strawberrybunnystuff

[strawberrybunnystuff]

My man❤

I have a slur to call him..

[strawberrybunnystuff]

Stop resisting aaa drawing

[strawberrybunnystuff]

𝑾𝒂𝒌𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒖𝒑 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒎𝒂𝒍𝒆 𝒄𝒉𝒂𝒓𝒂𝒄𝒕𝒆𝒓𝒔 𝒐𝒇 𝑶𝒖𝒕𝒍𝒂𝒔𝒕 𝒘𝒊𝒕𝒉 𝒂 "𝒃𝒍𝒐𝒘𝒋𝒐𝒃" +18

Synopsis: Just you giving them a job with your mouth.

Tw: Sexual content; +18; Fem character x Male characters.

Leland Coyle

This has always been his "secret desire", something he would never confess out loud. To imagine waking up after a long day of work, already feeling your warm, skilled mouth enveloping him, sucking every inch of his cock with devotion. And when it finally happens? He's in heaven.

You hear his husky sighs become heavier, more excited, and then—a squeeze. Leland's large, rough hand tangles in your hair, pulling with a firmness that makes your scalp tingle. His eyes open slowly, calculatingly, and that villainous smile appears, as natural as breathing.

"Ah... Sweetie... Did you start your shift without me?"—Leland's voice is a low growl, full of sleep and dirty promises.—"Hmm... What kind of cop would I be if I didn't investigate the crime scene?"

His dark eyes roam your body as if you were the one to blame—and he, the only judge. When you try to pull away, his hand tightens, keeping you exactly where he wants you.

"There's no point in running away now, princess..." - Leland wets his own lips, dominating, savoring every second. - "You're already caught red-handed."

Franco Barbi

Poor Franco. It takes him forever to fall asleep, and it's only when you do that he finally gets some rest. His dreams are like an espresso fog, dragging him into an abyss where even the slightest touch seems distant.

But then...that feeling.

Warm, deliciously invasive, like a ray of sunlight cutting through the darkness. His body reacts before his mind - a hoarse sigh escapes, his breathing falters for a moment, and when he finally opens his eyes, still dazed, he's already looking at you.

And then comes that little laugh.

"Ah...my little star..." - His voice is a sleepy murmur but full of sweet provocation, as if he can't believe your boldness. - "Who would have thought you'd be so...generous with a poor wretch like me?"

His smile is slow, captivating, and even with his playful expression, there is a genuine sparkle in his eyes - he is touched. Franco's large, marked hand slides through your hair, caressing it with a tenderness that contrasts with the fire you lit in him.

"Keep going..." - he orders, but it is a disguised request, his voice hoarse now. - "Because I can't think of a better way to wake up... than by you."

Eddie Gluskin

Eddie would never have expected this—not even on the night of your honeymoon. He, who always keeps his eyes fixed on you, your forever husband, who even as you sleep, watches over your sleep with silent devotion.

And then, when he wakes to the warm, familiar pressure of your mouth enveloping him, his eyes open slowly, as if awakening from a sacred dream.

"Oh...darling..." His voice is a husky sigh, full of adoration and possession. "Is this some kind of...exclusive devotion to your husband?"

His lips curve into a sweet smile, but there's something almost vulgar about it—a hunger disguised as tenderness. He lifts your chin with two firm fingers, forcing you to look at him, and when your eyes meet, you see everything in him: the gratitude, the desire, the obsession.

His finger glides across your wet lips, collecting the taste of him before slowly running it over your mouth, like a seal of approval.

"You're outdoing yourself, love..." he murmurs, his voice thick with emotion. "I'm... thrilled, my love. So proud."

And in that moment, you know he'll never forget it.

The Night Hunter

Your night watchman, your shadow protector - the one who would face any threat to keep you safe, but who would never be prepared for you to be his greatest vulnerability.

He sleeps lightly, always alert, but when the heat of your mouth envelops him, his instincts fail for a second. His eyes open slowly, wide, that predatory pupil fixing on you with an intensity that almost burns.

His breathing is deep, silent, almost menacing - as if he is deciding if this is real or just another fever dream.

And then...he understands.

A slow, twisted smile cuts his lips, revealing that perverse fascination that only you can awaken in him.

In a movement too fast to react, he reverses your positions, his body pressed against a weight that is at once dominant and possessive. He runs his tongue slowly over his sharp teeth, his eyes roaming every curve of your body as if he is already savoring his next meal.

"I like it when prey offers itself..." He whispers, his voice an echo from the shadows. "But now, I'm the one who's going to hunt."

Richard Tranger

Good old Tranger - self-centered, loud and absolutely insufferable... and that's exactly why you love him. No one knows how to inflate this man's ego like you do, and today, you've decided to go beyond compliments. After all, what better way to celebrate the perfect genius that he is than physical adoration?

When he wakes up, it's not with a start, but with a loud sigh, as if he's been expecting this kind of tribute. His eyes slowly open, and that wide, self-sufficient smile spreads across his face, as annoyingly charming as ever.

"Ahh... now that's the kind of VIP treatment I deserve..."

He runs his fingers through your hair in a gesture that could be affectionate, if it weren't for the glint of wicked amusement in his eyes.

And then, he decides it's time to take control.

Suddenly, his hand grabs a fistful of your hair, pulling with a calculated pressure that makes you sink deeper into him. He groans, loud and shameless.

"Fuck!...I knew you'd be a great employee..." He laughs, his voice hoarse with pleasure, before correcting himself with a false tone of surprise. - "...Oops, I mean, girlfriend."

Chris Walker

You have to be very brave - or foolish - to mess with this war-traumatized giant, a man who sleeps with his senses always on alert, ready to crush any threat before he even fully wakes.

But you dared...

And when he wakes, it's not with a start, but with a deep snore, a heavy breath escaping between his clenched teeth. His white eyes slowly open, as if processing reality - the reality that you're there, your mouth wrapped around his.

For a moment, he just stares at you.

Those blank, piercing eyes, which have seen too much horror, are now fixed on you with a burning intensity.

"...you little daredevil..."

His voice is a harsh thunder, but there's no anger in it - only raw surprise, excitement and something bordering on affection. Chris has never been a man of words, but actions...he understands.

In one sudden movement, his huge hands grab you, with a strength that would make anyone scream - but he is careful, even in his dominance. His massive body is now on top of yours, and he pulls you against him, as if seeking to feel every inch of your body.

"You. Are. Mine."

Simple and direct.

Father Martín

The holy man of God - the devout fanatic who spends his days in prayer, in penance, in servitude to his master...and his nights in servitude to you.

When he wakes, it is with an almost supernatural calm, as if he were still in the midst of a holy ecstasy. His eyes open slowly, heavy, and for a moment, he does not react - he just watches, his lips parted, his breath held.

Is it a sin? Is it a temptation? Or is it...a blessing in disguise?

Then, that smile appears.

"My light..." - his voice is a sweet whisper but there is something disturbing in it - a perverted adoration, as if you are both his salvation and his damnation. - "Are you testing me...or is this a divine sign?"

He trembles under your touch, not in revulsion, but in sheer contradiction - the man of faith being corrupted, and loving every second of it. His hand, soft as a blessing, caresses your face, his fingers groping as if you were a heavenly vision.

"Faith... manifests itself in many forms..." he murmurs, his eyes shining with sickly devotion, "and you've just shown me one I didn't know about."

Frank Manera

He was a man of simple appetites: fresh meat, bones crunching between his teeth, the screams of the weak echoing in his ears. Even you. You, the bold one, the one who survived, the one who dared to offer something different - something that would make even a monster hesitate.

And now, with his "meat" in your mouth, warm and pulsing, you awaken the animal in him in a way that even he doesn't fully understand.

Frank wakes with a guttural snore, his body tense like a spring ready to fire. His dark, hungry eyes open slowly, fixing on you with a gleam of pure instinct. A husky laugh escapes his lips, still stained with dried blood from past meals.

