Tag: love this

Headcanon: 5 silly sex things about Q

teamdoubleoh:

castillon02:

Q always, always jumps whenever Bond first puts any lube on him. It doesn’t matter if it’s his cock, his arse, his thighs–there’s always a tiny little rabbit-jump that makes Bond smile. 

Every once in a while, Q will be so into it that instead of filthy nonsense coming out of his mouth, he’ll forget how to swear and just let slip a dazed, “Oh–oh my goodness!” as he comes.  

He’s up for literally anything. Not always right away, but the answer to “Want to try X?” is always, “Give me a little while to work up to it,” instead of “No.” Bond’s concerned at first that Q has trouble expressing boundaries, but it turns out that really Q just knows that the turn-on of doing a novel experiment/satisfying his curiosity is always going to win out over any internal kinkshaming.  

Q’s neck is ridiculously sensitive. Sometimes, all Bond has to do to get him in the mood is gently scrape a nail down Q’s nape. He and Bond do a vampire roleplay one time, and it’s the most cheesy thing ever that they can’t stop laughing about, but once Bond gets into character with the proper amount of neck-lust, Q finds it stupidly hot. 

Q is the first person who ever blows a raspberry into Bond’s belly during sex. Bond’s face is so startled that Q doubles over laughing, and it breaks the mood completely, but frankly it’s right after Bond’s come back from a mission, and Q suspects that that particular mood is better off broken. Afterward, Bond’s face is a little less lined with care, his eyes filled with mischief instead of with 007-blankness as he insists on holding a playfully squirming Q down so he can return the favor. 

Note: for @roseforthethorns, who wanted some cuteness! 

This is beyond adorable. I love all of it.

Pinto de May: Part II

voldiebuns:

My fic contribution this year will be a four parter! Each part will be a sort of stand alone

but still connected

ficlet based on three words (from the list @rabidchild67​ posted). I’ll (hopefully) be posting here throughout the day, then the whole thing will be posted to AO3 tonight or tomorrow.

This ficlet brought to you by the words brunch, pancake, and divorce.

Part I

“So how’s divorced life?”

Ahh, just the question Chris had been dreading. Not that he hadn’t been hearing it for the past two weeks, sometimes multiple times a day. His answer was always the same vague non-answer that people expected. No real feeling or explanation. But he and Zach had been friends for years, good friends, and he deserved more than that.

“It’s been… endurable,” he finally said. “Lonely, you know, even though Maria and I hardly saw each other anyway. I’ve been eating a lot of ice cream.”

Keep reading

Fiction Romance, 2 and Direction to Perfection, 10?

entrenous88:

Thanks
for asking about Direction to Perfection!  I flailed around for a little wondering what
Chris and Zach would remember most about their pre-dating/pseudo-dating time.  But then I started to wonder what Jeffy might recall about getting to know Zach.  

One
off-screen (but partially referenced) moment Jeffy will remember for a long
while happened just after they had to hot tail it out of the movie theater (remember,
when Jeffy had a meltdown because the aggravating woman sitting in the row
ahead of them not only interrupted Zach and Chris’s almost-kiss but woke Jeffy
up from his nap?).  

On
the sidewalk outside, his dad had said they should probably be getting home, “Because
I think this one needs some quiet time.” Jeffy had nearly started to wail
at the unfairness of it all; he’d missed most of the movie, and he’d barely
gotten to see Zach.  But Zach had caught his attention when he
patted his pockets like he was searching around and said, “Wait,
buddy, I just remembered: I’ve got something for you.”  When Jeffy had stopped mid-inhale/pre-shriek
in surprise, Zach had taken his hand out of his jacket pocket and unfolded his
fingers to show two of Jeffy’s tiny trucks.

Jeffy
had started to grab them back tearfully.
But then he’d stopped and looked up at Zach watching him and waiting
patiently.  And he’d mumbled, “One
is for you to have,” and hidden his face against Chris’s leg.  

