#napoleon solo imagine | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

espinosaurusrexex · 2 years

Text

Solo

NapoleonSolo x female!reader

In which Napoleon does not want to work with Y/N, even though they are the 'perfect team'.

a/n: Thanks to @7eamfan7asy for suggesting this imagine. This was fun :)

word count: 2.6k

warnings: I don't think there are any, actually

Break in, retrieve the evidence, get out again. Without anybody noticing. That was the mission. A simple Black Bag operation. And it would have worked without anybody noticing if it weren’t for the incredibly annoying spy currently tied up next to Napoleon. Because of Y/N, the pair was chained to a radiator in the basement of the large company building that sat amid New York with one tiny little window broken on the top floor. Making it look like some accident had caused it to shatter and not the super-secret spy mission he had been called for. But, no. Of course, she had to come in and ruin this for him - his chance at getting off the weird employee contract that lasted as long as his supposed imprisonment.

“Tell me again. What are you doing here?” He hissed as he struggled to writhe out of the cuffs on his wrists. His Back was pressed to Y/N’s and the radiating heat coming off of her body didn’t help in his attempts to break free of the already too tight metal restraints.

“We’re partners, in case you forgot, hotshot.” Napoleon huffed. He could practically hear the roll of her eyes in her tone. Partners wouldn’t be this careless. That’s why he worked alone. His name was Napoleon Solo for God’s sake. How much clearer could it get? Apparently not clear enough for Y/N.

He didn’t know her very well. She had appeared about a week ago in Sanders’s office with an accompanied ‘This is Agent Y/L/N. She will be your partner on this mission.” from Sanders himself. Of course, Napoleon hadn’t thought that he actually had to deal with her back then. And after a heated argument about his lone-wolf strategies he had decided that he did not want to either. She was unbearable and a know-it-all. Always cutting off his sentences while planning the mission and constantly talking. God, she was talking so much. At one point he had debated on cutting his ears off to make it stop.

“And if it weren’t for you and your ‘I’m better off alone’ attitude we wouldn’t be in this situation,” she continued. If he wouldn’t start talking she would just go on and on.

“Are you implying that this is my fault?” He answered half-heartedly. His eyes were scanning the surroundings, in search of something to get him out of this situation.

“Well, I was not the one striding off alone to do a mission that was supposed to be for two people.”

“We’re getting a file. How many people do you need for that?” This argument was pointless and Napoleon felt himself growing impatient with every second. He needed to get out of here.

“Two. If you would have taken into account that this building is equipped with the newest alarm system on the market,” the woman countered. Her head was turned over her shoulder as she directed her remark at the stubborn man behind her.

She was questioning his abilities, now. And Napoleon did not like it. “I knew that.”

“Doesn’t change the fact that you set it off anyway.” It was a muttered remark but definitely intended to be heard.

The brunette didn’t let it faze him though. That was exactly what she wanted, right? To make him lose his cool. “I didn’t.”

“Well, you certainly didn’t wait for me.”

“Because I never went with you.” He’d seriously had enough of the pointless teasing. He would have enjoyed it in rather different circumstances. But this? Definitely not.

“Just shut up and get the pin out of my hair.” Y/N shuffled down to get her head as close to his hands as possible. He had to turn to pat her hair for the pin, but when he finally retrieved it, he was kind of glad to have her - just for the sake of the pin of course.

Napoleon opened his handcuffs with ease and proceeded to get up off the floor. His steps took him towards the stairs.

“Hey, where do you think you’re going?”

“I’m finishing this mission.” He threw the pin in her direction and added a stern ‘alone’ along the way. And then he disappeared through the doorway at the top of the staircase, sneaking his way through the grey corridors, careful not to get caught by the guards outside, waiting for their boss.

A couple minutes later he heard careful footsteps approaching and then a firm hand on his shoulder. He turned around, shooting out his hand to grab the person by the neck, ready to crush them into the next wall. Y/N’s wide eyes greeted him with horror as she covered the hand on her throat with hers. She would ruin this for him again. Like she had ruined everything so far. And he was not up for it.

“I suggest you leave,” he whisper-yelled as he let go of her.

“That was the plan, you idiot,” Y/N hissed back, “but no before we get the file.”

Their little banter was disturbed. Suddenly, a loud bang was heard in the corridor followed by at least a dozen footsteps. People talking, receiving instructions, and then swarming out with their weapons ready.

“He’s here,” Napoleon stated unfazed. He took her arm and casually dragged her into another room - an impressive conference room- closing the door. Then he went from window to window, checking his surroundings and the adjacent corridors.

“Oh, great. The building is officially littered with guards.”

“Again, not entirely my fault,” the spy mumbled in annoyance. But the brunette agent just cocked his eyebrow and continued to look for a way out.

“Listen, I know you don’t really like me that much.” Y/N paused in her sentence as if she was waiting for a counter on Napoleon's side, but he just looked at her - composed as ever - ready to hear the rest of her statement. “But If we want to get out of here, we need to work together.”

Napoleon laughed, he knew very well that both of them were perfectly fine breaking into the building by themselves. They would certainly be fine getting out alone as well.

“So, I would appreciate it if you just sucked up whatever ego trip you are on right now and work with me here.” She turned to the wall and climbed on the cupboard in front of her. Her hand reached for one of the pockets in her vest, retrieving a device that looked like a tiny screwdriver.

She stretched towards the vent - that wasn’t even a bad idea, he would have probably done the same thing within the next minutes - though she was not quite tall enough to properly place the device under the metal grid to pry it open.

Despite his obvious disapproval of the new partner, Napoleon weighed his chances of getting out. And the odds of getting caught were far less likely if the agents just stayed with each other. Maybe it wouldn’t be too horrible, he thought. So far, she had done exactly what he would have done - minus the alarm, of course. Where was the harm in looking at how far she could actually match his skills?

With a final sigh, he stepped towards her and watched a little as she struggled.

“Buildings like these are equipped with large vent plans that stretch throughout the whole floor. We get in here and chances are they’ll-”

“Never even see us,” he completed with a knowing smirk. Then he took the device from her hands, climbed on the cupboard as well, and opened the grid. He wouldn’t let her do everything. Sure, he wanted a little fun but this was still work, after all.

The grid was removed in no time and the agent waited for Y/N to push herself up. He was prepared to see her fight the height of the rectangle, crossing his arms in front of his chest as his eyes pried on her in anticipation. A faint smirk rolled onto his face when she jumped up, her hands reached high for the metal and he was ready to see her fail. But his hopes were in vain. The woman placed her foot on a bookshelf next to the cabinet mid jump, pushing herself higher and finally reaching for the edges of the metal hole in the wall. Once she had gotten ahold of it, she pulled herself up without a struggle, disappearing within the blink of an eye.

Napoleon was surprised, though he fought to keep an unbothered expression on his face.

Her head popped out of the vent after a couple seconds. “Are you planning on coming up here, Mr. super spy?” Her tone was teasing and laced with a small smirk. He smiled, too. He had to.

Once up in the vent, he placed a tiny bug on the wall next to his exit. He put the grid back on the entrance, waiting for Y/N to ask what he had been doing, but - once again - his hopes were futile.

Napoleon cleared his throat, thinking that she probably didn’t see him place the device in the room. “I placed a listing device on the wall to-“

“To get some more intel. They will most likely discuss their strategies in this room. It’s too extravagant not to be important, I know. It’s a smart move. I would have done the same,” Y/N interrupted, and then she carefully moved through the steel tunnels, leaving a fuming agent behind.

If she really would have done the same, then he would have been genuinely impressed. But his ego clouded his judgement for the moment, making him follow her just as carefully with a deep frown on his face and an even deeper annoyance lingering in his mind.

Y/N crawled through the system with determination. She had a plan of her surroundings and reached her destination without having to turn back once.

They were standing in front of the safe in the dark office, Napoleon had been so close to just an hour ago - before everything had gone to shit. Looking at each other to determine who would get the honors of actually retrieving the evidence, the brunette’s mind rattled. He had seen Y/N do some pretty impressive things tonight. And despite her constant aggravating, she had thrown in some good input the week before, when they were planning the mission. She was a good agent, he had to give her that. Maybe his ego had gotten the better of him on this task, though he couldn’t quite let go of his solo career just yet. Thus, he decided to test her one last time.

If she would be able to open the vault, he’d give her the benefit of the doubt. He probably didn’t have to work with the agent ever again, but he would keep her in mind as a talented one.

So, he nodded towards the black block of steel before them, crossing his arms before his chest once again. “Ladies first.”

“Oh, how very kind of you, Mr. Solo?” Y/N raised her eyebrows as she dragged out his last name, and then she got to work. Her ear pressed on the cold surface as her hand began turning on the wheel for the locking mechanism. She turned it three times. Then changed direction, turned it again, and then one more time, with every movement slowing towards the end until a knowing smile appeared on her lips.

“Go ahead.” She motioned towards the safe, supposedly ready for him to open. And it did. Now, the speed at which she had cracked it was impressive, but it was a small safe, Napoleon had cracked far more complex ones. But he said he would give her the benefit of the doubt. And whether he liked it or not, she did earn it.

A silent rattling was heard outside the door and Y/N’s face shot at Napoleon in an instant. They were here. The agents looked around the room frantically and as their eyes met again, it seemed as though both of them knew exactly what to do.

As if they were in sync, Y/N moved to grab the file out of the safe the same time Napoleon sprinted for the window, opening it and securing a grabbling hook. Y/N leaned against the door to keep it shut, but the footsteps became louder and louder. And despite their attempts, the haste of the agents prevented a completely silent atmosphere. They had to hear them, even if it was just faint.

“Now would be a good time to go,” Y/N urged as a familiar clicking noise was heard beyond the door, “Napoleon...” Her head turned to the side as she pressed her ear to the door. Her tone was impatient, and as soon as she saw Napoleon ready, standing on the ledge of the window, she sprinted towards him. One leap from the cabinet in front of the window and the spy caught her with one arm locking on her waist. He shot one last look to the door, which flung open with three guards storming inside, their weapons raised.

“Later, Gentlemen,” he said with a wink and then the agents descended down the building in one smooth, fast motion.

They ran into the darkness of the night as soon as they reached the ground, seeking refuge behind the dumpster of a diner a block away from the office building. Both of them catching their breaths as they sat on the floor, Y/N was clutching the file to her body.

Napoleon watched as her chest began to rise slower with every breath. Her forehead with from a thin layer of sweat, as did his.

“Are you hungry?” He asked. His eyes trained on the diner sign above their heads as his rested against the brick wall of the building.

“What?” Her gaze followed his and her stomach grumbled when she spotted the sign as well.

