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comatosebunny09 · 10 months

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kindle [ pt. 2 ] | leon k.

genre(s): romance, friends to lovers, modern au

warning(s): language, pining, terms of endearment (doll, sweetheart)

part 2 to this. hope you enjoy! thank you so much for reading! ❤️

It’s a date. Or at least, you assume it is.

Given the way Leon had sauntered up to your desk, all smirking and sheepish, it was only fair to surmise he had asked you out on one.

Took him long enough.

He came to you through the dull murmur of the office. When the sun crept towards the horizon, bathing your cubicle in an ethereal orange. You were elbow deep in SIR reports, gnawing on the cap of your pen. Irritation rested between your brows. If you glared any harder, the information sprawled before you would surely combust.

Paperwork was the bane of your existence. Dodging chainsaws, claws, and teeth seemed more appealing. You’d gladly take the cool steel of a beretta biting into your palm over that of a ballpoint.

Thick, work-worn fingers splayed on your desk, drawing your attention northward. You couldn’t help the slight quirk of your lips. Couldn’t parry that pleasant, fluttery feeling in your gut at the sight of him—your partner, that is.

Leon’s hair was ruffled with errant strands sticking this way and that. Irises glimmered like sea glass, dancing over your features with boyish fascination. His smile was dimpled, and crow’s feet hung to the corners of his eyes. Dark stubble dappled his chin. His tie was loosened around his neck, while his dress shirt lay slightly untucked and wrinkled. It seemed the day had been as kind to him as it was to you.

You found yourself resting your cheek in your palm as warmth flooded your innards. Fell under his spell, submerged beneath its shadowy depths, unable to resurface. Not that you wanted to. He held your heart in a vice. You cautioned a “Sup?” wincing at how your voice crackled. How you sounded prepubescent, and you cleared your throat to ward off your nerves.

Leon’s replying chuckle was like velveteen. You felt it in your stomach. Felt it play up your spine like a xylophone. You always found his voice endearing, the low gravel of it sticky and dulcet to your ears.

As if magnetically drawn to them, you watched his lips, soft and rose-petal red, form around words. Your own tingled as you recalled kissing that very mouth a few nights ago. Committed their texture to memory, quelling the urge to touch your lips. Leon’s Adam’s apple bobbed and the tendons in his neck flexed. You instinctively swallowed, readjusting yourself in your chair.

“Not much,” Leon said, shifting his weight onto one foot. Still propped up on your desk in an easy slouch, swaddling you in the aroma of gun oil and teakwood. Of course, his sleeves were cuffed, baring his sinewy forearms. How badly you wanted to touch them. Drag your fingertips down the forked veins beneath, conjuring the prettiest sounds from his throat. “Just checkin’ on my favorite partner.”

You scoffed, rolling your eyes. “I’m your only partner, dickhead.”

“I dunno,” he taunted, standing tall with folded arms. From this angle, it was easy to make out the power of his body. His clothes did little to disguise it. Your throat grew dry, and your voice caught in the bowels of your chest. “Marie over in HR is gunnin’ for your spot.”

It always surprised you how quickly you could move. How swiftly you could retrieve your stapler and chuck it at him. Leon snorted as he ducked, the damned thing striking a far-off window. He threw his hands up in mock surrender, a youthful crinkle to his eye.

“Relax, doll. I’m just messin’.”

You countered with a hmph, clearly over his shit.

Leon replaced his palms on your desk once the dust settled. Broke the heavy silence by asking, “How’s the admin stuff comin’?” Feigning interest in the documents littering your cubicle, he retrieved a packet, skimming through it with disinterest. Like he wasn’t using you to procrastinate, a pile of pristine, white paper leering at you through his office window.

With a weighted sigh, you answered, “It’s coming.” A quiet snicker garnered another eye-roll. “Oh, grow the hell up, Kennedy.”

“Never. You like me like this.”

You cut your eyes at him mid-scribble. Sat your pen down with a definitive clack. These childish games you played made you feel giddy. Like two grade-schoolers in the sandbox, clearly taken by each other. Alright. You’d bite.

“Says who?”

It was as if you initiated a challenge. As if you’d stuck out your tongue and said make me. Leon took the bait, inching towards you, huffing out a chuckle. He crept over your desk with the finesse of a jaguar quietly stalking through the bush. Poured himself into your personal bubble, the heat of his body rolling off him in waves, staining your neck, a shiver sifting through your bones. His breath was hot against the shell of your ear. Dizzying as he deliberately exhaled against your skin.

His timbre was dark with mischief as he finally crooned, “Says that dumb little look on your face, sweetheart.”

You’d never punched him harder.

Leon drew back, gulping down air between a peal of laughter. It became customary for him to torment you like that. To play on the attraction swimming between you, dismantling your resolve and leaking through the fissures of your heart. When the moment became too serious, he often sprinkled in a quip or two to keep you at arm’s length. It was frustrating. How he could act so cool despite the noticeable change in your relationship.

“What do you even want, Kennedy? I’ve got shit to do,” you sighed, exasperation wading in your tone. Your forehead collided against the cherrywood with a soft thunk. A migraine bloomed on the horizon. Leon’s teasing only served to exacerbate it.

His tone was muffled. Hesitant, rivaled by the idle chatter of your coworkers. “Well, if you must know, I … wanted to see if you had dinner plans?”

Magma filled your belly. Your eyes shot to him, a sheet of paper comically glued to your forehead. You were acutely aware of yourself, sitting up straighter, smoothing out the wrinkles of your attire, fretting over your hair. “Dinner? Uh, m-me? N-no. Well—”

“Cool. Now you do have plans. Seven sound good?”

Your expression was awestruck. Well, now, this was certainly a new development. You blinked away your confusion, nodding dumbly. Caught a glimpse of a smirk canting Leon’s lips before he stepped out. Before he tapped your desk with finality, maneuvering out of your office space.

“Wait! Wait, is … is this a date?” you called to his retreating back.

“Take it however you want,” Leon supplied, a hand raised in farewell.

