RAAAAAHHH

Chris Walker/ Richard Trager/ Jeremy Blaire/ Eddie Gluskin/ Leland Coyle/ Franco Barbi/ Otto Kress/ Dr. Easterman/ Clyde Perry/ Pusher/ Berserker/ Big Grunt/ Screamer/ Pitcher/ Night Hunter/ Snitch/ Erik/ Noakes/ Warden/ Biter x Fem! Afab! Reader smut mini fics Summary: Old man pussy scenarios for all the Outlast men. Content warnings: dead dove do not eat, afab reader, all characters aren't meant to be trans but can be interpreted as such, dubcon and noncon themes, reader's position switches between dom and sub for each character, drug use, aphrodisiacs, bloodplay, pain kink, size difference, free use, overstimulation, fingering, scissoring, sex toys, blind folds, object insertion (non-sex toys), power play, shoe humping, daddy kink, reader is kinda used as a fleshlight, cunnilingus, squirting. Word count: 5.8k Please read all warnings!!! I have no real rules about reading this sort of content, just know that if you read it fully/like it/reblog it, that it's on you. AI was not used for the writing, please do not use any of this for AI. Welcome board Ultimate Outlast masterlist

⋆.˚ ᡣ𐭩 .𖥔˚

Chris Walker is someone who obsesses over the size difference between you both and the blood produced from it. 

"Little piggy," he groaned as his fingers moved in and out of your cunt, a ring of blood slowly forcing at his knuckles. Your mouth gaped as he tried forcing his fingers deeper inside of you; you knew it wasn't possible, but you don't know if he did. 

“Chris-,” you whined, trying to move your hips away from his thick fingers. “It hurts.” 

“You don’t have to hide from me,” Chris muttered as he forced your legs apart, getting a better look at the ring of blood that continued to grow. Your legs flail around in a desperate attempt to stop him from hurting you any further. 

Just as the pain was reaching its peak, so did the pleasure. His thick fingers pressed and brushed against your g-spot, forcing waves after waves of gratification through your lower body. You couldn’t figure out if you wanted to sob from your agony or moan from the bliss. Chris kept pushing and pulling you apart, watching as your body shook and tried everything it could to escape the mixed signals. The blood had started to inch down his fingers and create a ring around your hole. 

“Pretty pig.” 

Jeremy Blaire is someone who would punish a Murkoff patient for acting out. 

"Couldn't ju-st cooperate, huh?" Jeremy groaned as he brought his hips down onto the toy stuffed into both of your cunts. His hands were planted on either side of your head, allowing him to loom over you.  

Each time he thrust himself down onto the object, it pressed against that sweet bundle of nerves deep inside you. “Sir-,” you gasped just before you brought your cuffed hands down to his suit jacket. Catching a glimpse of where the two of you met, you got to finally see the damage he had done to both of you. His cunt was an angry red and smeared with your juices, any semblance of the pleasure not affecting him was obviously not working. He jerked your hands back up over your head, keeping his hold on your wrists. "Please- ngh- I can't! I'm sorry!" 

"Oh, you can't- fuck! Handle any type of punishment now?" He mocked before curling over you and moaning into your neck. Jeremy jerked his hips against yours, as though he was trying to get any feeling to your already overstimulated clit. 

"Mr. Blaire, please! I'm sorry, I won't be bad again," you sobbed as the room started to fill with the sound of squelching. Neither of you knew who the sound was coming from. Jeremy's cheeks began to grow rosy as his grip on your body grew tighter. 

His brows were scrunched together, a mix of anger and pleasure making his expression unreadable. His body began to betray him; his thighs were trembling, and his hold on your hands had started to weaken. 

"S-should have thought of that before you acted out," Jeremy muttered as each thrust against you made a louder squelching sound. A man as put together as him couldn’t even fight against the pleasure he was trying to punish you with. At least you have that. 

Richard Trager is someone who would finger you while recording you with your own camera. 

"Oh, come on, buddy. I'm not asking much of you," Trager scoffed. Your chest rose and fell rapidly as you tried keeping your noises down. Once, twice, thrice you had already cum? Each wave of pleasure intermixed and felt like it was never ending. "Can't you let yourself speak? Huh?" 