About ten minutes later, the duo found themselves in a booth of the diner they had hidden behind moments prior. A plate of food was placed before either one of them as a familiar silence filled the space between them. Napoleon leaned back in his seat, watching as Y/N popped a fry in her mouth, the file laying beside them on the table - unbothered.

“I have to admit, the end was kind of fun,” she attempted to break the quiet. But her opponent's eyebrows only raised at that.

“You think so? We almost got caught again.” The smile at the memory defeated his stoic attempt at a counter. Even if he didn’t want to admit it just yet, it was fun - a little, maybe.

“But we made a good team.” Now Y/N leaned back as Napoleon reached forward to grab a couple of fries from his plate. His face was pensive as his eyes flickered between the file and the agent before him.

“Huh. I guess we did,” he shrugged. Then it was back to silence, again. The brunette watched the woman opposite him eat for a while, and she didn’t say anything about his staring at all. There was no denying it. It was fun and working with her had led him to finish the mission in no time - that was, once they actually worked together. She was good at what she was doing, and it almost pained him to admit that there were probably a couple things he could learn from her. So it was only fair to tell her, right?

It took everything for him to keep his voice steady, nevertheless. “You are a good agent, Y/N.” He wouldn’t apologize though, that was too much.

And Y/N seemed to know what laid on the tip of his tongue after the compliment, but she brushed it off with a smile as she bit into her burger with delight.

“Thanks, so are you.”

#megs imagines #napoleon solo #the man from uncle #henry cavill x reader #henry cavill imagine #henry cavill fanfic #napoleon solo x reader #napoleon solo imagine #napoleon solo fanfic #x reader #female reader #mywritings #the man from u.n.c.l.e.#u.n.c.l.e.

305 notes · View notes

daydreaming-in-letters · 2 years

Text

The Banana Club Auditions

Audition 3: Napoleon "The Gourmet" Solo

05/05/2022

Pairing: stripper!Napoleon Solo x strip club owner!reader (2nd person)

Word Count: 3,456 (Did I cross out one word to make this happen? Yes. Yes, I did.)

Warnings: alcohol, language, oral (f receiving)

Summary: Napoleon Solo has a taste for the finer things in life and he thinks you're one of the finest things he's ever wanted to taste, even if you might become his future boss.

A/N: Here we go again. Another Thirstday, another audition at the Banana Club. I hope you'll enjoy the five course meal that is Napoleon Solo. I sure did.

If you like my story, you are very welcome to like, comment or reblog. Please don’t copy, repost or share my work on other platforms.

Audition song: Take Care of Business by Nina Simone

With a groan you threw the pen onto your desk and slumped back into your chair. This was insufferable and you felt your throat tighten, making it harder to breathe with every second you continued to stare at the heaps of bills, order lists and timesheets of your boys that had kept piling up for some time now. There was hardly anything in this world you hated more than paper work, always pushing it as far back as possible, but sadly it couldn’t be delayed any further.

The first drops of champagne on your tongue soothed the agony a little and so you decided to down the whole glass in one swig—for motivational purposes. You had finally managed to pick up your pen again when a knock on your door shattered your fragile concentration in an instant.

“Boss?” A heap of brown hair peeked through the tiny slit.

“Come on in, Barnes,” you muttered, not very amused by the ill timing of his visit.

“Sorry to disturb you, boss.” The smile your assistant and leader of the squad shot you would have charmed the pants off any poor soul he chose to attack with it, and so you couldn’t help but smile back and forget about the frustration his disruption had caused you. “There is a Napoleon Solo here to see you.”

Napoleon Solo. If the name hadn’t already been a hint, you knew for sure he was trouble when he strutted into the office as if he owned the place. You could think of nobody who had ever turned up to an audition at a strip club in a suit and tie. But he did, sporting the full attire, completed by the golden signet ring on his left pinkie.

“Mr Solo,” you greeted him, grabbing your empty glass before you rounded your desk and walked over to the dark blue Chesterfield that stood at the far left of your spacious office.

“Ma’am.”

Attentive eyes followed you, watching your every move as you pulled the bottle from the cooler and filled your champagne flute again. You held his gaze, checking him out blatantly above the rim of your glass as you drank.

Judging from his first name, you had expected someone much shorter, but the only thing this Hercules seemed to have in common with his famous namesake was the grandeur of an emperor he carried himself with. You knew his type, men that considered their mere existence a gift to womanhood. They usually promised a lot, but seldomly delivered. That’s why you didn’t hire them. Against popular belief, this job was not about good looks, self-confidence and getting naked to the rhythm, in this job you had to read your client, disclose their desires and estimate their boundaries. Sadly, men like Napoleon Solo were almost always too full of themselves to care about anything but their ego.

“Tell me, Mr Solo, you like attention, don’t you?”

He lifted his head, raising his chin defiantly. “What makes you think so?”

The smile you sent him held a silent challenge. “There is hardly anything about you that doesn’t give me that impression.”

He chuckled, a deep, rich sound which sparked the faint hope that this might not be a total waste of your time after all.

“Well, you have mine.” Slowly you sank down onto the Chesterfield, placing your champagne flute next to the cooler. “For now. Better make it worth my while. Indulge me, Mr Solo.”

Tilting his head, a corner of his mouth pulled up as he wordlessly accepted your challenge. It took him a moment to set the scene, and it didn’t really surprise you that he declined your offer to choose the music for him. This man was a professional, a perfectionist who left nothing to chance and you couldn’t wait to see him work.

The first beats of the music supported that impression. You would have chosen a completely different tune for him, but this was so utterly fitting it hurt and you couldn’t hold back the disbelieving chuckle that fell from your lips. This man was full of surprises. He smiled knowingly as his jacket fell from his wide shoulders in tune with the song, making you ask yourself for a moment whether mind reading belonged to his skill set as well.

But then he turned, swaying his hips seductively and your mind went blank, eyes fixed on his behind as you marvelled at the artwork his tailor had created to put it so perfectly on display. His tie joining his jacket, he faced you again, just in time to catch your hypnotised gaze.

“Seeing anything you like?”

You did, still you wouldn’t grant him that satisfaction just yet. “Well, sadly I’m not actually seeing anything much yet, Mr Solo.”

You had been sure, maybe even hoped to find a hint of wounded ego on his face, but you didn’t. Instead, he answered with one of his gorgeous smirks. “A circumstance that can easily be rectified.”

Button by button, you followed the growing gap in his shirt south, tingles running down your spine, sparked by the furry beauty he revealed. Apparently, Napoleon was intent on keeping his promise. Succumbing to your wish, he freed his body from the white fabric that had still veiled too much of what you wanted to see. Once he had fully exposed his sculpted chest to you, he came closer, your heart speeding up when he refused to stop until he was hovering above your lap. He was so close now, so infuriatingly close. The heat he radiated caught in the tiny gap between your face and his chest, pulsing, rolling in the infinitesimal space in the same pace his hips had taken up now.

It would have been so easy, still, however much your hormone-infested brain told you to close the gap and run your fingers along his skin, you refused yourself that pleasure, but once again, Napoleon seemed to tap into your mind and read your hidden desires as if he had written them himself.

Your eyes snapped up to his as his fingers wrapped around yours and refused to let go until the exquisite touch of his slacks brushed against your palms. His impressive muscles flexed rhythmically, former softness turned into steel, and this time you didn’t hold back any longer. Spurred on by his fevered gaze, you let your hands glide along his massive thighs, up, up, up, snaking around his gyrating hips to grab hold of your prize. Effortlessly, the tight globes flexed underneath your fingertips, leaving you no choice but to imagine that it would probably feel exactly like this if he slowly drove into you, over and over again, not tiring before you came undone for him.

The smug bastard must have sensed your igniting arousal like a bloodhound, baring his perfect teeth to smirk down at you, killing you off with a wink that sent your pussy clenching vigorously. Oh no, this was not how it was supposed to work. You would not be turned into an instrument to boost his bloated ego even further, no matter how much you revelled in the sensation of his godlike physique, and so you drew your hands away. They hung awkwardly at your sides, as far away from his thrilling flesh as possible, but Napoleon Solo impressively proved that he could be just as stubborn as you were. He tutted, scolding your childish behaviour with a shake of his head, his eyes boring into you as he once again took your hands in his. And to your own surprise, you let him.

He even had the audacity to release a core drenching sigh as he brought them to rest on his fluffy pecs. Under different circumstances, you would have joined him in the audible display of pleasure, moaning your appreciation of his deliciousness into the sizzling air that filled your office, but instead you stayed quiet, enjoying him silently as he guided your hands down his stomach to another patch of fur that vanished underneath the hem of his slacks, begging you to follow where it led. Tempted, your fingers glided along the seam, teeth biting down on the inside of your cheek to quell the voices inside your head that dared you to give in and sink your fingers into the forbidden territory.

The length of one fingertip was all you allowed yourself to dip into his trousers and sweep through his curls for a tiny bit. Your delicate caress awoke a storm in his sea blue eyes, and you knew he wouldn’t have minded had you chosen to proceed, but you didn’t. And when the tip of your finger resurfaced, it brought a tiny piece of white lace to light. He left you no time to pay it any mind though, as to your great dismay, he stood and drew away.

And as soon as he started moving again, you had forgotten all about it. Bending his knees, he ground his hips in a manner so sinful it was impossible not to envision them pressing against your own. It wouldn’t have needed anything else to make your head swim with the desire to feel him move inside of you, but again, Napoleon had other plans.

In an attempt to kill you, he shuffled forwards, rolling his whole body, once, twice, ending in a criminal hip thrust right in front of your face. You knew he could see it in your eyes, that burning hunger for him, but instead of gloating about his triumph, he stayed silent. Lips pulling up into a playful smile, he invited you to touch him again. And you did. There was no reluctance in your touch anymore, roaming his body freely, caressing, teasing, clawing at his soft skin, while he kept on moving to the melody.

But all too soon, he stopped your delight. In an iron grip, his fingers closed around your wrists and the contrast to the delicate touch of his lips that pressed soft kisses to your fingertips could not have been any sharper. You were about to protest when he took a few steps back, depriving you of his closeness, but when his hands gripped the fabric of his trousers hard, you refrained. With one powerful tug, he ripped the last piece of clothing from his body in one go. Well, almost the last piece of clothing, you corrected yourself, as his actions had revealed a tiny, lace-trimmed apron that hid solely his most precious bits from your prying eyes.

You couldn’t help but laugh about the cocky grin that sat on his lips. He was so pleased with himself and his silly jest, you just had to adore him.