You sank into your chair once he disappeared within the maze of cubicle walls. Left at the mercy of your thundering heart and flaring nerves. The goofiest of grins lay claim to your countenance. You felt reinvigorated, taking up your pen. Scrawled away like an enamored fool, scanning through the catalog of your mind for what you would wear.

<< part 1

#leon x reader #leon kennedy x reader #leon s kennedy x reader #re4 leon x reader #resident evil 4 x reader #re4 x reader #leon kennedy x you #leon s kennedy x you #leon kennedy x y/n #leon kennedy imagine #leon kennedy fluff #resident evil fanfic #resident evil x reader #tw: language #cw: reader insert #kindle series

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coeurify · 5 months

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idk if you’re comfortable with writing this (it’s okay if not no worries!) but gunplay w abby who forces you to suck the barrel and threatens to fuck you/shoot you with it if you don’t do a good enough job 🫣

- 🐾

okkk so i changed it a bit but its still pistol sucking hehe!

warnings 18+ , dom/sub dynamic, the use of “dumb” and calling reader stupid, pistol sucking, i guess you could say fear play. reader is into how dangerous it is basically.

<3__ <3 __ <3 __ <3 __ <3 __ <3

The very first sensation you could pick out behind the black of your tightly closed eyes was something cool against your cheek. Something that pressed into the plush skin, drawing a sharp intake of air from your shaking lips. A disapproving tsk came next, escaping into the stuffy air of the room above you.

She was always above you.

As you shifted your knees, the flesh burned against the ragged carpet, the scratchy green material itching over your raw, bruised knees. The familiarity of being beneath her was unsurprising in this moment, even comforting.

What was surprising was the cool feeling, a chill sweeping through your body. Your eyes squeezed even further, bursts of color confined behind you shut lids as you tried to figure out what the shape was.

Round maybe? A frigid, rounded tip delicately traced beneath your chin, coaxing it upward.

“Open your eyes baby,” the voice gently commanded. It sent a warm rush through your spine, insides liquidly at the croon of Abby’s voice. Her voice that was always syrupy sweet to your pliant, submission-tinted brain– no matter how fucked up the situatuon may be. A moth to a fucking flame, your eyes blinked open, vision blurry as your face tolted more, the unmistakable shape of the blonde coming to view as your pupils adjusted to the light.

You knew why you were here. Why you had been shoved to your knees the moment you and Abby stumbled upon this rundown hotel. No resistance surfaced as her firm grip shoved you through the door, her voice, your siren song, falling silent only after demanding you to close your eyes.

You cant pinpoint how long you stayed like that, palms damp against your knees, eyelashes delicately grazing your undereyes, keeping them shut obediently.

“Do you know what’s under your chin?” Abby hummed, crouching down to your level, one strand of soft blonde hair falling in front of her face, her shoes squeaking softly as they bent to conform to her position.

One hand, the hand holding whatever object was pressing painfully under your chin, twisting as a tongue poked its way out from her lips, cerulean eyes blown out as her gaze falls downward.

“N-no,” you exhaled, fingers digging into the denim of your jeans, ignoring the heat that grew between your legs as Abby stared at you, eyebrows narrowed, tension etched on her face.

You’d really fucked up.

“Use your eyes, you're smart enough to do that, arent you?” the blonde taunted, casually flicking her wrist to press the object against you again.

You knew you deserved this, hell– you wanted this.

Hesitating, you shifted your head away from it’s position, chin dipping down in sync with your eyes, blinking rapidly as Abby’s pistol came into view. Of course.

“It’s your gun, abs,” you reply a moment later, lowering your voice to be as soft as possible, looking up through your eyelashes, acting on your best behavior, desperate to weaken Abby’s resolve.

But Abby was a stubborn girl, one who stook to her word, her decisions. Her punishments.

“Maybe she does have a brain up there after all,” Abby mocks, the pistol's barrel tracing the line of your neck as you swallow audibly. “Why do you think i’m holding my pistol, doll?”

“Dunno,” you mutter, a tiny knot forming in your tummy as Abby’s eyes flit to yours again, darkened under the dwindling light filtering through the boarded windows.

“You dunno?” the blonde repeats, licking over her lips again as an exasperated scoff falls from them. You only answer with a small shake of your head.

But you did know. You had made a dumb decision with that gun. Put yourself in danger, put Abby in danger.

It was a moment of misplaced confidence, when your body was squished against your girlfriend in a tight hallway in the city, her ragged breaths pressing into your ear as she gripped you close, waiting for the clicker to pass as silently as she could. The building was packed, a basement door opened sometime the night before likely– spilling a horde of new infected into a building that was usually deemed clear on patrols.

You just wanted to prove something. That was why you swiped the pistol from Abby’s waist, why you shoved it in your own pocket sneakily as Abby dealt with the clicker, motioning you to follow as you continued down the building.

You just wanted to get that rush.

“You are so fucking cocky, you know that?” Abby asks, the opening of the metal trailing up your cheek again until it taps against your temple. “Or maybe you're just dumb, huh?”

You shake your head rapidly. “Just wanted to help, abs.”

Help by going down the opposite way than abby in than building. Help by fiddling with the gun you barely knew how to use when a runner caught your attention. You were just trying to help when you stepped on a can, two runners flicking their heads up your way as you shakily tried to point the gun at one.

But you hadn't helped. Not when you had to scream Abby’s name after only getting one runner down, another grabbing at your arm as you tried to take off.

Your help was just another fucking issue as Abby had to save your ass.

“Help?”

You nod again.

“You think stealing my things, almost getting yourself killed, is helping?” she asked, her tone proving just how ridiculous she found you. You barely knew how to fucking work her fucking pistol, let alone go off alone on a patrol.

“I’m sorry Abby,” you whimper, knees grazing the carpet as you fidget, your heart racing with each gentle tap of the gun against your temple. “I was being stupid. M’sorry,” you admit, meeting her blue eyes.

