#napoleon solo fanfic

[drmaddict]

Better Half

Summary: Napoleon's better half is not what anyone would have expected and yet it is exactly what one should expect.

Warnings: none

Word count: 448

"I know someone," Napoleon said, taking a sip of his drink.

Illya looked at him emotionlessly. "Those are top-secret KGB files. Not even I had access to them."

"Jealous that I might know more?" he grinned at him and winked teasingly.

"It's impossible."

"That word doesn't exist in their vocabulary."

"And who is this mysterious gentleman supposed to be?" asked Waverly. "A friend from...the art trade?"

Napoleon shook his head. "SHE deals in other merchandise...information. There's nothing she can't get her hands on." He smiled into his glass. "If there's one thing I've learned from her, it's that a room is never truly empty."

Illya rolled his eyes. "We don't have time to waste on an untrustworthy affair."

Napoleon looked at him piercingly. "I wouldn't suggest her if I didn't trust her."

Waverly tapped a pencil thoughtfully on the tabletop in front of him. "And what makes you so sure?"

"If she wasn't trustworthy, I wouldn't have married her.", he replied simply. "Albeit under a different name." he shrugged and downed the rest of his drink as the rest of the gathering stared at him in bewilderment.

________________________________________________________________

They were sitting in a ramshackle motel. Only Napoleon remained standing, meticulously keeping away from all the furniture. Dust layed thick on the small dresser next to the bed, whose springs had also seen better days and squeaked happily when Gabby changed her position.

The door opened silently, although that shouldn't be possible with the rusted hinges. A small figure entered the room. She wore a worn flat cap, a too-long brown coat, and baggy pants topped off with a pair of scuffed brown leather shoes.

At first glance, anyone would have seen a fourteen-year-old paperboy. It was only when the figure removed their cap that the too-long hair became apparent. Napoleon moved toward her with elegant steps and took off her coat.

"Still quite the gentleman." she grinned at him.

"When am I not?" he asked teasingly.

"Oh I can think of a few situations.", she returned just as teasingly before reaching into her waistband and pulling out a piece of paper. "You know the drill. I was never here and this piece of paper never existed." She gave him a quick kiss on the lips. "I'll see you where there are no stars."

"On the fifth of May?" he asked.

"Sounds good." She tugged playfully at his tie, destroying the symmetry of the elaborate knot, before disappearing from the small room as quickly as she had come.

"Cute." said Gabby as Napoleon held out the small note to her.

"What's her name?" asked Illya.

Napoleon grinned with a soft expression around his eyes. "That ist something noone really knows.“

[ellethespaceunicorn]

I Want a Little Sugar in My Bowl

Title: I Want a Little Sugar in My Bowl

Rating: Explicit, 18+, Minors - DNI

Pairing: Napoleon Solo x Reader

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

Word Count: 2.5K

Summary: Napoleon wines and dines.

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

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

Dividers by: @saradika

Support/Reblog banner by me

Cover Art by me

My Masterlist 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Napoleon Solo.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“So, dessert then?” You ask. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

**Tag List**

@brattymum96 @ambinxe @avengersfan25 @kebabgirl67

@astheskycries @enchantedbytomandhenry

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

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

[geralts-yenn]

Geralt-Yenn's Masterlist

Hi! Thank you for taking a look at my materlist! Here you find a bunch of stories in which I put all kinds of Henry Cavill shaped characters.

Most of these stories contain content not suitable for minors, so if you're under 18, please do not read!

Do not copy, translate or post my work anywhere else! I explicitly forbid using my work to feed AI!

What I do encourage you is to reblog my stories. Every little bit of feedback is welcome!

List by character under the cut:

Your majesty (drabble; VampireKing!August/reader) 🔥

a lesson in obedience (VampireKing!August/reader/ofc) 🔥

Believe in me (modern AU vampire!Melot/ofc) 🌩 🔥 💕

bonfire (Sy/reader) 🌩 🔥 💕

summary: After months you finally see Sy again. But how will he react to you after he cancelled his date before he left?

