#Richard Trager x reader | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

heretyc · 1 year ago

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Horror [Trager, Eddie Gluskin, Val]

Horror: A collection of small fics, consisting of Outlast's most iconic antagonists [in my opinion].

The poll I started isn't over, but "canonically" is winning and I love it. Dark shit here we come lol. I will be writing for my beloved Terror-iffic Trio [aka my favourite antagonists from each game]. A party with these 3 would be lit.

Drabble ideas here.

Content Warnings: Uhhh...Outlast Antagonists lol. That is your warning.

Trager: Gore, awful jokes, his bare ass.

Eddie: Gore, murder, injury, mentions of his...lovely little display, sexual assault [minor, just a slight touch, no penetration]. [Please lord don't let him teach an art class.]

Val: Sexual assault [slight penetration w/ fingers], gore, murder, mud, Val's bare ass, mud breasts and mudgina.

I mean it, this is pretty heavy shit. It isn't too graphic, but if SA triggers you...either look away or read with caution. Trager's section is safe. Unless you're afraid of his ass...cause me too, man.

MINORS GTFO. Miners can stay as long as they're not minor miners.

Read with caution, I condone none of this. Fics underneath the cut.

You/MC take the place of the protagonist. So...you are Miles/Waylon/Blake. Yayyyyy....? Or nay? Depends on how you feel. MC is gender neutral, but is referred to with fem pronouns in Eddie's section for obvious reasons. You do not talk in Trager or Eddie's sections as Miles and Waylon were "mute". You speak in Val's section, though. You are described as having breasts in Val's section as both sexes/all genders have breasts. Tiddies for everybody!!

Enjoy.

Drabble idea: "See, this place isn't haunted!"

Sometimes, a saving grace can be your one way ticket to hell. And this had been an excellent example of that. The angelic voice over the dumbwaiter was a dream come true; after running and hiding for so long, it was like you were granted a break.

Only for your face to fall as the scarred face of a man greeted you. The air around him reeked of danger.

This was not the haven you were lead to believe was waiting for you.

"You made the right choice here, buddy," he declared before punching you in the jaw, a pained yell leaving your throat, and he was quick to take advantage of your shocked state to haul you into a wheelchair.

He must have done this a dozen times, as he was quick to lock your wrists into the cuffs attached to the chair. They were tight, and he merely chuckled at seeing your attempts of getting out of them.

He looked fucked up.

He stood in front of you, hands behind his back, and his eyes were scanning you like a wolf scans its prey before it mauls it to bits, "You're not a variant...huh. Well, buddy...you can call me...Trager. Everyone else does, anyway."

As Trager made noises looking you up and down, you looked at his face. Coated by some half-assed attempt at a mask and some strange glasses upon his face, you come to the conclusion that he was some doctor here.

He clicks his tongue and smacks you on the back, "You've got a lot of things to learn here, buddy. I am honoured to be your teacher."

Teach you about what, exactly? You didn't want to know. But he started to push you forward, and you only questioned where your hell would be.

This place was already hell, but...at the hands of some crazed madman, it was different.

Trager hummed to himself, making jokes here and there, and he once grumbled when you didn't laugh at a stupid impression, before he finally made it to an elevator. It was...somewhat cleaner up here, for some reason.

However...

You could feel a breeze upon your skin, and upon hearing the howl of wind and torrential rain, you saw an exit. Pitch black and windy, yet so much more welcoming than in here. You questioned if there would be a tornado warning or something by how violent the wind seemed to be.

The rain out there was intense, torrential, heavy and oh so divine, and Trager only chuckled.

"You want to take a quick walk, bud?" He leaned down next to you, eyes looking into yours like he was an old friend, despite also looking feral. "Run free, like Forrest Gump? Unfortunately, we're running out of time." He clicked his tongue once more, pulling you into the elevator.

This was a cruel joke. Even the Elvis impression - awful impression, mind you - wasn't as bad as this.

Standing beside you, Trager pressed a simple button on the control pad before clasping his hands together behind his back. After a moment of movement, he looked back toward you, his voice a tone that suggested jest, "Did you know they call elevators a "shaft" in other places of the world?" He chuckled, shaking his head slightly.

Looking at him, you realized his skin looked...awful. Like he was a draugr from that video game you used to play.

His scalp was scarred, and after spending an hour in this place, you realize you're lucky your scalp was untouched.

Wires upon wires were wrapped along his arm, and upon closer inspection, you were horrified to notice that they weren't wires, they were tubes.

Of his own blood.

How did he not feel that?

A man like him probably enjoys that, to be honest.

His nails were quite long as well, albeit you couldn't blame him...hygiene in a place like this was laughable. He probably had to exert his inner wildcat to defend himself in this shit hole.

You nearly sobbed when the elevator came to its destination, and he took hold of the handles once more.

It smelled of death and lost hope up here.

Choruses of screams reached your ears and you flinched. He seemed to notice, as he violently shushed the poor bastards trying to break free of their confines, "Sh. Shshshsh...you weren't putting your tongue to good use anyway!"

Tongue...??

The man shrieking had a bloodied mouth, and he soon quieted after choking on, what you assume to be, his own blood. Trager only sighed, muttering to himself, "Really, I just needed something to lick my stamps."

This...was a cruel joke. Taking someone's tongue for stamps?? You were deep in thought, only for Trager to notice and grin evilly, "You should see what I do with the balls."

...Dear god.

"Yeah, this weird...cannibalistic guy downstairs begs for them...the guy knows what he wants, I gotta give him that. He reminds me of somebody...eh, buddy?"

He poked you in the shoulder as he pushed, and it appears he was referring to you.

"I saw your camcorder. You're some sort of journalist, here to...what, expose one of the biggest experiments in history?" He laughed at the notion, shaking his head. "I admire the bravery, really. Braving through disturbed masses...I have to admit, I'm impressed."

You only gulped.

"People love to say this place is...haunted." Trager noted, pushing you into a bathroom of some sort. Bloodied, smelled of decay and looked like a paradise for bugs and bacteria.

What had scared you the most was the array of torture devices he had laid out on a tray. This man was deranged, one way or another.

He continued his one-sided conversation, focusing on the aforementioned tray as he walked over to it, "I mean, who wouldn't? People love to paint asylums as haunted. They hear a ghastly noise or a terrified scream and immediately tell the papers that a house of human suffering is haunted."

Trager's hand hovered over each instrument of torture, trying to pick which one, but he hadn't stopped talking.

"And I am more than sure that's your entire...reason for coming here. Trying to prove it was haunted. But guess what, buddy?"

He finally picked up a blade, long and serrated, and he pressed it against a finger of yours, the edges sharp against your thin flesh. He leaned in close, his dry lips forming into a smile, "This place isn't haunted."

He moved away, the blade removed from your finger, and you breathed a sigh of relief as he placed it back down onto the tray.

"No, no. It's worse."

He finally picks up a gigantic pair of scissors, much like something you'd see picking away at a shrub, and he was more than eager to shut them and open them, metallic hisses invading your senses, much like the feeling of doom.

You will die here.

"This place is an example of human cruelty, my friend," he announced, voice loud and cheerful as if he wasn't about to maim you, and he placed the blades around some of your fingers. He cared not for your horrified shrieks and begs, he only leaned in once more and whispered,

"And you will be nothing but an example of what happened here."

Slice.

...

"Oh, come on, buddy...it's not like you needed your middle finger anyway. Now open up...I have some stamps to lick."

Drabble idea: "Oh my god, are you okay?!"

"Darling, please! You act as if I've done something rancid! What have I done to you to make you so afraid of me?!"

The bloodied behemoth on your tail was quick and hurried as he chased after you, his feet slamming against the rotting floorboards. You almost couldn't hear the music that played alongside the horrific display he handmade. The smell was awful, but the sight of it was enough to make you vomit.

You would not be the victim to the Groom. Not now. Not ever.

You would not have your pelvis slit, or your chest stuffed like you were a sex doll [ironically, that's all you would be to him], and you would not let him confess his undying love for you. It was fake and corrupt like this entire asylum.

Despite the smell of mildew and death, adrenaline filled your blood and you could tolerate the disgusting scents as you breathed in, your legs not yet faltering.

You've heard what he's done. The man who so giddily chased you rambled about it as you snuck around, and you were not pleased.

This was the only way out. Sometimes you have to take risks...right?

This wasn't worth it, though.

And sometimes, luck runs out. Like right now, as you are stuck in a dead end.

There was only an elevator. And it was not on your current floor.

Shit.

You could jump and risk a broken leg...or...

The emergency ladder. Broken and rusted, but it's tetanus over death.

You could explain all of this to the news with lockjaw.

"Wait, what are you doing?! Don't, don't-!"

