#agent 007

[nightqueens-world]

He would make an excellent James bond 😁

[mjmikaelson]

OH. MY. GODS!!!

NEED THIS TO HAPPEN!!!!

[syncenclosur]

Hey chat I have a new interest to add to the collection 😭

I started watching James Bond recently at the start of June bc I kept hearing about it in my life and thought “why not let’s go check it out”… yeah idk if I should do smth like that again 😭😭

[slutforsilverfoxes]

Close Shave

[A/N: What up homies, it’s me, ya girl, steadily adding to my Honorable Men-tions while my husbands watch me like 👀 bitch?

This fic is inspired by the scene & song from Skyfall- I hope you like it :) Feedback is always appreciated, as well as requests for fics or new characters to explore!]

007 glides silently through the doorway, a jungle cat on the prowl for his next meal. He eases the door shut with a soft click, then moves stealthily down the hall in search of his target. A single lamp illuminates the modest London flat casting wicked shadows on the walls surrounding a small feminine figure. He creeps forward, ready to pounce, the next phase of his plan already formulating in his brain.

“Hello, James,” you murmur, not even sparing him a glance as you casually flip to the next page of your novel.

His warm chuckle caresses your skin like a lover’s gentle touch, his honeyed voice stoking the fire in your belly spurred to life by his mere presence. “How is it that I can sneak up on assassins but not a museum curator?”

Your mouth turns up in a smile and you offer your cheek in greeting, scrunching your nose at the feeling of coarse stubble against your skin. “I can smell the cologne I bought you for Christmas from a mile away.“

“Hm.”

“And I may have pestered Q into telling me when you’d be home.”

“Pestered?”

Folding your legs under your body, you swivel to meet his steely blue gaze with a grin. “Bullied,” you concede. “Only so I didn’t almost accidentally kill you with a fireplace poker.”

“Again.”

You wag your book in his face with a raised eyebrow. “That’s what you get for breaking and entering at four in the bloody morning with no prior warning!”

He grunts in concession before easily lifting you off the couch, only to take your seat and tuck you against his body. You hum in delight at the prospect of having him home, however short lived his visit may be, placing your book aside before nuzzling into his chest and pressing kisses to the underside of his strong jaw. Scraping your nails along his cheek, you muse, “You need to shave.”

He gives you an indignant look, carding his fingers through your hair. “Some women happen to like a beard, you know.”

“Then go break into one of their homes,” you fire back, letting your teeth graze along the path forged previously by your lips.

He lets out a throaty laugh that dissolves into a soft moan as you work your way over his jaw to press your lips to his. You share a few innocent pecks before your longing takes over, and you shift to straddle his lap as James’ tongue slips past your willfully parted lips. His fingers work their way under your shirt, trailing along your ribcage before settling on your hips with a gentle squeeze. You release a contented sigh into his mouth, all of the tension leaving your body and allowing you to relax against him.

Running your nose over the sharp planes of his jaw, you murmur, “Let me. Please?”

“Let you what?” He nibbles at the spot just south of your ear and you gasp, rocking against him and feeling him growing hard beneath you in response. Static fills your mind as your senses are overwhelmed by everything that is James, but you press on valiantly. “Help you shave.”

Calloused digits knead the soft skin of your thighs as he hums, contemplating. “Is this another attempt on my life? Replacing the poker with a razor?”

“James!” you admonish, laughing before growing serious as your fingers dance across his handsome features. “You know that my expertise lies in handling art delicately. What kind of curator would I be if I allowed any harm to come to my favorite exhibit?”

He turns his head to press a kiss to each of your palms, then meets your gaze with a cheeky grin. “That’s all I am to you, hm? A specimen to be ogled?”

“Oh, don’t be ridiculous,” you retort with a roll of your eyes. Climbing off his lap and taking his hand to lead him to the master bathroom, you tack on, “You conveniently double as a bodyguard.”

You slide the cushioned seat from your vanity over to the sink and tap it twice with a coy smile. James settles into his spot obediently while you hunt through the cabinets for his straight razor and shaving cream, placing them on the counter before moving to stand behind him. You study your reflections in the mirror as you run your fingers through his hair, your body growing warm at the sight of him subtly shifting his hips when you tug on the short strands. You walk your fingers down his neck and over his broad shoulders, kneading the taut muscles along the way to the apex of his dress shirt. “May I?”

He opens his eyes to meet your gaze in the mirror, ocean blue eclipsed by a sea of inky black. “Always, my love.” His voice has dropped to a low growl that sends a thrum through you. Deft fingers hastily unbutton his shirt with the promise of exploring his body after too many days and nights spent apart. You tug the fabric off and toss it aside, kissing his neck while your hands glide along his muscular chest. “Darling,” he rumbles out through a laugh to get your attention, and you look up to find several marks blooming across his previously unadulterated skin. With a bashful smile, you respond, “I just can’t help myself around you.”

Rounding the chair to squeeze yourself into the space between his legs and the counter, you lower yourself to your knees. He watches your every move with rapt fascination, his breathing picking up ever so subtly when you reach forward to release him from the confines of his fitted slacks. You tug his pants and underwear off before delicately trailing your fingers over his length, marveling at the weight in your hand and how responsive he is to your touch. Peeking up at him from beneath your lashes, you lean in and swipe your tongue over the head, a needy whine escaping your lips at the taste of him. “Darling,” he calls out again, now with an edge to his voice, cheeks flushed and chest heaving with forced restraint. He threads his fingers through your hair and gives a gentle tug, guiding you forward once more. You wrap your lips around him in earnest, gliding down his length while one hand comes up to massage his balls, the other resting on his lower abdomen. With each swirl of your tongue and pull of your lips, the toned muscle beneath your fingertips ripples and liquid heat pools between your aching thighs.

Replacing your mouth with your hand, you look up at James with nothing short of utter devotion in your misty eyes. “I missed you so much, my love,” you rasp out, an involuntary shudder racing down your spine when his fingertips brush over the apple of your cheek.

Tucking his hand under your chin, he directs you to stand and pulls you close for a tender kiss. You continue twisting your wrist along his length as his tongue slides against yours, a sharp gasp punching out of you when he unceremoniously rips your underwear off and runs his middle finger along your slit, the useless lace now pooled on the floor.

“Oh, sweet girl,” he rumbles lowly, slipping his finger inside you and groaning in appreciation at how greedily you clench around him, “you really did miss me, hm?”

“More-” You whimper into his mouth when he adds a second finger, and then a third, lovingly preparing you for his thick cock. “More than I can even describe.”

He draws his fingers out, caressing your sensitive walls as he does so, before replacing your hand with his own at the base of his cock. The obscene sound of your spit and slick gliding along his length as he draws his hand over himself has you clenching around nothing, a desperate whine of “James,” falling past your pouting lips. He soothes you with sweet words, pressing a kiss to the corner of your mouth while his free hand comes up to your hip to guide you down onto him. You cry out at the exquisite stretch, nails digging into his shoulders as you circle your hips to sheathe him inside of you as deeply as possible.

Tucking your face into his neck to pepper his glistening skin with kisses, you beg, “Don’t move. Just let me feel you.”