Something like that (Sy/reader) 🔥 💕

summary: follow-up of bonfire - Sy finally takes you on a date

Part 1, Part 2

mother's day (drabble; Sy/reader) 💕

Yearning (drabble; Sy/reader) 🌩 💕

Believe in me (modern AU vampire!Melot/ofc) 🌩 🔥 💕

I need you now (Evan Marshall/reader) 💕

summary: After an accident your cute neighbor takes care of you

Brothers and Beers (drabble; Evan Marshall/reader) 💕 (Evan's pov on 'I need you now')

Fighting demons (Evan Marshall/reader) 🌩 🔥 💕 part 2 of 'I need you now'

summary: You've been in a relationship with Evan for a while now, but somehow you are still stuck on first base. You start questioning if he's really that into you.

Believe in me (modern AU vampire!Melot/ofc) 🌩 🔥 💕

Ray of Sunshine (modern AU Melot/ofc) 🔥 💕

summary: just some fluffy, smutty summer dream with a tattooed biker Melot

Hearts Too Big (modern AU Melot/ofc/Mike) 🌩 🔥 💕

summary: Nina goes on a camping trip with her boyfriend Mel and his cute neighbor Mike. Plenty of feelings - that’s the whole plot

Bubbles (drabble; modern AU Melot/ofc/Mike) 🔥 💕

Bottom (drabble; modern AU Melot/ofc/Mike) 🔥 💕

A very merry birthday (modern AU Melot/ofc/Mike) 🔥 💕

summary: The boys are celebrating Christmas and more importantly, Nina's birthday

 the natural thing to do  (Mikey/reader) 🔥 💕

summary: After another breakup, instead of your best friend you only find her brother Mikey at her home. The guy you had a crush on since you were 12…

pranked (Mikey/reader) 🔥 💕

summary: your babysitter job took some turns that you couldn't have forseen...

caught for sillyrabbit81’s milestone celebration 2023 (Mikey/reader) 🔥 💕

follow-up of pranked, but both stories can be read separately

date night with Mikey (drabble; Mikey/reader) 💕

ice cream, brownies and a hug (drabble; Mikey/reader) 💕

Hearts Too Big (modern AU Melot/ofc/Mike) 🌩 🔥 💕

summary: Nina goes on a camping trip with her boyfriend Mel and his cute neighbor Mike. Plenty of feelings - that’s the whole plot

Bubbles (drabble; modern AU Melot/ofc/Mike) 🔥 💕

Bottom (drabble; modern AU Melot/ofc/Mike) 🔥 💕

Fakin' it (Mikey/reader) 🌩 🔥 💕

summary: To win back your ex-boyfriend, you decide to fake date your best friend. What could go wrong? 

Zoom (mini drabble; Mikey/reader) 💕

A very merry birthday (modern AU Melot/ofc/Mike) 🔥 💕

summary: The boys are celebrating Christmas and more importantly, Nina's birthday

anahita (Napoleon Solo/ofc) 🔥

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

Memories (Walter Marshall/ofc) 🌩 🔥 💕

summary: At your brother's wedding you have to face a ghost from your past - Walter Marshall - and you find yourself lost in memories

Part 1, Part 2

Hollow Hearts (Walter Marshall/reader) 🌩 🌩 🌩 (💕)

summary: you break up with Walter but you just can't let go

Hollow Hearts (bonus chapter) (Walter Marshall/reader) 🔥 💕

summary: you and Walter take care of each other (basically porn without plot, can be read without knowing the main story)

Headcanons / multiple characters:

Lazy morning sex 🔥

On-going series:

Inspo boards for my stories

Fluff = 💕 Smut = 🔥 Angst = 🌩

Collection of all my stories - follow to get notifications on new fics:

Yenn-writes

[ellethespaceunicorn-masterlist]

Love, Napoleon Masterlist

Rating: Mature, 18+, Minors - DNI

Pairing: Napoleon Solo x Black!OFC

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

Spotify Playlist is here.

YouTube Music playlist is here.

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

Cover Art by me

Support/Reblog banner by me

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

My Masterlist 

[raccoon-eyed-rebel]

Part 18 - Leon

Masterlist

Series Masterlist

Part 17 -- Part 19

Pairing: Napoleon x ofc

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

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

Word count: 3.8k

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You two know each other?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Where was Mike?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What if I want to take a good look?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Blindfold me,”

“What?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[espinosaurusrexex]

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.”

[mrs-solo-walker]

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

"Sleep tight Missy and get some rest."

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

"Good night to you too."