Then the music ended and for a seemingly never-ending moment you just looked at him and he looked at you. You got up, walking towards him, your eyes gliding along his well-trained physique shamelessly. Slowly you rounded him, and his eyes followed you as far as they could without turning, the knowing smirk never leaving his lips. You took your time, letting your eyes wander along the valley of his spine that divided his wide back. There were so many things to admire apart from its unearthly triangular shape. The curves of his shoulder blades, framed by muscles over muscles, or the dimples on his lower back which crowned his immaculate behind. They sat right above the neatly bound ribbon that held the teensy apron on his hips.

All the while, Napoleon didn’t say or do anything. He seemed totally unfazed by your close inspection, but knowing men like him, you knew how much he basked in your attention.

“Tell me, Napoleon,” you ended your extensive tour of his body and halted in front of him, “do you enjoy cooking?”

“Leon, please. Only my mother calls me Napoleon. And yes, I do. Cooking and eating. I never had the will to resist a fine flavour.”

Now it was his eyes that roamed your body, leaving you in no doubt about his intentions as they lingered at the apex of your thighs a little too long to be misunderstood.

“I seriously hope we’re still talking about food here,” your mouth said while your mind already imagined his face buried between your legs. An intriguing prospect, you had to admit. But there was no need to rush.

“One of us sure is.”

He held your gaze with a nonchalant grin, as if the fucker hadn’t just revealed to his new boss that he would very much like to eat her out.

“You know we are not that kind of club, right?”

“And I hope you know I don’t make this kind of offer to just any woman.”

Betrayed by your own body, your breath hitched in your throat as he licked his lips, slowly, pointedly while he took the liberty of eyeing the object of his desire up and down again. He took a step closer, taking your widening pupils for a good sign, and as he leaned in to inhale your scent, he whispered, “Give me just five minutes of your time. You won’t regret it.”

His sweltering breath on your skin broke your last restraint and your hands cupped his face to pull him against your lips. Your bodies moving in a passionate dance, he soon needed to taste more than just your sweet lips. Slowly he made his way south, but you felt him everywhere at once. Lips tracking the line of your jaw, tongue gliding along your pulse point, teeth digging into the supple flesh of your breasts his hands had so expertly laid bare while his mouth had distracted you.

You moaned his name as he left featherlight kisses all over your stomach. Sure fingers unzipped your pencil skirt, and you felt the warmth of the fabric glide along your legs and pool around your ankles. A rush of heat shot through you, collecting in your core and cheeks alike when his nose pressed into the lace that shielded your womanhood from him to inhale your rich scent directly from the source.

“I bet you’re going to taste exquisite, darling.”

His voice was deep and heavy with desire, and he didn’t wait for your permission to hook his thumbs into your panties and pull them down. You had expected him to ravish you right there, one leg resting on his shoulder to grant him access to your sweet heat, but he didn’t. Instead, he pressed a single kiss to the line of curls he had revealed before he rose to his feet and carefully manoeuvred you backwards until you rested on the Chesterfield again. His massive body hovering above you, you couldn’t wait to feel him skin on skin, his fur rubbing against the sensitive flesh of your breasts, teasing you until you would beg him to have his way with you.

Yet again, your predictions proved completely wrong when he stopped mere inches before his chest would touch yours to extend his arm and pull the bottle of champagne from the cooler. A few drops of condensed water trickled onto your skin, making you hiss as they sent a violent shiver down your spine.

“Don’t worry, they’ll be in good company.”

Eyes narrowing upon his seemingly nonsensical remark, he just winked, obviously amused by your confusion, before he tilted the bottle and poured a gush of champagne onto your chest. You gasped upon the impact of the cool liquid, goosebumps spreading across your whole body as it cascaded down your breasts and sternum, a few droplets collecting in your navel. Eager to lick up every last bit of the mess he had created, Leon’s head dove down. You moaned as his tongue eased along your torso, your fingers weaving into his hair. He was very thorough, sparing not even the smallest part of your skin and when he finally sipped his final reward from the tiny pool in your belly, he voiced his appreciation for your luxurious taste loud and clear.

“A very promising entree. Rich in flavour, but not too dominant.” He smirked up at you, his eyes sparkling with excitement. “Now, shall we proceed to the main course?”

His smirk widened when you wordlessly propped one leg up on the backrest of the sofa, letting the other glide over the rim of the seat to open yourself up as far as you possibly could for him.

“Enjoy. But don’t forget your napkin, Leon.”

He licked his lips, his eyes transfixed by the mouth-watering display he was about to indulge himself with.

“A napkin won’t be necessary, darling. I don’t intend to waste even a single drop of your honeyed nectar.”

There wasn’t even time for a single last breath before his mouth got to work. With a loud moan his tongue parted your folds to finally taste what he had been craving from the moment he had set foot into your office. You were every bit as delicious as he had expected, and more. Sweet and salty, a touch of vanilla and musk, the unique mixture of flavours making him harden in an instant.

“How about a drink with your meal, Mr Solo?”

He needed a moment to make sense of your words and another to look up into your challenging eyes. He hadn’t even noticed that you had snatched the bottle from his hand, too lost in the taste of your luscious pussy already. You could see the moment he understood, his eyes wrinkling in a smile instead of his mouth that refused to part from you. And so you poured the sparkling wine onto your skin, watching in awe as the rivulets oozed into your curls and vanished into your crevice.

A rich slurping sound, followed by a litany of sighs and moans made lightning pulse through your core, the electricity rushing through your veins, causing short circuits in your brain and disabling every last bit of decency you had left.

The bottle fell from your hand, tumbling to the ground with a thud. It’s remaining contents were probably flooding the plush carpet by now, but you didn’t care. All you cared about was his mouth continuing its sweet torture, his tongue gliding through your folds, flicking your sensitive nub before it slid back down to dip into the ambrosia your chalice provided so generously for him.

“Fuck,” you pressed out breathlessly, fingers diving into his hair again, “don’t stop.”

He wouldn’t, not until you begged him to. And when you finally did, you had no idea how many highs he had already coaxed from you. You must have lost track after the fourth or fifth time. By then, you had only been able to whimper his name and croak out your wanton order for more every time he had opened the gates to nirvana for you.

It was strange, you thought, as he looked up at you with questioning eyes, how you could have misjudged him so completely. He wasn’t the first one of course, and he probably wouldn’t be the last, but he undoubtedly was the best proof of your fallibility you had ever had. A shame you would have to terminate this now.

With a mournful smile, your hand raked through the wavy mess of hair on his head that had once been so neatly pomaded before you made to get up. But Leon didn’t let you, strong hands adamant about keeping you right where you were.

“I’m sorry, but this time I really do need to get back to my work.”

He sighed, a hint of sorrow clouding his radiant eyes. “That is disappointing.” Averting his gaze, he pressed a kiss to the inside of your thigh and when his eyes found yours again, a new-found hope glistened through his defeat. “Just another five minutes?”

You only knew him for a few hours, but it was obvious that Napoleon Solo had a very different sense of time than other people. At least when he had a pair of thighs wrapped around his head in ecstasy. Your heart grew heavy as your eyes fell onto the piles of paper on your desk. There was no way you couldn’t refuse him, however much you wished he would continue to feast his insatiable hunger on you. The words of denial already forming on your tongue, you turned to face him again. But it didn’t take more than another of his cheeky half-smiles that made your walls flutter and ache so pleasantly for him to let them die away.

“Oh, to hell with it,” you mumbled, your fingers weaving into his locks, determined to pull him back down into your lap. Just another five minutes.

Audition 4: Ransom “The Playboy” Drysdale

Tag List: If your name is crossed out, it means I wasn't able to tag you.

@summersong69 @myloveforhenrycavill @summersong69 @myloveforhenrycavill @dorothea-hwldr @omgkatinka @ashesofblackroses @amberangel112 @icarusblinders @zealoushound @asuni921 @endofalldays01 @nerra75 @indigosaurus @nowyouseeme098 @cap-just-said-language @miss-rebel-without-applause @wheretheriversrunintothesea @maan24 @mochionly @introvertedmouse @sofiebstar @kebabgirl67 @marytudorbrandon @littleone65 @thoughtfullyfurryangel @mimi-just-living @themanfromu @liecastillo @capncassas @agniavateira @enchantedbytomandhenry @lumiousmoon @tumblnewby @crazybutconfidentaf @viking-raider @thorins-queen-of-erebor @aletheladyinred @blavikennbutcher @luclittlepond @diegos-butt @gearhead66 @justjulie1105 @lyrarodriguez @sapph--ire

#napoleon solo x reader #napoleon solo x you #napoleon solo #stripper!napoleon solo #napoleon solo imagine #napoleon solo fanfiction #henry cavill #henry cavill imagine #strip club au #the banana club auditions

133 notes · View notes

white-bow-tie · 7 months

Text

aaand together. there was no plan in making this post or uniting them on one canvas but I just felt like that was needed thank you both [🎶] Napoleon \ Illya

#the song for this post... always imagined them dancing to it #can't tell why #the man from uncle #tmfu #illya kuryakin #napoleon solo #song: crane wives - curses #fan art #my art

292 notes · View notes

delicate-moon-princess · 2 years

Text

His Favorite "Toy" to Use

Hi, everyone! I want to thank you all for 129 followers!! I can’t believe it. Your support has made me feel so inspired 🥹. I really can’t thank you enough. To celebrate this milestone, I thought I could take a shot at writing a sexy headcanon. Enjoy!

His Favorite “Toy” to Use

Warnings: 18+ smut, use of sex toys and other sex accessories, RPF, p in v, tiny bit of fingering, oral (m and f receiving), deepthroating, bdsm aspects, little bit of daddy kink, pet play, humiliation, anal play, corporal punishment, overstimulation, bodily fluids, mild sense deprivation, temperature play (both hot and cold)- Let me know if I forgot anything!

Any typos are my own!

Henry-Rabbit Vibrator

The toy sits in your underwear drawer. And whenever Henry is in the mood to use it, he walks towards the bed while holding it behind his back.

His grin gives it away, you already know what’s in his hand. Cheeky man.

You lean back against his chest as he sits up against the headboard. His legs keep yours apart as he holds the toy inside you.

He gets a rush from seeing your expression as your clit and g-spot are simultaneously struck by the vibrations. Occasionally, he moves the toy back and forth to heighten the sensation.

“You’re shaking, sweetheart. Does that feel good? Are you gonna cum for me, hm? You’re so beautiful when you cum.” He murmurs in your ear as you gasp.

He drags orgasm after orgasm out of you, making you gush around the silicon plenty of times. He beams in pride as you make the toy and his hand drip with your fluids. Luckily, he always has the foresight to put a towel down.

More characters under the cut…

August-Spreader Bar

The bar fastened to your ankles holds your legs apart. And as opposed to ropes or cuffs, it gives August the perfect handle to toss you around as he pleases.