His
dad had laid a hand gently atop his head, and Zach had said, “Wow, seriously?”  When Jeffy had looked up, Zach was crouched
down on one knee so that he was at Jeffy’s eye-level.  "Which one should I hold on to?“
Zach had asked.  Jeffy had hesitated, his
hand hovering over the two trucks in the palm of Zach’s large hand.  He’d nearly reached for the green one; it was
shinier, and the red one had gotten a dent when Jeffy had thrown a rock at it
one time.  But then he’d glanced up at
his dad, who was smiling down at both of them with that soft look on his face he got
sometimes.  So Jeffy had said, “You can choose.”

Zach
had picked the red one.  "It’s my favorite color,” he had said when Jeffy made a surprised sound.

When
they parted later (because for some reason his dad didn’t make them leave right
away after all), Zach had waved and held up the truck in his hand, like a
little reminder that he would keep hold of it.
So Jeffy had raised the red one in return before he waved back.  His dad had put him up on his shoulders and
they had headed home together, the green truck clutched tightly in Jeffy’s hand the
whole way.

Words Wednesday

suedescripture:

what are princesses when Spirk are arguing

“Captain,” Spock said. “When we were attacked, were you bitten?”

“I… Maybe,” Jim squirmed, shrugging. “They just grazed me. It’s fine. It’s no big deal.”

“Jim, please do not lie to me,” Spock said, he raised his arms to bare the insides of his forearms and wrists where he had been aware of his own bite wounds for some time, his own dried blood sticking the material of his thermals to his torn skin. “I was also bitten. I believe the integrity of my evo suit is compromised.”

“Shit,” Jim murmured, frowning up at him, “You should have told me.”

“Is yours as well?”

“I… I don’t know,” he evaded, “Maybe.”

He looked down, tilting his leg to see the back of his ankle and calf, brushing gloved fingers over the rumpled fabric. The composite materiel was supposed to be self-healing, but that was on a microscopic level; larger rips were still possible.

“Jim, you should have informed me,” Spock said, and when Jim ignored that, he continued, “You are at far greater risk than I.”

“How do you figure that?” Jim countered hotly.

“I am Vulcan,” Spock said, “As this virus appears to be oriented toward an iron-based hemolytic system, it is likely I will not be affected. It is now imperative that we leave this compound immediately and seek shelter elsewhere. We must remove you from the epicenter of the viral area.”

“Spock, you’re part-human, you have no idea what—” as Spock moved his hands to the release under his chin, Jim jolted up, “Spock, don’t!”

But Spock had quickly pulled off his mask.

“Goddammit!” Jim shouted at him, “What the fuck, Spock? Why did you fucking do that?”

“To force you to acknowledge the necessity of our departure,” Spock retorted as he stood up and pulled the suit’s taut hood from his head, his hair flattened from the pressure. “Regardless of the situation, you cannot remain in that suit beyond another 12 hours. You must eat, drink and attend your bodily functions. I can survive longer, but I too require basic needs to survive. I will not allow you to continue compromising your health.”

“Fuck,” Jim growled, striding around the room. “Fuck you, you know? You’re a fucking piece of work. What if I take mine off, huh?”

Spock advance on him threateningly, “Captain, if you attempt to remove your mask, I will be forced to incapacitate you and remove you to an alternate location myself.”

Jim stared him down, but Spock didn’t relent for a nanosecond. It was a cold day in hell when his XO forcibly asserted his intentions since that first time, but when it came down to it, he didn’t doubt that Spock would nerve pinch him out, toss him over his shoulder like an inconvenient rag doll and get shit done his own way if he thought Jim was being unimaginably stupid.

“Fine. Fine, have it your way.”

“You are welcome to continue berating me while we evacuate the area,” Spock told him, striding to look out the window, “The sun will clear the horizon in approximately 12 minutes. I believe we should gather as many resources as we can carry and leave the city perimeter as soon as possible.”

“Yeah? Where to, Spock?”

Spock was calmly packing padds and tricorders into a satchel that had been left in the building. “Given the volatile nature of the tides, I believe we should avoid the coastal area, as well as the higher elevations as they will likely have more unpredictable weather patterns. Therefore, the foothills would possess the best possibility of survival.”

“Oh, good. Great! we’re stuck out here on the ass end of the galaxy, and now you finally wanna go on a camping trip.”