You turned your eyes down between your legs, finally seeing what damage he had done. Three of his fingers had been stuffed into your sex, the rough flesh dragged against your walls in an aggressively slow motion. Your lips were forced together, as though you needed to make sure you didn’t give him the satisfaction of knowing he can make you lose yourself. 

“You just need a little attention to get all better,” he giggled and pressed harder against your g-spot, his thumb starting to roll over your clit. Heavy breaths escaped from your nose, making Trager grin even wider and began to go harder on you. “Gotta get you to forget the father’s little teachings.” 

“I-ve forgotten,” you whimper. Trager tilted his head and stared at you for a long while. Your hips thrust against his hand, forcing your body to experience the smallest sparks of pleasure. 

“Are you sure?” He teased and pressed his finger pads into your g-spot once more, forcing your hips to inch closer to the edge of the wheelchair. Out of desperation, you nodded hastily. 

“I guess a doctors gotta stop when a patient says,” he huffed and pulled his hand from between your legs. A sigh of gratitude escaped your lungs, finally letting you experience some end to your torture. 

Trager knelt before you, watching as your body started to relax. A ‘tsk’ sound left his lips. 

"Now that you're all done," Trager remarked, straightening himself before he started to untie his surgical apron. Your lids fluttered as you watched the thick dark fabric be set back on the sinks edge. He freed you from the chair, laughing as you slumped from finally being allowed to relax. "Oh, don't act like I did all that to you. You're just being a baby."  

His hand went to tilt your head back up to him, forcing you to look at him. “Now, can’t you help your doctor out a little?” Trager mused, pulling you down to kneel on the floor, finally allowing you to see his sex in its full glory. 

Eddie Gluskin would use your body in a way that made it seem like he was trying to breed you.

"Darling...," Eddie cooed or at least tried to, the corners of his lips trembled as he drove his hips to jut up against yours. It had to have been the third time that night that you had cum, Eddie, on the other hand, went beyond your knowledge of how many he got. Looking down between your legs, you could barely see the sensitivity of your sex's meeting. His cunt was an angry red and gleamed in the low light that managed to get through the dirty windows, streaks of white cum were shown over him. You couldn't tell if that was solely from his body or yours. "I know a good woman like you is disturbed by something like this, I'm truly sorry, but- mmgh!- we have to make sure it sticks."  

Your head tilted back as he ground against your cunt, forcing gasps and moans from your lips. As your grip on his arms grew tighter, he started to apologize more. "This is for the best, darling. You'll be such a good mother," he went on. His lips quickly pressed together to muffle any moans that tried slipping past his lips. 

Your eyes had started to fill with tears as his groans got louder, his words slurring with each thrust. "You'll lo-ok so beautiful -ngh!- pregnant with my child," Eddie gasped as he began to move faster, his chest rising and falling quicker than ever. "I pro-mise- oh darling! I'll treat you so well when you're swelled full." 

Suddenly, Eddie hiked your leg higher to have your knee set on his shoulder, forcing a cry from your lungs as you came. His eyes stuck to your face as you froze up, your thighs trembling as wave after wave of pleasure seeped through your body and dripped down your cunt. His mind reeled at the sight as if it was the first time he had seen you like this. 

“You can go again, can’t you, my love?” 

Leland Coyle is someone who would force you to let him hump your boots. 

It felt slightly awkward to be in the situation you were in now. Coyle sat at your feet, his bare cunt on your shoes, military boots to be exact. Before you had him down on his knees like this, he managed to get you cornered in the police station, telling you that he needed a little favor from "a sweetheart like you". 

Your fingers tightened their grasp on the edge of the chair you sat on; your eyes stuck on Coyle as he jerked his hips against the leather of your shoes. “You can’t loosen up?” He muttered before angling his head back down against your knee, thrusting his hips against your boot once more. 

Your lip's part to try making some type of noise, but nothing came out. Your unhumped foot inched away from his spread legs, your heel meeting the leg of the chair. “Didn’t realize I was stiff at all,” you try explaining before relaxing your foot as much as you could. Your eyes trailed down Coyle’s body, letting you see the salt and pepper hair trailing his chest and stomach down to his cunt. “You can’t move any faster?” 