Sometimes, he just flips you around to savor the dazed, fucked-out look in your eyes. Your expression feeds the feral animal inside him. You're his little ragdoll.

Other times, he loves to stand you up in front of him. Your legs spread wide, he straps a magic wand (his second favorite toy) to your thigh. The vibrating head is pressed to your clit.

The constant, intense buzzing has you dripping. Tears escape your eyes when your arousal coats your thighs and leaks down onto the carpet. Your toes curl as you sob.

“You’re making a mess on Daddy’s floor, princess. What am I to do with such a messy girl?” He clicks his tongue while shaking his head. You’re in for it now.

Sherlock-His Cane

It’s a muiltool. Used for walking, or a weapon if need be. Sherlock’s cane is also the perfect symbol of his immense power and social status.

And if you’re being mouthy with him, he won't hesitate to punish you with it. After he’s had enough of your attitude, he makes you strip and crawl naked to the bedroom in front of him.

That’s when you know better than to disobey him, so you just hang your head and crawl. Whenever you slow down to stall your thrashing, the tip of his cane nudges your ass to urge you forward.

“Keep going, little rabbit. Your punishment awaits. Save your tears, you know a naughty pet gets the cane.” He scolds you. Humiliation is always part of your punishment.

He’s excited by the loud sobs you let out whenever his cane whacks your tender bottom. He only stops when there are welts on your throbbing flesh.

Afterwards, he sits on the edge of the bed with your head in his lap as he strokes your hair. When you're done sobbing against his trousers, he gently cares for your wounds like the good husband he is.

Geralt-Gag

He doesn’t need any fancy toys. Geralt has two hands, a mouth, and a cock to please you. That doesn’t mean he doesn’t take joy in hearing you cry from underneath a gag as he slams into your poor body. And when you’re spending the night at an inn and he doesn't want to draw unwanted attention to the two of you, it helps.

It’s usually just a piece of cloth shoved between your teeth and tied behind your head. The fabric presses down onto your tongue, making you drool and gag whenever you try to whine.

It doesn’t muffle you completely. So when you let out an especially loud moan that can be heard despite the gag, his hand comes up to grip your throat.

“Silence yourself…. Before I shove my cock between your lips and do it for you.” He hisses, squeezing your throat hard enough that you get the idea.

It takes great effort not to sob as he fucks you even harder, keeping his hand on your throat as a warning. With his Witcher stamina, he doesn’t tire till the early hours of the morning. After your pulsating cunt has been fucked and filled by him dozens of times.

Sy-Jewel Butt Plug

Sy always makes sure to prep your tight hole with his fingers and plenty of lube before he slips it inside you. A jewel in the shape of a red heart greets him after your hole closes around the plug.

“What a sweet little pucker you got there, darlin’.” He growls, squeezing your ass in his large hands. He spanks you with a cheeky grin.

He plants a kiss right on the gem. His mouth makes the plug shift inside you, which jarrs you enough to squeal softly.

With a pillow under your hips to keep them elevated, Sy fucks you while you lay on you stomach. His large hands keep your cheeks spread, that way he never loses sight of the red jewel cradled in your hole.

He’ll pull out to cum, coating your ass in his thick seed. It drips onto the plug, marking the shiny treasure between your cheeks as his own.

Walter-Rope

This may or may not come as a surprise, but Walter is really into rope play. In the rare free time he has, he often studies the art of shibari. He’s mastered plenty of knots to trap you in.

Your arms and legs are hogtied behind your back, which is his favorite position to tie you in. He flips you over onto your front and drags your face to the edge of the bed. He uses your immobility as an opportunity to stand in front of you and fuck your throat.

You're drooling and gagging as he uses your mouth for his own pleasure. He keeps one hand in your hair as he watches your movements closely. Always keeping an eye out for your safe signal.

“I’m gonna cum all over that pretty face of yours, and you're going to thank me for it, little slut. Because you’re nothing but a cum hungry whore. That’s it. Cry for it.” He snarls, loving to see tears slip from your eyes.

Walter is adamant about aftercare, especially after hardcore scenes. He’s quick to untie you and massage your tense muscles.

He gives you water and lathers your raw flesh with some healing cream. His gentle praising and soft kisses ease you back down to reality.

Clark-Feather Tickler

It’s a tiny bit cheesy, sure. But that's just who Clark is; a traditional man. When he first presented you with the feather, he couldn’t stop blushing and grinning like a fool. You’ve never seen him so excited to try something in the bedroom.

He traces the wispy black feather all along your body. Goosebumps rise on your skin. You gasp when he tickles your nipples, making them perk up.

His mouth encloses over one of the hard buds as he trails the feather down your stomach to your pussy. It ghosts over your slit so delicately it makes you ache. You finally whine and beg him for more. He only continues to tease you.

It makes you so sensitive and needy. You threaten to use it on him next if he doesn’t indulge you soon. Of course, this only makes him want to do it more.

“Is that a promise, sweetheart?” He raises a brow with a playful smirk.

Napoleon-Blindfold

Napoleon wants everything he does to you to be a surprise. So, he cuts off your sense of sight with a silk blindfold. Sometimes, it’s paired with one of his silk ties holding your hands above your head.

To add to the deprivation of your senses, he even spins sensual music on the record player. He keeps the volume low, but it’s just enough for him to sneak around the room without you hearing him.

You don’t hear or see him reach for the bucket of ice holding the bottle of expensive champagne. Letting an ice cube rest between his lips, he leans down to trace his mouth along your neck.

Breathy gasps escape you as he trails the ice down your form. Along your collarbone, over your nipples and down your stomach. He lets the cube rest in your belly button so he can speak.

“I think this hot little pussy of yours needs a cooling down, don’t you think, darling?” He smirks before he takes the ice back in his mouth. You let out a cry when the ice touches your heated cunt.

He spends the night with his head buried between your legs, lapping up the water from the ice and your sweet nectar. Napoleon is a man of fine tastes, and you’re his favorite meal after all.

Charles-Candle Wax

You’re on your stomach as Charles holds the lit candle above your back. The hot wax drips onto your flesh and the initial burn makes you gasp. You’re reduced to whimpers as it cools and hardens.

The sensation makes you squirm, your arousal leaking onto the bed. He only chuckles and continues to hover the candle above you. Your body jerks when each drip hits you. Wax coats your shoulders, back and ass before he sets it aside.

His fingers wick away a bit of wax. You moan when his cool fingers soothe the mild burns on your skin. One of his hands comes up to massage the back of your neck as he admires the work he did on your back.

When his fingers dip between your legs, you whine. He hums, spreading your moist lips so he can gaze at your glistening folds. He lets out a moan when he collects some of your wetness on his finger.

“You’re absolutely drenched, darling. Do you enjoy the pain? Oh, indeed you do. What a wanton little thing you are, my love.” He whispers in your ear with a smirk, sinking his finger into your aching hole.

Mike-Vibrating Cockring

He came across it when he was making a snack run at the drugstore. On top of all the chips and candy he got, he also got the cockring. Mike can be a bit…impulsive.

The band makes him last even longer. It also makes him swell up, adding onto what is already a monstrously sized cock. As you ride him, it feels like you’re being impaled by his size.

With each bounce of your hips, the buzzing drums onto your clit. At times, you just grind to savor the feeling. You toss your head back and moan.

“Look at my girl work for it. So fuckin’ hot when you ride my dick, baby.” He grins, holding your winding hips.

He’s giddy as he watches you whine and grind on him. He gives your ass a swift smack. Seems like for once his impulsiveness paid off.

A/N: I tried to show all our boys equal lovin’ with 150-200ish words each. And I didn’t include all of Henry’s characters opps. Anyways, thank you all so much! I hope you have a good night/day. 🥰

Taglist: @sunshine-with-daisy @leigh70 @islacharlotte @lysarria @kebabgirl67 @pandaxnienke @identity2212 @sunndust

#henry cavill headcanon #henry cavill characters #henry cavill x reader #august walker x reader #sherlock x reader #henry!sherlock holmes x reader #geralt x reader #captain syverson x reader #walter marshall x reader #clark kent x reader #napoleon solo x reader #charles brandon x reader #hellraiser mike x reader #mike x reader #henry cavill fic #henry cavill smut #henry cavill imagine

2K notes · View notes

witchersmistress · 10 months

Text

Snooping and Library Sex 2.0

Hello my Darlings! Im in decisive af so i have here another version of Snooping, i changed the characters around and added some details but its basically the same.

Trigger Warnings: rough sex, orgasm denial, destruction of books, back sassying

Word count: 4K

as usual my darlings, you do not have my permission to copy, translate or use my work in anyway. if you do i will haunt you for the rest of your days k?

I can feel the angry energy roiling under my skin after my encounter with Napoleon, all the sated, relaxed feeling from the self induced orgasms is nothing but a distant memory already. I’m on edge and pissed off, and I hate it.

It’s like the ground is shifting out from beneath me, like I can’t find solid footing anywhere, and that unbalanced sensation makes me want to lash out. It would make the most sense to go up to my room and hide out until I feel better, but for some reason, I don’t want to do that. Being idle sounds shitty, so after depositing my shit upstairs, I stalk around the house instead, feeling defiant. So far, I haven’t poked around their space too much. I go from the room they gave me to the kitchen and sometimes to the living room, but not really beyond that. Now I don’t stop myself from doing what I want, striding from room to room as if the whole house is my personal domain.

I yank open a door down a corridor off the main entryway and find a well-kept baby grand piano inside. I roll my eyes at the fucking luxury these assholes clearly live in and look the instrument over. One of them must play. Even though they have so much nice shit, it would be stupid to have a whole-ass piano in here if it didn’t get used. Which one is it, I wonder? Staring at it doesn’t yield any answers, so I march back out, closing the door behind me. Another couple of doors just lead to closets, and I bypass them, not caring enough to rifle through coats and boxes and shit. But the next door I try reveals a small library. That’s the only good word for the room full of books. There are shelves lining three of the walls, and an armchair with a small end table beside it tucked into a corner. It looks like the kind of place that gets a lot of use, which is surprising as hell since none of the guys seem like the intellectual types. Just the thought of Napoleon or Syverson sitting in that chair with a cup of tea and a thick book is almost enough to make me laugh. It’s a toss-up with Napoleon, and August could go either way too. There’s a set of encyclopedias on one of the shelves, and I roll my eyes because apparently we’re back in the dark ages or some shit.