Walker scowls after him.

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

[chestnut-devil]

Rating: Not Rated

Archive Warning: Graphic Depiction Of Violence.

Category: Gen

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

Characters: Napoleon Solo, Gaby Teller, Illya Kuryakin

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

Language: English

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

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

Or

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

[justabigoldnerd]

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

Ajdgajkshdjssk I couldn't remember what I have or haven't posted so I had to scrub through my dash lmao I have too many WIPs right now 😅

Anyway, here's a snippet from "I Am Your Lover (I Am Your Jailor)", the first chapter of which will be posted as soon as the modern/college AU is complete!!

“And? What's so bad ‘bout movin’ into the castle, anyway?” Henry pushed forward, looking down his nose at Solo. Even though he was a few years younger, his spirit was firey and aggressive. It always made Illya bristle on Solo's behalf. “Have you no regard for our friends? Alexander? Jones? Nikolai? If the castle was all they made it out to be, we would see their faces. They wouldn't have disappeared in the night. The Queen would've stopped looking,” Solo spat, his fisted hands shaking at his sides. Henry planted his feet and reared back to throw a punch, and Illya saw red. He darted out, intending to catch the swing himself, but a hand on his chest and arm stopped him short, guiding him away. Enraged, Illya looked up to voice his protest to whoever was holding him, but the fire died on his tongue when he saw the deceptively calm waters of Solo's eyes. Solo wasn't looking at him, however. He still had his blue-flame angry glare fixed on Henry. “Enough,” Solo said, suddenly sounding a lot more tired, “If you want to stay, go ahead. The rest of us are leaving.”

No pressure tagging @pippinoftheshire @yallwildinrn @huggiebird @heytheredeann @too-young-to-fall-in-love

@nicijones and anyone else who wants to join!!!

[drmaddict]

Gray Hair

Summery: Napoleon reveals his biggest fear

Trigger warning: mention of Alzheimer's

English is not my first language so be gentle.

(gif is not mine)

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Napoleon?", I asked timidly.

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Napoleon what-"

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

"See what?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[ellethespaceunicorn]

Love, Napoleon!: Chapter 4

Chapter 4: Sweet Desserts and Sweeter Kisses

Rating: Explicit, 18+, Minors - DNI

Pairing: Napoleon Solo x Black!OFC

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

Word Count: 1.9K

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

Chapter Summary: Bobbie and Leon entertain Gaby and Illya.

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

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

Dividers by: @saradika-graphics 

Support/Reblog banner by me

Cover Art by me

Series Masterlist

My Masterlist

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Is there something wrong?” she supposes.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Chapter 5 (TBD)

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

**Tag List**

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[geralts-yenn]

🛁 - A nice, relaxing bath

Leon looks tense...

Napoleon Solo x OFC Amina Ahmadi

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

word count: 1,7k

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

Anahita is the Persian goddess of water, fertility and healing

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

Moodboard

dividers by @firefly-graphics

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

taglist:

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

[ellethespaceunicorn-masterlist]

🎧Elle the Space Unicorn's Masterlist🎧

Reader inserts will have no descriptors, OFCs will be black and plus-sized(unless otherwise stated). I love being able to give girls/femmes who look like me the chance to romance some of their faves.

🎧Bless my current muse...🎧

I love to write fanfiction. Right now, my main muse is Henry Cavill. But I also like some Chris Evans and Sebastian Stan characters (see below who I will write for - send prompts or requests to @ellethespaceunicorn HERE).

Buy Me A Ko-Fi? | AO3 | Author Recs | Fic Recs | Headcanon Recs | Fic Prompts | Fic Title Ideas | Words to use instead of ‘said’ | WIP List | 2023 Fanfiction Wrapped | 2023 Character Wrapped

Masterlist is under the Cut...

Bright Like The Moon (ongoing)

Love, Napoleon (ongoing)

Scrapbook (finished)

Daddy Knows Best (possibly on hiatus)

Don't Take My Sunshine Away (possibly on hiatus)

Touch and Go (possibly ongoing)

The Howling in Claw Creek Forest (ongoing)

What Are You Doing, StepBro?

Rating: Explicit

Pairing: Humphrey x Stepsister!Reader

Summary: You and Humphrey don’t have the best start, but before long you will reach an arrangement.