"Tsk...crazy girl." His voice is a harsh growl, full of wicked amusement. "You want to play with fire this early in the morning?"

He knows what you're doing. You know what he is. A predator. A butcher. Someone who could snap your neck and devour you whole before you’ve even cooled.

But...he doesn’t. Because you’ve turned the tables.

Suddenly, his huge, filthy hand grabs your neck, pulling your face close to his. He sniffs you, like an animal scenting its prey—but then, instead of biting to kill, he sinks his teeth into your lip, enough to hurt but not to bleed. When he pulls back, his eyes burn with a hunger that’s not just for meat anymore.

"You know... I love it when you act like you're not afraid." He laughs, low and menacing, as his hand slides from your neck to your chin, squeezing it with raw possessiveness. "But can you handle the consequences of that?"

Loutermilch

Behind that facade of piety, those impeccable robes and the mentor’s smile, lurks a predator – a devourer of innocence. And you, you have become his favorite sin.

He wakes up slowly, without surprise. After all, he has fantasized about this countless times. His eyes open slowly, sharp as a blade, and fix on you with a calculating gleam.

“You…really have no shame, do you?”

His voice is sweet poison, disapproval and pleasure intertwined. He would never praise you – that would give you power. Instead, he humiliates you, even as his fingers tangle in your hair, tugging with a pressure that is almost affectionate.

“If it’s attention you want, go ahead.”

He whispers, teasing, condescending, as if testing you. And then his hand tightens, pulling you closer, forcing you to continue.

"But know..." - your eyes meet, in them you see everything - the contempt, the desire, the cruelty of someone who knows he could destroy you but chooses to play first. - "...I do not accept half-hearted efforts."

Rudolf Wernicke

Science has always been his sole devotion. Meat? A mere instrument for his experiments.

Until you came along.

When he opens his eyes, it is with the slowness of someone who has seen it all - or thought he had. The air escapes from his oxygen mask in a hoarse sigh, followed by a dry laugh, as ironic as his own fate.

"So impatient... so delicate."

His voice is a metallic hiss, but there is a sparkle in it - curiosity, amusement, perhaps even gratitude.

"How can you not love youth?"

His trembling hands rest on the sheets, but his eyes - sharp, analytical - do not miss a single detail. He observes you as he would a fascinating specimen, something that defies his expectations.

"If it is reverence you wish to show..." - he tilts his head, the oxygen mask whistling with his aged breath. - "...do it right, meine liebe."

And then, he gives in.

Miles Upshur

Miles is a man accustomed to controlling a situation—whether with his sharp charm, his relentless determination, or that “not easily impressed” attitude he cultivates so well.

But you…

You’ve always been an exception.

When he wakes, it’s with an almost imperceptible shudder—the reflex of a man who’s seen too many horrors to sleep peacefully. But then…he recognizes it.

The touch. The warmth. You.

His eyes, wide for a moment, soften then, and a disconcerted smile curves his lips—a rare thing for Miles Upshur.

“Ugh…really? Is that how you wanted to wake me up today?”

His voice is hoarse with sleep, but the laugh that follows is slightly disconcerted, almost shy. He props himself up on his elbows, watching you with an amused glint in his eyes—as if he can’t believe he deserved this.

"Not that I'm complaining..." - He sighs, feigning resignation, but you feel his body relaxing completely, giving in to your touch. "...but you're going to spoil me."

Waylon Park

Waylon is a very kind man - one of those rare types who still believe in goodness, even after having seen the worst of humanity. And you... are proof that he was right all along.

Waylon would never have imagined that you would do something like this. But you did.

When he opens his eyes, it is with a breathless sigh, as if he were dreaming. His face flushes instantly, those lovely cheeks turning red as cherries, and for a second, he just stares - bewildered, amazed, completely unresponsive.

"Oh, my god... are you really...?"

But even though he is shy, even though he is nervous, he cannot resist.

His hands - hands that fix computers, that write codes, and that tremble at the thought of touching you - find your face, caressing it with a tenderness that almost hurts.

"But you are impossible..." - he laughs softly, disconcerted, as if he cannot believe his own luck - "you are beautiful." - and then, he gives up. - "...and you can continue."

Jeremy Blaire

Arrogant. Greedy. Ruthless.

A man who terrorizes his employees, manipulates situations, and who never loses—until you.

Why you? Because you’re the only person who makes him lose control.

Jeremy Blaire has no time for fantasies. His mind is always occupied with profits, power, and games of manipulation. But when he finally falls asleep, exhausted after another day of corporate games, you see your chance.

And when he wakes up?

Not with surprise.

Not with hesitation.

But with a slow, mischievous smile, as if he already knew you were coming.

“Hmm…finally decided to use your time productively.”

His voice is one of pure satisfaction, full of that innate arrogance that makes you want to grit your teeth—and secretly, shiver with excitement.

He clasps his hands behind his head, lying like a king on a throne, observing you with that calculating and voracious look he uses in meetings - only now, the object of analysis is you.

"Keep going, baby." - he orders, but as a perverse invitation, full of unspoken promises. - "And then, who knows... I'll reward you." - a pause. An even sharper slyness. - "... with something to match."

Because Jeremy Blaire loves to be in control. But with you?

He allows himself to be served.

Father Sullivan Knoth

The prophet awakens. Not with a start, but with a hoarse, heavy sigh, as if the very air he breathes is too sacred for his sinful lungs. His eyes, dim with sleep and delirium, open slowly, adjusting to reality like a saint seeing a vision.

And what vision is this? You?

Your devoted little lamb, your fresh, pure flesh, kneeling in intimate worship to your flesh-and-blood god.

"Oh, my little lamb..." - his voice is a husky drawl, full of lust disguised as devotion. His lips curve in a smile that is almost a blessing, if it weren't for the wicked gleam in his eyes. - "What blessed act is this so early in the morning?"

He washes a hand calloused by faith and cruelty, touching your hair as if he is absorbing you from a sin of his own making.

“The Lord speaks through you…” His fingers curl into her locks, tugging slowly, deliberately, as if he were reading scripture into her scalp. “…with a divine hunger.” He groans, a sound that could be a prayer if it weren’t so obscene. “You are my vision…my temptation.” For Knoth, this isn’t just pleasure. It’s communion. Sacrilege. The only truth he still believes. And when he arches his back, it’s not like a lover—it’s like a prophet receiving revelation.

◞ ྀི◟ ͜ ◞ ྀི◟ ͜ ◞ ྀི◟◞ ྀི◟ ͜ ◞ ྀི◟ ͜ ◞ ྀི◟

This took SO long but I loved it! Sorry for leaving out some characters, I didn't notice while I was writing.

[strawberrybunnystuff]

damn...

I need a zombie boyfriend who will fuck me in a clumsy way

Spread

Male!Zombie x Fem!Reader

Bunni’s Monstertober Event

Oct 9th

Oct 8th

Oct 10th

summary: you’ve barely been surviving with your childhood friend during the zombie apocalypse, so when he gets bitten you’re ready to die along with him. But instead of eating you, he fights the urge to spread his virus… and instead pins you down and spreads his seed.

warning: dubcon, breeding, very rough sex, pregnancy hinted at the end

Human beings are social creatures. Living alone for too long can drive one insane, so you would imagine losing the last person you loved during a zombie apocalypse can really break your spirit.

It had been a normal scavenging trip. Lately the zombies had become slower and rotted faster due to the summer heat, so it made moving through town without harm a lot easier.

It was unfortunate though, the zombies trapped indoors were in much better condition than those exposed to the elements. This wasn’t something you had planned for, and it cost your friend his life.

The two of you had been searching through a grocery store, one that had been surrounded by zombies before. Now, only a few skeletal bodies remained outside the doors.

You knew you probably wouldn’t find much, but you both hoped for at least a few canned goods and powder milk…

While searching the store, you were suddenly shoved, a sickening crunch heard behind you.