Coyle tilted his head back up to look at you; his brows furrowed as he grunted. “None of my movements matters to you,” he said before gasping, his hips jutting and trembling against your boot. The wet sounds of his cunt started to grow louder as he came. He stilled as wave after wave of pleasure washed over his lower body, small spurts of cum dripped down the toe of your boot. 

Your chest con caved, letting you get some type of relaxation from the worry that Coyle would stop in the middle of his attempt at reaching his orgasm to punish you. You don’t fully know what made you feel so much better about this entire scene. Maybe it was the fact that he looked so much weaker now. Maybe you had grown comfortable with this, who knows? His weakened state made you gain some type of pride in what you were going to say next. “A real man would be able to go again.” 

Franco Barbi is the type of person to have you fuck him to get his attitude right.  

"Oh, Mommy," he groaned, his back arching as you drew your fingers through his sopping folds. Pale pink and dusted with orangey blonde hair, his sex gleamed with enjoyment. Your smile grew wider at his pleas, making you feel him up like your hands had never felt his body before. Your greedy touch drove over his enlarged clit, being as gentle as possible to make Franco a little more desperate for you than he’d willingly admit. Your free hand traversed up his stomach and chest, kneading the flesh. 

"I won't b-e bad again," Franco arched into your hand, trying to force your fingers into his cunt. His white pants were set around his ankles, acting as restraints for you to keep him down. He began to babble on and on as you slowly pressed your fingers into his hole. His -previously pale pink- lips were a slightly deeper shade from your own ravenous ones. You had barely done anything, and he was already like this? 

"How am I supposed to believe you?" You hum, drinking in the sight of his hands scratching at the bedding below him. He grabbed desperately, clawing at anything he could reach as your finger pads caressed his g-spot. "You can't keep your hands to yourself but you're wanting this to end when I haven't even done anything." 

Franco barely registered your words as he started to arch his hips into your fingers, forcing you knuckles deep into him and pressing against that sweet spot inside of him. His brows scrunched together tightly as he whimpered from pleasure. “I pr-omise I’ll be —oh fuck— so good for you,” he sobbed, his hips trembling at your touch. 

The corner of your lips curled upward as he begged on and on, your aggressive movements against the most sensitive spots in his sex. “We can keep going until you can’t anymore,” you say simply. 

Otto Kress is someone who would have you, and Arora dominate him. 

“Go faster,” Arora demanded of you, trailing her hands over Otto’s disheveled hair as she watched him through the mirror. You stood behind him, holding his hips in place as you thrust against him. His thick brows scrunched together from the agonizing pleasure you and Arora were guiding him through. 

“Darling,” he rasped, looking up at Arora’s face in the mirror before turning his head back to glance at you. His fingers trembled and danced over the counter, trying to find some security to get him through the pleasure. “I don’t think I can handle any more of this.” 

Arora rolled her eyes and let out a huff of laughter. “You are such a strong man, Otto,” she teased, her hand coming to soothe him as he began to tremble again. “You can keep going.” 

Otto put in no effort to fight against you or her, just letting you thrust into his already dripping cunt at a faster rate, but his lips curled to try and plead for mercy on his body. It only met with you and Arora teasing him about building his resistance. 

You looked down at the strap on, finally seeing the ring of cum starting to develop around the hilt of the toy. You grinned as his grip on the counter tightened. “A strong man like you can’t take any of this?” You giggled, pressing the tip of the toy against the soft bundle of nerves deep inside him. 

Dr. Easterman is someone who would make you finger each other as a sign of "natural dominance".  

"You have to understand your own peak," he slurred, his thick fingers trying to work deeper into you, trying to find that sweet spot deep inside. "There is no... growth if you don't- fuck!- know the highs you can reach." 

You tried your hardest to sit still, you really did... but all the things he was trying to put into your head only let you sit still for a moment. 