He hums in concession, gently tugging your oversized sleep shirt off before running his fingers along the column of your spine. The tingling sensation has you rolling your hips against him, moaning when the movement presses the head of his cock against just the right spot.

“Now, darling,” he mumbles against your hair, his large hand possessively cradling the back of your neck, “I do believe we came in here to accomplish something.”

“Can’t remember,” you sigh out. “Too full.”

His ensuing chuckle warms you from the inside out, and you gasp when he leans forward to reach the countertop, shifting his position inside you. He presses something cold into your hand, and you blearily open your eyes to find his razor glinting at you in the muted bathroom light.

With a sigh, you relent, “Fine,” but his firm grip on your hips stops you from rising. “But then how will I-” Your line of questioning comes to an abrupt halt when you spot the smirk playing on his sinful lips. “Oh.”

“Go ahead, love,” he croons, inclining his head toward the shaving cream while his hands come to settle on the globes of your ass. You gather some of the foam between your fingertips, then trace two delicate lines on his cheek in the shape of a heart. Glancing at your work in the mirror, he questions, “How can you be so damn adorable while full of my cock?”

You answer him with only a wink, then get to work coating his stubble with the shaving foam. Once he’s sufficiently lathered up, you ease the blade out and plant your non-dominant hand firmly on his shoulder. “Don’t move, James,” you instruct softly.

He tucks a lock of your hair behind your ear, smiling at the way your tongue peeks out between your lips in concentration, and murmurs, “I won’t.”

You run the blade down James’ face in precise, delicate strokes, mewling in delight every time you stretch to rinse the razor off and he pulses inside of you. Several minutes into your ministrations, he arches his hips against yours with a ragged sigh, moving impossibly deeper as he cranes his neck to look in the mirror. “Halfway there. Doing well, sweetheart.”

“I feel like I’m going to explode,” you attempt a laugh, but it morphs into a strangled moan.

“That would certainly be less than optimal.” He runs his index finger down the side of your neck as you take your next swipe of the blade, your breath hitching when he wraps his hand around your throat and adds the smallest bit of pressure.

The razor stills on his cheek, momentarily forgotten, and you shiver in delight. “What are you doing?”

“Focus on the task at hand,” he chides softly, and you obediently return your attention to the remainder of his beard even as his other hand comes up to massage one of your breasts. You clench around him reflexively, and the hand on your throat squeezes in kind.

“James,” you growl out, this time purposefully flexing your walls around his throbbing cock. He answers your show of defiance with one of his own, both hands tightening their grip and eliciting a whine from you.

“Tit for tat, darling,” he mutters softly, the corners of his mouth ticking up in a wicked smile.

With every movement, every precise flick of your wrist, every droplet of water running down your arm and dripping onto your thigh, your walls squeeze around James’ cock and his fingers press deeper into your skin, and your vision starts going blurry around the edges with need. Finally, mercifully, your lover sits before you clean shaven once again, and you smile proudly at your work.

Nuzzling your nose against his, you sigh at the idea of having to separate yourself from him. “I forgot a towel.”

“Top cabinet?”

“Mhm.”

Tucking his hands underneath your thighs, James stands and settles you on the counter, still sheathed in your warmth. He pulls back to open the cabinet and collect a towel, and you keen at the loss of the fullness until he slots himself back between your thighs.

“Christ,” you hiss, digging your nails into his biceps and arching your back.

“Easy, love,” he murmurs smoothly in response, hiding his smirk behind the cloth as he pats his face dry. You lock your ankles together behind his back, shifting closer and trying to entice him to move. “This is turning downright torturous.”

Dropping the towel on the counter, he shifts his attention back to you and lovingly squeezes the pillow of your thigh. “I always take care of you, don’t I?”

“Sooner rather than later would be preferred in this instance, Bond,” you sass back.

“Patience is a virtue,” he hums with an infuriating calmness to his voice even as he draws his hips back and drags his cock along your sensitive walls.

“I wouldn’t- oh god- consider what we’re doing to be entirely virtuous,” you answer through a moan, teeth sinking into your bottom lip in an attempt to quiet the noises spilling out of your mouth.

“Darling girl,” he tuts softly when he recognizes you’re trying to muffle your cries, fingers ghosting over your cheek before he grips your face and his hips pick up speed. The pressure has you releasing your lip from beneath your teeth, your mouth falling open and allowing wanton moans to escape. James tucks his other hand behind your knee, tugging you closer and letting him sink deeper with each stroke. He smiles down at you when you call out his name and rake your nails down his back, cooing, “That’s it, love. Let me hear you.”

Ever obedient, you moan unabashedly, your cries competing with the sinful sound of skin slapping against skin echoing throughout the marble bathroom. “James! Oh god, James,” you keen, clawing at his shoulders for purchase as your consciousness threatens to leave you, “I can’t- I’m going to-”

He hungrily mouths at your skin, soft pants falling past his lips between kisses as he makes his way up the curve of your throat. Moving his hand to grip the back of your neck, he draws you close to his body and grits out, “Cum for me, my darling.”

You feel your body shudder with the force of your orgasm washing over you, every nerve alight and buzzing as the sound of James’ beautiful moans fill your ears. Your mouth drops open but no sound comes out, your eyes rolling back when you feel the warmth of his release painting your walls. Holding your waist firmly, he presses his hips against yours as his cock twitches inside you, claiming your body completely.

“Good girl,” he pants in your ear, and you whimper at the praise.

“Yours,” you sigh out, completely spent. You turn your head to dot lazy kisses along his cheek, your lips curling upward at the feeling of his freshly smooth skin.

He notes your self-satisfied smile and chuckles warmly against the shell of your ear. “Pleased?”

“Mhm,” you respond sleepily, nuzzling his face and emitting a sound dangerously close to that of a purr.

“I’m glad,” he hums, pressing a sweet kiss to your forehead. “Shower?”

“Can’t,” you mumble. Swinging your legs, you clarify, “Jelly.”

“Bath, then.”

James guides your arms around his neck and you latch on obediently as he lifts your sore body off the countertop. He slips out of you when he hitches you higher up in his arms, and you mumble out a protest despite the aching between your legs.

“What, darling, haven’t had enough?”

Fighting sleep, you tighten your hold on him and nip at his ear. “Never.”

“Naughty thing,” he chides playfully, landing a light pat on your ass before setting you on the edge of the tub.

“You know,” you begin, trailing your fingers along his back while he adjusts the water temperature, “it’s your fault for being so utterly irresistible.”

He grumbles out an undoubtedly unamused response under his breath before climbing into the tub and beckoning you to join him. Carefully maneuvering your shaky legs, you settle back against James, resting your head in the crook of his neck and sighing as the warm water caresses your sore muscles.

“Wet your hair for me.” You stifle a yawn, barely opening your eyes to fix James with a quizzical look. Always a man on a mission, he holds your gaze, unrelenting. “Humor me, darling, will you?”

Heaving a dramatic sigh, you grip the sides of the tub and scoot your body forward until you can lower your hair below the waterline. After a thorough soak, you sit up and nestle yourself back between his legs, closing your eyes once more.

