bakerstreet | A Picture is Worth... Meme.

A Picture is Worth.... Meme
This ain't your mama's meme. Forget your RNG, forget your tired old prompts.
A picture is worth a thousand words.
It's easy. Comment with your character. Then go comment around.
But instead of pre-filled prompts with words or numbers, you find a gif or image (any gif/image from any canon or scenario you please) that sets the scene.
The picture is the prompt.

WARNING: THIS POST WILL BE IMAGE HEAVY. AND POSSIBLY NSFW AND THERE MAY BE TRIGGERS.
Some images will not be able to be hidden behind cuts, so please be aware that triggery material may be found within.

If you post an image that is violent or sexual in nature please LINK it, do not embed it into the comment.

Feel free to use this template to stick your image in there.

Good resources for images/gifs are weheartit or tumblr. For not so safe for work gifs/images go here and here.

Original Meme here.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

[ he takes it, everything q has to say without complaint, all his jabs, his threats, his condescension. honestly, it kind of does something for him in a weird way, this snooty little man, humiliating him for no one to see. and isn't that worse, no audience, no one to act for, all just for him. too bad it doesn't really, but you know, it's the thought that counts.

his gaze draws sharp, something privately amused there before he does as he's told, closing his eyes but keeping his head tilted up, like somehow he might still be watching him from behind his eyelids. quietly, awaiting whatever would come next, ]

Yes, sir.

[sir? that sends a little thrill through him. by all rights and accounts q is the one who should be calling someone twenty years his senior "sir", but he's not and it goes straight to his ego and somewhat shamefully, his cock. there's the idea that bond might do anything he says right now and that's a very powerful, very rewarding piece of knowledge.

that smirk though, still arrogant as ever. maybe he thinks he's indulging q--that this is just a joke and that q can't really give orders outside his domain upstairs. he hesitates for only a second before slapping at his cheek (not too hard, but not lightly either).]

Those were serious accusations, 007. Maybe M allows your insubordination and your carelessness, but I won't.

[ the slap actually surprises him, enough that his head turns with the slap and when he returns to his initial position, his brows are raised. it smarts in the best way, honestly. bond didn't particularly care for sadism or seeking out pain but he had always liked things a little rough, especially when he least expected it. there was something between exciting and frightening that q was willing to strike him-- something that made him curious, eager to play this out.

his adams apple bobs with a swallow, tongue wetting his lips and all he says, just two words, light and simple, ]

Yes, Sir.

[oh, yes that's exactly the way things were supposed to go even if q couldn't fully imagine the satisfaction he's feeling at having caught bond off guard. this is only the beginning of course--they both perhaps have much more to prove, but q especially feels it necessary.

his expression relaxes into something more neutral with just the faintest hint of satisfaction tugging at his lips and the fingers that lingered against bond's cheek stroke lightly, coaxing.]

Pick up the blindfold and put it back on.

[ he doesn't hesitate to obey even if he finds himself wanting the stroke of his fingers a little longer, his cheek warm from the hit still. a nice reminder. bond is quick about tugging the blindfold back on, canting his face back up toward him afterward, hands returning to his thighs, slacks tight against them. ]

And now, Sir?

[he sucks in a breath, heat pooling in his stomach once more and skin hot under the fabric separating bond's hands from feeling it fully. there's so much he could do--wants to do, but he can be patient. make it worth the wait.

slowly his fingers travel down, along his jawline and finally below his chin, tilting it up even further to the point of slight discomfort at that angle on his knees, even. q bends forward, enough to murmur just close enough to let his breath ghost over bond's ear.]

Open your mouth, 007.

[ there have always been a lot of things he didnt expect of q and a lot of things he reminded himself to stop underestimating him over and whatever those things were didn't cover whatever this was and where it lead bond's mind running. he wonders if he's done this before an who with and without question, he parts his lips, neck straining just slightly. maybe it was the way he used that, double-oh-seven here, like this, with all the unannounced promises he was offering or maybe it was the fact that james bond didn't know what to expect at all.

(well, some things) ]

[there's so much he might do. the chaste part of him wants to lean down and kiss him; the vulgar part get bond's mouth around his aching cock. he settles for something in the middle, simultaneously dirty and dangerous and yet not quite so crude. quietly his hand extends to pick up the gun, and gently he places it against bond's lips without pushing it inside.]

Taste it.

[ it's very hard not to hesitate in this case, brows furrowing against the blindfold, tongue flicking out against the curve of the muzzle. many had artistically compared the taste of blood to metal, but there's nothing like what he tastes now; it's cold and sharp of something he knows but can't place and as he tilts forward to draw the tip of it into his mouth, his tongue presses against the underside like he would anyone's cock. the weight is strange and his lips close around it but he doesn't suck, no, he just ducks forward to take more in and then draws back, a mock of what he'd much rather be doing. ]

[q feels his heart jump to his throat, swallowing hard and watching the expanse of bond's neck shift as he sticks out his tongue and mouths around the muzzle. but when he pulls away q frowns (not that he would see it anyway) and sharply moves the barrel against his jaw, turning his face to the side as if in punishment to scold him.]

I don't believe I told you to stop.

[before bond can respond it's back against his lips again, pushing in further as if fucking his mouth in earnest, a mockery of what q would rather be doing just as much.]

[ the noise he makes at first is disgruntled, mouth violated in a way he'd never had done before and it would be q to give him a first. the barrel is unrelenting and he relaxes his jaw to keep his teeth from clattering against the metal of it, a hand rising quickly (even despite telling himself he wouldn't touch him without being told to) to brace against q's thigh, fingers pressing up the length of it, grasping firm.

of all the things james bond could be thinking about, he thinks now about the wiry muscle beneath his hand and how different it felt from what he was used to, the thick thighs of men larger than him, dominating him because they knew that too. if he were stupid, he'd think q was compensating in the other direction but he knows better. this isn't a pissing match (though frequently their behavior skirts on the edges of prideful behavior), this is simply who they are. a man capable of dominating and a man capable of submitting, willingly.

the noise he makes now is encouraging, wanting. a throaty, deep moan but not for the gun in his mouth. ]

A Picture is Worth... Meme.

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