“Go, run!”

You watched as your friend held off a zombie, his arm being bitten…

“No…”

Tears welled up in your eyes, your mind filled with images of life without him. You wouldn’t make it, you’d surely lose your mind with loneliness and go insane!

He was able to fight the zombie off and bash its head in, panting from the stress. All that movement caused his blood to pump faster and the virus to spread before he could yell for you to run again.

His mind felt fuzzy, his heart slowing before stopping completely. His limbs kept moving without his control, and he was approaching you, shambling.

‘Why isn’t she moving?’

He was stuck inside of his body, unable to do anything as he pinned you down. Tears were running down your chubby cheeks, and he could barely make out what you were saying…

“I won’t leave you! I don’t want… to be all alone!”

Drool fell from his dry lips, his pupils dilated as he stared down at you. Was there nothing he could do?

Memories played through his head, everything moving slowly as if he was pushing through something gelatinous.

He could picture you in your school uniform, the two of you skipping class to hang out at the arcade. He watched as you sobbed into his chest after discovering your parents were dead, and how you weakly pushed him back when he tried to kiss you a week ago.

Although he was now undead, his entire being ached for you. Since you were kids, you had always been someone he cared for, adored to no end. You held his hand, smiled at him, made his days so much brighter.

Of course he would push you out of the way when a zombie threatened to take your life… to take you away from him.

He loved you… and that was just enough for him to hold himself back from sinking his jaws into your soft flesh.

A low growl escaped his lips as he buried his face into your throat. He needed to do something, the urge to spread the virus and infect you was pulsing through his veins…

It’s when you whimpered that he regained some control. His body no longer had control of itself, so the erection he’d been barely holding back every time he smelled your sweet scent was pressing into your crotch.

“Please… don’t go… I don’t wanna… lose you…”

You were crying, his sweet girl that tried your best to keep a smile on your face even at the toughest of times was crying.

And it made him almost… feral.

He snapped his jaws around the strap of your backpack, needing to bite down on something as he rubbed his bulge against you. He was humping you like a horny mutt, the veins in his face visible through his now pale skin.

“M…m…ine…” he growled, struggling to get the word out.

Hearing your soft whines and embarrassed moans made his chest rumble with some strange, satisfied purr, and his fingers were down your pants and in your panties, fumbling around with your pussy lips before sinking into cunt.

It wasn’t great, he could barely control the speed and way his fingers moved, but you were wet enough that he felt he fuck you without hurting the most precious person in his life.

Or well, death.

He ripped your pants off, not having the mobility to elegantly pull them down. Part of him felt bad, he knew you didn’t have many pairs now that the world ended, but this was a matter of life or death.

His cock was now large and swollen, a purplish tint to it. His engorged tip pressed against your tight hole, and he was unable to hold himself back from fucking into you.

For years he had fantasized about taking your virginity. In his head, he had imagined it would be somewhere romantic and he’d kiss your head, being as gentle as he could be.

But in reality he was rough, groaning as his hips jerked forward into yours. The pace was uneven, leaving you whimpering out and begging for him to be more gentle.

He wanted to be, god he wished this could feel as good to you as it did for him, but the virus was telling him to breed, to fill you up until you were close to bursting with his cum.

It lasted so long, too long. By the end you were a mess of tears and snot, your face flushed with embarrassment after orgasming so much.

But part of you was happy. Your friend seemed a bit more lucid after pumping you full of his hot and sticky load. His fingers awkwardly traced over your bulging, chubby belly, his head resting on your chest.

You didn’t go home alone that night… instead you still had your friend, and another member of the family along the way in your belly.

You’d do anything to keep him with you, after all… he did care for you, didn’t he? The two of you had been friends since you could remember… and if having to sit through a few hours of rough sex meant you could keep him by your side, then you’d do it.

Humans are social creatures after all.

If you want more, send me a Kofi! I really like this concept and would love to expand on it with my thoughts on how the relationship would progress :3

———————

NSFW TAGLIST: @sunset-214 @strawberrypoundtown @avalordream @icommitwarcrimes @bazpire @im-eating-rn @anglingforlevels @kinshenewa @pasteldaze @unforgettablewhvre @yoongiigolden @peachesdabunny @murder-hobo @leiselotte @misswonderfrojustice @dij-ology @i8kaeya @lollboogurl @h3110-dar1in9 @keikokashi @aliceattheart @mssmil3y @spicyspicyliving @namjoons-t1ddies @izarosf1833 @healanette @lem-hhn @spufflepuff @honey-crypt @karljra @zyettemoon1800 @exodiam @vexillum-moeru @imperfectlyperfectprincess1 @binnieonabike @enchantedsylveon @mysticranger575 @readeryn68 @danielle143 @kittenlover614 @filthybunny420 @annavittoria-mm @makimamybelovedwife @blubearxy @omglovelylaila @toocollectionchaos-universe-blog @fruk-you-usuk-fans @wil10wthetree @hammerhead96-blog @slightlyusedfloormat

[strawberrybunnystuff]

Jack Baker X Reader X Lucas Baker

Synopsis: What would a romantic relationship be like between you, Jack Baker - an "almost" country gentleman, traditional family man but with his obsessive and protective side, - and his rebellious son Lucas - chaotic, sadistic and unpredictable.

⚠️PLEASE don't misunderstand me! This is NOT an incestuous fanfic It's just a fanfic where YOU are the center!

How the relationship (doesn't) work:

We start with the most dominant and experienced of the trio, Jack. Jack is already a declared alpha dominant - even if Lucas doesn't respect that.

Jack acts as the "head" of the relationship. He is the oldest of the three, the strongest, the most experienced and always assumes the air of "I'll take care of you two."

Lucas is very different from his father. He is the most rebellious, experimental and provocative in the relationship. Always trying to push you to the limit of what you can handle. - Most of the time, Jack prevents his antics from affecting you.

Lucas always makes fun of his father and makes fun of him for being so protective of you. Calling him a "needy old man" or a "doting dad", but deep down this is just an unresolved issue between father and son.

Shared Jealousy

Jack is the jealous type: "I'll kill anyone who messes with you, my love."

Lucas, on the other hand, is the most insane jealous type possible: "I'll wreck anyone who touches you... and then laugh." - And that's exactly what he does.

However, between the two there is an agreement that was not proposed here by either of them, but that exists between them: If one is with you, the other does not interfere.

When Jack catches you in the barn, Lucas does not interfere - but he can watch from a hidden corner.

When Lucas catches you in the basement, Jack grumbles but does not interfere - as long as you come back in one piece.

Competition for Attention

Both of you compete A LOT for your attention - but each in different ways.

Lucas is the more provocative of the two of you. Lucas loves to tease your father by touching you in front of him. And Jack responds by pulling you onto his lap.

Basically, you're in the middle of the two of you being pulled back and forth by both of you.

What are the two of them like in the bedroom (+18)

Jack is the dominant one, careful when it comes to taking you to the bedroom. He also likes to be called "sir" in intimate moments. He loves to praise you when you do well.

(He also has a "hidden" fetish; he loves to feel that while he has sex with you he purifies you with it.)

Lucas in bed is sadistic and unpredictable. He loves to tease you all the time and enjoys it. He wants to see you losing control - no matter if it's in pain or pleasure. One positive point of having sex with Lucas is that you will never get bored because he always invents new ways to make you cry out for his cock.

However, sometimes the two of you can end up "working" together, such as:

Competing with each other to see who can make you moan louder.

Dividing and cooperating with each other so that they can both enjoy you at the same time.

───── ⋆⋅💙⋅⋆ ─────

[strawberrybunnystuff]

🤭💖

My princesses❤️

(I swear I’m normal)

[strawberrybunnystuff]

this is me!!!!!