You hear the telltale snap of a bottle being uncapped, and then James’ expert fingers are massaging your scalp as the scent of vanilla and honeysuckle pervades your senses. You let out a hum of pure content, thoroughly enjoying being pampered by your love.

“I can’t explain,” he peppers your shoulders with delicate kisses between words as he works his fingers through your hair, “just how much I missed you.”

“Trust me, the feeling is mutual,” you sigh, responding to the pressure of his fingertips by tilting your head to grant him better access.

His silky smooth voice settles like a warm blanket on your skin as he runs his nose along your neck, and you shiver in delight. “You are absolutely exquisite.” He splays one hand possessively across your belly, the other dancing over the curve of your hip. “Divine.” Moving to grip your chin, he turns your face towards him and you feel his warm breath mingling with your own. “My own personal masterpiece.”

Drawing a trail of water down the column of your throat, between the valley of your breasts, and lower still to the apex of your thighs, he eases your folds apart once more and sheathes himself inside of you. Your mouth drops open wordlessly and he takes the opportunity to capture your lips in a tender kiss.

“You took such good care of me, my love,” he murmurs, delicately threading his fingers through the soapy strands of your hair as his hips press up against yours. “Now let me take care of you.”

[agentsanonymous]

Okay...crackpot idea.

All the secret agents, spies, assassins, all of them...

...in one room.

Can't get the idea out of my head.

Just...imagine.

The chaos.

...

...nope. think I'm gonna make it.

Hold on.

[alexjcrowley]

So, I watched Casino Royale (2006), in my quest to rewatch all of the Daniel Craig's James Bond movies and answer the question: "Do I really hate James Bond movies? Or was I just a kid when some of them came out and I didn't care for spy movies?"

I'll start by saying that I liked Casino Royale much, much more than I had expected. It's 2 hours and a half long, which today is the standard running time for any blockbuster, but lately I had managed to convince myself that, during my childhood, blockbusters were shorter and didn't kidnap an audience in a movie theatre for almost 3 hours. I was wrong.

(Now, SPOILERS ahead)

Starting with what I liked.

First thing first: James Bond. I was never fond of Bond's character, I have always thought him boring instead of serious, slimy instead of charming, and generally very annoying with the whole "I'm the man" demeneanor. I was also wrong. I really liked Daniel Craig in this first movie. We see Bond at the very start of his career, he has just been promoted 00 status and he has a lot to learn. He takes almost as many punches as he gives, he is too instinctive and his ego often gets his own way. He is far from perfect and many people give him shit for that, especially women. Casino Royale holds his main character accountable for most of the bullshit he does and that was a welcome surprise.

The plot. I am proud to say I think I understood the entire plot of the movie. I know it might not seem much a of a brag and I swear I can usually understand the plot of a movie- but James Bond's ones are often too convoluted for me. I feel like Casino Royale, partly thanks to chunk of explaination given by M, was fairly easy to follow. There were also many predictable twists- not necesserily a bad thing though, because they did make sense. I really liked how Mads Mikkelsen- brilliant as always in the role of the main villain Le Chiffre- was being hunted both by Bond and by far more dangerous people he owed money to. I think the movie lost itself a little bit in a the last part, but I'll discuss that later.

Vesper Lynd. I have no idea what the press conferences around Casino Royale were like, but I wouldn't be surprised if a lot of them focused on a better treatment of female characters in the Bond's franchise. I was expecting to be bored to death by the umpeteenth only apparently hard-to-get woman falling for Bond's charms, and I am happy to say it was nothing like that. First of all, and I mean it as a compliment, the Bond and Vesper banter is ao3-tier. The chemistry is there, there's equal teasing on both sides, which makes it looks they just work very well as a couple. But the scene I liked the most is right after James Bond loses a really important game of poker. He goes out on the balcony, Vesper follows him and James asks her to give him more money, because he thinks he can win the next game. Vesper says no. James insists, in what you could call the classical "all or nothing" scene of a movie. The one in which the protagonist is like "you have to believe in me, I can do this, look into my eyes, trust me one more time and I'll prove it to you", sprinkled with a little more "If you don't do this, all that money" that he lost "will be in the villain's hands" and grasping Vesper's arm very tightly. And Vesper's response is not "Okay, I will give you the money to save the world, but don't let me regret this, James". The first thing Vesper tells him is get his hand off of her. The second is that she is not going to give him more money, because he lost that game due to his ego (a motif that had already been introduced at the beginning of the movie) and if he keeps playing now, he is going to keep losing. And then she leaves. This, and the dialogue in which she basically asks if she has to worry about Bond's breaking into her room and trying to force himself on her with Bond reassuring her he won't, were moments I really appreciated. The James Bond saga is not exactly well known to be fair to female characters and, especially, James Bond's love interests are often poorly written. They could have gone the easy route, they could have had Vesper trusting James blindly because he is the main character, but, instead, she stood up to him. I really, really like this decision. As James Bond has been cemented as an icon of masculinity, it is shown that not only even he can be wrong, but also that this is rightly pointed out by a woman. In this occasion, he's being emotional and illogical, while she is being the reasonable one. And I feel this is as relevant today as it was in 2006.

Favourite scene: the torture. I am not really crazy about torture scenes usually, but I really loved the one between James Bond and Le Chiffre. It's not just that the acting- especially on Daniel Craig's part- is phenomenal, it's what that scene means. According to my interpretation, based purely on how Craig played the character, that seems to be the first time James Bond has ever been tortured and you can see he's fucking terrified. And you see him going from terrified back to that mask of neutrality, even though it is now dented. There are moments in which pain slowly morphs into an exasperated laughter and James is turning to crude humour to deal with the situation because he has already made his decision- he won't give up the code, so he's gonna die there, if he is lucky. If he's not, many hours, if not days, of torture await him. It's a momumental test of an actor for Craig.

So, yeah, lots to love. Let's now move to what I didn't like.

The action. Not all the action in Casino Royale is bad, on the contrary, but a couple of things were simply goofy. Like the first bomber being a parkour God, especially compared to James Bond's clusmy ass? Top-tier comedy, maybe intentionally, maybe not. I know for a fact the dramatic zooms were not intentionally comedic, but alas. And I gotta ask, other than being the easiest way to kill off Vesper, what was the point of that last Venice action sequence? To me, that was really overdrawn and forgetful.

The wife of the first villain. Her dialogue about liking bad guys is very cringe and I don't know who directed Daniel Craig in the scene in which reacts to her death, but holy shit that's one of the worst sequence of the movie. At first he seems indifferent to her being tortured and killed, then M goes on her whole tirade about Le Chiffre, and then, suddenly, when she asks if James Bond can handle the mission, Daniel Craig is looking at dead body of the villain's wife doing the most exaggrated heavy breathing since the stuff you could find of Looney Tunes. And then says "no" in a completely neutral, and accidentally comedic, tone. Jesus Christ. What a shit show.