“You think you're a strong girl, hm? Think you can go fight on your own? That you can steal my shit?” Your lip quivers, finding refuge between your teeth, a fiery swirl rising in your stomach as the pistol nudges your cheeks, Abby chuckling as she pokes at the fat there again.

There’s no way to escape the uncomfoftable roll of your hips down into the ground after the sound, how fucking condesending Abby sounded as she had a gun against your face. A surge of pure need intensifies, your poor core searching for relief from the tension.

“And look at t-that, youre fucking into it too?” your girlfriend sounds absolutely astonished by your reaction, and even if you know it's all a show to further that feeling of shame rising in your body, you still whine in denial.

“Do y’have a death wish or something?” she asks, “first you try and use this without a clue in the world of if it was even loaded, and now you're getting off on geting threatened with it?”

“No,” you deny, but you know your panties, which stick against your pooling cunt would tell another story.

Abby shakes her head, almost in disbelief as the very tip of the gun finds your lips. You hold your breath, gaze following hers.

“Dumb fuckin’ girl,” the blonde mutters, pressing the gun hard enough to part your lips, the cool metal pressing against the white of your teeth, a shiver wracking through your body at the feel of it.

“My dumb fuckin’ girl,” Abby amends, inhaling sharply as you relent, allowing the barrel to slide past the plush, wet warmth just slightly.

“You like this gun so much, the least you could do is clean it then, yea?” she muttered, and you dont mistake the slight hitch in her tone. You don’t miss how her position shifts to also kneel, yet still somehow looking down at you.

You open your mouth wider, her grip on the gun handle so firm it feels like it might crack, as she gradually lowers the barrel into your mouth.

Your heart pounds beneath your ribcage, your tongue exploring the cold metal, tracing the divots and intricate details. Abby had already cleaned it, you knew that, but she still pushed it further in your waiting mouth, a powertrip building behind her hazy eyes.

“There you go,” she whispered, “Aah,” her own lips parting, her chin tilting up as she eases the barrel further in, now resting against your tongue.

“just like that– sure you remember how to do this, hm? Taught you well with my cock, right?”

You nod, eyes flashing quick memories of your mouth around her strap. Abby was met with a soft suckling noise, her dilated pupils darting swiftly as the metal disappeared between your lips, hand softly, deliberately thrusting the barrel in and out.

You hadn't expected the motion at first, gargling gently as you adjusted to the cold feeling on the inside of your mouth, teeth scraping the barrel slightly as you sucked like it really was her cock, hollowing your cheeks, head moving in tandem with Abby’s slow movements.

It was fucking filthy.

Abby’s free thumb moves to your chin, swiping at a bead of shiny drool that dripped from the corner of your mouth, “You ever gonna do somethin’ so dumb again?”

Shaking your head, you feel the weighty tip against the back of your tongue, and you fight the instinct to gag around the metal. Blue eyes watch intently as the slow back and forth motion continued, your mouth pooling with more spit as you took the round shape as best you could, eyes straining to keep contact with Abby’s gaze.

“You ever gonna put your life in danger like that again?” Abby continued, voice dripping with that delicious sternness you seeked, that you craved. She savored the surprised and soft gag that came when she shoved the gun a little harder.

You throbbed at the feeling, at how her lips hardened into a line as you licked around the base of the gun, a new rush of wetnees ruining your panties as your thighs squeeze impossibly closer.

This shouldn’t have you so turned on by something that could so easily kill you being shoved in your mouth, dipped in and out like some toy for your girlfriend’s own pleasure. But it did. It had you drenched between your legs, heart beating as loudly as the blood that pumped in your ears.

A quick and obvious shake of your head follows the second question, and Abby pauses her movement, letting it still heavily against your warm, wet tongue.

“I could fucking kill you,” Abby admits, eyes falling to where you rub your thighs together, seeking friction. “You know that?”

But she wouldn't. Abby would never *really* hurt you, you know that. With one more soft thrust into your mouth, the end of the barrel is almost right there— flush against your face as she holds it. Abby watches your hands scramble to grip at something, throat constricting to keep a gag from rising in your throat.

“There ya’ go, gag on it,” she grits, watching as more drool seeps between the stretched corners of your mouth, only relenting when she sees tears prick the corner of your eyes.

“So damn dumb,” she huffed, the pistol slowly falling from your lips– a long string of drool connecting the metal to your gaped mouth before your tongue could swipe the string away, clamping your mouth shut after you choke out a quick, “m’sorry, m’sorry.”

Abby wiped the pistol against her pants as she stood, backing up until her ass found the bed, her legs spreading, pistol placed next to her. You watched, eyes lidded as you stayed glued to the floor, watching as her large hand patted against her thigh before trailing to her pant’s button, long fingers hooking around it, her own cunt aching under her boxers.

“Come show me how sorry you are.”

#🐾 anon ʚɞ ⁺˖ ⸝⸝#abby anderson x fem reader #abby anderson x f!reader #abby anderson x y/n #abby anderson x you #abby anderson x reader #abby anderson fanfic #abby anderson smut #abby anderson fic

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nico-the-newt · 3 months

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Enemies to Lovers - Ellie Williams x reader

summary: you and Ellie had hated each other the moment you stepped foot in Jackson. Others disagree.

warnings: swearing, Ellie's a bit of a dick, mentions guns

You could honestly say that you had no idea how it happened. One moment you were scanning through the old, abandoned supermarket with Jesse for supplies, laughing at something stupid he had said. And suddenly, in an instance, you found yourself being ambushed by a hoard of runners.

Patrol had started off as it usually did when you were grouped with Dina, Jesse and Ellie. The four of you were walking down the old, dirt road to the abandoned supermarket that Maria had assigned you to patrol. As usual, Jesse and Dina were being coupley and affectionate - arms wrapped around each other, hands linked, noses bumping, as you and Ellie grumpily walked beside them, shooting each other looks and making snide remarks. The pair of you had had a strained relationship since your arrival in Jackson two years before. You thought she was rude and cocky. She thought you were obnoxious and demanding. In fact, the pair of you despised each other so much you weren’t even aware that you were very similar - personality-wise.