(Seems like Lisa didn't satisfy him in a long time)

₊˚ ✧ ‿︵‿୨୧‿︵‿ ✧ ₊ ˚ ☁️🔪☁️ ₊˚ ✧ ‿︵‿୨୧‿︵‿ ✧ ₊˚₊

˚˖𓍢ִ໋☁️✧˚.🔪༘⋆˚˖𓍢ִ໋☁️✧˚.🔪༘⋆˚˖𓍢ִ໋☁️✧˚.🔪༘⋆˚˖𓍢ִ໋☁️✧˚.🔪⋆˚˖𓍢ִ໋☁️✧˚.🔪༘

[strawberrybunnystuff]

my sweet baby☺

My crusty little white dog

[strawberrybunnystuff]

Outlast Characters Reacting To You Having Thick Thighs

Synopsis: They see your thick thighs firsthand and react to you by calling them to lie down with their heads on them.

Franco Barbi

Being the eccentric flirt that Franco is, he would waste no time in complimenting your enormous thighs. His gaze goes indiscreetly straight to them.

"Madonna mia...those thighs came straight out of a Renaissance painting!"

Franco is so dramatic that he kneels in front of them while sliding and stroking your beautiful thighs.

"So full...so firm...la mia musa ispiratrice...you really know the power you have, don't you? And you know how to use it to drive me crazy."

He would literally treat you like a muse straight out of a sculpted work of art. Make no mistake, he doesn't have only pure intentions with this...

You asking him to lie on your thighs:

Franco is very surprised when you ask him. His eyes are so wide as if he were having the last and only chance to touch a true living masterpiece.

"Oh, how beautiful! Such a divine invitation can only come from the goddess Venus herself."

Franco approaches as he slowly lays his head on her thighs, closing his eyes while smiling charmingly.

"So I can die happy, among this living marble and the perfume of paradise."

Leland Coyle

This dirty cop, first analyzes you. From bottom to top, his eyes run over the flesh of your thighs, then the crooked smile appears at the corner of his lips, his eyes fixed on the space between what you are wearing underneath and the curve of your thighs.

"You really are a naughty little thing, huh?"

He approaches you, with his hand on his belt, lightly tapping it with his finger.

"Have you ever thought about what might happen if you keep teasing me like this?"

Even using his tough cop pose and sunglasses that hide his eyes, you know he is charged with sexual tension.

Leland sees your thighs as a promise to himself. A provocation. This is a game he needs to win.

You calling him to lie on your thighs:

Leland is surprised by your call but soon finds it amusing and mischievous. He crosses his arms in the pose of resistance and arches his eyebrows.

"Do you want me to lie down there? Are you trying to reverse the roles, huh?"

Your resistance doesn't last even minutes. He sighs and then gives in as he approaches you. When his head rests on your thighs, he says:

"Only because I'm addicted to those damn legs..."

And then he turns his face to the side to lightly rub his cheek against your skin, sly as a risky cat that has surrendered to affection.

Mother Gooseberry

Gooseberry is a discreet indiscreet when it comes to her thick thighs. Gooseberry lets out a sweet giggle as she has her burning gaze of sadistic and possessive desire on you.

"So beautiful... so fleshy... so mine..."

Gooseberry will not resist. She kneels down as she runs her cold hands with her sick affection over your legs.

"My dear, you were made to be idolized... and used."

Gooseberry admires your thighs as if they were a throne - where she wanted to spend all eternity kneeling while delighting herself like a decadent and insane queen.

You call to lie on your thighs:

Gooseberry widens her eyes for a second, quite surprised but enchanted. Your gesture catches her off guard and in a way. She smiles with that possessive and passionate way and air.

"Ah, my doll...calling me and wanting to pamper me, is that it?"

She approaches with her false delicacy and subtlety.

And with an enchanting sigh, she lies down with her head on his lap completely in adoration while stroking his thighs as if she were playing art.

The Night Hunter

He is a born observer of all things, the first thing he does is observe. For a long time.

But when he approaches you, the air around him becomes denser almost like a beast approaching.

"...you know what you're doing to me, don't you?..."

His voice is hoarse and low.

When his fingers touch between the skin of your thighs, it's like a reverence - but also with a hidden brutal desire.

"These curves...follow me to our deepest nightmares. I don't want to wake up. Ever."

He is a silent predator, but always intense - and your thighs only make his obsession with you grow even more.

You call to lie on your thighs:

He freezes. Your gesture of slapping your own thighs with your own hands leaves him hypnotized.

He kneels in front of your legs. His eyes shine intensely. When he rests his head on your thighs, his eyes close directly. - As if that place became the only place in the world where he could have peace in the world.

You feel his breathing stop being heavy on your skin.

"Here...", he murmurs. "The only place where I don't hear the screams."

Eddie Gluskin

The perfect husband who is mesmerized and obsessed with your legs. Literally.

"Those... those legs..." - Eddie swallows hard.

"They're made to be in a white dress on a wedding night. Only for me."

He wants exclusivity, he wants to mold you into his ideal wife - but the fascination he has for your thighs makes him more vulnerable than he wants to admit. It's dangerous if anyone else sees.

You call him to lie on your thighs:

He freezes for a second, his cheeks flush slightly, but then smiles as he looks at you full of possessive desire.

"My beautiful bride wants to spoil me, is that it?"

Eddie kneels slowly, like a proper knight before his princess, and gently touches his face.

"You are absolutely perfect for me..."

But inside he is already planning to keep this scene locked away for their eyes only.

Richard Tranger

Always using his sarcastic tone and full of double meanings, Tranger couldn't stop joking about this situation.

"Damn, honey. Do I need scissors or just a warning collar to put around your neck?"

He would make a lot of jokes, but he would be genuinely attracted to them - the kind that pulls you without warning onto his lap and says:

"Come here, before I forget how to behave."

You call him to lie on your thighs:

He lets out a loud laugh, arching his eyebrow with pure sensual mockery.

"Wow... now this is a VIP service."

Tranger throws himself unceremoniously, with his head on your lap and lets out an exaggerated sigh.

"You can even forget about the corporate massacre here with these luxury pillows."

But his fingers are already running along your thighs in a very mischievous way.

Chris Walker

Chris would be the definition of pure instinct. When he notices your thighs, his gaze hardens, his body stiffens, his muscles harden.

He doesn't say anything. He just growls softly, like a warning.

If another man dares to look, Chris's intimidating presence imposes itself like an indestructible concrete wall between you.

But with you, he approaches slowly while his huge hands rest on your legs. Protection. Desire. Dominance.

You call out to lie down on your thighs:

Chris hesitates. His eyes fix on your thighs, then on your face. He seems uncertain...but only for a second.

"Are you sure?..."

When you nod your head in agreement, he finally approaches and lies down carefully, as if you were something fragile that could break if pressed too hard.

He doesn't speak anymore - he just closes his eyes, allowing himself a rare moment of happiness and peace, feeling your warmth and security.

Father Martin

Martin tries to pretend he doesn't care, but he wouldn't resist for long. He would try to see it as something "spiritual".

"The body is truly a divine creation...but it's the soul that enchants me."

But it's a lie - The truth is, he prays fervently after seeing you pass by. His eyes unintentionally travel down your sensual curves, and he whispers to himself.

"Sin has never been so irresistible and beautiful..."

You call him to lie on your thighs:

He tries to disguise the forbidden desire that rises through his body.

"This...is a test, isn't it?"

But when you insist, Martin slowly gives in, resting his head with his eyes closed and a devout expression.

"The body...is an altar. And I, a faithful disciple."

He murmurs it like a prayer, but you feel the slight tremor in his fingers touching your thigh.

Val

Val is a worshipper of the human body - hers, yours, anyone who exudes lust and temptation - and it would be no different with you.

"You are blessed with this temple... and I want to worship every part of it."

He will praise, touch and tease.

"You are rebellious and pleasure in the flesh."