James Bond's character arc, a.k.a. the romcom act. Yeah, I know, I said I liked James Bond before. But I have beef with the way the character evolved. I would say I pretty much like what we see in 2/3 of the movie. The problem for me arrives post torture, when we are made believe we have finally reached a happy ending. Vesper and Bond declare their love to each other, great, it was to be expected. But the fact that a few days after that- at least it looks like a few days- James Bond is like "Yeah, no, I'm in love with you, I wanna quit my job and spend the rest of my life with you" feels very rushed to me. Sure, near death experiences really bond people together, but let's recap the events of this movie. At the beginning of the movie, James Bond has just become 007. If I am not wrong, Casino Royale is James Bond's first mission as a 00 agent. We don't know how much time he has spent hunting down the parkour-bomber of the beginning of the movie, but we know that something like 2 days later he is sent to the Bahamas, then goes to Miami, all in the span of 2 days, and then he gets sent to Montenegro for something like 3 or 4 days. At the end of the Montenegro section, there's the torture scene, so all we know is that he ends up in a hospital and stays there for an unspecified while (which he spends mostly unconscious) and it's at that point, after declaring his love to Vesper, that he goes "Yeah I don't want to be a spy anymore". Bitch, you have been a spy for less than a month and you have known this woman for 2 weeks at best, and I am counting the time you were unconscious. Am I the only one who feels this is rushed? Especially because, during a game of deduction he and Vesper played, Vesper seemed to rightly deduce James wanted to be a spy because he had a chip on his shoulder about proving is worth- did that just go away? Wow, James, you gotta teach me how to solve self-worth related issues that fast. And the canonical reason why James wants to leave the job is because it's "eating his soul away" or some shit like that, and he wants to leave with that little bit of soul he still got. Once again, bitch, please. You have not been on the job for one month, what the fuck are you talking about. Maybe it's because you're not used to have a job, Mr Bond, but every single job eats your soul away and you live with that, because otherwise you won't be able to pay the bills. Just to be clear, I'm not mad at the idea that James Bond wants to leave his job. I think it feels rushed and I think it's a little bit too obvious something will happen to Vesper at this point because there's no way James Bond is quitting the job in his first movie, but I would have accepted this change of heart from Bond if I had been given a good reason for it. For example, the fact that he has been tortured. To me, it would have made much more sense if James Bond would have been like "You know what? Being tortured is fucking terrifying, much more than I thought during my spy training, I don't think I can handle that again", I would have believed that. But instead, we got some bullshit on the soul. James Bond screenwriters, being afraid of torture doesn't make you any less of a man, I swear. All in all, James Bond deciding to change his entire life goals just because he fell in love seems the kind of shit writing the female lead would get in a shitty romance movie, not the one of the main (male) character of a spy movie. Maybe it's poetic justice, but I think James Bond somehow found himself a victim of what is usually regarded as misogynistic writing. He then regresses to the emotional maturity of a teenage boy who spends too much time on reddit when he feels betrayed by Vesper, while M has to explain as you would to a 5-year-old that Vesper, if anything, tried to save Bond. A very undignified main character arc, if you ask me.

Vesper's death. Why did Vesper basically kill herself? I genuinely thought her death was a Jack and Rose situation- they both could fit on the door! I think James would have been able to save Vesper if she only didn't lock herself in the elevator. The only explaination that I can give myself to that decision is that Vesper didn't want to live with the guilt of condemning her past lover to death in saving James.

I am not good at giving grades to movies, instead I will say this: it's definitely worth a watch if you're into spy movies and the bisexual panic induced by Eva Green and Daniel Craig will not leave you for a good while. If you're willing to be forgiving of a few sequences, it's a very enjoyable action flick.

Onto the last part: my quest to prove James Bond is aro and/or ace.

Why do I want to prove that? I guess if there were more aromantic characters I could just turn to them for representation, but I have to do everything by myself around here.

My reasons to believe James Bond is aro: as someone who, for the moment, identifies as aroallo, I really sympathise with characters that indulge in a lot of sex, but keep romance at an arm's lenght. I don't think they're shallow, I think maybe romance is simply not their thing, just like it's not mine.

My reasons to believe James Bond is ace: I think James Bond may have a pretty fucked up relationship with sex because of his job. His entire body basically belongs to the governemnt: it's a weapon to kill, a disposable dummy to be tortured and, in some occasions, an object of desire, used to seduce, possess and be possessed. You could pretty much say that a fraction of his job is similar to that of a sex worker. Far from implying that being a sex worker automatically fucks up your relationship with sex, I think being forced to have sex with people who you sometimes despise and who might want to hurt you or even kill you is not, like, the best thing ever. And also, while a sex worker can theoretically pick their clients, James can't. He has to seduce who is useful to seduce for the mission, regardless of how he feels about them. And, to top it all off, I like the idea of James Bond being ace because I am tired of the whole "James Bond is so cool because he fucks a lot and which man wouldn't want to fuck a lot". Maybe James Bond doesn't want to fuck a lot, or maybe he doesn't derive as much pleasure from it as people believe he does.

Okay, so. Starting with aro spectrum, even though James falls for Vesper, I think we still have good chances of him being aro, either fully aro or something like greyromantic. After all, aromantics can still, even if rarely, fall in love and I think, for the way the character of James Bond has been presented, him falling for Vesper was quite an unexpected/out of character thing for him. Him deciding ti quit his entire past life to be with Vesper...is truly just bad writing for me, but even accepting it, I don't think it makes him any less aro, because as I explained he could have had much better reasons to want to quite his job and, personally, if I fell in love with somebody after years of that just not happening for me, I wouldn't know how I would react. Maybe I would also call it a miracle and just roll with it.

About the ace spectrum, we see him seducing a villain's wife at some point, but I will be honest. That shit don't count. There is this moment in which the woman is like "I always fall for bad men😏" and James Bond immediately gets out of the sexy mood and goes "So would you say your husband is a bad man? Why? Because of his job?". He does a 180 and goes from wet dream to interrogator in less than a second. Plus, he seems to leave her without having sex with her to go chase her villain husband. Very professional of him, but also makes me think he was never that much into her as he made her believe. The whole thing felt too calculated on his part, I would definitely say he was faking the whole time. James does have very enthusiatic sex with Vesper, though. If I want to stick to what the movie implies, without going off the tracks with something like "he pretended to be enthusiatic during the whole thing but he was faking for Vesper's happiness", I may still go with the fact that he is for sure sex positive and maybe demi-sexual.

Well, if you have read until this point, I am genuinely surprised. You don't have that much to do, I guess, good for you.

Onto Quantum of Solace next, and I am already shaking: I know that movie is bad. I know about the writers strike. God help me.

[imabeautifulbutterfly]

Exposed

Summary: Bond has to make a decision about someone he loves. 

A/N: Hello lovelies,

Oh my dear lovelies, oh sweethearts. I AM SO SORRY for going dark.

As some of you may have read from my last announcement, things got a bit hectic when my mom was in the hospital. It was a scary and crazy experience, she basically became paralyzed from her chest down. I’m talking about an extremely active woman who was on her feet working 10-12 hour days to not being able to move at all. 