Hold Me Til I Scream For Air To Breathe

Rating: Explicit

Pairing: Sub!Clark Kent x Domme!Reader

Summary: Clark needs to give over to his submissive urges, specifically he yearns to be tied up and owned.

I Want a Little Sugar in My Bowl

Rating: Explicit

Pairing: Napoleon Solo x Reader

Summary: Napoleon wines and dines.

Make That Kitty Purr {DARK FIC}

Rating: Explicit

Pairing: Mike x Reader, August Walker x Reader

Fandom: Hellraiser: Hellworld x Mission: Impossible - Fallout, Crossover AU

Summary: Uncle August doesn’t give a shit that you’re Mike’s girlfriend.

Make That Kitty Purr [Director's Cut] {DARKER FIC}

Rating: Explicit

Pairing: Mike x Reader, August Walker x Reader

Fandom: Hellraiser: Hellworld x Mission: Impossible - Fallout, Crossover AU

Summary: Uncle August doesn’t give a shit that you’re Mike’s girlfriend. This is the darker pre-edited version.

Some Things You Just Can’t Refuse

Rating: Explicit

Pairing: Dom!Clark Kent x Sub!Reader

Summary: A collection of first times with Clark Kent, and one last time.

Happy Birthday, Cupcake

Rating: General

Pairing: Clark Kent x PlusSize!Reader

Summary: Clark surprises you for your birthday.

Treat Me Like A Slut

Rating: Explicit

Pairing: August Walker x Reader

Summary: August has had enough of your antics, and you’re going to pay for it.

Sometimes The Silence Guides A Mind

Rating: Explicit

Pairing: Sherlock Holmes x Reader

Summary: As you were getting close to Sherlock, he stops visiting. You pop over to Baker Street and share an eye-opening moment.

Don't Take Your Eyes Off It

Rating: Explicit

Pairing: Sugar Daddy!Steve Rogers x Black!Fem!Reader 

Summary: It’s Valentine’s Day, and you have a surprise for Steve!

Don't Kill My Vibe

Rating: Explicit

Pairing: Clark Kent x BestFriend!Black!Fem!Reader

Summary: You help Clark ease the pain of his broken heart.

Fifteen Minutes

Character: Walter Marshall x Unnamed Black!OFC

Rating: Explicit

Summary: What Walter does with 15 minutes of his time.

There Is A Light That Never Goes Out

Pairing: Syverson x Reader 

Rating: Mature

Summary: When an unexpected pregnancy rocks your already uncertain world, you decide the best option is to run. Apocalypse AU.

Pretty As A Picture

Pairing: Lloyd Hansen x F!Reader

Rating: Explicit

Summary: What started as a hobby day in the park turns into Lloyd Hansen showing you why taking photos of strangers is a bad idea.

Something Old, Something New

Rating: Explicit

Pairing: Nick Fowler x Reader

Summary: Your childhood best friend invites you to your old vacation spot for her wedding, and you have been catching up with your first crush: her recently divorced big brother Nick.

Oxytocin

Rating: Explicit

Pairing: Ransom Drysdale x Older!Black!Fem!OFC

Summary: At a New Year's Eve party, Ransom Drysdale's life is forever changed by a chance meeting with Ivy Kensington.

My Little Strawberry

Pairing: Syverson x Black!Reader (Peaches)

Rating: Mature

Summary: A follow-up to Shape Up. Sy has a conversation with his baby girl while she’s still in your stomach. 

Doing Something Unholy

Rating: Explicit

Pairing: Charles Brandon x Reader

Summary: This is a prompt fill for some teasing of Charles Brandon and then him taking over.

Praise You

Rating: General, pure fluff

Pairing: Clark Kent x Insecure PlusSize!Reader

Summary: Clark Kent loves everything about you, especially what you think are your flaws.

Get My Pretty Name Outta Your Mouth

Rating: Explicit

Pairing: Walter Marshall x Reader

Summary: You hate everything about Detective Walter Marshall. He feels the same about you. Now, kiss!

Shape-Up

Rating: Explicit

Pairing: Cpt Syverson x Black!Reader (Peaches)

Summary: Syverson and his girl, Peaches, try and trim his beard without causing a ruckus. Spoiler alert: they fail.