I move on from those and find a stretch of classic books. The titles stand out in gold on the spines, things like The Works of Edgar Allan Poe, The Prince, The Odyssey, and The Iliad. Books like they make you read in high school, full of shit you’ll never care about again. I take a couple off the shelves and check them out, running my hands over the smooth leather of the covers and the embossed letters of the titles. I flip through one, The Odyssey, and am surprised to see little notes in the margins. Whole passages have been underlined, and the handwriting is cramped off to the side, but I can just make some of it out. I don’t know anything about books, but reading the stuff in the margins feels like getting a peek into someone’s soul. Whoever wrote these notes had a soul full of rage and pain, and they were connected with the pain felt by the characters in the books. Each book I pull off the shelf to look through is like that, with little notes off to the side and underlined parts. Some words are circled, others crossed out. It’s like whoever did it dedicated themselves to reading each book and finding the parts that either pissed them off or resonated with them the most. I’m putting a few of them back and reaching for another one when someone steps into the room. “What the fuck are you doing?” a deep voice intones behind me. August. And he’s pissed. As usual. I turn around to look at him, and something in the way his face looks so guarded and angry makes me pretty damn sure these books are his. I’m still on edge, feeling exposed from what happened with Napoleon. I hate that 2these men have gotten under my skin. That was never supposed to be part of the plan. I was just supposed to fuck with them, not let them fuck with me back. “Just exploring,” I tell him, shrugging. “Seeing what there is to see in here. Found these books.” “You shouldn’t go poking around in other people’s shit,” he snaps, his broad frame looming in the doorway. I shrug. “It was all just here, so I figured, why not? They’re yours, aren’t they? Or at least, you’re the one who wrote these things in them.” His jade eyes flash with irritation, and I know I’m right. He wouldn’t care so much if they weren’t his and he wasn’t the one who’d gone through all the trouble to make these notes. “So what’s all this about, then?” I ask, flipping open one of the books to a random page. It’s got so many notes on it I can barely make them all out, and I lift an eyebrow. “There’s some heavy stuff in here. One of the characters is talking about… I don’t even know what. The suffering they’re going through. And then you wrote a whole tiny little paragraph about how they don’t even know what true suffering is.” “Stop it,” he grits out, a warning in each syllable. I don’t stop, though. Because this feels good. More addictive than any drug. I want to poke at him, want to get under his skin the way they’ve all gotten under mine. “This part right here about the ‘darkness that you can’t escape’ is pretty poetic,” I say with a little smirk. “Maybe you’re in the wrong business. You should stop abducting women from alleys and take up writing full time.

It seems like you’d have a lot to pull from for inspiration, judging from what you wrote here.” That seems to be the last straw. August moves forward, marching up to me and yanking the book out of my hand. He crowds into my space, pressing me up against the shelf until the wooden ridges of it dig into my back. “You don’t know what the fuck you’re talking about,” he hisses. “So you should shut your mouth.” He’s so close, but I don’t back down. “Maybe I don’t want to. Maybe I want to know more. Maybe I want to figure out what makes you work, August. How you ended up the way you are.” “That wasn’t the deal,” he snaps. “Fuck the deal,” I reply. “I’m guessing you used to live in that shithole apartment building you took me to.” “What?” “I’m not an idiot. You knew it way too well for it to be somewhere new to you, or somewhere you only go when you need information. Plus, Meredith talked to you like she cared. That shit takes time. what's up with that?”

“None of your fucking business.” I can feel the rage pouring off him, but I don’t back down. He’s not going to hurt me—that wouldn’t be in his best interests, considering he needs me alive to kill Ivan—and if he did try to, I could just hurt him back. So all he can really do is stand there while I push his buttons, getting more and more pissed off with no real outlet for it. It feels good to be on the instigating end, finally, to be the one doing the pushing instead of getting pushed. And I keep riding the waves of that, leaning into August and not letting him get away with his non-answers. “What was it like?” I press. “Living there? How old were you? Young?” “Shut up.” His expression closes down some, fury blurring out any other emotion. He’s uncomfortable, but relying on anger to get through it is a tried-and-true method. I know that well myself. “Why don’t you want to talk about it? You took me there, so it’s not like I don’t know.” “That was for a purpose,” he spits. “Not for you to go digging around in my life.” “Oh, it sucks when the shoe’s on the other foot, huh?” I shoot back. “Maybe I don’t want to let you off the hook that easily.” “Maybe I don’t give a fuck what you want.” “Well, that’s obvious. If you did, I wouldn’t be here. You’re holding me hostage in your fucking house, and you won’t even give me anything entertaining to keep myself occupied. Tell me why these books.” “I’m not telling you anything!” The words rip out of him, and there’s pure rage behind them. His eyes are snapping with it, and he’s practically growling at me. “Just a little hint?” I ask, putting on a pleading face. “Small one? Were you some kind of nerd in school? You don’t seem like the type.” Before I can get out another taunt, he grabs my upper arms in a tight grip. I can feel the strength and anger in the press of his fingers, and I know I’ll have marks there later. I half expect him to shove me forcibly out of the room, but instead, he drops his head and crushes his mouth to mine, kissing me hard enough to bruise.

August kisses me hard, biting down on my lower lip and dragging it into his mouth to suck on it before releasing it with a loud pop. A little noise of frustrated pleasure spills from my mouth, and I grab his shirt, hauling him back in for more. He doesn’t resist, devouring my mouth with his, hot and slick and messy. It’s the same thing I did with Napoleon earlier, kissing him to get him to shut up and stop saying shit I didn’t want to hear. I know that’s what he’s doing right now. But somehow, I don’t care. His hands roam over my shoulders and down my arms, finding their way around to fit in between my back and the bookshelf I’m still pressed against. He manages to grab twin handfuls of my ass, groping me hard, and I moan into his mouth all over again. I can’t control my reaction to it, and I don’t even try that hard, really. It’s all happening too fast. All the anger and hate between us is coming out as this hot, intense sexual desire, and I feel like it would burn me up if I tried to ignore it. I can feel how hard August is as he presses forward, grinding into me. I press back against him, rubbing against the hardness of his body. With a little growl of desire, his mouth moves from mine down to my jaw, leaving biting, open-mouthed kisses as he blazes a trail to my neck.

I gasp when he bites at just the right spot, arching against him and tipping my head back. That seems to give him an idea, and one hand releases my ass to fist in my hair, yanking it enough to one side that he has complete access to my neck. His mouth is hot and wet, and it feels like it’s everywhere as he kisses me, my body responding eagerly to his touch no matter what my mind might think about him. My nipples go hard and tight, and my pussy throbs with need. It still feels too empty from when Napoleon rejected me, and it’s almost like it can sense that there’s a chance to fix that right now. “Fuck,” I groan, pulling against August’s hold on my hair just to feel the sharp pain that comes from the resistance. He doesn’t say anything, releasing my hair after a moment and letting the silvery strands fall over my shoulders as his hands start roaming again. They find my nipples, and he pinches and tweaks them through my shirt at first before sliding his hands under the fabric and shoving my bra out of the way. His mouth trails down lower, and he presses those hot, feverish kisses along the skin of my chest and my tits, tugging down the neckline of my shirt until he finds one nipple and takes it between his teeth, biting down and none too gently.

I cry out at the sharp sting of it, squirming against the shelves while he practically feasts on my tits, leaving even more biting kisses in his wake. Pinned in place, it’s all I can do to stay upright against the shelves, letting him run his mouth over my skin and my nipples. My pussy is wet again, so desperate to be touched or filled or something, and I grind even harder against him, searching for the friction to take the edge off. August finally looks up again, and his jade green eyes are dark now. There’s still anger there, but it’s being crowded out by the raw lust emanating from him. It’s a damn good look on him, and I reach up to grab ahold of the back of his neck, pulling him down so I can kiss him again. He grunts out something that might be a curse or might be my name, but I swallow the sound either way, shoving my tongue into his mouth and almost daring him to keep up with me. And he does. He kisses back with equal intensity, matching my pace until we’re both breathless. I’m the first one to pull back, needing to catch my breath while my head spins. August takes advantage of the moment and rips my shirt over my head, exposing my bare chest to the air of the room. He yanks my bra off, and I half expect him to go back to my tits, but instead, his hands go down lower, undoing the button and zipper on my jeans so he can drag them down. August’s already dark eyes turn almost black as he stares down at me.

Without saying a thing, he drops to his knees in front of me and takes those kisses down to my pussy. He sucks and licks at it like it’s the best thing he’s tasted all year, his tongue working itself along my folds and circling my hole with precision. I can’t help the way I shiver at how it feels, the heat and pleasure of it shooting through me. I still feel sensitive from Napoleon making me fall apart so many times less than an hour ago, and August’s mouth on me feels amplified, as if every sensation is turned up to eleven. He’s messy with it, eating me out and making his face and my thighs slick with my arousal. I look down at him while he drags his tongue over me, breathing hard and still feeling spiteful. “You’re lapping up Napoleon’s cum, you know,” I taunt breathlessly. That’s enough to get him to jerk back, but he doesn’t seem disgusted or squeamish about it. Instead, his eyes are dark with anger again, and his face twists into a mask of fury. “You fucked Napoleon?” he demands. I can’t tell if he’s mad about me fucking Napoleon in general or me fucking Napoleon instead of him. I could easily lie and say that yeah, we fucked, but it bothers me for some reason that the answer is no. I was right there, mostly naked and still a mess from the rolling orgasms Napoleon gave me, and he didn’t want to finish what he fucking started. It sits sourly in my belly, the sting of rejection still present and irritating. So I refuse to answer August, just raising an eyebrow and shrugging one shoulder. Let him think whatever he wants about that.

He narrows his eyes, a hard look coming over his face. Then he slaps my pussy hard with one hand. I jerk and moan in surprise, taken aback by the sudden harshness. When he does it again, harder, a flash of pain bursts through me before my clit starts to throb with need. “Fuck.” It’s basically the only thing I can think to say to express that it felt fucking good, but August doesn’t seem to need more than that. He dives back in, hands gripping my hips hard while he licks me with even more vicious determination than before. Even with the knowledge that he’s licking the remnants of Napoleon’s cum out of me, he doesn’t stop. He doesn’t seem like he’s put off at all. It’s more like he wants to lick me clean or something, to overtake what Napoleon did to me and wipe it out of my memory.