We had to rush her to emerge and find out she had contracted some rare bacteria that affected her spine. Needless to say she was in the hospital for a month, and finally was discharged about three weeks ago and is now staying at my brothers. Which is great for her since he has a bungalow and makes it easier for her to move around as she’s learning to walk again. However, that does mean we have to travel a bit to visit her and take care of her when my brother and his family can’t. 

Anyway ... long story short, too late. I am back, I am going to try to catch up on some of our lovely stories. I also have a special surprise for you guys, which I’ll upload sometime this week. I’m currently working on Crosshair’s section of the Gym Membership and then SOTF, the Reunion and Upside Down, and I’m also going to be working on a one-off request that I received. Keep your eyes peeled for those. 

Thank you all for sticking around, for sending me love, and for checking up on me, you have all been super amazing and wonderful. 

A special thanks to @firstofficerwiggles​ and @ulchabhangorm​ for being my beta readers. Love oo.

Italics - flashback

Warnings: Mentions of kidnapping, blindfolded, smoking, prisoners, cages, feelings of mistrust, bleeding, injury, I think that’s it, if I miss anything please let me know. 

AO3 Link   |   DC Characters Master List   |   Main Master List

The blindfold covering Bond’s eyes finally started to slip down after hours of the corrosive material rubbing against his eyelids, but if this little irritant put him off from his mission, he shouldn’t’ve been able to call himself a double O. 

It been more than three hours, closing on four, since he’d gotten into the first vehicle and the fabric was placed on his eyes. Since then, he’d been moved to two subsequent vehicles, each more uncomfortable then the one previous.

They were travelling across increasingly bumpier roads, from the cobble stones they started out on, to the rural roads he deduced they were currently on. With each bump he felt the rough material scrape across his skin, there was no doubt his eyelids would be rubbed raw by the end of the journey. 

Despite the increasing discomfort, he focused his attention on what was happening around him. 

As the car began to slow down, he expected a gentle stop, of course that was before his whole body shifted forward violently. He would’ve hit the seat in front of him, if he hadn’t engaged his core muscles doing his best to remain upright as the driver slammed on the brakes. He shifted himself back against the seat, as another vehicle slowly approached them.

The car that had been stifling since he’d been shifted into it, finally received a breath of fresh air, as he felt a rush of wind blow across his face and hair when the door flung open. 

Someone grabbed his arm with force, shifting him forcibly from his seat. This wasn’t his first clandestine meeting he attended, yet every time they always decided to yank the blindfolded person from a vehicle; come to think of it, he was guilty of that as well. There was an inherent expectation that the one blindfolded wouldn’t fall, and would be able to follow the silent instructions. 

Maybe just for fun, the next time he was going to fall to the ground just to throw them off, and chuckle at hearing them become all flustered. 

There was an eerie silence that seemed to hang in the air as he got out of the car, it wasn’t necessarily threatening or dangerous per se, but a seemingly tense atmosphere between the two drivers themselves, maybe an affair of the heart, or simply rivals for one thing or other. He concluded he was being transferred to yet another vehicle, as his guide pushed him forward, hopefully this would be the last vehicle transfer before arriving at his destination. 

His guide kicked his left foot, trying to push it up onto a ledge, he didn’t need much prodding as he stepped up doing his best to gain some form of balance, when he was shoved into the seat. There was no doubt it was an older truck, the cracked leather seats felt as though thousands of tiny pins were poking his butt as he shifted to find a somewhat comfortable spot. 

It didn’t take long to get them on the road again, the further they drove on, the more he was able to determine their heading. The bumps in the road had started to appear less and less, instead it became increasingly dusty from what he could gather as he breathed in more dust from the air vents. The noise from the city vanished completely and replaced by the sound of trees rustling in the breeze and birds squawking from above. As far as he could tell, they hadn’t passed another vehicle in the past thirty minutes, which could only mean they were in an even more isolated area then they had been previously.

The truck shifted gears as it began to slow down, the driver turning ever so gently before he decided to slam on the brakes, lurching him forward once again. He was seriously thinking about talking to whoever taught these guys how to drive. He was trying to brace himself before hitting the dash, only to be pushed back this time into his seat by his guide’s forearm; he wasn’t sure but there was a high probability he would have a bruise on his chest later. At least he could say there was some concern about his safety, relatively speaking.

The relative peace that had surrounded him was now replaced by the sound of various footsteps rushing towards the truck, when the door flung open.

“Get out!” The voice demanded without any further explanation or care. Either from the person’s lack of English or simply they didn’t wish to expand more than the two words because of the unbearable heat beating down against them, the breeze that he had enjoyed was now a distant memory. It hadn’t been so bad in the truck as they drove on their way, but now that it was idle, the lack of breeze, the humidity, and the sun bearing down on them started to feel stifling.  

Though he still couldn’t see much as he moved out of the truck, he was able to see something through the fabric covering his eyes, from the small opening provided by the shift of the blindfold. It was mostly outlines of objects, shapes that provided a hint as to what he was seeing against the bright sun and bluish-grey sky. 

He took in a deep breath, there was a hint of salt in the air brushing against his tongue as he licked his lips; so they’d been travelling closer to the sea. Possibly the Pacific Ocean side as the air wasn’t as salty compared to the Atlantic. The thickness from the rustling of the trees was no mistake they were somewhere dense, either near the border of the forest, or just on the edges of an abandoned village. 

The humidity surrounding him, simply reaffirmed his suspicions, it was thick and suffocating. They had driven closer to the coastline.

Someone grabbed his arm pushing him foward, he could hear sounds of people moving around him, out of his and his guide’s way. Not completely disappearing simply moving off to the side, as they whispered among themselves. He could feel eyes analyzing and scrutinizing his every move, waiting for an opportunity to strike, despite his hands still being restrained. 

As he walked along, his foot bounced off the corner of a box he estimated as best he could from the sound and movement of what he hit. His theory was confirmed as his guide shoved him down onto the seat. He adjusted himself as best he could, as someone cut the zip-ties binding his hands, seconds after his wrists felt sweet relief, his blindfold was yanked off without any concern. 

It took him a few seconds to adjust to the brightness, probably could’ve been worse if his blindfold hadn’t slipped, allowing his eyes to adjust even just a little.

“Bienvenido Señor Bond” the thick Spanish accent coming from the heavyset woman sitting in front of him. The structure in front of him, if he could call it that, provided enough shade for her and her table, leaving the rest of her people and Bond to experience the full heat of the sun. The air was filled with the smell of the cheap cigars she was smoking, the smell flowing over and encapsulating him, making him want to eliminate whoever invented those foul-smelling cheap cigars as he held back the bile that was rising.

He left off a light cough, doing his best to be his most charming self possible, “I’m grateful for the meeting Señora, it’s truly a pleasure to be in front of so much beauty ”

“A great pleasure as well, Señor Bond, I understand you are looking for information” she took a long drag from her cigar, the ashes flicking off in the breeze and creating more of the nasty smell. 

Bond nodded “As a gratitude for giving me the opportunity for this meeting” he motioned to the man beside him who had been carrying his bag, the same man he met in the city before they started off on the long voyage to the middle of nowhere, he must have been in the vehicles with him each time he transferred or travelled ahead of him, “a small fee to show my appreciation for the inconvenience this has caused you.” 