You still cursed Jesse for forcing you on patrol with Ellie. He and Dina had some sort of weird idea that you and Ellie secretly liked each other, enemies to lovers, as Dina put it. You had laughed in their faces.

“Not if she was the last person in the world,” you had scoffed, but that did not change their minds in the slightest.

When you finally arrived at the old building, you were extremely tired and grumpy. Ellie had spent the first ten minutes of the walk complaining about how late you had been that morning (she had arrived twenty minutes early to patrol just to give you a hard time), which sparked an argument that lasted for the rest of the trip. You could tell Dina and Jesse were completely over the pair of you and it secretly made you pleased to prove them wrong.

“Jeez, look at this place,” Ellie sighed in admiration when you entered the supermarket. You couldn’t deny that you shared her admiration. There was something so beautiful about the place being covered in vines and sunlight streaming in through a big hole in the roof, lighting up the entire store. You wouldn’t let that be known though.

“‘Jeez, look at this place’” you imitated in an annoying voice that sounded nothing like Ellie.

“Hey, what’s your fucking problem, man!” Ellie exclaimed, storming towards you.

“You are-!”

“Okay!” Dina called, coming between you and Ellie before the shoving and arguing began again. “This place is pretty big - why don’t we pair up and split off. Ellie and I’ll look on this side, you guys look on that side.”

Ellie shot a scowl at you, which you gladly returned, but you followed Dina’s orders nonetheless and trailed off after Jesse.

“You and Ellie need to chill,” he said, after a period of companionable silence.

“Ellie needs to stop being an asshole,” you grumbled, causing Jesse to let out a laugh.

“You’re just as much of an asshole as she is,” he chuckled, shaking his head in amusement and slipping a bottle of disinfectant he had found into his bag.

“No one is as big of an asshole as Ellie is,” you said pointedly. “Except maybe you~”

“Oof, low blow,” Jesse grinned, placing a hand over his chest in mocked hurt. “However will I get over that one?"

“Please, you’ll get over it,” you had laughed, finally starting to feel at ease for the first time that day. Unfortunately, the feeling had left as soon as it came due to a loud crash coming from the loading dock behind you.

“The fuck was that?” You muttered, instantly grabbing your gun and pointing it in the direction of the loading dock.

“Dunno,” Jesse hissed, drawing his gun too. When there was no other noise after a few minutes, you both slowly started edging your way towards where the original sound had come from. You practically hear your heart beating out of your chest. A cold bead of sweat dripped down the back of your neck and you almost found yourself holding your breath. However, the anticipation was all for nothing, as when you had poked your head around the corner, there was nothing there but old, dusty boxes and a rusty hand truck.

“Nothing,” you shrugged, a frown crossing your brow. “Weird.”

You stepped back towards Jesse, unaware of the runner that had been coming up behind you until its hands were grasping your shoulders and it was trying to bite your neck off. You didn’t even have enough time to be scared as several gunshots went off and caused our ears to ring like crazy and your vision to fog over.

“Come on!”

Jesse grabbed your arm and dragged you away from the area and back into reality. It was only when you could hear again and actually heard the screams and groans, along with the sound of rabid footsteps behind you, that you finally found control of your legs once more and began to run. Jesse and you crashed through a door and into a small office at the back of the store. Jesse pressed his body up against the door and you quickly copied, as there was nothing to barricade the door with. This is how I die. We’re gonna die. You couldn’t stop these morbid thoughts from bouncing around in your brain as you used all your body weight and strength to push against the door, despite the fact that the strength of the infected easily overpowered you and the door had begun to come off its hinges. You were certain they were about to break the door down completely, and was preparing for the worst, when you suddenly heard a series of gunshots outside, followed by some grunt and yells, and finally, silence. The pressure you had been fighting off against the door had stopped, though you and Jesse remained pressed against it for a few minutes - neither of you sure if it was actually safe. It was only when you heard Dina anxiously yell for the both of you that you realised it was over and cautiously moved back from the door - just in time for her to practically kick the door down and throw herself at Jesse when she realised you were both still alive. You closed your eyes and leaned back against the desk to catch your breath, completely oblivious to Ellie’s presence looming towards you at speed. It was only when she practically shoved you over and cupped your face to see you for herself that your eyes flew open and you stared at her, confused but not disliking the feeling of her hands on your face.

“You fucking idiot!” She exclaimed, letting go of your face and wrapping you in a hug. You were surprised at the contact but didn’t care and hugged her back, simply grateful to be alive and not bitten. And that Ellie was hugging you

“It’s okay. It’s over,” you sighed, rubbing her back comfortingly and raising your middle finger towards Jesse and Dina when you saw them smirking at the pair of you.

“Enemies to lovers,” Dina mouthed with a smug smile.

Part 2 can be found here:

#tlou #tlou2 #ellie williams #ellie williams x reader #ellie x reader #ellie williams imagine

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maiiuelle · 23 days

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˚❀˚

the pogues take mario kart very seriously.

big john bought john b a wii when he was 10, and he and jj have been mastering the art of drifting and aiming shells since. spending at least part of the weekend stuck to the chateau’s small tv screen became mandatory. oftentimes, the crew would use a quick game to handle debates or disagreements.

“i’m tellin’ you. this plan is fool proof.” jj licks the inside of his lip, fixing his hat on his head for emphasis as he stares down a visibly unimpressed john b. “you don’t think goin’ in there—guns a-blazing—is gonna surprise ‘em?”

“i think they have plenty of guns to a-blaze at us, jj.” pope deadpans, pinching the bridge of his nose as he leans back on the porch bench. jj’s resolve doesn’t falter, he only shakes his head, looking between the other two boys.

“yeah—but that’s the thing—we’re faster, dude. i mean, you saw me at the beach, i was like—bow bow, bowbowbow..”

kiara bumps your arm, drawing you out of a daydream. you turn toward her, then follow her eyes to your blabbering boyfriend. “are you hearing this?”

you didn’t have to be listening to know his plan is absurd, but you shrug anyway. “i dunno, maybe he has a point.”