You had leaped, gripping onto the ladder as your bottom half slammed against it. With a hiss you tried to pull yourself up, only for the ladder to break underneath you.

The top had snapped, and you tried to grab onto what remained on the wall, only to fall, your heart stopping.

Of all things to die from, it was a rusted ladder.

Oh well.

As your body slammed onto the top of the elevator, a sharp pang began to blossom from your ankle, and you look to see shards of glass sticking out of your flesh. Now coated in blood, you cried out and ripped the shards out, piece by piece. Blood pooled around your foot as you cradled it.

"Oh my god, are you okay?!"

The behemoth above looked down at you with a horrified expression, his hands out and wanting to hold you.

"I hate to see you suffering without me! Why would you do something like that to yourself?!"

His voice was full of panic and concern, and for a moment it seemed wholesome, until the panicked silence became one of anger. There was...tension.

"You would...rather die...than be with me...?"

His tone had shifted so quickly. He was unpredictable, and that's what had made him so...scary. In general, he had looked like he crawled from a 1940s horror series. Sweeney Todd had come to mind, actually...

"You're just another whore, aren't you?" He growled out, only to sigh, like this was a normal occurrence. "It's quite alright, darling. A good man can turn a whore into a house wife...and I have faith in us. Let me just..."

The elevator roared to life, and you panicked even more, now. Your poor heart would likely kill you before he had the chance to. But as you rose, he merely hummed to himself, waiting for the elevator to rise to his floor.

You had no chance at moving or escaping, as when you reached the proper floor, he was quick to grab you before you became sandwiched between the top of the elevator and the ceiling.

He dwarfed you. Instantly. He carried you bridal style, an eerie smile on his face, "Come, now. I must make sure you look perfect for our wedding."

You had no chance, now.

He clicked his tongue, footsteps hard against the rotting boards, and his voice was quieter as he spoke, "And I need to wrap up your foot...you are a silly one, darling."

It didn't feel silly. It felt like your ankle and foot were on fire, stinging like mad.

You had accepted your death already, but if there was also one thing you could accept, it's that he wasn't actually half bad.

Minus the...anger fits and the "whore" bit, he would have been wonderful. Looking up at him, you see a man soiled by corruption.

His eyes would have been a beautiful, shiny blue if not for the pools of hemorrhage. They had looked...empty. Dead. But whenever he looked at you, they shone like his soul had been revived.

Is this what he had wanted? Love?

Everyone in this hell hole had been deprived of it.

It was sad. Really fucking sad.

But you had read about what Eddie had done, and seen it too. And he was past the point of no return. He had done too much to be redeemed.

Dread made itself a home in your stomach as you were laid upon something cold and wet, and you were strapped in. Arms and legs spread, and your clothes were ripped off.

You were now nude, and being touched by the Groom himself.

His hands were gentle as he caressed a calf, "You have such soft skin...you will look absolutely beautiful," he cooed, hand gliding itself upwards toward your knee, then your thigh, and then...

You only flinched when you felt his hand begin to caress your genitals, as gentle as could be, as if he wasn't violating you. T'was the touch of a lover.

But he was no lover, no.

His fingertips merely grazed along your private flesh, rubbing it as if he had wanted to stimulate you, and you wanted to scream.

Eddie sighed dreamily, like he was a married man and his life would be filled with nothing but happiness, and he, luckily, let his hand glide up to your navel. "You look divine already, but when I'm finished with you? Oh, darling..."

He removed his hand, thankfully, but he was quick to turn on the saw, and all you could feel was cold air from its rapid movements and doom.

He gripped the sides of the table you were on, and he was smiling like this wasn't totally fucked up, "I know this will be hard..."

You felt the table move, slowly but surely, and you began to wriggle, but he continued, "You will have to deal with this...and then the conception, which I promise, will be wonderful," he winked as the saw came closer, "Then the pregnancy...and oh, I can just imagine the birthing. You will look so beautiful, darling...like a goddess. Mothers are goddesses in their own right."

And all you could feel was the sting of the saw, and your soul fading from your body.

...

"You're just like the rest. Filthy whore."

You're lucky you weren't alive to see your mangled body, tossed with the rest.

Ready to rot.

Drabble idea: "I want to go home..."

Val, in a sense, had been an angel to you.

They did not have a halo, made of purity and gold, or have pristine, white wings to wrap you and hold you close, no. They did not bear robes of white or play a golden harp or sing a divine chorus.

But they had wanted you all to themselves. And they would not let Knoth's guard dog, or his sickly bastards he called "friends", ruin you before they had a chance to.

Because unlike Knoth, or Marta, or Laird or Nick or whoever the fuck, Val would put you back together.

They are a loving mother, dedicated to spreading love.

It had been painted in blood on your way to the mines, 'LOVE SET US FREE'. Bottles encasing candles, bodies strewn up like Christmas decorations...

What were they trying to do, exactly? Make their cause look homey? Elegant? Acceptable?

You had felt oddly welcomed. Every single enemy in your way was slain, journals and notes left in your path to urge you to come to them.

"Come to me," the red ink beckoned you on the dirtied paper, "and I will show you my love."

They had been so kind as to leave batteries and bandages. Before you had taken the small, makeshift raft, a final note had been placed in one of the small shacks, the bed made and smelling of firewood,

"I am waiting for you."

You did not want this. But you needed to find a way out.

The mines were not welcoming. You were not alone. And you had been chased into the underground, where you are now; held down by Heretics as they muttered, "mother, burn..."

Like the fallen angel ready to relieve the sinners of their pain, their martyrdom, Val had approached, coated in mud and looking like the demon of the mountains.

In their hand was a torch, raging with fire, and it made their white eyes so much more intense.

They had hummed eagerly, the hum evolving into a laugh as the torch was placed down and the Heretics were shooed away. You were too afraid to move or notice their cold, dirtied hands leaving your flesh.

Their eyes were wide, pupils tiny, and they smiled as they strutted to you, "We are creatures of appetite..."

They moaned, feeling up their body and their fake breasts, like they were a porn star and giving you a show.

"I want to feel your hunger," their voice became quiet, something only you could hear, and they leaned close, your eyes staring frantically into theirs, searching for any fragment of humanity.

There was none. And you felt saddened, knowing that the Val in those journals was not this Val.

This was something different.

"I want to know your desires...and show you what true pleasure feels like," they rasped, pushing you down and straddling your hips, grinding against your clothed stomach. Your fear had aroused them.

"I want to go home..." you whispered, tears rushing from your eyes, and they only laughed, leaning close to your face and whispering, "This is your home, my love," a muddy hand came up to caress your cheek and wipe the tears away, "and I...will be doting."

You had no chance to respond or even acknowledge the powder blown into your senses, or the tongue forcing your mouth open, and immediately, they sought dominance over your own muscle, wrestling with it. It had ventured to each nook and cranny of your mouth, like they wanted to taste everything about you, and they eventually pulled away with a moan, saliva connecting you two.

They licked their lips, humming in delight as their hands rushed to push up your shirt and reveal your chest. "Your body...is delightful," they breathed out, squeezing your breasts and rubbing your nipples with precision.

That powder did something to you. You had hated the feeling of their hands, but now you were overheating; desperate and quiet moans leaving your throat and making the cultist above you grin.

"I don't..." You couldn't even finish your sentence, as they pinched a nipple and made you shriek. It made them chuckle, and their hands moved south, ripping your zipper and breaking it. They got off for a second to completely rip your pants and undergarments off, and their naked thighs wrapped around your bare hips.

"Did you enjoy my gifts?" They questioned, hands now massaging your thighs, "You needed those batteries so badly...to document the lies of Sullivan, didn't you?" They purred, their hands tight and knowing just where to touch to get you to cry out in pleasure.

"That's why you came here. Fell from the sky, wrapped in flame..." they bit their lip, feeling aroused at the notion, "To record his bullshit."

You had even forgot about your camera, and you questioned where it was, until Val snorted, "It's gone, my love," their hands moved upwards to your genitals, "taken away...by my children. You won't need it anymore."

There was no pain when you felt their finger enter you. It was more pleasurable than anything you had ever felt, and it made you moan the loudest, and Val had revelled in this.

With precision their fingers located your pleasure spot, and sped up.

Your pleasure was their pleasure.

"God doesn't love you...not like I do."

And in time...you would know it to be true.

#outlast #outlast 2 #outlast 2 val #eddie gluskin #outlast eddie gluskin #outlast fanfiction #eddie gluskin x reader #outlast x reader #richard trager #trager #val #outlast val #val x reader #this was a doozy lmfao #enjoy!!!#richard trager x reader #trager x reader

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outlastrabbit · 11 months ago

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Could I request rick taking care of his favourite patient? Like the ways he’d treat them (sfw or not 👀)

Richard Trager With a Patient!Reader

SFW💕

You were Richard’s favourite patient by far. In fact, you were the only one he actually liked! Oh, you were so cute. He could’ve stared and talked to you for hours. You may not have been as talkative to him as he was, but that was okay! Rick got off just by hearing himself talk anyway.