The man, loomed over them as he stepped closer, as tall and broad as he was, the man barely made a sound as he gently placed the bag in front of her. 

She eyed Bond, not saying anything as she took an even longer drag of her cigar, she motioned to one of her subordinates to open the case revealing it full of money.

“American?” She asked as the smoke exhaled through her mouth and nose.

“Of course”

She took another puff “What is the information?”

“Several days ago, a man travelled through the area with a backpack”

“There are many men who travel through this area with backpacks, Señor”

“Of course, however, I believe he is a guest of your wonderful facilities, currently” he motioned towards the rundown prisons, well what appeared to be prisons. They were mere barriers out in the open, simply branches tied together with rope, to form cages to keep the unwanted contained. 

She simply shrugged, “Perhaps, perhaps not.” She motioned with her cigar towards Bond, “Do you have a picture of this man?”

Without a word he pulled out a 4 x 6 picture of the man from his pocket. One of the requirements of meeting her was no technology was allowed. No cell phone. No laptop. No tablet. Nothing that could connect him to the outside world. 

Despite the oddity, it didn’t really matter to him why she was being extremely cautious, all he cared about was the reason he was there. He passed the picture to her aide who was waiting to receive the image, she leaned over taking a long look at the picture, taking another drag nodding slowly in agreement.

“You are correct, Señor Bond, this man is indeed one of our guests of our, as you say, wonderful facilities.”

Bond couldn’t help smirk at this fool’s misfortune, frankly he could care less about the predicament he found himself in, “I hope he’s enjoying his stay then, what I’m more interested in, is the backpack this man had with him.”

She hummed as she took another drag, the smoke flaring out of her nostrils, “Was there something special in this backpack?” Her eyes narrowed as she took in the man sitting in front of her, “If there was something my men overlooked…” her eyes narrowing on two men who were standing off to the side, as her anger flared along with her nostrils towards her men, “I would be very disappointed.”

James knew better than to show his hand, after all it wasn’t anything that was obvious to the untrained eye, “Not in the least, the backpack is in fact mine. The man stole it from me, and I simply wish to reclaim it back.”

Another hum from the woman followed his statement, as she took a final drag of her cigar, putting it out on an overfilled ashtray.

“Why so much money to simply retrieve what was stolen?”

“There is a copy of a book that was given to me by my late wife, it was the last gift she gave me before she passed away; it means the world if I was able to get it back.”

She called over one of her men, whispering to him, careful to not let her conversation be overheard. Within seconds the man brought the dull beige backpack, still intact, at least from what Bond could tell.

“Would you mind if I confirm it’s contents, I would hate for anything to be missing or for the book to have been lost”

She motioned for him to stand, as her men surrounded Bond from all areas, their eyes watching his every move. He opened it fully, the clothes neatly stacked on top, a dog eared book of ‘How to Kill a Mockingbird’ sitting there, along with a toiletry bag, he opened it seeing a razor, toothbrush, toothpaste, floss, and shaving cream. 

“As you can see there is nothing special in this bag, except for the book. This was the book she left me before …” his hand caressed the book tenderly, before he zipped up the bag, looking as undisturbed as before, retaking his seat on the crate. 

“It appears so” her voice was weary.

“Thank you for retrieving my belongings, I would like to compensate you of course, for your troubles.” He put his hands inside his pockets, pulling out two stacks of a hundred American dollars placing them on the table in front of her, “There’s about $20,000 here, as a personal thank you.”

“Señor Bond you are quite good at making friends” she smirked as she slowly picked up the bundles, “Ernesto will take you back to the village. If you ever need my services again, I am more than happy to help.”

“Señora” Bond bowed, giving her his whimsical smile, as he followed Ernesto back to the truck, he sat down the backpack in between his legs, as he was blindfolded once again for the long journey back. 

- - - - - - - - - - - 

The book lay beside Q’s laptop as it’s front pastedown was peeled back, leaving only the indent of a microchip in its wake.

“Q, is the information compromised or not?” Mallory was annoyed as the youngish technician appeared to be taking his time with providing answers that he desperately needed.

“Don’t worry” Bond intervened, “Q’s probably confirming for the third time before he gives us any answers. You know how annoyingly diligent he can be.”

Q focused his attention back on the computer screen doing his best to ignore the comments; however he knew no amount of rechecking would change the answer that laid before him. He leaned back after reading the information for the third time, “Only one identity was compromised”

“Why aren’t you more concerned!” Mallory’s patience was at an end.

“Because it was compromised two weeks ago”

Silence filled the room, as the weight of what was discovered sunk in; the identity of their undercover agent was already revealed, the chances they were still alive were remote if even possible. 

Mallory leaned against the desk, his head hanging low between his shoulders. He’d prided himself on doing all he could for his agents, there would always be deaths in this field that was inevitable, but he always wanted to make sure they knew they weren’t alone. They had support, backup, as much as he was able to offer. 

“Who was it?” Mallory mumbled out as his eyes closed tightly, trying his best to squeeze out the shame and guilt he felt. No one realized there'd been a breach, until it was too late, and then finding out who breached their network, how it was breached took even more time. He failed them, and nearly had others killed. 

Q glanced from Mallory to Bond, a heaviness rested in his chest, the next words he was about to utter would change his friend’s life forever. He focused back on the computer, maybe he was wrong, maybe it was a different person with a similar name and same date of birth, who just happened to have taken over the same undercover name. After all he’s made mistakes before, this could just be one of those unfortunate blunders, it would be better to keep this between Mallory and himself, “Maybe we should …” Q was about to say ‘discuss this in private,’ when Bond cleared his throat.

“Q … say it” James wanted to be wrong, he wanted the name that popped into his head, the moment Q said an identity had been leaked, to be different from the name Q was getting ready to say. 

“007 …”

“Q. Say. It.” James’ voice was tense, his eyes focused on Q’s, taking notice of every twitch, the number of blinks, even every bead of sweat on Q’s face, it all told him a story. Told him to expect the worse. 

Q took the time to focus on Bond’s demeanour, there was no way around it. He wanted to know and no amount of coaxing or trying to pull the old ‘need to know’ routine would stop him. If he didn’t provide him with the information, he’d just break into his computer later and look for it himself, and the last thing Bond needed was a charge of treason. He let out a deep sigh, closing his eyes trying to calm the unpleasant dreary sensation in his heart. He nibbled on his bottom lip, hoping the numbing sensation would make it easier to say what he needed to, “It’s J, 007.”

“When did J …”

“J was recalled to active duty a year ago, specifically for this assignment.”

James could feel his heart racing, his blood pumping faster, he could feel beads of sweat being to form and climbing its way down his spine. 