“sure..”

“y’know what, jj? i think we should settle this like men.” john b crosses his arms over his chest. “on the track.”

“guys—“ kiara starts, but jj cuts her off, pointing a confident finger at john b.

“you’re on.”

next thing you know, you’re sat on the couch inside, jj sitting beside you with a white knuckle grip on the wii controller steering wheel. he’s leaned forward, elbows on his knees in the most intense focus you’ve ever seen him in. they’re split screened, jj on the left and john b on the right, perfectly mirroring where they’re sitting on the couch. the ever so reliable john b chooses classic mario, and jj sticks to his routine choice, yoshi.

everyone’s eyes are glued to the tv screen, kiara leaning on the side of the couch, biting her nails anxiously, sarah sitting on the floor between john b’s legs, and pope sprawled across the leather armchair.

the boys are on their third lap, and it’s clear the competition is getting heated just looking at them. the first two laps were filled with shit talking and all around bad sportsmanship, but now they’re silent. neck and neck, they crash through the final round of item boxes, and the air stills as their respective power-ups shuffle.

“c’mon, c’mon.. big money..” jj mutters biting his lip. you’re enthralled, one hand resting supportively on his shoulder. with john b just a few paces in front of him, jj’s first power up loads as a red shell, and he immediately shoots it at john b. it hits him dead on, a cinematic slow-mo of mario’s go-kart sputtering to an explosive stop capturing the chaos of the room perfectly. jj springs to his feet, yoshi flying past john b’s defeated mario and through the finish line like a bullet.

“john b!” kiara shouts, hands flying to her forehead in utter shock as she watches jj cross the finish line in first. john b opens his arms in confusion, looking between everyone innocently. “what? he’s getting good! i mean—what d’you want me to do?”

“man, you threw that.” pope complains, hands wiping down his face as he grapples with the reality that is jj’s elaborate plan. john b can only brush them off, which is easy with jj shouting over all of them.

he’s already hooting and hollering. “yeah! yeaaah, that’s right, baby. don’t start sum you can’t finish.” he throws the controller down on the couch, coming back over to where you’re sitting and grabbing your hands, pulling you up to stand beside him. you can’t help but laugh, his elation infectious. he pulls you to his side like a trophy, pointing at john b in satisfaction. “s’why you don’t challenge papa j to a race, ‘les you wanna get owned.”

“i can count on one hand how many times you’ve won.”

“whatever, man, this time actually counts.” his hands roam down your side, gliding his fingers down the exposed skin below your crop top and he burrows his finger tips under the waistband of your shorts. “looks like today, papa’s in charge.”

“great.”

˚❀˚

#jj maybank drabble #jj maybank headcanon #jj maybank x reader #jj maybank #jj x reader #jj headcanon #jj #obx #jj drabble

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adabear · 9 months

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I wrote a supercorp ficlet about hands because I’m gay gay homo gay I’ve never written fiction that wasn’t a comic before shut UP (I’m embarrassed)

hands

“You have such pretty hands.” Kara held Lena’s hands, open, small, and pale on top of her own. Lena’s hands were elegant, long fingered, with carefully maintained nails (black today) splayed out for Kara’s careful gaze. The kryptonian closed her grasp around Lena, just a little, and ran a careful thumb down the interior of her middle finger. A callous, from holding a pen maybe. And there, on her thumb was a flat, silver scar, so small you could miss it.

“I was nine. Playing with a soldering gun,” Lena helpfully supplied, the promise of a laugh in her voice.

Kara closed her hands around Lena’s fully, weaving their fingers together and wiggling their joined fists playfully. A little squeeze. She’d held Lena’s hand before, plenty of times. She knew them like- well like the back of her own hand. But things had felt a little… different lately. They had lunches, and game nights, and movie sleepovers. They’d always had those. But something about them lately seemed significant. A little more important. Kara couldn’t really explain how it just. It just was.

It was silly really, a quick movement, playful affection between friends when suddenly Kara found herself unable to resist drawing Lena’s pale knuckles to her lips and kissing them. Giggly, chaste little pecks that made Kara’s chest feel so full she had to drop Lena’s hands back in their laps, and laugh, and hide her face behind her own journalist’s palms. She heard Lena laughing too but couldn’t look.

“Sorry! Sorry, having a silly day. I’ve been thinking about going back to Catco and I’ve been writing all these articles because when I ask for my job back I want to have something good and I’m just,” Kara paused, finally coming out from hiding. “I’m being goofy,” she laughed, cheeks rosy, finally looking Lena in the eye.

And oh… she had expected Lena to be laughing at her antics too, or maybe picking at the half finished salad left by the demolished remains of Kara’s own lunch. Instead, Lena was giving her one of those looks. Those significant looks, the kind that made their time together feel so important lately. Her gaze, so green, was open and warm and just so, so fond. It sent something crackly and electric ping ponging around in Kara’s chest. She wanted to look away, to hide again, felt her face burning so hot it ached in the tips of her ears, but Lena didn’t look away. Instead, the promise of a smile tugged at her vermillion lips. Kara’s breath caught in her chest.

And Lena looked down. The broken gaze was permission to breathe again. Kara huffed out another little giggle and looked down too, relieved and disappointed that whatever that was had ended. The tingle of adrenaline slowly dwindled down to her fingertips.

Kara watched Lena run her own pointer down the back of tanned, strong hands.

“You have pretty hands too,” Lena murmured. And oh no. The buzzing crackle in Kara’s chest roared back to life. She didn’t dare look up, watching Lena’s black nail trace each finger from knuckle to tip with a featherlight touch. Out and back again, a careful, tactile observation.

“You think? I dunno I guess I never thought about them you know they’re just my hands so I see them everyday and-“ Lena stopped Kara’s babbling by turning her wrist, splaying both of Kara’s hands palm up. Why was THAT so affecting?

“Th-they-“ A false start. Oh jeez. The blonde watched Lena knead the pad of her thumb into Kara’s palms, gently massaging them. “I almost wish I could get scars sometimes, you know? Your hands have a story to them but mine are just boring old h-hands!”