He kept you tied to your bed most of the time. He couldn’t have you running off, right? Because that meant he would have to cut off your pretty legs, and that would just hurt him more than it would hurt you.

Richard loomed over you as you laid stiff in bed. You recoiled as his bony fingers ran through your hair, then slowly trailed down your forehead to your cheek. His thumb ran over it affectionately, a sinister smile forming behind his torn surgical mask. Any tears or blood you shed were quickly kissed away.

When Richard wasn’t sitting by your bed with you all day, he pushed you around the asylum in a wheelchair. He blabbered on to you for hours, not giving you much time to rest. He only ever liked you sleeping in his arms.

If your head began to bow or your body slumped against the wheelchair, he pushed you back to your bed. Richard laid you down in the grimy sheets and crawled right in next to you. You were too tired and weak to care as his arms wrapped tightly around you.

You could hear the eerily gentle smile in Rick’s voice as he whispered sweet nothings in your ear. His fingers tangled into your hair as your head laid against his bare chest. What would he have done without you? Surely he would have gone a little bit… crazy.

NSFW💕

Richard tied you to your bed so you could barely move. He grinned evilly down at you, sputtering out an excited laugh as you laid helpless before him. He wanted to take care of it all. He didn’t want you to move a muscle. This was his time.

Richard got right between your bare thighs and thrusted in. His only eye was locked on your face that twisted with hesitant pleasure. He was close enough to kiss, taking in your beauty and gawking at how good you felt.

His thrusts grew faster, and it surprised you how gently he brushed some sweaty hair from your face. Richard’s undying lust for you thickened as his hips rocked harshly into yours. You cried out in pleasure and tugged at your restraints, legs trembling. He moaned back, closing his eye while slamming into you.

“Tra—ger…!” You gasped between thrusts.

You moaning Richard’s name was all the encouragement he needed. He gripped your waist painfully tight and fucked you hard into the old bed. Its rusty headboard banged loudly against the wall as it squeaked in agony.

“Let me…” Richard grunted as his hips moved faster and rougher with yours. “Take care… of you.” He gasped in pleasure. “You’re my patient.” He sighed in bliss as your eyes rolled back, mouth agape while you moaned uncontrollably. “I’ll give you very special attention…”

#outlast #outlast x reader #richard trager x reader #richard trager

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blakeswritingimagines · 4 months ago

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Dating Yandere Trager Would Include:

He was fiercely protective and obsessive, constantly checking in on you and becoming suspicious if you even looked at another person. He demanded your attention all the time and would get violent if you even attempted to leave him, or if someone else came near you. He was also manipulative, making you feel guilty for even thinking about leaving him. He made sure to isolate you from any loved ones, forcing you to rely on him.

He was also possessive and jealous, getting furious if you even breathed in the direction of another man, or if you even spoke to another person. He would constantly try to isolate you and control every aspect of your life. He wasn't afraid to use physical force to get what he wanted and was always monitoring you to make sure you weren't trying to escape his grasp. He would often use guilt and emotional manipulation to make sure you would never leave him.

He would frequently display his obsession by keeping tabs on you at all times, like installing surveillance cameras in your room, as well as tracking your location on your phone.

He would use love bombing to try to make you forget how terrible he was, then use guilt and emotional manipulation to make sure you would never leave. He would belittle you and make you feel like nothing so you would have no confidence on your own, making you think you were weak and needed him.

He was always paranoid and had a short temper. Anytime you did something that he deemed as wrong, like speaking to someone else or even just looking in another direction, he would explode in anger and take it out on you. He was also extremely controlling and demanding, making sure you did everything he wanted you to do. If you even attempted to disagree with him or go against his wishes, he would become furious and use emotional manipulation to make you submit to his will.

He was also paranoid and untrusting, always believing that others were trying to take you away from him or that you were cheating on him. He would often fly into fits of jealousy and anger if he thought you weren't paying enough attention to him.

He was extremely clingy, always wanting to be near you and needing constant affection. He was obsessed with your attention and would constantly need reassurance that you loved him.

He was also very controlling of your wardrobe and appearance, insisting you wear specific clothes or makeup that he liked. He'd often make cruel comments about your body, making you feel insecure about yourself.

He would often reassure you that he loved and cared for you and that you were the most important person in his life. However, this reassurance always came with strings attached, as he would remind you that you belonged to him and that you couldn't leave him. At times, his reassurances could also be manipulative, as he would try to make you feel like you were the only thing that mattered in the world.

He would often give you rewards to keep you happy and in line. Sometimes it would be small gestures, like buying you gifts or taking you out on dates. However, these rewards would usually come with strings attached - like having to do things for him or being expected to be grateful. He might also withhold rewards to punish you or to make you do what he wanted - basically rewarding good behavior and enforcing his dominance.

His punishments could range from mild to severe, depending on the situation. Sometimes he would simply withhold affection and attention, making you feel guilty for whatever you did wrong. But other times, especially if he felt threatened or thought you were disrespecting him, he could become aggressive and resort to physical violence. He would also use verbal abuse and manipulation to make you feel worse and remind you of your position

He would often start fights with you over seemingly small things, like if you spoke to another person or did something he didn't like. He would fly into a rage and start yelling and screaming, accusing you of not caring about him or not loving him. He would also use these fights to manipulate you into doing things you didn't want to do, bringing up how you had "disrespected" him or not given him enough attention.

Despite his possessive and abusive tendencies, he would still try to show you affection. He'd often say that he loved you and would make empty promises to take care of you and make you happy. But the problem was that his affection was always conditional, and he could take it away if he felt like you weren't doing enough. He'd often use affection as a way to manipulate you and keep you under his control.

He would often make a big show of taking you on dates to expensive restaurants or doing other romantic things to impress you. However, these dates always came with a caveat - he would expect you to be grateful and pay him back by doing things he wanted, or by showing your appreciation in some other way. He also could become very possessive and jealous if he thought someone else was looking at you during these dates, and would often lash out at you afterwards.

He would absolutely have a shrine dedicated to you. He would collect items that reminded him of you, like photos, clothing, or other personal items. He would probably have them laid out in his bedroom or another private place, where he could spend time admiring them and thinking about you. He might also do other things to honor you, like pray to your shrine or leave offerings at it. He would definitely see it as a symbol of his devotion and love for you.

He would definitely kill for you, especially if he felt like you were threatened or he would probably try to keep it a secret since he wouldn't want to worry or upset you. But he would also use it to remind you how far he was willing to go to protect you.

He would definitely want to get married to you, but not for the traditional reasons. For him, marriage would be a way to solidify his ownership and control over you. He would expect you to be completely obedient and submissive to him and would use the marriage as a way to keep you under his thumb. He would also see it as a symbol of his power and domination over you.

He would definitely want to have children with you, but not because he wanted to start a family. For him, having children would be a way to make you even more dependent on him. He would expect you to take care of the children and do everything he wanted and would use the children to make you feel even more guilty about leaving him. He might even become possessive and jealous of the time you spent with the children, seeing them as a threat to his control over you.

He would likely be very disappointed and may even become angry if you couldn't have children. He would probably try to pressure you into trying to conceive, even if it wasn't possible. If you had absolutely no interest in having children, he would see it as a threat to his control over you. He would try to convince you to change your mind, or might even try to sabotage birth control or other methods you used to prevent pregnancy.

"You are mine! You are nothing without me. I control your every thought, your every move. You will do as I say, or you will suffer the consequences. No one else can make you feel the way I can. You are mine, and I refuse to let anyone else have you. You belong to me, and you will never escape my control."

Erotic photography - The thought of being photographed in various states of undress or even engaged in sexual activities is incredibly arousing. Knowing that others will see these images later only enhances the experience.

Sleep sex - Engaging in sexual activities while both parties are asleep, often without conscious awareness, adds an element of mystery and unpredictability to the act.

Medical play - Using medical equipment or pretending to perform medical procedures on you can create a unique blend of fear, and arousal for me.

Sensory deprivation - Experiencing intimacy in complete darkness or silence, relying solely on touch and intuition to navigate the encounter...it's a thrilling sensory adventure.

Edge play - Exploring the darker side of BDSM, including activities that could potentially cause harm or push the boundaries of pain tolerance, is a risky but tantalizing prospect for him.