And he’s fucking good at it, too. I don’t know where August falls on the spectrum of Syverson to Napoleon in terms of how often he likes to fuck, but he knows what he’s doing. His tongue curls along my clit, teasing it and working me up. I thread my fingers into his hair, holding on tight and rolling my hips as the sensation builds and builds and builds. I can feel my orgasm rising, threatening to overtake me. And then, when I’m right there on the edge, about to tip over into a fucking amazing orgasm, August stops and pulls back. “What the shit?” I gasp out, sounding hoarse and breathless. “I was close.” He doesn’t say anything, just gets up, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. My legs are shaky, and I’m ready to be pissed off as hell if he thinks he’s going to walk away without getting me off after all that. But then he grabs me again and turns me around so I’m facing the bookshelves. He grabs my hands and braces them against the wood, moving me where he wants me. I should be pissed off. I am pissed off. But that’s not the only reason my heart is racing. He grabs my pants where they’re pooled around my ankles and pulls them up just enough that they wedge my thighs together, keeping my legs tightly closed so I can’t open them. Just how he wants me. I’m about to turn around and tell him to get the fuck on with it, when he drives into me hard enough to leave me breathless. Like this, with my legs pressed together, I’m even tighter than usual, and it’s like I can feel him everywhere, pressing against my walls, filling me up.

August isn’t gentle with it either. He grabs my hips hard, fingers digging into my flesh as he fucks me even harder. His cock drives into me with punishing force, the sound of our skin slapping together ringing out in the room. I don’t bother to hold back my sounds of pleasure. I probably couldn’t even if I wanted to. Not with the way he’s fucking me hard and dirty, making sure that each thrust sends the whole length of his cock slamming into me, hitting that spot inside me that makes me cry out almost every time. Heat and electric sensation curl through me, radiating out from my center to spread into my whole body. I was already on edge before, from his mouth on me, and this is just another step closer to throwing me into an orgasm headfirst. I move my hand, ready to rub at my clit until I come from it all, but August growls behind me. He grabs my wrist and puts my hand back where it was, holding it down with almost bruising force. “No,” he pants. “You don’t get to touch yourself.” It flashes through my mind to tell him where he can shove his bossy bullshit, but then he slams into me so hard that it’s all I can do to stay upright. My heart is pounding almost as forcefully as the way he’s fucking me, bashing against my ribs and making it hard to catch a full breath. Books fall from the shelves around us as my tight grip on the bookshelf makes the whole thing shake. My back is arched, my eyes half closed. My whole body is on fire. I’m so close, right there on the edge, ready to tip over into that well of pleasure that’s been building steadily, but August doesn’t let me. He doesn’t give me that last little push I need. Instead, he starts fucking me more shallowly, letting his cock dip in and out of my pussy without driving all the way in. A noise of helpless frustration spills out of my mouth, and I ball my hands into fists against the wood of the shelf. August doesn’t say anything. He doesn’t even taunt me for being needy and desperate. He just keeps his hips moving, turning those shallow thrusts into long, slow ones that still don’t give me all that I need. He’s holding out for as long as he can, clearly, and it’s driving me fucking insane. I thrust my hips back, trying to take him to the hilt, trying to get more, and he just makes a low noise and digs his fingers in harder.

Maybe it’s a warning, maybe it’s a reaction. I don’t know and I don’t fucking care. All I know is that if I don’t come, I’m going to go insane. My core throbs, spasming around his dick like it’s desperate to milk it dry once I’m allowed to come, and I whine low in my throat, feeling all that sensation keep building like it’s going to snap. Finally, he seems to be at the end of his tether. I can feel his hips stuttering, the stamina he’s been using to drive me nuts finally giving out. He reaches around and down and pinches my clit hard. The pain and stimulation are enough to set me off like a bomb, and I nearly scream, getting a hand up over my mouth in time to muffle it as I explode in pleasure. I can barely breathe, barely keep my body from shaking itself apart as I come, gushing on his cock and squeezing it hard. August follows me over the edge, letting out a low groan as he pumps me full of his release. I’m breathless, slumped against the shelves, trying to remember how to move or do anything. My body is still trembling from the force of my pleasure, and I nearly stagger when August pulls out and steps back. By the time I can turn around to look at him, he’s pulling his pants up and tucking his cock away. Even though I’m positive he was just as into that as I was, he looks more put together, since he’s dressed and not oozing cum the way I am. “Clean up the fucking books,” he says, back to that angry, flat tone. Then he turns and walks out, leaving me there with the mess. Whatever bliss I was feeling a second ago evaporates instantly on the heels of my anger, and I’m pissed off all over again. Not about fucking him, but about the fact that it feels like he’s won something. Like he’s the one who came out ahead and has the higher ground now, even though I’m the one who instigated the confrontation.

He walked out like he was fine and nothing had changed, but I’m the one slumped against a shelf like I’ve lost my equilibrium. August definitely had the upper hand while we were fucking. I needed him at that moment, and I hate that more than anything. He practically had me begging, poised on the edge of an orgasm I could only get from him, and he knew it. “Fucking asshole,” I spit, even though there’s no one there to hear it. I don’t need anybody. Least of all August. Or any of these fucking guys. “I’ll pick up your stupid books,” I mutter under my breath. I gather up the ones that fell off the shelves and make sure to smear his cum on the pages before slapping them shut and putting them away. The pages will get stuck together, and it’ll serve him fucking right.

#august walker imagines #henry cavill imagine #henry cavill characters #august walker fanfiction #henrycavill smut #henry cavill x you #august walker #august walker fanfic #henry cavill #henry cavill thirst #napoleon solo #captain syverson fanfiction

106 notes · View notes

doll-r-t · 2 years

Text

Henry/Henry’s Characters x reader with chronic pain

Henry, Henry's Characters x disabled!reader

Including: Henry, Napoleon, Syverson, August, Sherlock, Geralt, Walter Marshall

Written by an actual disabled person. Every disability and a disabled persons needs are different. This is based on my struggles and needs. So please if you know someone disabled consult them on what they need. Listen to THEM. Not something you read on the internet.

Gif credit to owner

Napoleon:

You struggled with being touched when you are in pain, any kind of pressure would only hurt you more. It drained your energy. So he would make sure that the room was cool, putting on silk sheets anything that is soft and would not cause any more friction or heat your body up. Then he would lay down on his back and settle you between his legs, the only point you were touching was his chest. He was trying to keep his legs as spread as he could as not to touch you more. He would let you sleep on his chest while he would watch documentaries or review papers. Once in a while, he would massage your scalp or stroke your hair to make you relax.

Syverson:

Syverson absolutely hated seeing you in pain. So once you were good he would sit you down to make a plan. Finding out what would help you and what would not. He was glad that he was trained as a Special Force because he had to push down all his emotions when you are in pain and make you do your exercises or stretches that would ease the pain. Normally you just wanted to curl up and just take the pain and cramps but he was not having it. He knew it was exhausting for you so he would help you sit up and support you in any way he could during your stretches. He would also massage certain areas knowing it would get better. But still, he would bite down on his teeth when you would moan or flinch in pain. He hated that it would leave bruises from you tensing so much. He thought the only time you should have bruises was from pleasure when he grips you tightly to him while thrusting in you. He would whisper encouraging words to you. Afterward, he would get you something cold to drink or ice cream as a reward as the cold would help you. Once your body was less tense he would let you rest, either laying with you or checking up on you regularly. Normally at that time, he was quite letting you work it out on your own as you needed it. He would make sure that for the rest of the day and night you would take it easy.

August:

He would give you a stern look when he realized you were in pain but not resting as you should. He would lay you down on the bed completely naked and slowly trace your body with ice cubes to cool you down and make you tense then relax from the difference between cold and warm. He would adjust your body in a way that eased your pain. When it was in your hips he would grab your legs and slowly pull making you stretch. He had done research on it so he tried to replicate what he saw. He would massage your face, especially your jaw as you had the tendency to lock it and it would cause you to have a headache. So he would first cool down his hands with ice cubes and then move your jaws and put pressure on your temples. He would buy you a soft stuffed animal so you had something to hold onto while he massaged your pressure points. He would encourage you to put your face into the stuffed animal and just hold onto it. Once your body was relaxing he would softly caress your body telling you how good you were, how strong, and how much he loved you. “Do you want a reward sweetheart? Hmm, you are such a good girl, baby. So good for me.” He would massage your pussy a little and circle your clit to get you to relax even more. Then he would lay his head between your tights and lick you. Telling you to just lay back and relax, close your eyes and try to sleep a bit. He would not tease like he usually would. No games just giving you his warm tongue on your wet heat until you fell asleep.

Geralt:

It was his instinct to protect and care for people even though he did not show it. But he could not fight your own body it was an invisible force and he felt helpless which made him angry. He would consult Vesemir and Triss feeling frustrated and not being able to take your pain. He thought that maybe Vesimir had something you could take but it was too risky taking a Witcher potion. He would read up on herbs that could help heal the body. He would collect peppermint leaves and brew them into a tea. Instead of making you drink it, he would put it on your temples and on your forehead, putting fresh peppermint leaves on it. The intense smell would distract you from the pain. Forcing your senses to concentrate on the pleasant sting of the intense smell. It also slowly conditioned you to relax when you smelled peppermint. It did not matter to him if he had to sleep on the hard ground or on uncomfortable beds but he sure as hell would not let you sleep like that. He would put as many blankets as he found and furs on the bed. He even build the bed higher so it was easier for you to get in and out of bed. He would run you a bath and let you relax in the hot water before joining you. He would wash your hair which was your favorite thing before drying you off and dressing you in the softest nightgown you had ever felt. He had gotten Triss to enchant it so it would keep you warm or cool depending on what you needed and made it soft. He would light a fire and kiss and stroke your face until you fell asleep. He would like to hug you to him but he did not cause you any more pain so he would just hold your hand until you woke up.

Sherlock:

He would be stiff and uncomfortable at first. He was not the best person at comforting people but he tried. He always had this air of distance, being an observer. So he figured out pretty quickly what was going on with you. In his typical fashion, he would read up on it. Interested in how your condition worked and affected the body. He would rely on medical knowledge to help you. Like herb teas to help you give your body the nutrients you needed. He would get you a wheelchair and bring you outside. It was good for you to go to the countryside and get some fresh air and sun. Even if you would be grumpy about it. He would lay down a blanket and get the servant to pack a basket. He would wheel you outside under a tree. He would put you down on the blanket and give you some tea and a piece of bread with your favorite jam on it. He knew he struggled with opening up and talking about his feelings or just talking in general with you. But he tried. So he would start out by reading to you, trying to keep your mind distracted. Once he was more comfortable with you he would put your head in his lap and tell you about a case he was working on, or a book he read, a fact he found most interesting. Sometimes when it seemed that you had fallen asleep he would whisper to you about a beautiful flower field he saw that he wished you had seen. It had reminded him of you and he knew you would like it. He would buy you dresses that were light and not too tight. Sometimes you would lay next to you, and kiss you softly on your forehead, nose, cheeks, and lips. “I always loved the adventure, the mystery, going from one place to the other. But I have to admit since meeting you I have treasure these moments more than anything. Thank you for teaching me a new part of life.” He would only whisper these things when he was laid next to you not looking at you. But it did not make it any less sweet.