Follow-up to Shape-Up: My Little Strawberry

The Paganini Problem

Rating: Mature

Pairing: Sherlock Holmes x Wife!Reader

Summary: Being Sherlock’s wife proves to be difficult when a case stumps him.

Power Play: After Hours

Rating: Explicit

Pairing: Lloyd Hansen x Assistant!Black!Reader

Summary: What happens when Lloyd sees you, his assistant, in something other than what you usually wear? Well, you should be worried about what he does when he sees you.

No Good Deeds

Rating: Explicit

Pairing: Landlord!Ari Levinson x Reader

Summary: Moving out on your own is challenging, but your landlord, Mr. Levinson is kind and helpful. But he may want more from you than your tenancy.

Executive Temptation

Rating: Explicit

Pairing: CEO!August Walker x Employee!Reader

Summary: You’ve caught the eye of CEO August Walker. What happens when he asks you to go to his private office?

Walter Marshall - Hobbies

Lloyd Hansen - Family, Quirks/Hobbies, Sleep

Lloyd Hansen - What happens when reader starts dressing to match lloyd?

Walter Marshall (Night Hunter)

Geralt of Rivia (The Witcher)

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

Humphrey (Stardust)

Charles Brandon (The Tudors)

Mike (Hellraiser: Hellworld)

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

August Walker (Mission: Impossible - Fallout)

Will Shaw (The Cold Light of Day)

Sherlock Holmes (Enola Holmes films)

Captain Syverson (Sand Castle)

Evan Marshall (Blood Creek)

Melot (Tristan and Isolde)

Thomas Apreas (Hotel Laguna)

Chas Quilter (The Inspector Lyndley Mysteries)

Stephen Colley (I Capture the Castle)

I DO NOT WRITE RPF FOR HENRY

Lloyd Hansen (The Gray Man)

Andy Barber (Defending Jacob)

Ransom Drysdale (Knives Out)

Steve Rogers (Avengers films)

Curtis Everett (Snowpiercer)

Ari Levinson (The Red Sea Diving Resort)

Nick Gant (PUSH)

Jake Jensen (The Losers)

Frank Adler (Gifted)

I DO NOT WRITE RPF FOR CHRIS

Bucky Barnes (Marvel)

Charles Blackwood (We Have Always Lived in the Castle)

Steve Kemp (Fresh)

Max (Sharper)

Nick Fowler (The 355)

Lee Bodecker (The Devill All The Time)

Chris (Destroyer)

Justin Capshaw (Law & Order)

I DO NOT WRITE RPF FOR SEBASTIAN

Let me know if you wanna be added and for what plz, so far only these categories 😁 Let me know if you ever want to be removed!

General Fanfiction (Everything)

Henry Character Fanfiction

Chris Character Fanfiction

August Walker

Bright Like The Moon

Love, Napoleon!

Daddy Knows Best

Don't Take My Sunshine Away

The Howling in Claw Creek Forest

~Please DON'T ask me to tag you in a series that you've never 'liked' or 'reblogged'. It's just kind of rude. Also, don't ask for an ETA on the next chapter.~

*Blog Header, Cover Art for fics, Masterlist Header/MDNI 18+ Banner, Support/Reblog banner and Masterlist Dividers made by me in Canva*

[raccoon-eyed-rebel]

Baby, it's cold outside

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

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

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

Prompt: Playful & Happy + Uniform or Costume

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

Word count: 2.2k

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I know.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[witchersmistress]

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.

[imnotagaslighter]

Chapter One: Sly as a Snake

Word Count: 2.9K

Warnings: Tread carefully this will be a dark!fic Please DNI if you're not 18 or older

Blood, Graphic, Minor Character Deaths, Age Gap, Lloyd Hansen being creepy, Hints of Grooming (?)

I was going to do a cute little preview but I just thought why not just post a whole chapter as a preview!! I hope you guys enjoy ;).

It didn’t take long for the gala-themed party to be halted but that’s because who wouldn’t want to? A party that held all of the families under one luxurious, (and in your opinion very flamboyant) mansion. It wasn’t until a very loud breach from the main entrance took your attention away from the attendees in front of you.

You and maybe the rest of the families at the party stood in confusion and shock as men in tactical gear rushed through the main banquet hall firing automatic weapons into the air and at random important heads of different gang families. That’s when screams and weapons began to go toe to toe on who could be the loudest. It didn’t make it any better that you had lost your brother and parents within the crowds that were moving in different directions trying to dodge the bullets.