#richard trager #richard trager x reader #richard trager x you #yandere richard trager #yandere richard trager x reader #outlast #yandere outlast

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sixx-writes · 2 years ago

Text

Walk In Visit

Richard Trager x Reader

Word Count: 2,009

cw: noncon, cunnilingus, forced orgasm, creampie, shitty doctor/patient rp, trager is a dickhead, there is no plot just enjoy it or something idk it’s something I shit out cause I couldn’t sleep

AO3 Version | Masterlist

Summary: Reader visited the asylum on the wrong day and ends up in the tender care of a certain “doctor”.

18+ ONLY NSFW BELOW THE CUT

"I'm so sorry about the mess, babe. I wasn't expecting any female patients today. You surprised me," the man wheels you into a room that smells like an entire football team ate shit and died all at once. There's guts and blood everywhere painting the walls and pooled on the floor while this maniac is rambling like nothing is wrong. Pretty typical of your experience as a guest at the asylum so far.

Not a whole hell of a lot of anything is making sense in this endless nightmare and you would be about as surprised as the piece of beef jerky that's talking your leg off if that changed any time soon. A name from a manila folder jumps out at you, some douche that played at being a doctor, called.. what was it? Trey? Trager? That was it. Judging by his disturbingly coherent and stick up the ass way of speaking it was safe to assume he wasn't a patient.

At least not in the same way as the others were 'patients'. He must have been an employee here once upon a time.

"Alright. There we go. Are you comfortable enough?" You offer nothing more than a dead eyed stare that only reflected the numbness you were feeling. Somehow that was an affirmative to the processed meat in front of you. You catch a glimpse of how his lower lip is torn off beneath his makeshift doctor's mask when he leans over you adjusting the straps so you can't escape whatever he has in mind. "Good. That's good. Listen, I have a confession to make. Gynecology isn't exactly my ah, forte, as the French put it. This is gonna be a learning experience for the both of us."

Somehow, through that numb blanket that you've managed to wrap around yourself to shield your mind from the horrors, you feel panic surfacing. The fate of being raped was something you had avoided up until now. The same could not be said for some of the other unfortunates you had encountered during your descent into hell. Trager was already gone rattling instruments on the table next to your bed.

"Dammit, where did I put those things. Oh yeah. Wait here, babe. I'll just be a second."

For the first time you were actually well and truly fucked - trapped like a rat. You pulled desperately at the straps holding your wrists and ankles trying to free yourself in the precious few seconds you were alone. It was hard not to cry if you were being honest but if you started then you were afraid that you would break down under the weight of it all. You couldn't afford that when you were so close to being free. So you bit into the inside of your cheek hard enough that you tasted metal until the fucker returned.

When he did it was with the biggest pair of scissors you had ever seen, coated in blood, some stains fresh, and others already dried and flaking off. "Jesus Christ," you muttered, not wanting to speak too loudly and agitate him. Your skin crawled when he purposefully snipped the giant scissors, some type of bone shears maybe, a few times over your helpless body, the sound grating on your ears.

"Okie dokie. First is the breast exam. Hold still for me."

That was a funny thing to say when you felt the bottom blade sliding across your tucked stomach you forgot how to breathe you were concentrating so hard on not moving a muscle. You tried to keep as much skin away from the blade as you could while he cut away your top. Fuck you for not wearing a bra today and making it easier on him.

"Awh, does that hurt?" he gave some approximation of a frown, hard to tell with the gnarled gash of his mouth, upon seeing the cut over your ribs you'd gotten climbing through a broken window.

No shit.

Trager's concern is brief, already forgotten, as soon as he peels back the shorn halves of your ruined shirt exposing your breasts. Through the delusion of whatever horror he's dreaming you see a glint of lust from the disgusting little man that had worked here before he went to sleep one day and never woke up. You don't want to resist and piss him off but it's impossible once you feel the first careless squeeze of tender flesh. His skin is rough against yours and you twist trying to get away from his touch but there's nowhere to go.

"It's okay, babe," he soothed you, not at all angry, his attention never leaving your heaving chest and hardening nipples, "I understand most girls are shy on their first visit. I'll make it easy on you, okay? Try not to worry your pretty little head." His treatment is anything but easy, pinching your nipple and watching how the fat falls back into place from how he lifts it up into a barely recognizable shape, pulling it taut. He does this until you're squirming and silently pleading for the strength to make it through.

You think you're going to be sick at the first gummy drag of his tongue over your skin, telling yourself that this wasn't the worst that could be happening right now. A sob that could have been mistaken for a moan slips out and he eyes your reaction, curiously. "Any pain? Soreness? Over-sensitivity?" He simpers up at you and there are equal parts madness and lucidity that terrify you behind those eyes.

Trager doesn't seem to give a single shit that his conversation is entirely one sided and resumes his assault of your breast. He can no longer suck so he bites instead, over and over, making your toes curl from the pain. This goes on until your skin is painted with marks in the shape of his teeth and your nipples are red and raw. Each time you try to sink deeper into yourself a particularly harsh twinge brings you back out. There is no escape.

He's moving lower, his tongue dipping into your navel while he takes up those massive fuck off scissors again and slides one side up your pant leg. It doesn't take long until your pants meet the same fate as your shirt on the floor, lost forever amidst the blood and shit of the doctor's other patients.

"Oh no, " he said, "This doesn't look good at all." His fingers circle over your still covered mound, your panties the last barrier of defense before the fucker sees everything you have to offer. Unceremoniously, he pushes them to the side and in one brief instant the last of your dignity is gone.

"You have alot of discharge and swelling down here. I'm going to need a closer look under the hood, I'm afraid."

With just those words you're ready to die. It's one thing to be attacked and have no control over it and entirely something else to become aroused by it. This disgusting bald freak who looks like an eighty year old's ball sack has somehow made you wet. Deeply profound shame washes over you only amplified by how hard it is not to let out a desperate cry when he prods at your clit. The rough treatment of your already abused body and mind has finally pushed you over the edge.

Maybe you were insane too, now.

Trager isn't examining your pussy anymore, he's watching your face and clearly enjoying how hard you're fighting against showing your reactions. It's the most lucid you've seen him so far and the most sadistic. He doesn't break eye contact when he spreads you with two fingers and drools over your pussy in the most disgusting way making your stomach drop in horror. You're repulsed and let out a pitiful noise making the ragged remains of his mouth twist into a smirk moments before his tongue is buried in your inflamed pussy eager to clean up his mess.

Finally, finally, it's all too fucking much and you howl joining into the chorus of the others' screams of pain and insanity unable to hold it in anymore. It's not because you're being raped or because you're probably going to die here but because you enjoy it. This horrible place has reduced you to nothing more than an animal that wants to tangle your fingers into Trager's greasy hair and ride his face harder because you need it.

It's the scrape of his exposed teeth over nerves that feel like they're burning you alive that does you in. He's like a fucking dog eating you out, so hungry for every bit of your come that he can lap up, until pleasure turns to pain and you're sobbing for real. He stops licking you after what felt like an eternity, his pupils blown out big and black, breathing hard like he's just ran a mile.

"Well, I'm learning a lot here I don't know about you. I still need to do an-an internal examination," he's undoing the cuffs at your ankles, you realize, too tired to do anything when he spreads your legs wide, "Keep your knees up. Just like that. That's a girl." You're dragged roughly to the end of the bed, as much as your shackles would allow, and you see how the front of his apron is tented. You're a little surprised Trager has anything to work with given the mutilation you'd seen up until now.

You don't get to see his cock but feel it tapping against your pussy before he drags it up and down your slit collecting any remaining wetness and spit. The head feels wide and thick and you can tell it's going to be bad already.

"Gonna need you to relax for this part, babe. My instrument is a little big for you but I think we can work something out."

You fantasize about putting the blade of his scissors through his eye when he penetrates you stretching you to the absolute limit of what your tense, scared muscles would allow. A soundless cry is all you can manage when he brutally presses onwards not giving you any time to adjust.

"Goddamn you're tight. Shit," he said, breaking character for the first time, "Ease up a little would ya. Gonna rip all the skin off my dick here.."

You try, you really do, to relax but it's no use. When he starts to move it drags awful soreness from your stomach deep rooted and nauseating. However, like before, eventually that pain melts into sickening pleasure and you begin getting wet again turning the sound of his thrusts sloppy. Trager moans loudly, shamelessly, his rhythm turning rougher as he uses you. You're moaning too, nearing a second orgasm, the textured skin near the base of his shaft stimulates you so well each time he slams into your cervix.

"You like that, baby? Huh? No need to be shy. I can tell, you know. You're gonna come again aren't you? It's okay."

You want to tell him to kill himself. Everything certainly wasn't okay and he was a piece of shit not worth so much as looking in your direction under any other circumstances. Unfortunately, you came instead, harder than before, your eyes rolling back helplessly as the fake doctor kept fucking you through it. "Ah, God. Fuck," he whined, his pace slowing. You'd come to hate the sound of his voice so much in your brief time together. You especially despised how his moaning at the feeling of your pussy clenching around his cock only heightened your orgasm even more.