Walter:

He would have all kinds of gadgets for you. Like a head wrap where you can put ice cubes in it. He would wrap it around your head and lay a cold towel on your neck and shoulders. He knew your hand hurt so he would put you in a recliner he had bought for you so you were still sitting up but laid back a bit. He would put your hands with the palms up on the armrest and put cold wet towels from the freezer on your wrists to get the blood flowing. Once they were cooled down and almost numb he would sit in front of you letting you play with his curly hair. He knew how much you loved caressing through them and you knew how much he disliked it unless it was during sex. It was so intimate and it made him a bit uncomfortable scared that he would lose you to the bad people that he knew were out there. But his need for you to be better and more comfortable was greater so he would encourage you to start moving your hand by playing with his hair. He knew it was tough for you to move them, the motor practice causing you pain and exhaustion but your physical therapist had told you that you had to do this to loosen them. The recliner had a massage function that he would set while he made your favorite food and readied the TV to watch your comfort show.

Henry:

Once Henry realized what was going on with you he would be all hands on board. He would ask if he could come with you to the physical therapist so he could see what they do to ease the pain. Ask questions and what he can do to help you. He would buy a lounger like one they had in physical therapy. He would buy the oils and cremes he saw in the rooms. He would have it all set up in his gym. Either he would scoop you up and carry you there, apologizing over and over again for hurting you by carrying you. “I promise love. I will make it better just a bit longer okay. You gotta be strong for me. Can you do that baby?” He would have it all set up. Cooling the air down in the room, towel on the lounger, and your favorite nature sounds. He would put headphones in and before tell you to relax. He would start out slow getting you used to the feeling of him touching you. He did not want to start out too strong still fearful of hurting you. He had all the equipment so even after a long day of shooting he would at least spend 30 minutes every day helping you with physical therapy. And when you were in pain he would help you as long as you needed it. If he was on set and could not be there for you he made sure you had access to a physical therapist or any kind of massage therapist. He would also spend far too much money on gadgets that could potentially help you. Like a hand held massage toy with different applicators to get to the spot when he is not there. Especially during the night when he has a shoot on set. When he was not there he would still insist on you telling him if you were in too much pain so he could at least try and help you a bit. By sending you pictures of Kal and him and ordering food for you. He sometimes would call the florist and send you your favorite flowers. If there was one thing that was true about Henry it was that he took care of the people he loved and you were no exception. He would never make you feel like you were a burden.

What do you guys think? Would they react that way? Or what would they do differantly? Please comment!

Taglist:

@tumblnewbyy @irishprincess89 @wheretheriversrunintothesea @amberangel1122 @sofiebstarr @omgkatinkaa @enchantedbytomandhenry @snowbellexx @daddys-littlewhitegirlrl @pjkimrnn @zealoushoundd, @lunedelorientt, @tragicphoenix133, @alexa-fangirl-foreverr, @vhjlucky133 @bourbonwithice, @identity221212

127 notes · View notes

hencvl · 11 months

Text

Napoleon Solo Masterlist.

#henry cavill #henry cavill fanfiction #henry cavill imagine #henry cavill characters #napoleon solo

4 notes · View notes

geralts-yenn · 4 months

Text

2023 character wrapped

@deandoesthingstome knows too well I get a little obsessive over some characters - let's see if I can make it to nine (or if I can stop at nine 😁 a look onto my masterlist that's barely a year old tells me we will get there)

Here we go...

My no 1: No surprise here - Mikey

He's my precious silly boy and I will never stop loving him. As part of a family of lunatics here or here, as our best friend, or as the cute neighbor who steals the heart of Nina and Mel

2. Melot

I blame @raccoon-eyed-rebel for introducing me to the slutty lil' braid boy. Just look at that grumpy, miserable little guy. I can't help but thinking about how to make him feel better. That's why he gets the love from not only one but two lovely persons in my Hearts Too Big universe. He's still not quite happy as a vampire in Believe in Me, but I swear we'll get to it.

3. Syverson

Not much of a surprise - how could I not love him? He's the character I read the most this year, for sure. But I also loved to write him into my bonfire story and it's follow up. I was yearning for him and I imagined him as a daddy 🥰

4. Evan

Oh, he was a surprise for me. Even though I liked his character in the movie, I didn't intend to write for him. Until a lovely nonnie put him into my brain and started to fuel my obsession with him here, here and here.

5. Walter

The grumpy bear was always a favorite of me when it came to reading but I was a little scared to write him by myself. In the end, I'm quite happy with the outcome when I finally dared.

6. August Walker

Another one that I love but didn't dare to write. Until it was too tempting to add him as the vampire king in Believe in Me. And then those little pieces of smut here and here with the vampire king were surprisingly easy to write.

7. Napoleon Solo

I love the smooth spy. I had so much fun to pair him up with the lovely Amina and I totally plan to get back to Leon sometime in the future

8. Charles

I wish I had more time to explore his character. I love him so much - especially when he's put into a modern AU. I kinda did this to him as my sidekick for Melot. And I have a wip in my folders, sleeping for way too long, where he's the most annoying and yet adorable duke. I really hope I get to the point where I can introduce him to you.

That's everyone I have written for this year. But I surely don't stop here with obsessing

I won't count Geralt, Will and all the other characters of Henry Cavill because this post is already too long for anyone to read, lol.

But I surely have to count the man himself

9. Henry Cavill

Yes, I am obsessed with this man and I am not sorry! I guess I won't ever get back to the unfinished RPF that got me into writing at all but I will not stop loving the adorkable man that he is.

And then there are still some guys that don't look like Henry:

9. Dean Winchester

I had almost forgotten how much I loved him. Until I introduced the teenager to Supernatural and spent a lot of evenings this year watching that stupid little shit 😍

10. Billy Russo

One of my favorite roles for Ben. And so many good fics out there that I need to explore at some point.

11. Jack Reacher

Very recent addition to the hunks in my head. I love the new season and I'm definitely not immune to that man's visual charms.

I think I will stop here, even if I could name probably another 12...

@ellethespaceunicorn @peyton--warren @gummydummy19 @jvanilly @ronearoundblindly @ylva-syverson want to talk about your favorite characters?

#tag game #2023 character wrapped #Sorry #I know this is unhealty #but I love them all

28 notes · View notes

gummydummy19 · 4 months

Note

Hi Gummy<3

Sorry in advance but:

In answer to who's going to distract you from studying, the options are:

A. Sherlock Holmes because he is so clever. One glance at your quiz and he'd give the answers in an instant （also because he's bored as hell and nothing is interesting for a week）, while you are trying your best to finish these questions on your own.

"Sherlock! Shut up! I'm trying to study here." You yell at him.

And he'd give you this look: ↓

B. Captain Sy because he's being such a good boyfriend. Bringing you biscuits, sliced fruits, protein bars and coffee so that you can always feed yourself with the snacks.

"You really have to stop, honey, or I'd gain two pounds before lunch." You pout at him, when he scratches the back of his head and chuckles in embarrassment.

Him saying he'd be out of your hair in a sec: ↓

C. Napoleon Solo. He offered to steal the answers for the finals when you sigh for the hundredth time in the morning. "I'll have Gabi to stake out-" He is ready to dial the numbers.

"Why don't you kidnap my professor and torture him to hand us an easier paper-" You roll your eyes.

"That sounds fantastic, sweets."

He nods. He fucking nods and grins at your sarcasm.

"That's not- Please don't- I need some peace and quiet to study, please?" You sigh for the hundred and first time, placing your hands under your chin, blinking your eyes as adorable as possible.

D. Clark Kent. Equally buried in books as he needs to pass his finals for the course Media and Communiation. He lies on your thighs, holding his book right above his face before -

A dull thud and the book lands on his face, snapping him completely awake. Also making you nearly jumping on your feet.

"... Ouch." He scratches his nose, removing his glasses, "Which chapter are you at - *yawns* now?"

Bonus: August Walker, who ordered a random IT guy (Benji: I deserved a Thank You at least!) to alter your marks in the system, making sure you'd get straight A's no matter what.

And he took you to a concert/opera/club/... before the test to help you loosen up. (It didn't help at all.

(take your pick :3

OH. MY. GOD.

Okay…you…you are a menace, Jam😶 A MENACE I SAY!

Alright this needs a bit of thinking…

I study Journalism so Clark would actually be of great help to study together…+ naps together during breaktime are so so so so so welcome 😭🫶🏻

BUT

Sy…my beloved…big grumpy men being all soft and caring makes me SHHWJZHDJAHSHZ🫠🫠🫠

I can just imagine him in the kitchen fumbling around with fruits and trying to plate everything up nicely without making too much noise. I feel like he is also such a great cook tho?? He would definitely be on cooking duty during my entire exam period. Grilling steaks the size of your head because he claims “its good for your brain” and “you need to be strong and energised”

BUT THEN ALSO….

Sherlock…

He would definitely make everything way easier for me. He would get all my summaries finished in about a quarter of the time it would have taken me and he would be amazing in teaching me ways to remember stuff more easily.

And with all that extra free time he just created…well…he claims he deserves a reward for being such a great tutor as he presses kisses on your neck and slowly drags you to the bedchambers…..

JDHBAHWKZK😩🫠🥴

AM I ALLOWED TO HAVE A TOP 3??? PLEASE?!?!?!

#gummydummy19 #fanfiction #fluff #smut #captain syverson #smutty thoughts #clark kent #sherlock holmes #henry cavill #studying #exam season #fanfics

37 notes · View notes

justabigoldnerd · 5 months

Text

Okay okay okay @pippinoftheshire 's fic "The River Of My Blood Is Silver" has me back on my winged people bullshit SO here are what wings I think our Dream Team would have and why.

First on the roster: Illya Kuryakin, KGB

The Blakiston's Fish Owl

IMMEDIATELY, I knew Illya was going to be an owl. Completely silent flier, master killers, etc. But also playful and curious and SUPER FUCKING INTELLIGENT. With Illya being 6 ft 5, I looked up the owl with the longest wingspan, and it was this lovely gentleman. His wingspan can get up to 6 foot across. And get this....he is native to Russia

I picture Illya tucking his wings away as tightly as he can most days to make himself look smaller, but then on missions, they're on full display. He uses them to protect his partners (think that one scene from Lucifer), to silently take out enemies, to just straight up intimate the bad guys by fluffing up his feathers. And I imagine during episodes, they start to slowly bristle and unfurl and shake like his hands. And I also imagine that his attempts at hiding his wing span most of the time leads to terrible muscle spasms that he used to just try and ignore, but after he and Gaby and Solo get together, they help him literally stretch his wings and get the knots out of those fragile but powerful muscles.