Kara knew her voice was steadily rising in pitch but found herself entirely unable to control it. The brunette had moved on to squeezing each digit delicately and oh Kara would not have expected that to feel so nice. The little buzzy feeling in Kara’s chest was growing, sizzle hot and ticklish, and she felt she might burst.

“I like them,” Lena said simply, raising Kara’s palms to her face. The Kryptonian watched the motion, utterly dumbstruck, until their eyes met over their shared grasp. Kara froze, held in place by a gaze as effective as Kryptonite. Lena’s eyes were half-lidded, laughing, her lips upturned in a fond, lazy smile. Like she knew exactly what these moments were, where they were going, like she savored lingering in them.

Kara had a half a second’s notice to realize what was about to happen. A warm breath gusted, ticklish, across the pulse point in her wrist. Lena broke their gaze, eyelashes fluttering low over her cheeks as the brunette looked down. And pressed a single, lingering kiss to the heel of Kara’s hand.

Something like a squeak must have come out of Kara’s mouth because suddenly Lena was laughing. She returned the superhero’s limp hands to her own lap. Kara found herself flushed and a little miffed. Utterly incapacitated by green eyes and careful fingers. Oh Rao.

“Are you alright, darling?” Lena laughed, blessedly turning back to her salad so that the blonde could begin the process of returning to her body.

Kara struggled for only a moment before squeaking, embarrassed and affectionate, “You’re teasing me!!”

At that, Lena only smiled, unapologetic.

#supercorp #lena luthor #kara danvers #sapphic #lesbian #listen man I’m gay #Tell your girlfriend her hands are pretty she’ll die

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32bitterra · 3 months

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(January 22 - January 31, 2024)

Last of January.

You know, I realized just HOW MUCH I draw. One month into 2024 and I've already made 37 drawings.

Anyway, here's Quentin and Phoebe hugging for hugging day, which was January 21. Most of these drawings revolve around them and other campers. If you're down with that, look under the cut for more.

Look, on Quentin's campster bio he says he hugs a lot. THEREFORE, I can draw him hugging his bestie as much as I want.

[quentin singing] your love takes me higher and HIGHERRR

baby, you're spinning me around ... what am I gonna do?

I wanted to draw Kitty grinning like a cheshire cat. I did but I also got very distracted.

boogie on down

I was feeling super hyper when drawing this. (You really think I'd let you go through this without Misha drawings?)

I dunno if I've ever stated it, but I think J.T. is peak character design. He looks pleasant. He IS pleasant. He's a PSYCHIC COWBOY. He doesn't shoot a gun, he shoots BULLETS with his MIND. It doesn't get better than that.

Dart looks down on the other campers for not taking psychic training seriously ... except for Dogen, of course. Dogen is exempt from his contempt. That's how I like to imagine it anyway.

#psychonauts #chloe barge #d'artagnan alstublieft #dogen boole #elka doom #franke athens #jt hoofburger #kitty bubai #mikhail bulgakov #milka phage #milla vodello #phoebe love #quentin hedgemouse #razputin aquato #vernon tripe #my doodles #2024

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picky-and-corrupted-picky · 2 months

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INCORRECT QUOTES AGAIN!!!!

'cause I'm still sick-

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Picky: The ‘how the fucks’ and 'why are you so dumbs’ don’t matter. All that matters is that I have a new gun.

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Bobby: At this point, I'm holding myself together with glitter glue.

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Crafty: I scare people a lot because I walk very softly and they don't hear me enter rooms. So when they turn around, I'm just kind of there and their fear fuels me.

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Bubba: I dunno if I'm ready to process the ramifications of this bullshit.

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Crafty: Unfortunately, due to several experiences in my youth, I cannot just 'walk up and join a circle of people talking', but it does sound lovely, thank you.

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Hoppy: Underestimate me. That'll be fun.

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Bubba: Ok, first of all, what the fuck?

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Kickin, seeing a banana on the car seat: What the FUCK?? Kickin, buckling the banana up: Fucking buckle UP, it’s the LAW!

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Kickin: I have no respect for Santa. Don’t sneak in through the chimney and undermine my authority by bringing my family presents. Walk in through the front door and fight me like a man.

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Hoppy: Kids don't even call you a doodoo head anymore. They just call you a bitch.

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Kickin: So apparently the "bad vibes" I've been feeling are actually "Severe psychological distress."

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Picky: Now, the recipe calls for 2 shots of vodka. Picky: *upends the bottle*

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Bubba: If I can't cause tiny bits of chaos every day, I think my body will shut down.

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Hoppy: If karma doesn't hit you, I fucking will.

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Kickin: Guess who got shit done today? Kickin: Not me, but congrats to somebody out there.

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Bubba: Time for plan G. Bobby: Don’t you mean plan B? Bubba: No, we tried plan B a long time ago. I had to skip over plan C due to technical difficulties. Crafty: What about plan D? Bubba: Plan D was that desperate disguise attempt half an hour ago. Hoppy: What about plan E? Bubba: I’m hoping not to use it. Kickin dies in plan E. Picky: I like plan E.

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Bubba: I CAN'T DO IT! Bobby, laughing: I CAN'T EITHER! Bubba: I CANT FUCKING DO IT ANYMORE Picky: WELL I'LL TELL YOU WHAT, YOU CAN EITHER GIVE UP NOW, OR YOU CAN FIGURE IT OUT. BECAUSE WE CERTAINLY CAN'T DO IT WITHOUT YOU, AND WE KNOW YOU CAN'T DO IT WITHOUT US. Bubba: Bubba: I appreciate it, Bubba: BUT LOOK WHAT WE'RE DEALING WITH- Hoppy: Bubba- Bubba: YOU GOTTA DRAW THE LINE SOMEWHERE! Crafty: Bubba we gotta- Bubba: YOU GOTTA DRAW A FUCKING LINE IN THE SAND. YOU GOTTA MAKE A STATEMENT. Bubba: YOU GOTTA LOOK INSIDE YOURSELF AND SAY 'What am I willing to put up with today?' Bubba, motioning to Kickin: NOT FUCKING THIS

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Bubba: If you bite it and you die, it’s poisonous. If it bites you and you die, it’s venomous. Hoppy: What if it bites me and it dies!? Crafty: Then you’re poisonous. Jesus Christ, Hoppy, learn to listen. Kickin: What if it bites itself and I die? Picky: That’s voodoo. Hoppy: What if it bites me and someone else dies? Bobby: That’s correlation, not causation. Crafty: What if we bite each other, and neither of us die? Kickin: That’s kinky. Bubba: Oh my God.