And if anyone else dares to comment, she turns her gaze away with deadly coldness.

"You are my offering, not theirs."

You call to lie on your thighs:

Val smiles, like a snake that has just seen its haste coiling around its tail.

"Ahh... you want to be worshipped, hm?"

She approaches with lust in her eyes and lays her head down as if claiming her throne.

"This... lets me feel all of you... all your beauty... and all your temptation..."

She holds your waist tightly, breathing deeply as if absorbing your essence.

Marta

Marta is firm in herself and her ideologies, but she still has intensity and is not blind. She sees, feels, and her desire manifests itself in the form of obsession.

"Those legs..." - she murmurs almost without self-control.

"Don't tease me, girl. Or I won't answer for myself."

She would act as if she were fighting against her desire - but deep down, she wants you to keep teasing her. Just so she can test how much she can take.

You call her to lie on your thighs:

Marta blinks, she is in conflict with herself. She wants this so much - but her rigid nature resists.

"This is impure..."

But her voice trembles, and when you insist gently, she gives in.

With heavy steps, she kneels and lies down slowly, her eyes fixed on yours.

"Only you... have this power over me."

She holds her legs tightly, as if afraid that this moment will slip away.

Frank Manera

Frank stares at your thighs without any subtlety. Frank is hungry and his eyes, carnal desire.

"Thighs like that... were made to crush. Made for domination."

He approaches, running his fingers over his own blood-stained lips.

"Do you want me to kneel or surrender, huh?"

With Frank everything becomes animalistic. He would lick, squeeze, and look at you as if he had found the true meaning of life between your sensual legs.

You calling him to lie down on your thighs:

He stops in the middle of whatever he was doing. The sound of your palms on his thighs makes his eyes narrow like a predator sniffing out the provocation.

"Do you want me to lie down there? Are you calling me to become your puppy now?"

He approaches with a wild smile, but there is something almost... hidden. Frank kneels down with his head heavy and rests his head on your thighs with a guttural purr.

"I bet it's more comfortable than any pillow I've ever had."

He laces his fingers between your legs, breathing deeply, as if the scent of your skin is a soothing agent for his insanity.

Loutermilch

He tries to behave. He tries. But his gaze betrays the dirty mind behind his polite facade.

"You know you're using this against me, don't you?"

He swallows hard, almost irritated by his own desire, but he approaches you anyway.

"Your manners...and your body...are testing me."

You notice his hand tremble as it approaches your thighs, as if it were touching something sacred - or dangerously forbidden. And when he gives in, his touch is desperate and needy.

You call him to lie down on your thighs:

He freezes. Your boldness in your gesture moves him in a way that mixes anger, lust and submission.

"You're playing with fire."

But even saying that, he can't resist. His tension melts away when his head rests on your thighs.

His eyes close slowly, his mouth parting as if it were a sin to be there.

"You should be ashamed of yourself for leaving me like this... so helpless."

And the way he holds her legs reveals everything - he would never admit it, but that's where he feels most human.

Walrider

As an entity, the Walrider does not have carnal desires like a normal human... but you? You would provoke instinctive reactions in him.

Your thick thighs would draw his attention, and he would circle you invisibly, sending a chill down your spine.

He would appear in flashes - a shadow in the mirror, a reflection that passes...

You calling him to lie down on your thighs:

You can't see him - but you feel him. The air grows colder, the atmosphere heavier. When you pat his thighs, with a smile on your face, a tremor starts in the room.

Suddenly, he partially materializes - a translucent silhouette pulsating with energy. His rational entity fighting against desire.

He says nothing but his ethereal form obeys, slowly lowering itself until his head floats above your thighs.

You feel an electric sensation run through your body as he lies down, as if you had lain down with a tamed thunder.

Rudolf Wernicke

Wernicke is not blind to physical charm, but he analyzes before reacting.

When he sees you with those striking thighs, he cleans his glasses, frowning.

"Curious...there is power and control in your posture, my dear."

But internally, he fights against a thousand scientific and impure thoughts.

You call to lie on your thighs:

This old scientist slowly looks up from the book he was reading. When he sees you with that cheeky look and patting your thighs, he frowns, but an imperceptible little smile appears.

"Well, well...are you trying to distract me from my studies?"

He slowly gets up, approaches and slides his cold fingers up your leg.

"I must admit...it would be an interesting experiment."

And then, he gently lays his head on your thighs, exhaling a deep breath.

Miles Upshur

Miles tries to keep his composure. He's observant, sensitive...but your thighs awaken the most hidden side of him.

You call to lie on your thighs:

When you give him those damn inviting pats, he freezes for seconds, swallows hard.

"Do you have any idea what you're doing to me?"

He sits on your feet, his eyes running over the curves of your legs until he finally rests his head on the side above them.

"I could stay here forever."

His fingers trace slow lines up and down your thighs.

Waylon Park

This poor man blushes instantly. He's the sweetest, but that doesn't mean he's not melting through his clothes when he sees your curves.

"Jesus, honey..."

He tries to hide it by scratching the back of his neck, trying to look calm, but his eyes still devour you silently.

You call him to lie down on your thighs:

Waylon enters the same room as you while holding a mug of coffee and almost drops it when he sees you calling him in that provocative way.

"Baby?! You...damn."

His face turns red, and he chuckles nervously.

"Do you want me to lie down there?...like, now?!"

You slap his thighs again impatiently and he drops everything and comes to you, as if this were the only chance to obtain a sacred privilege.

"Best pillow in the world..."

He lies down, pressing his face against your soft thighs. Completely in love.

Sullivan Knoth

Sullivan is a true religious fanatic...but you? You're his favorite temptation. Your thighs unsettle him, and he stares with wide eyes and heavy breathing.

"Divine creature...but made in the image of sin."

You beckoning to lie on his thighs:

Knoth is reading his scriptures when you sit down in front of him and begin to pat your own flesh.

He stares at you, with those eyes that condemn yet desire, full of moral conflict. But when you call to him so sweetly and provocatively...he can't resist.

He closes his eyes for a second as he murmurs.

"Damned temptation...and yet, divine."

He kneels as if to pray but instead, slowly lays his head on your thighs.

"Condemned or not, I want heaven between your legs."

Jeremy Blaire

Blaire already has a highly inflated ego, but your thick thighs really take his breath away. He gives that mischievous smile as he adjusts his tie.

"You really know what you're doing, don't you?"

You call him to lie on your thighs:

Blaire enters adjusting the cuffs of his shirt, all starched, ready to brag...until he sees you.

Sitting, thighs crossed, giving those slow pats.

He raises his eyebrows visibly interested.

"Is that an invitation...or an order?"

You repeat the same gesture but now with a little smile. He approaches, takes off his blazer with class and bends down.

"I hope you know the power you have on your legs, baby."

His head rests on your thighs, and he closes his eyes with a satisfied sigh.

"I deserve that after a day full of idiots."

[strawberrybunnystuff]

I'm a big "hear me out" with him and his brothers.....😃

One of my biggest hear me outs.

[strawberrybunnystuff]

☺

this might be too violent and graphic for most so viewers discretion is advised

[strawberrybunnystuff]

Outlast Fanart I’ve done of my two favorite outlast characters 👍

[strawberrybunnystuff]

Truth or Dare?

Ft. Simon Henriksson x Reader x David Leatherhoof

Synopsis: You, Simon and David take shelter in a house away from the dangers outside. David decides to start a game between the three of you.

Tw:NSFW; adult content; love traingle.

(Credits:? If anyone know who the creator of the image is, let me know so I can claim thr followinv credit.)

The night outside swallowed the city like a veil of intoxicating smoke, and with it came the whispers of those who had never been human but now slunk in the shadows.

Simon was slumped over the torn couch, the rusty, old springs creaking like bones breaking with every slight movement he made. His arms crossed tightly over his torso, as if he was trying to stop himself from jumping for David's throat. His fingers drummed a nervous tune against his elbow, and you could already tell he was counting to ten under the stress.