"You can't leave me," Easterman moaned, his brows scrunched together from your success in pleasuring him. His thighs trembled, obvious that he wanted —needed— to close his legs around your hand, around all the perfect pleasure you managed to give him... but he kept strong and slid his legs wider. The widening allowed you to see the ring of creamy white cum around the base of your fingers. "I'm the only one who can give you this high. Don't let anyone but your daddy gives you something like this." 

You could only manage so much at this point; barely any of his words got into your head. His finger pads brushed against all the right spots inside you, managing to mold you into a moaning mess. 

With some type of morbid strength through the intense pleasure, Easterman brought his unused hands to your thigh, bringing your attention back to his darkened eyes. "You wouldn't abandon me like that, right?" He asked, his breath quickening as he tried swallowing his own moans. "You wouldn't abandon your daddy like that." 

"N-no, sir," you answer hastily, a sob morphing your words together. His back arched suddenly into you, his hips shaking as spurts of cum started to cover your hand, flowing down your fingers and to the shallow of your palm. Your own orgasm followed, both forcing you into creating a cacophony of whimpers. 

Easterman's chest slowed before he took a draw from his cigarette, leaning back in his chair as though you had never affected him at all. As the smoke climbed up from his lips, he turned his attention back to you and opened his thighs. "Clean up your mess." 

Clyde Perry is someone who would use your pleasure against both of you in interrogations. 

"I'll only stop once you've given what Murkoff needs," he stated as he pushed the vibrating toy deeper into your cunt, his breath brushing against your cheek as he pushed your knees to your chest. 

"I- don't have any-thi-ngh!" You gasp, trying to fight against the slow buildup in your lower stomach. The toy had somehow been stuffed into you but poked out far enough to rub against Clyde’s swollen clit. 

Your legs began to tremble in his hold, trying to fight against his strength to escape the unending pleasure. “Please, Cl-yde,” you sob, “I can’t go agai-ngh!” 

He rolled his eyes, whether from his annoyance or gratification couldn’t be figured out. As he opened his mouth to degrade you once more, he suddenly curled over you, the stimulation on his sex becoming too much for even him to handle. Spurt after spurt of cum dripped down his pussy and onto yours and for whatever reason, it made your face grow warm. 

His hips started to shudder in the same way yours did, jerking against the toy in a similar way to you only wish you could. His grip on the back of your knees grew tighter, trying to make it seem that he wasn’t affected by anything being done to you both. “Oh fuck- only when you give me some-thing to work with,” Clyde muttered, tears of ecstasy filling his eyes. 

The Pusher is someone who would love to take advantage of you when he manages to get you in a trial.  

His thin arms held your legs apart; a wild laughter filled the quiet of the darkened storeroom. "Oh, baby," he moaned and set his hips down on yours. The feeling of his short pubic hair and folds made you gasp, the sight of him above you waved and altered from the drugs he sprayed in your face. 

Your drugged state barely lets you move but with an insane amount of force and fear, you brought a weak hand up to his chest to try pushing him away. Of course, that didn't do much at all. It just made him hold your hand to his body, letting you feel the indents in his chest from his ribs. 

"Come on! You wouldn't fight against your doctor giving you a shot, would you?!" The Pusher giggled as he started to move against you, almost waking the nerves in your sex. "You keep it up and I'll think you don't like me." 

You really didn't, but you couldn't manage to voice that now. The gentleness of his movement's changed into volatile thrusts against you, pulling -almost exaggerated- moans from behind his mask. His head jerked up as he grounded against you, his ecstasy making him tremble. 

Each second that passed as he rubbed his sopping sex against yours, your body started to get warmer. The Pusher noticed this instantly. “Like what I made for you?” He groaned, hoping you would praise him for making you feel so good. “Wanna make sure you feel a little good too.” 

The Berserker is someone who the doctors would have you de-stress. 

Whatever care the Murkoff doctors had towards you very obviously was lacking now. The Berserker crouched over you, your legs pointing in two different directions against his body. The metal gauntlet sat beside your face while his uncovered hand was holding your waist in place under him; his fingers stretched over your stomach in a possessive —all consuming— way. 