Your heart was slightly racing as you felt yourself being pushed by the various people trying to run out of the hall and hopefully find an exit, but your mind had other ideas. Moving towards the wall you’d slip into a room before closing the door behind yourself and slouching down onto the opposite wall of the door. Your hands were shaking as you tried to regain your composure, it didn’t make it any better that you were wearing a floor-length dress accompanied by heels that were not ideal for running.

Another round of shots rang out into the air before holes started to appear on the wall and you’d quickly roll onto the stomach hoping none of the shots were aimed toward the floor. Knowing you’d have to think (and move) quickly you began to untie the laced-up heels and kick them off before looking around, you were in the preparation kitchen so it wouldn’t be hard to find something to cut the dress. Your right hand instinctively reached up to your inner right thigh to find your gun still holstered there and you pulled it out. Sliding the mag out of the barrel you saw the clip was full and of course, you didn’t bring an extra clip because you just wouldn’t think someone would have it out for the families so bad to the point where they’d target all of the families under one roof. Which you couldn’t help to admit was smart but very ballsy and you couldn’t help to figure out who was the mind behind all of this terror.

Finding a chef’s knife you held it just above the knee of your dress and you’d hesitate, hating the fact that you’d have to ruin such a beautiful (and rather expensive) dress but you had to get out and find your parents. You’d attempt to cut through the fabric and it was louder than usual meaning outside was quiet and you’d stop quickly to listen.

“I heard something in the kitchen. You three go in there and see what it is” You heard an oddly familiar voice before you looked around for a place to exit and the only thing you could think of was the dumbwaiter on the other side of the room. You knew you couldn’t make it over there in time so you’d finish ripping the dress apart grab the knife and scurry across the floor toward an empty shelf and you’d bring your knees to your chest and turn the safety to your gun off.

Three men in tactical gear breached through the door and looked around slowly as they proceeded further into the room picked up the fabric of the dress and saw the heels.

“Boss, someone was in here and ditched their clothes.” One of them yelled back before looking around the room. You were praying that they couldn’t see your legs but you knew sooner or later you would have to make a move.

‘Well, Fucking find the naked bitch before I have to come in there and do the job myself!’ You heard the ever-familiar voice shout back.

“Come on, she couldn’t have gotten far in here, there’s no exit.” One of the soldiers said as he turned around and closed the door to check if there was a body behind them. You knew if you used your gun it would draw more attention to yourself and you didn’t have enough bullets to fight the whole army that was outside of the kitchen so you knew whatever move you’d make would have to be with the knife that was thankfully still in your hand.

Moving from out of the shelf you’d tiptoe over to the guard that was near the door and you’d slam the knife down into his neck and cover his mouth so he wouldn’t make noise to alert the other two in the kitchen with you, you were lucky the industrial and professional kitchen was set up in aisles so they couldn’t see your body unless they walked around. 

The soldier struggled, voice gurgling under your hand as you strained to move the man to his knees so that when he toppled over it wouldn’t be as hard, and he finally gave out, his body went limp as you pulled the knife out, blood squirting on your face before moving to the other two. As long as you could get to them before they circled back to the door it would be okay in a sense.

Your feet move behind each other in a cat-like motion and you see the second assailant checking under shelves and the third one is moving pots and pans around making enough noise for you to make your play. You take that opportunity to run up to him and proceed to shank him around 7 times, groans leaving his mouth before he falls back blood pooling around him and soaking your feet. You’d feel the cold wet sensation and would mentally roll your eyes at the situation before throwing your knife at the last person’s head and he’d topple over. Hearing the kitchen still, you’d hear the conversation going on outside between the familiar voice and you’d move over to the door and listen in.

‘Jesus fucking Christ! What’s taking these doofuses so long to find the whore?’ The man would ask impatiently as you’d hear the chamber of the unknown person’s gun slide back and you’d move towards one of the ARs the dead person had and you’d take the mags that came with it and move into the bellhopper. You slid the door up, slipping into the tight box and your arm reached out to hit the up button, and almost as soon as you closed the sliding door for the bell hopper you heard the door to the kitchen being kicked open.