• • •

Next is Napoleon Solo, CIA

Obviously, my first instinct was the great Bald Eagle, but then

Then I remembered the fun fact that every time you hear a bald eagle in media, it's ALWAYS a Red Tailed Hawk

And just something about the boy-soldier black mailed into working for the American government and becoming their most effective agent really paralleled the Red Tailed Hawk's voice being stolen for the big USA Patriot Bird. Also, I mean LOOK at that plumage, it's DASHING!!! He'd love it!!! He'd preen CONSTANTLY and keep his feathers in tip-top shape.

I see Solo pretending not to be shy about his wings, flaunting them about and using them to seduce marks and shit, but then when then not letting the people he's close to see them or touch them (erogenous zone???) because deep down he doesn't trust them not to hurt him. UNTIL Illya and Gaby come along and slowly encourage him to let them help him preen hard to reach spots and break up keratin sheaths.

• • •

And last but not least!!! Gaby Teller, British Naval Intelligence

The Peregrine Falcon

Not only the fastest bird on the planet, but the fastest animal alive today! And we've all seen how Gaby drives. She's fast and precise and quick witted and SMART AS FUCK. There was (in my opinion) no better choice for her.

Due to her shorter stature in comparison with her wings, she often keeps them tied to her back as part of her mechanic coveralls. They get oil-stained a lot, and she never minded it, or preened all that often, as a matter of fact, but then the boys caught sight of her wings and immediately went "Oooo honey, make over time" and took dawn to those babies and fluffed them up all nice and now she is deadly in the air, becoming just as feared as Illya in the field.

Anyway, that's my take! Hope you enjoyed, because I had a blast writing this up!!!!💕💕💕💕💕💕

#the man from uncle #tmfu #illya kuryakin #napoleon solo #tmfu movie #gaby teller #wings #winged people #headcanon

23 notes · View notes

hederigerenthag · 2 months

Text

Napoleon Solo Headcanons: Early Life Edition

Based on things that he says in the show and that people say about him ('You don't exactly rate with Dun and Bradstreet', thanks, Illya), I'm interested in Napoleon's relationship to and experience with money. In my imagination, his family was initially well off, but overextended in the stock market and lost nearly everything in the crash. So, Napoleon would have been born solidly into the Great Depression and spent his earliest years in a family that was a) broke and b) desperately holding on to a veneer of prosperity. Mix in to taste the interpersonal conflict, blame, and shame that occur in a family experiencing a sudden financial setback.

I expect that they eventually clawed their way back to stability as the US economy rebounded in the 40's and 50's, but also that their experience left some cracks that could not be papered over. Young Napoleon would have learned the importance of keeping up appearances, been used to adults hiding things from him, and gotten good practice in hiding things from others. In his chosen profession, he is well served by his persistent ability to maintain a vague illusion of glamour under all circumstances.

#man from uncle tv #napoleon solo #meta #mfu tv

17 notes · View notes

white-bow-tie · 10 months

Text

This goddamn smile...

b\w version bc why not

#i hate them so much u can't imagine #also i spent forever doing this one bc i tried to experiment a little again #kinda love it kinda hate it #idk #happy gay month #tmfu #the man from uncle #napoleon solo #illya kuryakin #fan art #my art #tmfu 1964 #tmfu tv

195 notes · View notes

angryschnauzer · 1 year

Text

The absolute best thing about newly discovering Bookstgram (or Booktok) is every single ‘this is how i imagine this character looks like’ reel is the book cover then BAM a photo of Henry. That Cavill dude is literally book boyfriend number 1.

Elven prince? BOOM Melot

Young Biker? BOOM Mikey

Farmer’s market hottie? BOOM Clark Kent

Spy? BOOM Napoleon Solo

Mafia Dom? BOOM August Walker

Neighbour/Boss/Friend from school who grew up? BOOM Henry himself.

Alpha pack? BOOM BOOM BOOM Walter Marshall + Captain Syverson + Geralt of Rivia.

#henry cavill #bookstagram #booktok

130 notes · View notes

witchersmistress · 10 months

Text

Library Aftermath

Hello my darlings!! as promised to @livesinfantasyland here is how he reacted.. i do not plan on adding this to an on going series list at this moment

Trigger warnings: None, fluff

Word count:1.4K

It’s been a few days since Evelyn came home in the middle of the night, practically morning, smiling with triumph and saying she had a plan. There was something haunted in her eyes that night, like whatever she had to do to get this plan in place cost her something, but apparently it was worth it. I asked her then what the plan was, but she told me she’d tell us in the morning, making me wait and grinning when I seemed pissed off about it. I watched her go up the stairs to her room with a bad feeling in my chest. She laid it all out for us the next day.

How she met one of the hookers from the red light district and talked to her. How Charles has a fucking assault fetish and likes to make the girls he hires act it out. Just when I thought it wasn’t possible for me to hate that piece of shit more. It all comes together when Evelyn explains it. All she has to do is wait for this girl to call her, and then she’ll move in and do what she does best. What she’s been working toward all this time. She’ll take out the last fucker on the list. But this isn’t like before, when she was going to shoot Charles from across the street and be gone before anyone realized what happened.

This is different. She’ll be in the middle of it all. Right there, pretending to be some fucking helpless hooker for him to take advantage of. It’s sick, just like Charles himself, and just thinking about it makes me grind my teeth in irritation. But of course, Evelyn doesn’t give a shit. She’s focused on the fact that this plan will work, and it’s the best shot she has. I know she wants him dead, more than she wants anything else, apparently, but it’s still a bad plan. I didn’t like her plan when she first told it to us, and I don’t like it now. In fact, I fucking hate it. I hate pretty much everything about this, starting with the night she killed someone outside our club. She’s in our lives now. Deep in. Way too deep for only having been here a short while. Little signs of her are everywhere in the house. A bra slung over the back of a chair, a bottle of nail polish on the table, her brand of cigarettes on the counter.

I can’t help but think about Walter’s warnings that first night, how we should just kill her and be done with it because she’s only going to bring trouble. He wasn’t wrong. She’s wormed her way into our lives and our home and our routines. At some point, I stopped thinking of the room she sleeps in as the guest room and started calling it her room. Like she lives here and isn’t just staying so we can keep an eye on her. Syverson and Napoleon both pant after her like horny dogs, even Walter seems to have made some kind of peace with her, and I… I wander into the library, unable to forget fucking Evelyn in here. I think about how she worked herself back, taking every violent thrust with pleasure, demanding more all at the same time. She riled me up to a breaking point and then handled it completely when I unleashed on her. I’m sure a lot of people would think it’s weird for there to be a full library in a house like this. They’d probably think the same thing about Walter’s piano.

But this is where I come to settle my mind when my demons scream too loudly. It’s peaceful and it’s mine. My father was a piece of shit who mocked me for not learning how to read for a long time, so I’ve made it a point to read everything I can since I learned. I find old books, the classics that all the stuffy intellectuals say you have to read if you want to be anybody, and I read them. I keep them, along with the notes I make in the margins. Like proof that I can do whatever the fuck I set my mind to without approval from anyone else. Nothing can hold me back. I walk along the shelves, trailing my fingers over the place where Evelyn had her hands while I fucked her from behind. She wanted to touch herself, but I wouldn’t let her, keeping her hands right there, making her take it at my pace. Just thinking about it makes my cock perk up, and I can feel myself getting hard. I pick up one of the books from the shelf. Heart of Darkness. Appropriate. I open it and go to flip through it, but the pages don’t fan open the way they should. A bunch of them are stuck together, hard at the edges and unable to be pulled apart. I narrow my eyes and put it back, picking up another one. It has the same issue. My jaw clenches with anger. Evelyn is in the living room, watching Napoleon and Syverson beat the shit out of each other in a video game, and I march in, holding the book in my hand. “What the fuck happened?” I snap, my voice cutting through the sound of video game violence and Syverson laughing. Evelyn looks up, confused at first, but then she sees the book in my hand and bursts out laughing. Her blue eyes are bright, and she runs fingers through her shiny silver hair like she couldn’t give less of a shit. “I don’t know, Gus,” she says, shrugging. “But it really isn’t a good idea to smear cum all over the pages of books. They’ll just stick together. Didn’t you learn that lesson with porno magazines when you were younger?” I see red at her nonchalant expression. “I didn’t fucking smear cum on them,” I growl. Napoleon and Syverson are still in the middle of their game, but I can tell they’re listening. Syverson’s laughter might be about how his character just ripped the spine out of Napoleon’s character and beat him half to death with it or because of me talking about jizz on the pages of my books. Either way, it just pisses me off more. It’s like it’s a game to them.

Like this isn’t our lives this woman has marched herself into and started fucking with. She’s here, like she owns the place, making herself at home and fucking things up. Of course they both love it. Syverson is a sucker for chaos. Anything new and different and exciting. Plus, Evelyn seems to understand him in a fucked up way. He wouldn’t spend so much time around her if she didn’t. Napoleon just wants to fuck her, and he probably has already. She’s the type to get him excited, and he also likes when things are happening. Especially things that involve a pretty girl. Both of them are missing the point—that she’ll be gone soon enough, and all the shit she fucked up will have to try to get back to normal. If that’s even possible.

I stand in the middle of the living room glaring at her, feeling like I’m the only one who gets it. Mad at her for fucking with my shit, for being so damn compelling. I want her to kill Charles so she can get the fuck out of our lives already, even though I know it won’t be that easy. Nothing’s ever that fucking easy. Her grin just goes wider as she glances down at the book in my hand. “Oh, yeah. That was me.” Anger rises in me. I’m pissed as fuck. She’s grinning like she doesn’t have a care in the world, like it doesn’t faze her that she fucked with my stuff. I stride toward her, prepared to yank her up, bend her over my knee and punish her if I have to, but her phone rings before I reach her. She rolls her eyes at me and pulls it out of her pocket, answering it as soon as she sees the name on the screen. Her face goes serious in an instant, all traces of humor falling away. She gets up from the couch, moving over to a corner to talk in a hushed conversation.

I hear her say “Are you sure?” and “Okay,” and “Don’t worry. I’ll be there.” Everyone in the room stops, looking at her while she talks. Syverson has stopped laughing, and Napoleon isn’t grinning anymore. The atmosphere in the room has completely changed. I forget all about the books, waiting to hear the verdict. Finally, she hangs up and turns to look at all of us. “That was Avalon,” she says. “Charles put in a request for a girl, and Avalon volunteered to do it for the night. It's time to go.”

#august walker #henry cavill x you #august walker fanfic #august walker fanfiction #henry cavill characters #august walker imagines #henry cavill #henry cavill thirst #henry cavill imagine #captain syverson #napoleon solo #charles brandon

54 notes · View notes