It was hard to say how much longer it went on for until he finally lost it inside you, leaving you dirty and defiled by his come, your pussy tender and over-stimulated. The only thing worse was the emptiness left behind when he pulled out of you and the slow leak of fluids that dripped down your ass.

"Well," Trager panted, "I think I'm gonna need a follow-up on that."

#richard trager x reader #outlast

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nightmarewritings · 2 years ago

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I'm not really back to taking requests, but I finished a fic and figured this would be a good place to share it too! It's for the game Outlast, and is a Richard Trager/reader f/m fic.

This fic is NOT Worksafe and contains mild blood, dubious consent, and sex.

The People Pleaser

It was dark, you had lost track of everything; your phone, your flashlight, even your glasses had become lost not long ago. Hell, the only other safe person you had met in this hellhole, an equally terrified man clutching a camera, had no choice but to leave you while the two of you were chased down opposite hallways, though he promised to come back and find you, that was before you got lost, before you passed through the twisting corridors and blocked off staircases.

You couldn’t see anything in the darkness, your hand tapped along the wall beside you, hoping to not somehow wind up more lost than you already were. It had been a while since you last heard anyone near you, as if the danger had passed, but you remained vigilant.

It would only take the tiniest slip up to be caught, to be tortured and gutted and eaten or any manner of other horrible fates. But that wasn’t going to be you. As terrified as you were, you were a survivor, you told yourself. You would live. You would live. You would live. You repeated it over and over, hoping to steel your nerves and fill yourself with determination. You weren’t quite sure it was working, but you didn’t exactly have any other options.

Light slowly began to appear as you continued on, you paused for a moment when you noticed movement ahead, but a strange sense of relief passed over you. They were strapped to beds, squirming in pain and agony, but a part of you was just glad they weren’t trying to rip you apart too. You had to get out of the asylum, being chased for as long as you had been was having a clear effect.

Taking a deep breath, steeling your nerves, you walked past them, keeping your eyes locked dead ahead. Some struggled, some screamed, some could do nothing but scream. Pain was starting to stab its way into your brain, an unfortunate side effect of your eyes straining to see without your glasses. A promise was made; when you got home, you would order a spare pair.

Home. The thought made you smile. Though you had only been in the asylum for likely a few hours at the most, it felt like it had been days. In hindsight, agreeing to pick up a friend from his security job was a bad idea, but you had always been somewhat of a pushover and a people pleaser. No use in dwelling on it. Now, the only thing on your mind was survival. You even briefly considered picking up a weapon, but most things that seemed as if they could work were all either too heavy or already in use.

A sound clattered forth from somewhere to your right and you jumped, clutching your, now sadly ripped and stained, cardigan tightly in your grasp. It appeared as if one of the unfortunate patients had managed to kick over a metal tray. You breathed a sigh of relief, thankful that you were still safe.

“I swear, you can’t get any peace and quiet around here, if it’s not one thing, it’s another!”

A voice, surprisingly calm despite the circumstances, came from behind you, right as a hand grabbed your shoulder, spinning you around to face him. You couldn’t get a good look at him, he was just a tall blur, but from the way he paused, you had a feeling he was getting a very good look at you.

Despite the circumstances, you could feel your racing heartbeat slow somewhat. He didn’t sound dangerous, though you knew that was hardy an indicator of safety, and he wasn’t instantly trying to rip your guts out.

“When I heard someone running around here, I didn’t think it’d be a pretty thing like yourself. C’mon, it’s dangerous out there, you stick with me and you might keep your head on your shoulders.” He released his grip and his hand migrated down to your back, continuing lower until it stopped right on the small of your back. He pushed gently, guiding you along. “Though, you’ve been wandering around like it’s already been cut off, what’s the deal with that?”

True, you didn’t exactly feel safe around him, but it was beginning to sink in that you really had no choice but to go along with him. A sniffle pushed its way out of you as you tried to speak, your voice hoarse from earlier screams. “M-My glasses… I dropped them somewhere up here, but it’s just so… so dark.”

“Lemme guess, can’t see without ‘em? What a shame, you’re really missing out on the scenery here, believe me.”

His joke wasn’t all that funny, but you laughed politely anyway. You walked with him, fully aware that every step would only result in your becoming even more lost in the labyrinthine halls, and you didn’t exactly expect him to show you the way out.

Soon, the two of you reached a room, more brightly lit than the ones you had passed through, though the light held no comfort as it illuminated the copious amount of blood splattered throughout.

“You tired? Just hop up on that bed, take a rest.” He didn’t even bother letting you try to climb up, not that you would have if you had a choice, instead he leaned down and scooped you up, placing you exactly where he wanted you to go. Before you could even begin to protest, your legs were strapped down. “Just a little insurance, can’t have you running off again or bumbling around and knocking shit over.”

“Wait, what? That’s not fair!” You knew something wasn’t right, that it was a stupid idea to trust him, your optimism had always been as much a curse as it was a blessing.

“Relax, I’m not gonna hurt you. Well, maybe a little, we’ll see how the night goes. Truth is, I’m a bit rusty, it’s been a while since I last got to wine and dine, and this isn’t exactly Dorsia, but old habits die hard, and it's been too long since I last saw a pretty face.” As he continued muttering, mostly to himself, he turned away from you and headed towards a table, where he lifted something up. You weren’t sure what it was, but your heart began to race as every possible, horrible, painful option passed through your mind. You closed your eyes, if he was going to cause you pain, you didn’t want to watch.

Instead, you felt something very familiar, the feeling of your glasses being slid on. Your eyes snapped back open. Aside from slight smudges, your vision was restored, the persistent blur was gone, and now you saw the man in front of you. You liked him much better with your glasses off.

“There we go, with your glasses on you look almost too cute for surgery, maybe you could be my little nurse instead? Or maybe, maybe you could be something a bit more.” His voice was low, barely above a whisper, and his hands closed around your thighs, clamping them down to the table. “I’ve had all sorts of girls in all sorts of places, but you’d be my first in here.” His grip tightened, and you knew it would be best to go along with whatever he said. You would live.

You gave him a nod, and he removed his hands from you, quickly turning around back towards the table. Good lord, was the whole asylum allergic to clothes? The question left your mind quickly, when you saw him raise a pair of rusty shears. "Lemme help you out of those clothes, buddy."

“Wait! I can just take it off, okay? Let me keep my clothes intact, and I'll.. do what you want.” You tilted your face up towards his, batting your eyelashes and playing at everything you could think of to help you live through the night with all your limbs intact.

“You drive a hard bargain, shredding that shirt would do the world a favor, but alright. Let’s see what you’ve got.” Though he didn’t place the shears down immediately, he did cross his arms and take a step away from you, giving you room.

The cardigan fell away first. Your fingers trembled as you undid each button, slowly revealing more of yourself to the man in front of you. The shirt fell to the side softly, barely hanging on the rusty, blood-stained bed and leaving you vulnerable. His eyes didn't leave your body for a second.

"You shouldn't be shaking, come on, buddy! I could've just left you out there alone with all those wackos, feeling around in the dark like a helpless little bunny. Don't you think you're much better off here?"

"Mister, I-I wouldn't feel safe in here even with a bazooka." Honestly, he didn't make you feel safe in the slightest. You had absolutely no doubt that he was responsible for the mutilated patients you passed in the hall, and his friendly demeanor only put you more on edge.

He laughed, it sounded as warm as everything that came out of his mouth. "That's a good point! Oh, and don't call me 'mister', makes me sound old. Call me 'Doctor Trager', or 'Rick'. 'Mister Trager' was my father." Another small chuckle came out, as if he was an actual licensed medical professional, you didn't believe that man had ever been to medical school.

The rest of your clothing soon went the way of your shirt, the release of your ankles from the straps helped, each discarded item of clothing only brought more interest, and increasingly lewd comments, from ‘Doctor’ Trager, making you wonder why he was taking his time. Did he really like the sound of his own voice that much?

“Not normally a leg guy, but you’ve got some grade A gams on you. I need a closer look, you understand, doctor’s orders.”

He climbed up on the bed, straddling your body. Your hands shot up to his chest, trying to push him back, but it was no use, he was stronger than he looked. Trager was close enough that you could see his face in all its torn ‘glory’, you hadn’t even noticed before that his lip had been partially torn off, the scars criss-crossing his head, or how deeply that lens was embedded in his eye. Before you could say anything, however, you were met with a very unwelcome intrusion, his fingers pushed their way past your lips and into your mouth. You could feel his nails scratching as he felt around, paying particular attention to your tongue. There was a copper taste in your mouth, and it dawned on you that Trager had not washed any of the old blood from his hands. It took all your willpower to not gag.