‘What the fuck?! You know what?’ The person would chuckle ever so slightly before you heard his echoing footsteps approach the bell hopper which made you nervous because if it was still moving by the time he opened the door he’d know you were in there.

‘I gotcha you little bitch’

-

2 Months Prior

‘You know it wouldn’t be all that bad if you would just put your pride aside and just go on the date Your twin brother would say as your hazel eyes glared across the longer dinner table where you’d be eating breakfast.

There wasn’t much to this schedule it was something new where your mother would accompany you and your brother at breakfast. She sat near the head silently chuckling at the banter the two of you always managed to find yourselves in while she was eating a crepe with a bowl of fresh fruit from her garden.

‘Y’know what, Kaleb? If you want me to meet this man so bad..’ You had emphasized before grabbing your napkin and placing it in your lap. ‘How about you take my place and go on the date with him’ You’d offer the new opportunity and Kaleb looked at you with a rather contorted face before your mother’s laugh was a little more noticeable and Kaleb’s head snapped in her direction before you continued with your pancakes.

‘Oh so the first time in ages that our mother comes down here and one of the first things she does is patronize me because I’m trying to help my sister secure a husband since she’d freshly out of finishing school’ Kaleb would say before you’d shake your head in protest.

‘Kaleb, I simply don’t want a husband for now, and until father says anything about it I don’t think it is necessary as of now.’

‘But, Y/N you have men from families all over practically throwing their sons at your feet every gala we attend. Don’t you think you’re being a little pretentious?’ Kaleb would ask as you gave him a deadpan look. We sat in a very lavish dining room of a 10-bedroom mansion near the oceanside, our father was the head of a great mob family and he thought you were only being a little pretentious was a stretch.

‘Look at how we were raised, Kaleb then ask yourself why I’m being a little pretentious’ 

A soft clearing of a throat had brought your attention to the entrance of the doorway and you’d see your father, donning something other than a suit. He was wearing grey slacks and a white button-down.

‘Isn’t it nice to see my family down here eating together?’ your father would ask before reaching down to kiss your forehead and walking around to grab Kaleb’s shoulders.

‘I suppose it is Dad, which means you have something you need to tell us.’ You’d say eyeing the man and he could only chuckle.

‘Well you are my daughter and there’s no denying that, but nothing too much out of the ordinary. The Solos will be accompanying us to dinner this evening though. Jacoby and I have some business to discuss so I trust you three will be more than entertaining to our guests’ Your father, Issac Beckett would say and you would purse your lips together acknowledging that that was the conversation he was meaning to have. It was rare that your family held company though but it was understandable as to why.

Within the past 4 months, you’ve attended 7 funerals, each one of them had Beckett as their last name, you weren’t sure if the family was being targeted by an outsider but whoever it was was indeed trying to get within the immediate family. It hasn’t been easy for them though because your father’s long-time friend and right-hand man, Lysander Reed, and Luitenant Lloyd Hansen have kept the mansion and its grounds secure. Of course, with someone like Issac Beckett, there would be a lot of enemies made and that’s why he has allies like the Solo family. They still weren’t able to pinpoint a motive or who could be the mastermind behind all of these family murders but since the third one, your father had pulled you from your etiquette academy to ensure your safety and made sure all of the immediate family was under one roof which you guessed wasn’t so bad.

Your mother, Ceanna (pronounced Sienna) was more than ecstatic to see her children under one roof again. Your brother, Kaleb had left off to finish his studies to one day prepare to take over the reigns of the family’s name. But you, you were a different case, a special case.

You’ve protested for years to be more than someone’s wife and bearer of fruitful children. To be more than someone’s arm candy and despite your parent’s disapproval you were enrolled into multiple academies to broaden your skillset, being taught by Lysander how to fight, handle a gun, and be able to hold yourself to those bigger than you, and you proved them to be more than proficient - A prodigy Lloyd would say as he’d spar with you on occasion. Once you felt you were proficient enough your father enrolled you in finishing school where you learned etiquette and social cues to enter society as a woman fit to be a loving wife and also as sly and deadly as a snake.

Your hair was pulled back into a low ponytail as you looked down at your plate and continued to eat your breakfast, pancakes, and eggs which were growing soggy from the amount of syrup you piled onto the plate. 