The sun was breaking in through the window as James watched you sleep, he couldn’t help the smile that appeared on his face, as you scrunched your nose, trying to remove whatever irritated you, mumbling in your sleep. He’d been up for almost an hour, after he had the same nightmare yet again. He knew he should’ve woken you up, whenever he had the dream of your death, it was only you that could ease the pain in his heart; however this time just watching you sleep, peacefully, calmed his heart. It was a sense of peace and tranquility that filled him just lying there beside you. He did his best to memorize every millimetre of your face, wanting to make sure he didn’t miss a single freckle or blemish on your face. In that moment, as he lay beside you, he knew. Truthfully, he had known since the moment you walked into his life, but in that moment he knew he wasn’t going to run away from what he felt, he wasn’t going to tiptoe around the issue anymore. You were the one. You were the missing piece of his life. In that moment, he wanted to wake you up, and ask you to marry him. 

He felt Mallory’s eyes on him pulling him back to the present, as M looked between Q and himself. He was trying to quell the coldness enveloping him completely, James’ fists clenched by his side as a thousand different scenarios ran through his head. This wasn’t the first time you were in a crunch, but at least then he was by your side. 

You pressed into your side, praying and hoping to stop the bleeding as James provided cover. Things were looking bleak for the both of you, you were down to maybe five rounds, your extra magazine used and spent. Bond had taken one of your pursuers guns but even then, he was running low. 

“Okay, I bought us a few minutes” he rushed out, controlling his breathing as best he could. His eyes glanced over doing his best to assess your situation. “What do you say? Ready to make a run for it?”

You could only chuckle and offer a weak smile as he grabbed your arm, but you knew the chances of both of you making it out were slim, especially with your wound that didn’t want to close. The bullet was still in there, and pressing against your ribs. You grabbed his shirt with all the strength you had left, pulling him towards you, kissing him deeply one last time. 

James was shocked at first but didn’t hesitate as he deepened the kiss, you didn’t have to tell him, he already knew what you were thinking. This was your goodbye kiss, you were going to tell him to run and to leave you there to cover his escape; but there was no way he was going to do that, his hand shifted from the side of your face, he slowly flexed his wrist, popping out the the tiny dart Q had mounted into his watch before the mission,  and pressed it against your neck. 

As you felt the prick in your neck, you pulled back and pressed your hand against your neck, “Wha… wha… whhh…”

James watched as your eyes slowly closed and your head fell against his shoulder, “Sorry love” he pressed a kiss to your forehead, “Can’t lose you.” He picked you up, and carried you to the extraction point, doing his best to stay ahead of the assailants.

Now wasn’t the time to panic, he needed as much information as he could gather, “Is it possible to contact J? Confirm in some way that J’s still alive?”

“J’s locator is no longer active. Even the communicator I gave is turned off. All the designated escape rendezvous arranged previously haven’t been used. There is one possibility, give me a minute, I’ll check …” Q’s words trailed off into nothingness as he focused his attention back on his computer.

Mallory stood from his position, it was not the time to be wallowing in self-deprecation. 007 looked as though someone punched him in the gut, or ripped out his heart. Not to mention, there was the possibility of an agent out there on their own for the past two weeks, that could very well need his help.

“You know this … J … personally?” Mallory asked keeping his voice low, as he subtly moved 007 away from Q allowing the genius to do his job.

“More or less” Bond responded, although he heard his voice answer Mallory, it didn’t feel like it was him that was actually talking.

“Meaning?”

“She’s my fiancé …” Mallory looked shocked for a second, before he was able to control his features once again; Bond didn’t draw attention to it, nor did he appear to really be paying attention to what he was saying at that moment. 

James looked around the room, making sure everything was perfect. The candles were lit, your favourite meal was on the dining room table, along with your favourite flowers. He was wearing the navy blue suit you loved, it was the one he wore when you first met, you always told him that image always lived in your memory. He felt for the ring box in his breast pocket. The nerves building as the thought of what he was about to do started to sink in. He always swore he’d never get involved with anyone again after Vespa, but you slowly broke down his walls, and pushed your way into his heart, and before he knew it here he was getting ready to propose to you. Now all he had to do was wait till you got home.

Something pulled James back from where his mind went, maybe it was the fact Q had stopped typing, or just having faith that J’d be okay, and there was no need to be lost in what-ifs. He cleared his throat, straightening and adjusting his tie, “Former. My former fiancé from years past.”

You stood on the street, as the rain pelted down soaking your and James’ clothes straight through. Your tears were welling up as your throat ached from the fight the both of you just had, James was doing his best to hold it together, seeing how much in pain you were from something he did. 

“I’m sorry! But you know this job … this life …”

Your fingers clenched around your engagement ring, “You promised me we would leave. We would both walk away from this job, from everything!”

James ran his hands over his face, “You know how difficult it can be …”

“Oh shut up! You claim to love me, you claim to I’m the one you want to be with, but if that was true you wouldn’t hesitate. Just admit James, you simply don’t want to be with me!”

“How can you say that? I’m here fighting to be with you!”

“Then leave! Leave with me!”

“You know I can’t. Not right now.”

“If you don’t leave now, you’ll lose me”

James closed the distance between the two of you, cupping your face in his hands, “Don’t. Don’t do this.”

You didn’t want to walk away, not from him; but if he wasn’t ready to make the commitment you weren’t sure you could wait around until he was ready. You had already waited five years just to be with him, and now just when you thought everything was finally coming together, it was all falling apart. 

Your hand slowly stroke his cheek, you brushed your lips against his pulling him closer. He didn’t wait or hesitate, he reciprocated making sure the kiss was as passionate and intimate, James didn’t want to think this was the final kiss he could ever give you. 

You pulled away, taking his hands in yours, you pulled off the ring and placed it in his hand. “I can’t do this when you’re not ready. I’m sorry.”

That was all you said as you left him standing there, James just watched you walk away, not sure of how to fix this.

Mallory didn’t say much, simply nodding his head. He knew the affairs of the heart all to well, he wasn’t going to pry into Bond’s past no matter how sorely he was tempted, “Are you able to handle this?”

James turned his head and locked eyes with Mallory, “Are you?”

“Very well, 007.”

Both regained their focus and steadied their nerves, Q looked up as he felt their gazes on him, he adjusted his glasses as he reviewed the information, “I triple checked all morgues, hospitals, law enforcement announcements, even underworld bounties, and I can neither confirm nor deny J’s alive … or dead.”

“Pardon me?” Mallory stated as his hand hitched on his waist, his anger needing an outlet. Not only had they been breached, but it appears it was a targeted breach against one particular agent that didn’t seem to have raised any red flags in their assignment. 

Q adjusted his glasses, not bothering to look at the very annoyed and confused expressions that no doubt rested on both of their faces, “If J were dead there would be a report of either an unidentified body, J’s undercover name or J’s real name, and if that wasn’t going to happen, then there would be a police report about a body found or a … piece found. However there’s nothing. There’s still a pretty large bounty on J, 750,000 euros. Which tells me two things, one - J escaped before the identity was revealed. Now how J knew the cover was blown, I couldn’t possibly guess. However, that brings me to number two, as of right now J’s escaped the clutches of whoever put the bounty. Otherwise, it would’ve been removed, not to mention there would be some form of notice on the dark web.”

“Okay that means J’s likely alive, but you said you weren’t sure about J’s death?”

“Well they could have found J and kept the bounty up to keep us thinking J’s alive when that isn’t the case. They could also be torturing J for information …”

Bond held up his hand, “Okay we get.”