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Twisted!Bubba and Violent!Kickin by @smiling-psychopaths

Lovesick!Bobby by @protective-mama-bear

Corrupted!Picky by me :D

Emotionless!Crafty by @emotionless-craftycorn

Impulsive!Hoppy by @jumptothemoon

#poppy playtime #poppy playtime roleplay #smiling critters #smiling critters poppy playtime #smilling critters roleplay #ask picky!#picky piggy rp #poppy playtime picky piggy #picky piggy #bobby bearhug #bubba bubbaphant #hoppy hopscotch #craftycorn #kickinchicken

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criticallyacclaimedstranger · 4 months

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Reminder [Tim Rockford x f!reader]

Read on Ao3

Rating: Explicit

Fandom: Merge Mansion ad (can't fucking believe this...)

Pairing: Detective Tim Rockford x you/cishet f!reader

Tags/Warnings: reader wears sexy lingerie but no description of body type, blowjob, deepthroating, workplace sex.

Summary: Tim Rockford works too hard, and too late. You have to remind him of what's waiting for him at home.

Words: 2,165

A/N: Y'all I am adding a new character to my menagerie of Pascal men! Dunno if I get Tim Rockford but I've been thinking about sucking his dick since I first saw him. He just has that vibe about him. Enjoy.

He is sitting astride a chair in front of a huge notice board filled with photos, notes, clippings, clues pinned to it, connected by red twine. The white shirt is straining to reach across his broad upper body. You remember a time when it had the shape of a V, now it's more of a U before connecting with the still narrow hips and flat ass.

You nod a thanks to the officer who let you in, and when he closes the door behind him, you lock it.

"Detective," you quip teasingly, but there's no response except a neck roll. He sighs deeply as he rubs his neck.

He's been working around the clock on this case. You avoid looking at the notice board, the pictures of bloody crime scenes, as you walk up to the chair.

"Tim," you speak softly, your hand landing on his shoulder. Tim twitches and looks up at you. It takes him a moment to recalibrate his brain to reality.

"What are you doing here? It must be like ten o'clock."

"It's past midnight, actually," you correct him with a wry little smile. He sighs again and takes your hand away from his shoulder, bringing it to his lips for a kiss.

"I'm sorry, my love, I'm gonna pull an all-nighter again."

You grunt. He knows what it means. You've been over this before.

He rises from the chair, moves it away before turning to you. He smells of stress and determination: smells that you know well. He's always like this when he's working a case. You don't like it, but you've grown to accept it.

He pulls you in for a hug, so fast that you almost stumble into him. His broad chest, the soft stomach with the buttons ready to pop. He refuses to go up a size for some reason. The shoulder holster, the gun at his side. Your hand slides away from it, not wanting anything to do with it, only wanting your soft man.

"I'll come home in the morning for a shower," he promises in a low whisper against your hair. "Have breakfast with you."

"No, you won't," you calmly point out. "You'll get terrible coffee and a bagel from the diner around the corner, and your stomach will be a mess by the time this case is solved."

Tim chuckles a little at that before seeking out your lips. He tastes of stale coffee, and sweet and sour pork; the flavors of a murder case unsolved.

"Go home, get some sleep," he tells you gently. "I'll call when I leave."

"Aren't you wondering what I'm doing here, at this hour?"

He blinks, like he's only now realizing what time it is, and that you're actually here.

"Is everything okay?" His hands come to your cheeks, and he searches your face. You cover his hands with yours, lowering them as you smile reassuringly.

"I'm good, Tim, nothing's wrong. But I knew you'd be working all night, and I wanted to bring you something."

His brows draw together when he waits for you to elaborate. You untie the belt around your waist, and button open your trench coat. His nostrils flare and his eyes widen when you reveal yourself to him.

You're only wearing a bra, lace panties, and stockings underneath. It's cheesy, but he likes it.

"I came to make sure you were okay," you purr, smiling at how he swallows hard, his glassy stare.

"Baby..."

"Just let me give this to you."

You undo his belt, knuckles brushing against the soft fat of his tummy. Tim exhales in a low sigh when the belt releases its hold of him. With heavy-lidded eyes, he gazes adoringly at you as you unzip his pants. Softly, he trails his hands along your sides, goosebumps rising in the wake of his touch. Your nipples knit, and his gaze drop to the stiff pebbles showing through the lace fabric of the bra.

"You're too good to me, baby," he sighs, and then his eyes fall shut as you slide your hand inside his pants. "Oh."

You cup his still soft cock through the underwear, stroke in carefully as you lean in to kiss him. His lips betray a hurry that's he's loath to rein in, but when his tongue tries to pry in between your lips, you pull away with a smile. Tim doesn't smile back, but stares at you with a drunkenness in his eyes, mouth open and begging to be kissed again. You lean back in and nibble at his full lower lip, cup his cheek with your free hand, and stroke your thumb over his mustache. His cock hardens against your other palm, and you encourage it with a firmer touch.

"Tease," he groans, hands landing on your hips, fingers playing with the waistband of your panties. A shiver runs through you.

"Takes one to know one."

