to the center.
Papy (Horrortale Papyrus): Yeah, he’s a hessonite, too, just as ill-suited to being a leader of troops as his canon version in terms of personality, and like his brother, his gem is cracked. Unlike his brother, though, it’s only cracked a little bit, just a tiny hairline fracture. If it weren’t for his freakishly gangly proportions, caused by deregulation of his physical form, you probably wouldn’t even be able to tell he’d been damaged at all. He’s a little self-conscious about it anyway, but until he’s shattered completely, he’ll keep on keeping on! Trilliant gem on the sternum, with a small crack creeping in from a corner.
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imaginesbyella · 4 years
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*pops champagne bottle* Congrats on the milestone!!! I’d like to request a Napoleon Solo imagine with the song “Paper Rings” by Taylor Swift!
Pairing: Napoleon Solo x Reader
Song: “Paper Rings” by Taylor Swift
Lyrics: “I hate accidents except when we went from friends to this. / Ah-ah, darling, you’re the one I want.”
Warning: Mentions of injury
Word count: 577
A/N: Even though it turns hard to write Henry Cavill’s characters, I really like how this one turned out. I hope you like it.
Want a song drabble? Check out this post and submit your request!
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Around a week after getting injured by one Russian agent, you finally felt strong enough to get out of the strange bed that had become your shelter. You found yourself in some kind of old building, done up with a clashing array of styles; some items modern, some ancient and antique and so many in the middle. He said it was his office and home, that he ran his own business. You were just grateful to be able to move around, even if it was with difficulty, and get back to some semblance of normality.
Your partner and best friend, Napoleon, was a constant presence in your life, always there if you needed him, but he also kept his distance. Like he was afraid of scaring you or something. Admittedly he was imposing, tall and muscular and handsome, but he was also an absolute goof and it was difficult to take him seriously sometimes.
You had a lot of respect for him, not just for looking after you, but for being able to look at your ruined face when he spoke to you. That he was able to carry out a conversation like a normal person with you, you did not think you would ever have that again.
“You know, I made Italian risotto if you’d like some,” a deep male voice said, waking you up from your sleep. “But first off, let me see what that bastard’s done to you,” he said, lightly touching your face. You knew you you were safe and sound so you did not bother to flinch or run away from any kind of harm. It turned out, it was Napoleon’s voice.
“May I ask what are you doing here?” you asked as he gently treated your wounds. Looking over your shoulder, you locked gazes for a moment, and he spotted a curious gleam in your eyes shining utterly brightly. “I mean, why do you such a thing, Solo? I should be at med bay, not here,” you said, now tears welling up your eyes.
Napoleon continued healing your wounds. He knew you did not like looking at yourself in the mirror, you did not want to see the deep gashes crossing your face or the scarring. However, you figured out that if you kept ignoring it, it would go away, even though you knew better. And that somehow, hurt him deep inside, as if someone was throwing daggers at his heart.
The truth was if he had watched your six all the time during the entire mission, you wouldn’t be there laying with a bloodied face. The mere thought of losing you back then was oppressive, suffocating. Stomach clenching, cannot breathe, no holding it back cackling when she caught the look on her best friend’s face.
As Napoleon sat curled up on the sofa, his stomach remained to clench, making him unable to breathe. Not even holding it back cackling when his perfect blue eyes caught the look on your face.
“What?”
Shaking his head, he replied, “I - nothing. It’s stupid.”
You shifted in your place so you could meet his eyes, curious about what he was talking about. “Well, now you have to tell me.”
“You just make me really happy, you know? And I don’t want to lose you. That’s why you’re not going to the medbay. That’s why you’re staying here. Okay?” he beamed, anxious.
And suddenly he could not breathe again for an entirely different reason.
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chasingmusesrp · 6 years
Text
Only One Time // Napoleon & Illya
“Solo!” Illya’s voice echoed through the hotel as he barged into the American’s suite with his face a mask of rage, “Cowboy!“
Napoleon was in the shower and he quirked an eyebrow at the din but made no move to get out nor to even acknowledge the other man. Sometimes, one had to take the high road and not feed petulant displays of childishness, especially when said displays were exactly the reaction he’d wanted. Instead, he continued to wash his hair, working up a nice lather as Illya stomped into the steamy bathroom.
“You!” he growled, pointing at Napoleon who, for his part, looked over his shoulder to see if there was anyone else in the shower he hadn’t known about.
“Me?” came the calm retort, paired with an innocent expression that he knew would get under Illya’s skin even more.
“Ohhhohohho, no, you do not get this look on your face, Cowboy, you know what you have done!”
And maybe the smile that came after the rebuke was a tad more mischievous than it needed to be but who could blame Napoleon? After all, it was true, he did know why Illya was upset and it was rather amusing that he had been so spot on with his prediction of the man’s reaction.
“Would you mind coming back lat-…”
“I mind very much!“ Illya cut him off and grabbed a towel and thrust it towards Napoleon in the angriest way possible, “Get out of shower. Now.“
Napoleon sighed, shaking his head very slightly before quickly rinsing the shampoo out of his hair and turning off the water. “You know, Peril, this is terribly rude, I hav-…”
“I do not care!” Illya interrupted again, shoving the towel against Napoleon’s chest. That done, he left the bathroom and went to start pacing in the sitting room so that the man could get himself decent.
Napoleon took his sweet time drying off and came out in a hotel bathrobe. He watched Illya for a moment before shaking his head, “Illya, it was only one time.”
Illya turned on Napoleon and walked quickly up to him. The American didn’t even have time to react before the bigger man was grabbing him and jerking him forward by the front of the robe with one hand while the other went to the back of his head to keep him close as he kissed him. It was a rough, possessive thing, and Napoleon was sure his knees were going to fail when he heard the low growl coming from deep inside the Russian somewhere.
He looked rather dazed when Illya finally broke the kiss and glared at him, jaw working a bit, “Do not ever take man home unless it is absolutely necessary for mission. Yes?“
“Yes.. yes, I understand.” Napoleon couldn’t help but smile even as Illya gave him a completely exasperated snort, “You know, Peril, you’re cute when you’re jealous.”
And that, my friends, simply proved the point that Napoleon was a master Kuryakin Whisperer. Five simple words to get exactly what he wanted: another searing, dominating kiss this time after being shoved up against the nearest wall.
There was nothing better than manipulating the giant of a man for his own good (mostly) and for Napoleon’s benefit. Sooner or later, he was sure Illya would catch on, the man wasn’t stupid of course, but for now, Napoleon was content to play his little games to get them the satisfaction they both wanted. 
That they both needed.
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