It seemed there was no end to the pleasure he craved; it had been going on for two hours at least. The doctors didn't give you much warning of what would happen, but it's not like they ever have. "Lie down. I'll do the rest," is all you remember the Berserker saying before you twisted into different positions for his pleasure. 

Each thrust of his hips against yours brought a pleasure you had entirely forgotten about. It had been so long that each spark of ecstasy felt overwhelming to a degree that made you tear up. “So sweet,” the Berserker muttered, a smile coming to his lips. “I make you sound pretty, don’t I?” 

You arched your back into his hand, your hips thrusting up against him in a way that made it obvious your body could barely handle the treatment of being his fleshlight. The Berserker leaned closer to you, getting his ear near your face. “Don’t I?” He repeated, his aggressive movement against you getting worse. 

“Yes!” You sob, grabbing onto the metal gauntlet out of desperation. “You make me sound so-o pretty!” 

Danny/Big Grunt is someone who loves the size difference between the two over you. 

“Ain’t even done nothing to me,” he grunted as you tried your best to pleasure him. His size was a benefit to him in terms of getting to you and pleasuring you in ways you didn’t know were possible… and it benefited him in making sure you knew you were a little too small to make him feel good, to be useful to him outside of his own entertainment. 

“My clumsy little darling,” Danny grumbled as he watched you push your fingers in and out of his sex, trying to brush over any spot inside him that might have been able to pleasure him, but you’ve done this before. You knew it wouldn’t be like that. For such a ‘romantic’ guy that obsessed over your sizes, he couldn’t experience much down there. 

Danny turned your body to let him get an easier hand at your own sex. “I’ll show you,” he mumbled as his large fingers prodded at your cunt. Your body tensed at the feeling of his fingertips touching your body in such an intimate way. It hadn’t come yet, but you knew the pain that would happen in a couple of seconds. 

With one push, he sheathed his fingers fully into your pussy. Your lips parted in a weak cry, your lower body on fire as you closed your legs around his hands. He gave such little time for you to properly adjust to his size before he started to thrust his fingers into you… or at least try. Your cunt clenched around the foreign length within you as sniffles of pain left your body. Danny canted his head to look down at you, a smile curling the corners of his lips up. “I’ll take care of you good,” he said, his thumb turning to circle your clit, finally pulling a moan of pleasure from you. “My rabbit.” 

Danny began to push and pull different types of pleasure from your body all in the span of -what felt like- two seconds. His skilled fingers managed to find any and all spots inside you that pleased you beyond what you could handle. In a final writhe of ecstasy, you came around his fingers. “There you are,” he said with a smile. 

The Screamer is someone who obsesses over noise control during sex.  

His arms trembled as he tried to handle the pleasure you managed to give him, his fingers flitting over the speaker covering his mouth, gently touching the thin metals that caught wind of his heavy breaths. His fingertips delicately touched the speakers and wires on his chest, an obvious worry of what would happen if he got a little too into the entire scenario. 

Your vision stayed on the Screamer, a grin coming onto your lips as your free hand went to his hips. Your fingers tapped and ran over his skin, hoping to comfort him into staying silent just a little bit longer. Your other hand between his legs had started to work through his folds, your thumb circling his clit. 

The Screamer’s bright blue eyes flickered between your face and hand lost in the tangling of his closed legs, catching a glimpse of both your determination and actions. His eyes rolled back. The sound of his sopping cunt started to grow more prominent, filling you with a shining sense of pride. The Screamer’s hand that traced his body suddenly went down to your wrist, attempting to make you pause your control on his body. 

“I can’t please you?” You whispered so softly; your voice barely created any sound. The Screamer only blushed at the concept that you wanted to make him feel so good. 

The Pitcher is someone who wouldn’t want you to be seen by anyone but him. 

The flickering firelight from the Molotov bottle was strategically slanted to keep the light dim enough to keep the other ex-pop from seeing you but just bright enough to let him see you under the dark staircase. The Pitcher’s body was curled over yours, covering you in hopes that any sight of you couldn’t slip into the others' eyes. 