“That’s a good girl, warm and wet. Let’s get those legs of yours up and- nice, nice.” Your legs were wrapped around his waist, with only his stained apron between your bodies. His skin felt unusual, textured in a way unfamiliar to you. It was almost a blessing when he pulled his fingers out of your mouth and replaced them with his tongue, even despite the unpleasant scraping of his teeth against your skin, it beat hearing him chatter on.

You couldn’t help but feel your body respond to his touch as his hands roamed every bit of your exposed flesh, he did indeed seem to know his way around a body very well. Still, the thought that you were doing something wrong lingered in your brain, that you were taking your people pleasing, passive nature too far, that you needed to fight your way out of Mount Massive with a merciless fury or die trying.

But what you were doing seemed safer, easier, and it had kept you alive. If you had to let him have his way with you to survive, why not try and enjoy it? At least that way you would get something out of it beyond a good reason to see a therapist.

Like it or not, you were getting wet. Your body wanted him, and not just for his surprisingly skilled fingers moving over your skin. Maybe you could let yourself go, to give yourself over to him and forget about the horrors that surrounded you. His hands went to your hips, you could feel his fingernails dig into your skin. The kiss broke, and you were left with no choice but to hear the satisfied groan leave his ragged lips as he pushed his cock inside you.

"It's been too fucking long..." He muttered. Trager didn't even wait until he was fully inside you before he began to speed up, his hip bones slammed painfully against you, but he barely seemed phased.

His mouth moved down your neck, his teeth sank into your skin as he bit down, though he stopped before he drew blood, it still caused you to yelp. The friction of his movements against your insides sent shockwaves of pleasure through your body. He seemed to perfectly hit that bundle of nerves inside of you that your fingers couldn't reach, knocking little gasps out of your lips every time. You could feel his hot, wet breath on your neck and his heart pounding in his chest.

One of his hands left your hip and gripped your hair, forcing your head to tilt back. He stared into your eyes, watching them dart around as you tried to avoid making eye contact with him. "You look me in the eyes when you cum, got that?" You nodded, and he gave you a quick smile. "I can bet it won't be long now, not with how you're clamping down on me. You want this."

You wouldn't say it out loud, couldn't say it, but he was right. You did want it. Trager was making your body feel too good, better than it had any right to in the situation you were in. Your legs rubbed against his waist, pulling him closer despite the rational part of your brain still telling you it was wrong, he was dangerous, you shouldn't enjoy yourself with him. Perhaps you could rationalize it away as adrenaline? You had been chased around for hours prior, your body needed some release.

"Atta girl, nobody likes a cold fish." He teased you, and released your hair from his grasp. Instead, he maneuvered you around once more, bringing your legs up to his shoulders. You could feel his thrusts even deeper than before. The sensation was so intense, you wondered if you would be able to handle it, if you would break if he kept going.

Your breaths were coming faster and faster, your fingernails dug into your palms as you tried to keep yourself from cumming. That would only make it worse, make it harder, but you were desperate for it. "Let me help you there, buddy..." Trager said, and you felt his fingers against your clit. Like it or not, you knew he would make you cum.

You were right.

With a few quick circles of his finger, he sent you over the edge, your resolve shattering into a million pieces as waves of pleasure rolled through you. You kept your eyes open as best you could, locked on his like he wanted. He kept up his frantic thrusting, holding you tight as he worked your body through it, he could feel how tightly your cunt gripped him. "That's it, that's it!" Before you could even finish your own orgasm, he pushed himself as far inside you as he could, filling you with his own release.

He pulled out and watched his semen ooze from you and puddle underneath your body. "You're on the pill, right?" He asked, though it was much too late for that question. You gave a noncommittal shrug.

"Can you… help me get out of here now… please?" Your voice was barely a squeak. Your legs were sore and wobbly, but you were certain you’d make it out safely with his help.

Trager climbed off of you and brushed his hands against his apron. "Well who said I was going to do that? I told you already, you're staying with me, I could use an assistant. Do you have any idea how hard it is to get some decent help around here? I ask for forceps, they give me clamps, it's a whole thing. Now-"

He began to ramble on again, but you had already tuned him out. He wasn’t going to help you out, and with how long it had been since you last saw that cameraman, you had a feeling no one would. Maybe staying with Doctor Trager wouldn’t be so bad after all? At least, until you could find another way out. You were a survivor, you would live, no matter what.

#outlast #Richard Trager #Richard Trager x reader #horror #not worksafe #lite work #fanfics

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loveipromiseimnotinsane · 2 years ago

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After playing some of outlast trials, I am begging on my knees for the eddie glusken and trager simps not to turn their gaze to evil cop and make him the new outlast sexy man

#i know it's gonna happen #i just need time to prepare for all the x readers that will flood the tag #outlast #outlast trials #eddie gluskin #richard trager #my posts love #if you're going to pick a new sexy man it should be puppet mommy <3

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bombsquad9 · 10 months ago

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𝐈𝐧𝐭𝐫𝗼 𝐏𝐚𝐠𝐞

Hello! I am Ro, and I am 18-21 year old trans man. I write for many fandoms (which shall be listed below). This is indeed my second account, I deleted my last one because I needed to refresh everything (feed, posts, etc). I will try to post frequently, and if I do not then please be patient with me, because it probably means burn out or poor mental health. I also have a new Wattpad account, which the username is also bombsquad09 (it will also be linked below, along with a tag list). Every fandom and character within will be in alphabetical order. Some of the fandoms I do write for will not be listed, and that is due to me not taking requests for those specific fandoms. Thank you!

𝐅𝐚𝐧𝐝𝗼𝗺𝐬:

✞Apex Legends

—> Character(s): Catalyst, Caustic, Fuse, Horizon, Loba, Mirage, Octane, Revenant, Seer, Valkyrie, Wattson.

✞Call of Duty

—> Character(s): John ‘Soap’ MacTavish, John Price, König, Nikto, Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley.

✞Fallout 4

—> Character(s): Cait, Codsworth, Deacon, John Hancock, Nick Valentine, Porter Gage, Preston Garvey, Robert MacCready.

✞House of Ashes

—> Character(s): Eric King, Jason Kolchek, Joey Gomez, Nick Kay, Rachel King, Salim Othman.

✞Just Ignore Them

—> Character(s): Brea, Mark, The Sheriff.

✞Mortal Kombat

—> Character(s): Johnny Cage, Kung Lao, Liu Kang, Noob Saibot.

✞Outlast

—> Character(s): Chris Walker, Eddie Gluskin, Jeremy Blaire, Miles Upshur, Richard Trager.

✞Resident Evil

—> Character(s): Ada Wong, Alcina Dimitrescu, Albert Wesker, Ashley Graham, Carlos Oliveira, Chris Redfield, Claire Redfield, Ethan Winters, Finn Macauley, Jack Krauser, Jake Muller, Jill Valentine, Leon Kennedy, Lucas Baker, Luis Sera, Nikolai Zinoviev, Piers Nivans, Sherry Birkin.

✞Subnautica

—> Character(s): AL-AN.

✞The Quarry

—> Character(s): Abigail Blyg, Dylan Lenivy, Emma Mountebank, Jacob Custos, Kaitlyn Ka, Max Brinly, Nick Furcillo, Ryan Erzahler.

✞Tomb Raider

—> Character(s): Lara Croft

✞Until Dawn

—> Character(s): Ashley Brown, Christopher Hartley, Emily Davis, Jessica Riley, Joshua Washington, Matthew Taylor, Michael Monroe, Samantha Giddings.

𝐑𝐮𝐥𝐞𝐬:

✞Transphobia, Homophobia, Racism, Sexism, Fetishizing, etc will not be tolerated. If you do anything related to any of those topics you will be blocked from my account.

✞Do NOT request things such as pedophilia, rape, zoophilia, etc . If anything you are requesting is like that you will be blocked from my account.

✞If you send hate in my anonymous inbox then you shall be ignored, and your message will be deleted. If you're going to be hatefully, don't be a pussy and hide behind an anon.

✞Minor shall interact with anything that is not labeled 18+/MDNI/smut. I can't stop you, nor am I going to carry out an investigation to find out if you're 18+. If you're a minor and you interact and see something you don't like; THATS NOT MY FAULT.

𝐑𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭 𝐒𝐲𝐬𝐭𝐞𝗺:

⚠︎︎Requests are currently open⚠︎︎

✞If you are requesting please be specific about what you want. This includes characters, setting, whether it's ship/xreader/headcanons, and other criteria you want. I can't make it what you want if you don't tell me.

✞I will write smut, fluff, and angst. Headcanons, ships, x readers, preferences, etc are all acceptable within reason.

—> When it comes to smut I will write quite a bit, even somewhat darker themes (Again; I draw the line at things like rape). I may not be good due to having lack of practice from where I didn't write for awhile, my apologies.