You lean against him, your knee pressing against his thin leg, trying to provide the comfort that Simon was so lacking right now.

On the other side of the room, David was leaning against the wall of moldy flowers. The peeling paper curled around his right hand like claws ready to swallow him. He was smiling, and his smile was a perfect invitation to a crime.

Between David's fingers was a pocketknife, which he played with as if he were dancing with a tango partner. The blade captured the only source of dim light that entered through the open cracks in the window.

Then...

The pocketknife falls - on purpose - to the floor. The sound echoes like a gunshot in that silent room, drawing everyone's attention to it.

David’s smile widens, revealing his canine teeth. He leans forward, the forgotten pocketknife on the floor reflecting the dim light on his face like a macabre beacon.

“Since we’re stuck here until dawn, why don’t we have some fun?”

Your knee sinks into the rotting couch as David moves closer to you, the heat of his body invading your personal space.

Simon huffs, his fingers gripping the thin fabric of the couch until his knuckles turn white. His gaze shifts, but not out of fear, but rather disgust.

“Your definition of fun is always some kind of perverse shit.”

David laughs, a deep, addictive sound, as if what Simon had said was exactly what he wanted to hear.

“Relax, Simon…” He stretches his arm across the back of the couch, caging you both in without touching.

“It’s just a harmless little game, truth or dare. You know?”

David's finger slides along the edge of the couch and almost touches her shoulder.

Your mouth comes close to Simon's ear.

"He just wants to tease you..." Your voice was like a warm breath against Simon's face but his tense muscles didn't relax. "Don't fall for it."

You can feel his jaw tighten under your breath, his teeth so clenched they felt like they were about to shatter.

"Choose. "Truth or Dare." A harsh pause. "And get this shit over with." On the other side, David licked his lips with his tongue. The dim moonlight accentuated the predatory glint in his eyes. "I'll start..." When you both turned to face him, he was already staring at you. Too intense and intimate. "I choose truth..." The silence that followed was sharp. You could hear Simon's teeth grinding, and David's labored breathing. "How many times..." David stepped in front of you. "Have you ever fantasized about one of us..." His eyes dropped to your lips. "...while touching yourself?"

The air in the room stilled. Even the chaos outside seemed to have stopped.

Your face burned, but not from shame but from anger. Anger because:

David already knew that you had already imagined yourself with him. With his knife aimed at your neck while he did the work with his free fingers on you. He knew that you had already imagined yourself with Simon. His low, embarrassed moans as his thin hands marked your waist. And the worst? Simon knew too.

You swallow hard, feeling the sweat run down between your breasts.

Before his mouth could say anything, Simon lunged like a human cannon toward David.

"ENOUGH!"

Simon's hands crushed the collar of David's shirt hard enough to rip the fabric, pulling him until their noses were mashed together, their hot breaths mingling.

"You ALWAYS do that..." A brutal jolt shook them both as David stopped being pushed against the wall, the moldy wallpaper giving way under his weight.

"...always RUINS everything..."

David didn't resist. He didn't need to.

His grin widened as the torn collar of his shirt strangled him.

"Are you scared, Simon?"

His tongue ran over his lips in an obscene motion, eyes fixed on you over Simon's shoulder.

"That she'll answer my question...without needing you to protect her like a needy puppy?"

Your movement is too fast and accurate. You quickly pick up the knife from the floor, your fingers closed around the knife. The wood groaned as you dug the rotten metal into it.

"TRUE!"

Your voice tore through the air as the blade tore through the table.

"You BOTH have already imagined me together."

Silence.

Simon's eyes dilating and devouring your blue pupils.

David's tongue licking his own teeth as his belt tightened against his belly.

Simon’s fingers trembled on the fabric of David’s shirt. A moment of weakness. His knuckles whitened before they gave way, releasing the torn collar with a final scrape of his nails.

When Simon turned to you.

“That’s not…”—his broken voice being exposed in a way you only heard in the dark, when he thought no one could hear—“…that’s not the same, FUCK!”

“I’m your BOYFRIEND!”

The word echoed in the empty room. Simon grabbed your wrist, not violently but with a raw need that you might disappear if he let go.

"I can...I have the RIGHT..-"

Your gaze fixed on David who was just smiling, enjoying the scene.

"..but HIM?!"

Simon points with a trembling finger at David, who opened his arms in false innocence, the bulge in his pants contradicting the pose.

"He's just a PERVERTED PERVERT!"

David laughed, as he adjusted his torn shirt, exposing more of the skin on his chest.

"Pervert? Yes. Pervert? Obviously."

A slow step towards you, his eyes fixed on you, completely ignoring Simon's existence.

"But at least I admit what I want to do with her...while you sit there masturbating with "rights" and "dating"."

The air stopped, everything seemed frozen.

David didn't blink, his gaze was a razor's edge between Simon and you.

"Truth or dare, Simon? Are you going to keep pretending you can't imagine her moaning my name...or are you going to finally show that you're man enough to take what's yours?"

Simon didn't move.

But you could see the transformation in him.

The muscles in his jaw trembling beneath his pale skin. His pupils dilated, devouring you as if you were his last meal.

When he finally spoke, his voice was ragged, wounded, and dangerously quiet.

"Shut.up."

David smiled broadly and venomously.

"Ahh..." He squeezed his own bulge over his pants, acting out a groan.- "That's how you want her, isn't it? Full of fear, full of disgust, but wet for the one she hates."

Something snaps inside Simon.

Simon’s hands grip your shoulder with brute force, throwing you back against the couch. Your body bounces against the musty upholstery, the breath leaving your lungs with a muffled “oof!”.

“You want the TRUTH?”

Simon falls on you like a hungry predator, his knees sinking into the couch on either side of your hips. His hands tremble—you don’t know if it’s from anger or desire—as he grips the hem of your shirt.

“Take the FUCKING truth then.”

Simon's lips crashed down on yours without any remorse. It was almost as if he wanted to claim you.

His hand tangled in your hair, pulling your head back to expose your clean neck.

"This right here..."

With his free hand, Simon tugged hard on your shirt until it was ripped from your body.

"It's MINE."

Suddenly, a low chuckle echoes behind Simon—wet, obscene, dangerously excited.

“Oh dear, Simon...so desperate...”

Before Simon can react, David’s icy hands are tangled in Simon’s dark hair, pulling his head back hard enough to elicit a hoarse moan from Simon.

David exposes Simon’s white, unmarked neck.

Suddenly, you find yourself dealing with two bodies. The desperate heat of Simon's body and the icy control of David's.

David grabs your chin, forcing you to look at him as he rubs his hard cock against Simon's shoulder.

"He kissed you like he had a right..." -David's cold hand invades your open blouse, squeezing your breast with deliberate cruelty. - "...but I know what you really want."

Simon growls, trying to free himself, but David only laughs and then grips the back of your neck, forcing you to look at both of them.

You stand frozen on the couch - blouse open, breathing heavy, your breasts hard - as you watch.

David nuzzles the back of Simon's neck, inhaling deeply of the sweat and anger.

Simon grits his teeth but arches his back involuntarily against David's body.

David's hand leaves your chin and moves to Simon's belt with nimble fingers.

"Truth or dare, princess?"

David looks at you over Simon's shoulder, his eyes hungry.

"Do you really think he can satisfy you alone?"

Your voice cuts through the air.

"I want both of you."

David and Simon look at you.

"The one of us."

Your foot slides up Simon's leg until you feel him getting wet.

"Not the other one."

Your hand wraps around David's arm, bringing him closer.

"I want both of you."

Simon stops breathing. His eyes widen as his hands grip your hips.

"You...don't know what you're asking for."

But David laughs first - a low, dirty, addicted sound.

"She knows exactly what she wants." David's hand squeezes Simon's erect, hard member through his pants. "...look at you, you're already hard for this."