Your right leg was hung up over the Pitcher’s shoulder, his hand holding your ankle to make sure you couldn’t slip away if you couldn’t handle him. Your hands held your shirt up for him. The soft flesh being easily accessible to him made him tremble. His chest heaved as he thrust his cunt against yours, the aggression against your body contrasted heavily with the soft touch that trailed over your bare stomach. 

His chest rose and fell rapidly; the nozzle connected to his mouth barely did anything to muffle his rough grovel-y moans. His pale gray eyes stuck on your face, drinking up the sight of your pleasured expression. Your eyes lazily rolled into the back of your head, your brows scrunched together, your mouth languidly hung open. 

The Pitcher’s head leaned down to your throat, bending your body to get an angle that made you groan, a softened noise leaving the muzzle of his mouthpiece. Your eyes met him, trying to gather enough of your scrambled brain to speak to him. “Yo-u make me feel so good,” you whimper as you wrap your arms around his shoulders. 

You could feel the Pitcher gain pride in his chest. A newfound gleam in his eye as he started to move against you faster. He pressed his mouthpiece against your cheek, as though he was trying to kiss you, thanking you for making him feel good too. 

The Night Hunter is someone who wouldn’t know how to be nice to you. 

“Come on, honey,” the Night Hunter cackled as he forced the handle of the machete in and out of your sex. The part of the handle that had started to morph into the blade had grown a ring of white cum. Your body was wrung dry, so many orgasms forced out of your body to the extent that you only leaned into him, only really moving when he managed to make you orgasm again. “Can’t shine a little brighter for me?” 

The Night Hunter somehow had the ability to run all the way through the brightest sections of the trial environment just to get your pants off, and it was baffling to you. Slobbery kisses, biting every part of your bare skin, and threatening you every time you trembled. 

“I can’t,” you whimper, your lip trembling as the end of the handle pressed against the spongy ball of nerves. “I can’t cum again.” 

He let out another raspy laugh and started to move the object faster inside of you. Little effort was put into immediately reprimanding you; all of his force was trying to get you as sensitive as possible. The new pace managed to make your legs quiver and start to inch closer together; your body didn’t seem to consider the possibility of getting cut up. 

In some final desperation to appeal the Night Hunter’s endless lust, your pussy seized around the handle. “You make it too fun for me,” he grinned and started to move again. 

The Snitch is someone who would think him being blindfolded is so hot. 

“Come on, say it,” you tease as you press your chest against him. The Snitch shivered at the feeling of your soft flesh in his lap, his hands fighting against the restraints connected to the chair. 

“I don’t deserve to see you like this,” the Snitch whimpered, his hips trying to subtly grind down into the seat of the chair. The corners of your lips curled up into a smile, your joy at his desperation couldn’t be hidden by a bag over his head. He angled his head away to hide his —already hidden— embarrassment. 

“That’s right!” You say with an obvious tone of delight, your hips starting to move to grind against his thigh. Your untouched sex began to spark with pleasure, your jaw falling slack. 

“Y-you…” the Snitch trailed off as his hands fought against the restraints on the chair again. “You can only use my body to make you feel good. I can’t do it on my own.” 

You pressed a kiss to the bag over his head, your thrusts against his thigh growing faster. His own sex started to throb with the concept of what you were using him for, his body pleading with him to get you to touch him in any possible way, even though he knew there wouldn’t be anything coming to satisfy him… not until you got off using him. 

Erik is someone who wouldn’t know how to control his sounds. 

"Pleasepleaseplease-!" Erik whimpered, his chest pushing out as he ground down into your palm. Every couple of seconds, his hips jutted against your fingers, driving your fingers against that sweet spot deep inside him. 

"You have to be quiet," you muttered as you kissed the porcelain mask, pressing your lips against the bolts that held the pieces together. Of all things to be embarrassed by in the current situation he was in, Erik tipped his head away from your lips, a groan of embarrassment leaving him. "We can't keep going if you're so loud." 

"I'm sorry! I'm sorry- oh god!" He groaned as his thighs started to tremble and close. Your eyes darted to look at the false face, trying to get a good view of him. Erik's eyes flicked between your lips and your hand between his legs, his hands clenching and unclenching at random. 