—> When it comes to angst, I will write almost anything. I will write (TW) suicide, alcoholism and other addictions, etc. Though, I won't write EDs or self-harm. Similarly to smut, it may not be good due to lack of practice, my apologies.

—> Anything out of reason would be minor x adult in a pedophilic/romantic way, human x animal (no, this does not include monsters) in a zoophilic/romantic way, etc.

✞Be patient, I will want to take my time on requests for various reasons. Sometimes I need breaks, sometimes I don't have any ideas, sometimes I will have writing sprees. It depends on the minute, so again, be patient. If you complain about how long it takes your request will be deleted and ignored.

✞If you want to be tagged for any specific character(s), then put your username in an orderly fashion on the Google doc that I will have linked below.

✞I will mostly write m!reader (AMAB and AFAB), but if you do want f!reader or gn!reader just let me know in your request, and I will do. If you do not specify I will either do m!reader or gn!reader by default. The only exception to this is if it is a lesbian/sapphic character.

✞ Any requested content will be Tumblr exclusives! Anything that is requested on my Wattpad will be Wattpad exclusive. (Excluding alphabets)

𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭/𝐓𝐚𝐠 𝐋𝐢𝐬𝐭/𝐖𝐚𝐭𝐭𝐩𝐚𝐝:

✞ Wattpad

✞ Masterlists

✞ Tag List

✞ Upcoming Works

⚠︎︎This post was last updated: 12/1/24⚠︎︎

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darling-i-read-it · 2 years ago

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Current To-Write List:

Laugh Part 2

Homelander request

Gilderoy Lockhart request headcanons (finally getting married)

STARS Office Part 3

Things I currently also want to write!

Lucius Malfoy x fem!reader (Reader in her 20s and Draco's ex gf, gets with Lucius to get back at him, has an accidental romantic relationship)

Trevor Philips x fem!reader (idk besties I just wanna see him again)

Richard Trager x fem!reader (preengine Rick x fem!executive reader)

#i have other ideas floating around as well but yeah #just wanted to put it out there into the world what the vibe was!

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outlustings · 2 years ago

Note

I n e e d a post-engine Rick NSFW Alphabet, please ?

(hiatus? being gone for months? i don't know what you're talking about.

this post contains nc themes and gore and all things nasty. reader discretion advised and all that.)

RICHARD TRAGER NSFW ALPHABET (POST-ENGINE)

Aftercare | If one manages to get proper aftercare from Rick after he's been exposed to the engine, they deserve an award. Rick doesn't give a fuck. For most of the time. His game is to use and abuse his lover, and then maybe afterwards letting them stay around with their limbs intact. Oh, he won't kill that kind of a useful little thing, what would he do with a broken toy? But he might have to convince his lover to stay for a little while longer. Maybe binding them to a gurney and wheeling them around while whistling labouriously through his split lip. Just to show that while he's not gentle, he's at the very least merciful, right? Although, he's very fond of the idea of making his partner so dumb with orgasms that they can't really function after sex from the soreness, so that he has more control over them. Surface-level affection, almost mocking, cold baths and pushing his partner around on wheels since they're so weak. He gets a kick out of absolute control.

Body part | Fingers. No, sorry, but he has a hand fetish, and goes crazy watching his partner finger themselves and using their hands on themselves, specifically. On himself, he likes his ass. That's why it's always out. Easy, breezy, good to slap and grab at while he thrusts in. He laughs, feigning mild amusement but has to bite his tongue to not let out a needy moan when his ass is played with.

Cum | Dr. Trager has to make sure to give his favourite patient their daily injections, oh yes. He just needs to cum deep, deep inside, whatever hole he's thrusting into. He loves shoving his hips flush against his lover's face, forcing them to take his cum down their throat and seeing the tears and ugly gags as he chuckles and praises them; "Say ah - good, good job, sweets. That's it, take it all. Every last drop. Fuck, that's tight... Breathe through your nose. There we go. There we go."

Dirty secret | Nothing like being covered in blood and viscera and fucking animalistically on the floor, sweaty from running, skin bruised and lip split from the struggle. That's what Rick really likes.

Experience | Rick might be a little bit lost inside his own head and detached from reality, but he's still got it, so to speak. All that experience from beforehand is in his muscle memory. He knows what he's doing.

Favorite position | Any position where he can exercise control by being able to see his partner's face. He needs to see it all, see how the way he angles his hips makes his lover's eyes roll back, how their brows furrow as he's about to make them cum, how they grimace ever so slightly when he bends their body into an impossible angle, pushing his cock inside while gripping onto their thighs. So, anything with eye contact. Very important.

Goofy | Snarky but sexy, that's how he likes his fucking. He just doesn't shut up. It's like he has a fucked up porn parody script inside his head that never stops. He loves to hear his own voice if his mouth isn't occupied.

Hair | Little to no pubic hair left due to the state of his skin. He quips a lot about saving money on shaving products these days.

Intimacy | Like mentioned above, Rick is not very concerned about intimacy after being exposed to the horrors of Mt. Massive, however, he can't help but get a little lovey-dovey just as he's about to cum. A little bit of his former self slips out as his thrusts turn erratic and he bites back his whines and tries not to say "I love you, I fucking love you so much, fuck," as his fucktoy looks up at him adoringly. When his partner responds to his touch well, he can't help but soften up a little bit. Also, as he's desperate to cum and in a good mood, he's bound to say some teeth-rottingly sweet stuff.

Jack off | He doesn't really need to masturbate since he has his little assistant wherever he goes, except as a punishment. He'd definitely strap his misbehaving partner into a wheelchair or another contraption where they couldn't touch him, and just to tease them, he'd stand a few feet from them and give them a show. Stroking his cock languidly with a feral grin, just giggling and grunting, talking filthy as he watches his partner wriggle against their restraints. The struggle only turns him on more. Maybe he'll cum on their face, not bothering to clean it up and leave them all tied up, check up on them later, leaving his partner to grind their teeth in frustration. Jacking off is one of his tools of power, not a relieving of his urges.

Kink | Medical and surgery play, but times a hundred. Bondage, bloodplay, humiliation, exhibitionism - oh, he's going to make the other variants watch. Just to show them what they're missing.

Location | Honestly, any place in the asylum where he can wrestle his partner against a piece of rickety furniture is good enough for him - however, he prefers a more... medical setting, if it's available. Stirrups, hospital beds, wheelchairs, autopsy tables, any vertical surface in the male ward. The more bloodstained the better. His "consultation office" is one of his favourite places to fuck in, but he's not opposed to sneaking around to other places in the asylum. He just wants it to be dirty and forbidden.

Motivation | Torture. There, it's out there. Nothing like a good, adrenalizing chase or surgery to get the blood pumping. If his partner is an autassassinophiliac or just enjoys a good chase - even better, he might not even have to cut them up, the enthusiasm will certainly make up for the blood.

No | He doesn't like submitting to his lover. Just because he needs the control, needs the power, after he lost so much of his power and influence, his ego demands that his partners submit to him in all aspects. Even if they're on top, he's the one who's in control.

Oral | After being exposed to the engine, Rick gives oral like a starved man. It's like he's sensitive to and even somewhat addicted to his partner's pheromones. While he also loves to bury his cock into his partner's throat as a little stress reliever, he loves to hear his partner moan as he dives between their legs. That tongue can do wonders, and he can exercise control over his partner's pleasure while getting a proper taste of them. He always gets achingly hard when he gives oral, and loves when his lover pulls on his hair and digs their nails into his scalp. Loves it. Might even cum hands-free.

Pace | Fast and rough. When he's inside his lover, he can't be bothered to be all slow and sensual - that's what torture foreplay is for.

Quickie | Rick likes quickies. Just the thought of a free-use fucktoy he can use before going off to do his work gets him going. Quickies are definitely convenient when he has to attend to his patients. An office quickie with an assistant - what's not to like?

Risk | Sex with Rick after he's been through the engine is in and of itself a huge risk. Not to be gross, but he doesn't really think of the consequences of anything, he's just here to satisfy his own sadistic urges. He's willing to experiment with all kinds of things.

Stamina | Rick is nearly insatiable, and can go for several rounds without feeling exhausted or spent. Most of his motivation for rounds two, three and four come from overstimulating his partner without him solely chasing his own pleasure, and he's good at what he does, and takes his sweet time doing it, making sure his partner can't stand up straight after their treatment.

Toys | "What do you mean 'did you wash that speculum'? Do I look like I don't know what I'm doing? I'm the professional here, sweetheart."

Unfair | Rick is extremely sadistic, and any chance he gets to tease his partner, he takes it since it fuels his sadism to see tears of frustration run down his pretty toy's flushed face. So, lots of teasing, edging, all that, if he's in the mood to savour his prey.