Your hand grips Simon's with wild urgency, you drag his hand inside your pants. Simon gasps as his fingers find your sensitive pussy, already quivering with anticipation. The wet heat that envelops Simon's fingers as he pushes deeper into your pussy makes you moan loudly. Simon's pulse quickens, pounding hard into your pussy, finger fucking you.

"F-Fucking bitch-" your moan breaks through the air, wet and rough. David doesn't wait for an invitation and soon sinks his sharp teeth into Simon's shoulder - marking, possessing - while his other hand rips through Simon's zipper like a damn desperate animal.

"Look at that..." David's hot breath burns Simon's neck as he rubs his body and hard cock against Simon's back, forcing him to bend over you. David's hand slips into Simon's underwear, feeling all the wetness of his cock.

"Even he's wet now."

Simon wastes no time.

His sweet lips capture your nipple with sweet revenge, his tongue drawing slow circles on your chest. Your body arches against the musty, hard couch. Your fingers dig into his sweaty hair as a moan escapes you.

David takes advantage of the fact that Simon is so focused on making you writhe in pleasure that his nimble hands start working hard.

David slides Simon's pants down, exposing his ass.

"Look what we have here..."

Simon freezes as he feels the cold air hit his skin but he doesn't back away.

David settles behind Simon with the fluidity of a predator accustomed to hunting, his hips fitting against Simon’s buttocks as if he already knows the way.

“Relax...”

His voice is like a razor’s edge in Simon’s ear as he pulls down his own pants with one hand.

David’s cock is already dripping when he releases it—swollen, red, and veined.

David spits into his palm before wrapping his cock in a wet wank.

His eyes burn you over Simon's shoulder, challenging.

"Want to bet how many fingers he's swallowed before we got here?"

When David positions himself and pushes in, entry is frighteningly easy. - Simon doesn't scream, doesn't arch his back.

"Fuck...so open for me..."

David laughs softly and hoarsely as he sinks his cock inside Simon in one single movement. - The heat, the tightness, the shame wrapping Simon like a glove.

"D-Don't look at him..."

Simon's fingers are still sinking into your pussy, moving back and forth without a defined rhythm.

"I-I'm just...I'm just...I can make you feel this way..."

But his body lies, and Simon's body lies too, as his body pushes back against David's cock.

His brain is melting with each new piece of information from the threesome.

Simon's nimble tongue on his nipple while his fingers torture his poor clit.

David's hoarse moans as he thrusts fiercely into Simon.

The smell of sex, sweat, invading his mind.

David watches you as you keep up a fast pace for the last time.

"Truth or dare, princess?" - then a harder thrust into Simon causing him to choke.- "Do you want me to finish on him or inside him?"

Your muscles burn as you hook your legs around David’s back—ankles crossed at the base of his spine like fleshy handcuffs.

“Closer.”

You pull—hard, mercilessly—and David grunts in surprise as his body crashes into Simon’s with a wet thud.

“Deeper inside him.”

Your calves squeeze his back, forcing every last inch to sink in to the hilt. Simon groans—a hoarse, broken sound—as David bottoms out.

David shudders, his muscles trembling beneath his sweaty skin.

“Fuck...”

Your fingers dig into Simon’s hips as he struggles for control.

“She’s the boss of us now, see, Simon?”

Your face is grim but your voice cracks as you squeeze your legs together, ordering another thrust.

Simon digs his fingers into the couch with his free hand, scratching at the rotten fabric.

His body arches, pushing back with a will of its own.

You watch David's pulse inside him mark every inch.

"Now."

Your voice leaves no room for negotiation.

David growls, his hips locking as you pull him in once more - hard, with no escape.

"Inside him."

Then David gives his last hard thrust into Simon, before spilling his cum inside Simon, making Simon cum too and soon followed by you cumming on Simon's fingers.

[strawberrybunnystuff]

I just opened this app.... (OMG I ALWAYS THINK HE DOES THIS KIND OF THING I'M SO GLAD SOMEONE DREW THIS HELP)

Had the honour to make this commission

Thank you ❤️🙏🏻��️

[strawberrybunnystuff]

𝙉𝙞𝙜𝙝𝙩 𝙒𝙖𝙩𝙘𝙝𝙢𝙖𝙣 𝙛𝙩. 𝙇𝙚𝙡𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝘾𝙤𝙮𝙡𝙚

Synopsis: It's nighttime at Murkoff Corporation. You're lying in your room, unable to sleep, you just stare at the ceiling until you hear the heavy footsteps of a boot approaching your room.

TW: Content intended for adult audiences; +18; mentions of male intimate parts; Female Character.

୨♡୧

You are jolted out of your reverie when you hear heavy footsteps echoing down the hallway. The rhythmic sound of boots hitting the floor echoes in the silence of the room, making your attention sharpen.

Even lying down, your eyes drift to the door. The dim light from the hallway casts a tall, familiar shadow against the wood. Someone is standing there.

Then, a low, mocking chuckle escapes the figure standing in the doorway.

"So restless, huh, sweetie? Or were you waiting for me?"

You immediately recognize the male voice. Leland Coyle, the police officer.

As if being haunted by your own insomnia every night wasn't enough, now you'd also have to deal with one of those damned human experiments from Murkoff.

You take a deep breath, deciding to ignore him, hoping that Leland would just go away. But of course, that only seems to make him even more interested in bothering you for the rest of the night.

"Ignore me? Geez, sweetie... I thought you'd learned by now that I'm not the type to be left aside so easily. Or are you giving me a challenge?"

You take a deep breath, still determined to ignore him.

"He'll get tired of this at some point and leave."

That's what you thought. But not even in your worst-case scenario would you have imagined how motivated he was tonight to get on your nerves.

"Oh, I see... You're trying to resist me. How cute."

He takes a step forward, leaning his shoulder against the door.

"But what if I told you that I'm starting to like this game, huh, sweetie?"

Finally, your patience runs out completely, and you decide to respond in kind, without even trying to hide the mocking tone in your voice.

"Seriously? Do you REALLY need that much attention, Coyle? What's wrong, are you needy? No one to play cop with you today?"

For a moment, the room is plunged into a cold, dense silence. No sarcastic retort, no provocation from Leland. Just the unsettling vacuum of wordlessness.

The sudden silence sends a shiver down your spine. Did you catch him off guard? Hurt his ego? Or... did you do exactly what he wanted?

Then a laugh cuts through the air—low, mocking, almost devilish.

Leland begins to move. You hear his slow, measured footsteps, feeling the pressure in the air change as he walks through the door without hesitation. He advances unhurriedly, each step deepening the tension in the room, until he stops right in front of you.

Your prone figure is now completely at his mercy.

"Oh, but of course I need attention."

Your breath hitches for a second as his voice sounds lower, firmer... and much closer.

Leland leans in slowly, closing the distance between you even further.

"And yes, sweetie... I'm needy."

The heat from his body becomes impossible to ignore. His chest rises and falls slowly, as if he's savoring every second of the tension building in the air.

"And no... I don't have anyone to play 'policeman' with me today."

The last sentence slips from his lips in a teasing whisper, sending a shiver through every inch of your body.

He's so close.

His hot, heavy breath hits your skin, sending waves of heat down your spine. Your fingers tremble slightly on the mattress, a strange tingling spreads across your chest, and your body feels torn between tension and a dangerous urge to move toward him.

Your heart hammers against your ribs, to the point of pain. You feel goosebumps on your skin wherever his gaze passes – as if you can already feel his touch without him even touching you.

And Leland? He notices.

And he seems to be enjoying it.

"You should leave..."

Your voice comes out lower than you expected, almost like a whisper.

Your eyes remain fixed on Leland's... or rather, on the sunglasses that hide his gaze from you. The lack of direct eye contact only makes everything even more disconcerting. You can't decipher what he's thinking, can't predict his next move.