‘The Solos are the ones with the son, right my love?’ Your mother, Ceanna would ask as your father nodded and moved over towards his wife, planting a kiss on his cheek before sitting down at the head of the table.

‘Yes, Napoleon is their only son. A little older but that still shouldn’t be a problem for our children, right?’ 

‘Leon? I haven’t seen him since we were both in school. Don’t worry I’m sure we can catch up.’

‘As long as you don’t auction me off as a wife to him’ You’d mutter while eating your food and your dad would belt out a laugh while Lysander would make his way into the room saying his greetings to everyone. Lysander had been there long before you and Kaleb were born so on occasion if you didn’t refer to him as Lys, uncle was for mere private times behind the walls of their home which Lysander didn’t mind coming from the twins, he was there for everything and within Issac’s will if anything were to happen to him and Ceanna while the twins were under 25 Lysander would be their ward and be the right hand for Kaleb.

‘I’m sure Napoleon wouldn’t meet your father’s expectations for your husband anyways, Y/N’ Lysander would say before you made a small victory cheer in your head. You hadn’t heard much about this Napoleon character but that’s because your father tends to leave you and your mother out of mob business and she doesn’t mind, but you? Oh, you made it a problem that you were left out of meetings, wanting to know the ins and the outs of the business and how to run it. Your father always says that this path holds no position for a woman, very misogynistic but you weren’t sure on why he would always make that statement.

‘The boy is far too into his bachelor lifestyle to settle down now, especially when there’s no sign of Caspian kicking the bucket over any time soon.’ Your dad would say before Lysander leaned over to whisper something in your dad’s ear and he’d nod.

‘Change of plans, they’ll be coming over for a late lunch and dinner, Y/N I trust you won’t be wearing that?’ Your dad would ask referring to your current pajamas which were an oversized plain black shirt and black and grey flannel shorts.

‘Jesus Dad, I just woke up.’ You’d say defensively before stabbing your fork in the remainder of the pancakes shoving it in your mouth and standing up from the table.

‘Since it’s that much of a problem I will go shower and put on clothes.’

‘Appropriate clothes, Y/N. We will be having guests’ Your Dad responded not looking up from the newspaper that was now in his hand. Your eyes narrowed before you took the glass of orange juice with you and turned on your heels to head out of the dining room.

‘Can I invite Elise and Arabelle?’ You’d ask quickly turning around and your dad matched your narrow eyes but yours instantly turned into pleading eyes.

‘Dad! Kaleb and Napoleon will be in each other's faces the whole time! I’ll make sure they’ll leave before dinner. I promise’ You pleaded before your father looked down at the gold watch before looking over to Lysander.

‘Y/N does have a point, Issac. Lloyd is still on the grounds as well.’ Lysander would say attempting to help your case while sending a wink your way and with a long sigh coming from your father he’d place the newspaper down.

‘See to it that the pool is prepared for the girls and the pool house. Have the chef prepare lunch for them as well.’ Your father reluctantly said before you started cheesing and heading over towards your old man and kissed him on his cheek as well as Lysander’s and you scurried away before he had the chance to change his mind.

Pulling your phone out from your waistband you’d open up the group chat that had you, Elise, and Arabelle in it before sending a single pool emoji with a question mark.

Elise: Uh, Duh!

Arabelle: We’ll be there in 30!

Successfully making plans to occupy yourself you’d scurry to the stairs running past Lloyd and he’d eye you.

‘Why are you running like you've seen a ghost princess?’ Lloyd would say while shooing the other guards away and you’d turn at the first step to face him. It wasn’t a bad age gap between you two, maybe 10 or 12 years? His profession aged him more than he was. The mid-30s weren’t bad for him.

‘Dad let me invite the girls over so I’m trying to get ready before he changes his mind’ 

‘He must be in a good mood, well I won’t hold you up. You look gorgeous this morning by the way.’ He’d say but it went over your head, ever since he’d started working for your dad around 4 years ago he’d always been the one to compliment you. It was nothing out of the ordinary. Giving him a small smile you’d hand him your almost finished glass of orange juice.

‘Thanks Lloyd! Do you mind putting that in the sink please?’ You’d asked before racing up the steps on your hands and knees

‘Anything for you princess.’ Lloyd would whisper low enough only for him to hear before finishing off the orange juice and licking his bottom lip before heading to the kitchen.