You press your lips to his anew, and now your hand slips in under the worn elastic of the waistband. His cock jumps at the direct contact and your feel a patch of wet rub off on your hand. Your fingers close loosely around his cock, thumb smearing out the precum as your tongue plunges into his mouth for a hungry kiss. Tim's strong arms wrap around you, the smell of his sweaty pits hitting your nose but not in a repulsive way, instead you feel the crotch of your panties get wet, and your kiss turns more insistent. You suck his lower lip between your teeth, pull it out, and release it with a pop. Still holding his cock, you step back, pulling him gently but firmly to make him follow you. And Tim follows, hands reaching all over you, eyes burning with desire, lips swollen with kisses. You direct him to his desk and pull down his pants and underwear before giving him a little push to make him sit down. His cock is now as stiff as it can be, and you separate his legs, keeping eye contact as you kneel between his thighs.

"Oh, baby..." he sighs, surrendering to you with a pleading look on his face. "Baby, you're so good to me..."

"You deserve it," you purr as you nuzzle his cock, kissing its length, flicking your tongue at it. "You work so hard, you deserve to relax a little."

He moans again when you hand closes around the thick root of his cock. You trail your tongue up his length, ending with a soft swirl around the head, the glistening precum bringing a sharp taste to your mouth.

A few night shift officers pass by the door, but apart from that you can only hear the drone of the air conditioning, and Tim's heavy breathing which turns into an audible gasp bordering on a moan when you open your mouth and take his cock into your mouth. He breathes your name, looks down on you as you smile up at him, his cock in your mouth, one of your hands wrapped around the root, the other cupping his balls. He draws his fingers through his hair before dropping both hands to your head, petting it softly as you pop his cock out of your mouth and proceed to licking and stroking it. The low lights are casting shadows over Tim's face, but you can see his eyes, half closed and staring down at you in complete surrender. You squeeze the root of his balls firmly and are rewarded with a sharp hiss as Tim draws in breath.

"Sweet baby..."

Your cunt is heavy and warm, and your arousal starts to drip into your panties. The mossy, heavy scent rises to tickle your nose through the musk of your man, and you moan low as you suck the head of his cock before flicking your tongue at the frenulum.

"Fuck, oh God..."

Second that. You enjoy sucking his dick, always have. The different textures, the scent, the way it makes him twitch and curse and finally beg you. The sloppiness of it when you drool, the rush of adrenaline when you manage to take all of him, the tip bumping down your throat, Tim losing it when you massage his balls while letting him fuck your throat.

You draw a deep breath and swallow all of him, balls deep. Your lips shielding your teeth from grazing him, you immediately start to salivate, the pressure against your throat almost too much. You will yourself to calm down, to breathe through your nose as you know you can, and start to fuck him with your mouth. Your eyes fill with tears, and when you look up Tim, he brings a trembling hand to wipe away the first one that falls. You pull back, a string of saliva connecting your lips to his cock, and lean into his palm cupping your cheek.

"Don't hurt yourself, sweetness," he mumbles hoarsely. "You're doing so good."

"I can do it," you promise him.

"I know you can."

You devour him again, tongue pressing flat against the veiny underside of his cock, your eyes falling shut as you focus on the act, on breathing, on controlling your gag reflex. Tim's breaths come in choked groans above you, his fingers tangle into your hair, petting and gently pulling while he showers you with gratitude and praise. The cold linoleum floor is hard on your knees, but you don't let that hold you back as you do your best to blow Tim’s mind. The taste of cum grows stronger, and you press your fingers against his taint while still fondling his balls. That's his undoing: his balls twitch and you feel the length of his cock pulsate as he shoots his cum down your throat. You almost choke, so you pull back, coughing as the last of his cum splatters your chin and chest. He crouches in front of you, wobbles like his legs don't carry him, panting like he just ran a marathon, but still searches your face as you fight to find your breath through the coughing.

"I'm good, I'm good," you wheeze, but Tim doesn't stop his scrutiny of you until you've found your breath.

"Okay?"

"Okay," you nod, smiling breathlessly. He smiles back then, and heaves a big sigh.

"Goddammit, woman..."

"What?" You bat your eyelashes innocently.

"Look at the state of you. A pornographic mess."

He wipes his thumb over your slick chin and closes his eye with a deep exhale when you grab his hand and bring the thumb to your mouth, sucking hard.

"You'll be the death of me."

"What a way to go, huh?"

His chestnut eyes are warm when he opens them anew.

"I'd prefer to live for as long as I can, as long as you're in my life."

"I'm here," you reassure him, your hand coming up to his cheek, which has not seen a razor in days. He leans in for a kiss, licks at your lips and into your mouth where you share his taste with him.

He finally helps you up and tuck himself in before grabbing a couple of tissues for you from his desk. You wipe yourself clean, but when you're about to wrap the coat around you again, Tim stops you.

"What about you?" His eyes are like molten chocolate when he slides his hand inside your coat and brings you snug against him.

"What about me?"

"You're so wet I can see it through your trench coat, honey."

You chuckle. You should have known.

"Sweetheart," you tell him, languidly wrapping your arms around his neck. "If you wish to pleasure me, you have to come home."

"Oh, so only you can do dirty things to me in my place of work?" he grins, hands sliding down to your ass cheeks, barely covered by the lace.

"That's right, detective." You kiss the tip of his nose. "Gotta have something to bring you home."

"I do have that," he replies softly, touching his lips to your forehead. "I'll come home in the morning, I promise."

Before you can answer, there is a hard bang on the door, followed by a call:

"Rockford, we brought in your suspect!"

His countenance changes: his eyes turn sharp, his lips austere, his shoulders squared. He is no longer your Tim; now he's Detective Rockford.

"I'm sorry, I gotta go - "

" - and you won't be home for breakfast," you finish his sentence with a practical shrug as you straighten out his tie for him. "I know. Go do your thing."

He dips his face down to kiss you.

"I'll be home," he renews his promise. "And I'll bring bread rolls from that place you like."

You smile against his lips, his warmth spreading through your body, your cunt bottoming out at the thought of a slow morning with him.

"I'll hold you to that, Tim."

He brushes his lips over your cheek, his breath warm when he whispers:

"Keep that underwear on."

#tim rockford x you #tim rockford x reader #tim rockford fanfic #merge mansion fanfic #my fic

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