“If J’s captured, then there’s nothing we can do.”

The air in the room went frigid, as Bond slowly turned his head to look at Mallory, “There’s always something we can do” his voice was terse as he addressed Mallory.

“I’m sorry 007, but you know the rules better than anyone. Captured and you’re on your own; MI6 will disavow all knowledge regarding your existence and activity. If J’s caught, there’s simply nothing I can do.”

The tension between the two seasoned men started to grow, one due to the power and position he held, limiting his ability to help an agent in need, the second due to his own feelings and sense of duty to the one who had held his heart far longer than anyone else since Vespa. 

Q held up his hand, “Before you two get into a testosterone filled match to decide which of you is bigger, I found something”

“Surprised you didn’t just wait till after” Bond smirked, appreciating the fact he could always tease Q no matter what the situation called for.

“I was tempted, but this is more pressing. I found a … as best I can describe it, some sort of distress code, on a back channel that hasn’t been used for a while.”

“What does it say?” Mallory was beginning to have doubts about this agent; first, why was only J’s identity that was revealed? Secondly, how did J survive? 

“Need extraction. No response in two weeks. Will go dark. Heima. J out.”

“When was this posted?” James hand clenched by his side, something wasn’t right. Heima referred to their home they were planning on building in Milford Sound, the remotest area of New Zealand.

“Sixteen days ago”

“J already went dark.”

“Question” Mallory couldn’t hold his tongue anymore, “If she was able to escape why didn’t she come back in? Why wait to get an extraction? Why wait to hear back? And why was J’s identity the only one that was leaked?”

Bond turned to look at Mallory, “Are you questioning J’s loyalty?”

“It does raise some concerns” Q offered reluctantly.

“I know J!”

“It bears some consideration, 007” Bond didn’t need to hear this anymore, he grabbed the equipment Q had laid out for his next mission; ignoring Q’s comment.

“Where do you think you’re going, 007?” Mallory was about to stop him but thought better of it.

“Heima” was all James said as he walked out.

Mallory looked at Q waiting for an answer, he simply shrugged, adjusting his glasses, “Did you expect anything less? I mean …” Q motioned with his hand to the door Bond exited, “Really?”

Mallory smirked, running his hand down his face, “Let me know when he finds J.”

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[chameleon221b]

Mrs. Husdon drives an Aston Martin well above the speed limit with fabulous driving skills while on the phone with the British Government and the World's Only Consulting Detective handcuffed in her boot. Aston Martin. Fast driving. Badass. Ergo, she's a reincarnation of James Bond. Change my mind.

[ravings-of-a-mad-scientist]

Stupid, handsome secret agents sneaking into my lair with their impractical sexy black suits and their dumb suave accents and foiling my silly little plans and seducing my female minions and always getting the girl. WHY CAN’T HE GET ME FOR ONCE?

[hello-god-its-me-sara]

[duranduratulsa]

Duran Duran - A View To A Kill

Duran Duran Week song 🎵 of the day 2: A View To A Kill (1985) #duranduran #aviewtoakill #jamesbond #007 #agent007 #simonlebon #nickrhodes #johntaylor #rogertaylor #rogertaylorduranduran #andytaylor #bernardedwards #ripbernardedwards #chic #JasonCorsaro #80s #DuranDuranWeek #duranduranweek18 #duranduranweek2024

[retro-vintage-time]

[syncenclosur]

Study thingie I did and then thought about something so I did the something 🙏💔

[slutforsilverfoxes]

A Man After Midnight

[A/N: Uh… I’m just gonna leave this one here 🧍🏽‍♀️ ok thx bye 🏃🏽‍♀️]

🎃🖤🎃🖤🎃🖤🎃🖤🎃🖤

Pairing: James Bond x female reader (gun play)

Shooting up in bed in your nearly pitch black room, you grab the closest item on your bedside table and hurl it at the doorway leading to the hall. You’re rewarded with a familiar low chuckle, one that sends your nerves alight and blood rushing through your veins.

“Attempted death by-” Bond pauses, and you hear him inhale deeply before concluding, “-vibrator. What would M have to say about that?”

“She’d thank me for getting you out of her rapidly graying hair,” you retort easily. “Now are you going to turn the lights on, or do you prefer to skulk about in the dark?”

“I most certainly do not skulk, darling,” he responds, voice sounding closer now and somewhat miffed. You track the way the shadows dance along the wall from the street lamp filtering in through the curtains on your window before hooking your ankle around what you presume to be Bond’s knee and giving a harsh tug. Your aim proves true, his weight falling onto the mattress by the foot of your bed with a quiet grunt.

Taking advantage of the position, you toss the covers aside and move to straddle his lap, suddenly grateful that you elected to wear only a short silk sleeping gown to bed tonight. The grin is evident in your voice when you ask, “Is that your weapon, 007, or are you just that excited to see me?”

“Yes and yes,” he responds smoothly, and you can’t help the shiver that races down your spine. “Why,” he intuits in that infuriating manner of his, “does that excite you?”

“It most certainly does not, darling.”

“Clever,” he murmurs. Then, in a flash, he’s above you, and you can feel the cold bite of metal pressed to your cheek. You suppress another shiver, and Bond lets out an appreciative laugh. “A clever lie, it seems.” He nuzzles the spot where your pulse thrums just below your ear and you moan a weak and whiny, “James.”

“No clip, no bullet in the chamber, just like we talked about,” he assures you quietly, and you hum your approval. “Now, where were we?”

Reaching up in the dark, your fingers find the sharp plane of his jaw and you run your nails lightly over the stubble growing there. “I believe you had me at your mercy? In the dark with a gun, no less?” The playful bite to your words morphs into a sharp intake of breath through your nose when the muzzle of the Walther presses into the pillowy flesh of your inner thigh.

“That’s more like it,” Bond hums, clearly pleased with himself as the metal leaves a cold trail in its wake, creeping higher and higher along your thigh until reaching its intended target. “Mouth closed, legs open. You’ll cooperate for me, won’t you?”

Obeying his mouth closed edict, you simply nod in response, and Bond takes the slight rustling of the sheets as your confirmation.

“It’s so much better for both of us when you listen to me,” he continues softly, the Walther just barely sliding back and forth against the growing wet spot in your panties. You can’t help the choked moan that escapes the back of your throat, and Bond tuts before covering your mouth with his free hand. The intoxicating scent of worn leather floods your senses and your eyes nearly roll back in your head- he’s literally dressed to kill.

“You really must stay quiet,” he says, a hint of disapproval twisting around his words. The barrel of the gun presses more forcefully against your clothed pussy and you grind down in search of friction, your desperate whimpers muffled by his gloved fingers clamping harshly over your mouth. Biting back a grin, Bond leans down by your ear and teases your aching core with the gun before whispering, “I wouldn’t want to have to use this on you, love.”

[claire-elvisgirl]

How would you like your Martini?

All shook up!

🤯🤯🤯

[lucaf2019]

sul set del film "007 - No Time to Die", 2021

📷 Greg Williams (ph. 2 - 3)