#ok thank you bye 🏃🏽‍♀️

[rhythm-of-space]

Ok but thinking about how Josh gets nervous before shows, and I'd assume he feels more pressure about tonight. He's been all over the place, mentally and physically, all day so you finally take him by the hips and make him focus on you. Guiding him through a breathing exercise to slow him down, just for a moment. When you finally see his shoulders relax you tell him to take in how he's feeling, internalize it, and then let a bit of it go - similar to his speech he gives on stage. That the rest will float away as soon as the curtain drops. His gentle "thank you, mama" before he goes to do what he does best. Just some quiet time and reminder to him to slow down and to take the moment in.

[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.”

[chiptrillino]

Hi, may i humbly request a painted lady Katara and aang fanart? Like in their early 20's (Your art is soooo beautiful! I luv it!) OK bye I goes now 🏃🏽‍♀️

this is not how it works anaon, i am not open for requests but thank you for the compliment