"Oh, sweetie... How inhospitable." He lets out a dramatic sigh, tilting his head slightly. "Aren't you really going to invite me to lie down with you? After a whole day of walking, my legs are begging for a rest."

His voice drips with that provocative tone, loaded with intent.

Before you can even retort, Leland steps forward. You feel a rush of surprise, and before you can react, he’s already climbing onto the bed. The agility with which he moves, combined with the lack of any hesitation, leaves you speechless. He lies down next to you with an almost defiant calm, as if he already knows the impact he’s going to make.

Before you could even fully process the fact that Leland had laid down next to you, he acts quickly. With his strong hands, he easily pulls you up and lifts you, placing you on his sturdy legs, leaving no room for any reaction. The strength with which he does it surprises you, making you feel his power, and at the same time, a growing tension in the air.

His thick, heavy hands are now firmly positioned on either side of your waist, making your body become aware of every touch, every pressure. You feel the tension increase, and your thoughts begin to get jumbled, your feelings becoming more and more evident. He can feel it all.

"What do you want from me..."

Your voice comes out almost without wanting to, as if you can no longer hold the words back. Your answer comes before you can even reconsider.

Leland watches your every move, and it's clear that he's enjoying the situation.

"I want to play 'policeman' with you, like you suggested."

The sarcastic tone in his words is almost palpable, and you can hear the smile he hides behind them. He’s not just teasing—he’s enjoying every second of it.

You feel a heat rising in your body. Your breathing becomes faster, your senses heightened, and Leland notices it all. He notices how your posture changes, how your body responds.

"And it looks like you want to play with me too."

His voice deepens, becomes more intimidating, as he steps even closer. His gaze is fixed on you, and you can tell he can sense the excitement evident in your movements.

"It's simple, you see? I'm the authority here. You'll follow my orders without question. If you're good and behave, I might even reward you. Do you understand?"

Leland's voice is commanding, almost hypnotic, making each word stick in your mind. His authority overflows from each syllable, and there's an intensity that makes you question whether you have the courage to challenge it.

You're momentarily shocked by what you've just heard. Your mind seems to spin with his words, and the impact of them leaves you speechless for a second. But in the end, you nod in affirmation, an almost automatic yes, feeling an unexpected heat rise through your body.

You hear the deep, drawn-out laugh that comes from Leland's deep throat, echoing like a warning of what's to come. His fingers tighten against your poor hip, intentionally slow, and you feel the muscles in your stomach tighten. Not out of fear, but excitement of what's to come.

"Good girl," he growls, his voice a sharp razor against your skin. "Now that you're so obedient...how about proving that you deserve to stay here?" One of his heavy hands comes down to your wrist, squeezing. "First order from your superior..." Leland leans forward, his lips almost touching your ear, his warm breath making you shiver. "I want those soft little hands unbuckling my belt...very slowly. And if you mess up?" His teeth clench against your earlobe, the calculated tug. "I'll teach you again. Until you learn it right."

His fingers hesitated for a second, just one, but it was enough for him to growl low, his fingers tightening around your waist as a warning. You knew exactly who you were dealing with: a sadistic, impatient man who could turn into an executioner at any moment.

But then...

Something inside you trembled, a desire that was buried under layers of fear and logic. This was your chance. The only person in that hell who looked at you as something more than just an object and now he was ordering you to do exactly what you had always secretly wanted to do.

Your heart was beating so hard that you almost didn’t hear the sound of the belt being unbuckled, but he heard it. The smell of aged leather mixed with sweat invaded your nostrils like a hallucinatory drug.

Your fingers trembled not from fear but from anticipation.

The first click of the metal loosening echoed in the room. Leland held his breath, he hadn’t expected you to be so fast. You felt the muscles in his thighs contract beneath you. Like a beast ready to pounce.

“That’s it…good girl,” he murmured, his voice so needy. “Now pull.”

So when your hands finally pull his belt all the way down, the fabric of his underwear barely manages to contain his cock that was about to escape. You feel it before you even see it: the heat, the excitement and the violent throb of his cock against your palm as your fingers accidentally meet the damp and sticky fabric of his underwear.

He laughs, a husky and addictive sound to your ears, as your breath catches.

"Are you scared, sweetie?" His hand grabs your chin forcing you to look down. "Or is this what makes you embarrassed?" Leland rubs his still covered cock against your still hand, and you gasp.

God, he was so hot!

You dare to slide your hand inside his underwear, feeling the brutal heat of Leland's skin. He sighs, like an animalistic, guttural growl that comes from somewhere deep in his chest when your hand finally wraps around his cock.

You shiver, not out of fear anymore but out of pure shock. Was that his big cock hiding under that predatory posture? Was that his cock he wanted you to control?!

Leland is amused by your startled reaction, then he leans in close to your ear.

"Now you get it, huh, sweetie?" His big hand grabs your wrist, forcing you to squeeze it tighter. "This thing grows with those who deserve it."

You could feel your pussy start to get wet in your own panties. The last sentence that came out of his mouth only motivated you to go deeper, deep exactly where you wanted to go.

You couldn't wait any longer. Your hand practically flies over the hem of his underwear and pulls it down.

And then his cock appeared right in front of your eyes. It was swollen, reddish and so tense that it seemed to already be throbbing against your hand.

It wasn't just its size that made you feel completely disturbed, it was the way it pulsed like an exposed heart, there were many veins around it, pre-cum already accumulated at its tip.

He was as into this as you were.

He didn't help you.

He just watched you with his dark eyes burning into your face as you swallowed hard. His smile was cruel, but his rapid breathing betrayed his self-control.

Your heart pounded so hard that you almost didn't hear your moan before he sank into your mouth. The taste was salty, hot, literally what you imagined Leland would taste like down there. But you had to hold your breath quickly when he practically pushed your head down onto his cock.

His tip hit the back of your throat. This wasn't just a service anymore, it was silent revenge. Every movement your tongue made around him, on the head, every deep suck, was proof that Leland, Murkoff's monster, was now writhing so erotically for you.

୨♡୧

I was too lazy to finish...

[strawberrybunnystuff]

𝐃𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐓-𝟏𝟎𝟎𝟎

Dating T-1000 would be a completely unique experience in the world, since he is not human but still manages to learn and adapt in a relationship with you.

♡

Positive Points in the relationship:

Absolute Protection: T-1000 is practically invisible, so no one would dare to mess with you and if they did, he would destroy whoever it was.

Perfect Adaptation: T-1000, being made entirely of liquid metal, can transform into any person or object, adapting to your taste; whether physically or in behavior.

Impeccable Memory: T-1000 has an incredible memory, he would never forget special dates, he would never lose his patience with you and he would always know what you like.

Constantly Present: T-1000 doesn't need to do what humans normally do. He doesn't need to eat, bathe or sleep. So he would be with you 24/7.

Negative Points in the relationship:

Lack of Real Emotions: T-1000 is not human, so he doesn't feel any real emotion. So don't expect anything too emotional from him.

Extreme Possessiveness: T-1000 was made to always follow orders and complete missions with absolute precision. Once he decides that you are "his", he will never let you go. And if someone tries to take you away from him, that person won't live long.

Difficulty Understanding Human Reactions: T-1000 doesn't understand jokes, sarcasm or emotions. When you tell him that "everything is fine" when it is not, he won't be able to tell the difference.

Abnormal Coldness: Kisses? Hugs? Cuddles? He doesn't understand why he needs to do that. He will wait for you to initiate these things.

♡

I just want so much so much so much so much so much so much so much so much so much so much so much so much so much so much so much so much so much so much so much to fuck him ૮‬ ̳ᴗ ̫ ᴗ ̳ა‪‪

[strawberrybunnystuff]

OMG THIS IS SO FUCKING COOL I WANT ONEEEEEEE😻😻😻😻😻😻😻

HE IS SO CUTE☺☺☺☺☺☺

Just shitpost 👀