Volume | His volume depends on his mood. When he's mad or in another kind of negative mood, he'll be pretty quiet, but most of the time, he's pretty loud and talkative. Lots of teasing, filthy words, groans and cursing. He doesn't have a filter.

Wild card | He's going to press those bone shears, blade against tender skin, on his lover's neck, grinning as he fucks them in rough, deep thrusts while their eyes dart from his undulating hips to the rusted tool in his hands, its hinge creaking dangerously as he presses it further against their throat. He loves the little red pearl necklace that forms on his lover's skin. Just a little bit of pressure, a desperate gasp, but not a slice, not the sound of gushing blood, just the sound of his prey struggling - and he cums. Deep, hard, with a feral growl.

X-ray | His cock is more responsive to stimuli than ever, getting painfully hard with even a little bit of action. It's sensitive, shapely, with bulging veins and a throbbing, prominent underside. Not to be disgusting (yet here we are) but the texture of his skin is different from before. Massages one's insides in a most lovely way.

Yearning | His sex drive is through the roof. Being so pumped full of hormones and having so much destructive energy, he needs to release all of it. He's very spontaneous and will get aroused from pretty much anything. The primal need to empty himself into his lover as roughly as possible is always there.

Zzz | Rick rarely sleeps. He can't stomach the nightmares anymore. Even though they excite him, sleep is not rest anymore, so he'll go without sleeping for as long as he can. Grumpy and groggy before a total shutdown. If this happens after fucking, he might let his lover curl up beside him, too tired to protest the cuddles. But he secretly likes it. He feels safe, in an almost animalistic, instinctual way.

(ok i'm sorry for the hiatus here's some porn to make up for it lol)

#outlast #outlast x reader #outlast fanfiction #not sfw #reader insert #alphabet #richard trager #richard trager x reader #blood /#gore /#nc themes /

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normanbateswife · 2 years ago

Text

Underground Lab

Richard Trager x fem!reader

Warnings: trager, pre engine trager being a sleaze and an asshole and charmingggg <3, readers also kind of an asshole to match his energy, heavy insinuation to smut. plotless.

You sometimes wondered if the people who built Mount Massive knew how to make a floorplan that made sense. Walking through the long hallways always felt repetitive. They looked the same until you were on the other side of the building, in a completely different ward.

You looked down at your clipboard, your shoes making light clicking noises on the ground. You had to consciously take each turn deliberately, otherwise you would get lost. No matter how many times you left your office, you were bound to get lost one of these times and you had no interest in seeing first hand some of the stuff you were signing off on. Not unless you had to.

You took a deep breath as you walked into the elevator. The doors started to shut but were halted by a hand sliding between them. The doors reopened, much to your dismay. Jeremy Blaire revealed himself with a smirk, sliding in beside you.

“Jeremy,” you said, nodding your head once. He gestured to the button you had pushed. U. The underground lab.

“What are you doing all the way down there?” he questioned and pushed the button for the male ward.

“What are you doing going to the male ward?” you questioned pointedly. You tried to avoid Jeremy where you could. He liked to hear himself talk and you were usually too busy to listen. In theory, he ran this place. In reality, it was anything but him. He just evaded the press and any kind of actual prosecution.

“Visiting the patients. I like to be hands on.” You rolled your eyes.

“Who warrants your attention today?” He cleared his throat and looked down at the papers in his hands. He squinted, pretending it was hard to read.

“Martin…Arch..Archimbaud,” he spelled out. You hummed under your breath.

“Fantastic finger painter. In theory. I’ve never seen his work.”

“Is he the one that caused problems when we discontinued the art-”

“Yeah.” The door opened to the male ward. Jeremy took a step forward but stood in the door when it didn’t shut.

“You still on for that barbecue? Rick said you were busy with work. It would be a shame if you missed it.” You rolled your eyes.

“I’ll be there, I’m sure he’ll drag me. Go to work. Say hi to Martin for me.”

Jeremy nodded, gesturing with his file as a mock goodbye. You let the door shut as he walked away. As you descended, you felt your stomach drop. You hated the underground lab. You hated being there. You hated thinking about it. It made you face your own guilt, not to mention your own mortality. But times called for you down there on occasion and you needed to be there. Not to mention, you weren’t allowed down there for obvious reasons. Women stayed at least on the floor above. Just in case.

The elevator door opened. You stepped forward into the white sterile atmosphere. It always felt like you were in a completely different place. It made you long for the comfort of your desk, something you knew.

“Took you long enough,” Rick Trager said, emerging from the cafeteria. You rolled your eyes.

“I had a job to do.”

“Don’t you always.” You let out a soft sigh and he put his hand on the small of your back. You cursed yourself for letting his touch make you shiver. All of this carnage and you still managed to find a completely human angle. Love. Or, at the very least, lust.

“Is that your way of yet again telling me to take a break?” you questioned. “Because I do your job better than you do. You better watch your back,” you joked dryly.

“Why do you think I called you down here?” he slurred. He gestured to the engine as the two of you came upon it. It wasn’t currently processing anyone aside from Billy.

“Is that you asking for help Richard Trager?” you questioned, smiling slyly.

“Don’t act like you have the upper hand here.” There were a couple of other workers around the room, noses stuck in their computers. He sat down on the control panel, barely even glancing to make sure he hadn’t hit any of the buttons. “I like involving you. It’s entertaining.”

“Bored of golfing with Jeremy already?”

“He doesn’t look nearly as good as you do,” he promised, looking at you through his glasses sharply. You rolled your eyes.

“What is it I’m doing here again Rick?”

He glanced out the window at the body of Billy Hope. He looked as dismal as you remembered him. You tried not to look .

“Need you to process the date from Billy here,” he pointed with his thumb.

“Don’t you have, I don’t know, a whole room of people for that?” you questioned dumbly. “What am I doing here?”

He let out an annoyed sigh and stood up straight.

“Can’t I just make an excuse to see you?”

“Trager.”

“Oh don’t call me that. Only the patients and my subordinates get to call me Trager.”

“Does that make me an equal?” He chuckled.

“You’re cute.” You kept seeing the engine out of the corner of your eye. You didn’t like being down here and clearly there was no reason for you to be. You grabbed his arm and dragged him out of the room. He followed suit, watching eagerly as you opened up one of the laboratory rooms. There was only one man in there and you gave them a pointed look. They left without you having to say anything, packing their things silently. It must’ve been the combined look that you and Trager were giving him. The door shut swiftly behind the employee and you crossed your arms.

“Begging for attention is beneath you.”

“You think too highly of me.”

He took a step towards you, cornering you between him and the island table. You put yourself in this situation. You knew him. You knew what he would do. You just so happened to want it too.

“You coming to the barbecue?” he questioned, smirking a bit.

“I cannot believe you’re having a barbecue.”

“Jeremy’s having a barbecue with some executives.”

“I’m not an executive.”

“You’re an executive’s…how should we phrase this…”

“Slut? Whore? Toy? Or can I say girlfriend?”

He cupped your cheek and kissed you with his whole chest. You pressed yourself against him.

It was the annoyingness in his voice, the smirk on his lips, the sleaze in his step. What should’ve made you hate his guts made you want to pull his hair. He lifted you up onto the counter, knocking over what could’ve been important information and likely dangerous samples. You hooked your leg around his waist and pulled him even closer, if that was possible.

When you tried to pull away he tugged on your lip, pulling it out sloppily. You hadn’t even bothered to lock the door. Anyone could come in at any time. The excitement made your stomach warm.

“Answer the question Richard,” you hummed, not letting him kiss you again even though he was lunging for another attempt.

“I like whore. Has a nice ring to it, don't cha think?”

“Mmm wrong answer!” The game you had going with him could last forever. You knew that. But you liked it. You slid off of the table and around him. He scoffed.

“Don’t tell me you’re one of those girls who needs a label.”

“I’m a girl who has work to do Rick. And other guys to fuck.” You opened the door, leaning against the side of it. His jaw set in annoyance. You had trapped his jealous noncommittal ass. “I’m going back upstairs.”

“Wait,” he seethed. It was painful. You could see it. You tried not to smile. “Come to the barbecue. As my date.”

“That wasn’t a question.”

“Wasn’t meant to be. More of a demand.”

“I’ll see if the executive above me will give me the time off,” you said, shrugging. He rolled his eyes, smirking. You shut the door behind you as you left and smiled triumphantly. What an asshole. You were probably in love with him.

You were about to enter the elevator when he caught up to you.

“I’ll join you,” he decided.

You stepped inside and watched with quiet delight as the doors shut behind him and he pushed the emergency halt button. This time you let him kiss you.

#this is shitty my love trager you deserve more than this #richard trager x reader #outlast imagines #richard trager x fem!reader #richard trager imagines

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