Before you knew it, Erik's body tensed as he finally reached climax. His eyes grew wide as he shook and sobbed, the muscles in his thighs tensing as spurts of cum dripped onto your fingers and soaked the seat. At the sight of him, you couldn't help but groan. 

Noakes is someone who would want to keep things romantic. 

His hands slowly but surely trailed down your body, his touch so soft you almost couldn’t feel it, almost like he feared hurting you in such an intimate position. The bed made the softest creaking sound as you shifted to try touching him too. Noakes smiled at the noise. 

“I haven’t done this in such a long time,” Noakes said tenderly, his fingers coming up to brush against your cheekbone. You smiled in a similar way to him, the excitement of the entire scene playing out before you. 

“Then I got to make a good impression,” you teased before pressing a kiss to his jaw, a shaky breath leaving his lungs. Your fingers danced down his body, going over his chest, stomach, and finally to his pelvis. Noakes leaned his head back onto the thin pillow, a sigh of relaxation left his lungs as your lips pressed kiss after kiss onto his neck. 

You paused right as your fingertip brushed over his untouched clit, pulling yet another sigh from his lungs. Your chest swelled with pride as you began to touch his folds delicately. Soft moans started to leave Noakes' lips, his brows scrunching together from the pleasure starting to bubble in his pelvis. Each second that passed as you teased his sex pulled more noises from him, his hips starting to jerk against your fingers in a desperate attempt to get you to touch him more intimately. 

All the sounds that you got while touching him so carefully paled in comparison to the whimpers that you got from him once you plunged your fingers into his cunt. 

The Warden is someone who would want to please you in any and all ways. 

“I don’t please anyone like I please you,” the Warden slurred through the mask, his hands going to paw at your leg in hopes you would spread them for him to love you. You kept your eyes down on him, watching as he attempted to keep his words proper while bouncing up and down on the sex toy. 

His head grew slack as he thrust his hips down onto the toy, forcing the object back into his chubby pussy. “I can’t feel good unless it’s for you,” he whimpered, a ring of cum starting to appear at the base of the dildo. 

“That can’t be true! You’re not even trying to give me a good show,” you laugh, bringing your hand down to the top of his head to tilt him up to look at you. Though you couldn’t properly see his expression, you could feel a different aura radiating off of him at your words. 

“I promise I am!” The Warden sobbed as he moved faster against the toy, his hold on your legs growing stronger in an attempt at keeping himself up from the ecstasy. Your lips curled into a smile, a sense of pride filling your chest as he trembled. 

You suddenly pushed his shoulders back to make him lay on the floor, letting to take hold of the toy. “I gotta show you everything, don’t I?” You tease as you thrust the toy back into his hole. The Warden gasped and arched his back into your hold. “Isn’t that right? You can’t do anything correctly.” 

He whimpered out an agreement, his gratification clearly building too quickly for him to handle. “I can’t do anything right,” the Warden muttered repeatedly, his hands seeking out yours in hopes that you felt enough pity in him to hold him in a romantic way. 

The Biter is someone who would want to be destressed during a trial. 

His head turned in a jerky manner, trying to get a good view of you between his legs. He made curious clicks and trills in some encouraging way. Your lips rounded around his enlarged clit, swirling your tongue and sucking gently on the bundle of nerves. 

It took a weirdly long time to get into the position you were in now, kneeling between his legs with easy access to his dripping cunt. With enough determination, you finally got your mouth on him, a flurry of trills and gasps encouraging you to continue. You knew it must have been difficult being in the situation he was in, so you thought it would be easiest to give him something fun to calm him down. 

The Biter’s hips thrust up against your face, attempting to get your tongue deeper into his folds just before another orgasm washed over him. Your hands caressed his thighs, soothing him through all the ecstasy shooting through his body. Your tongue greedily drank up every drop of cum that squirted from his sex, adding more pleasure to his already sensitive body. 

“See how much better you feel?” You cooed, setting his leg back down to the floor. Your eyes drank up the sight of the Biter faltering steps, his body slumping as he tried gathering himself again. 

includes: berserker, big grunt, grunt, idle grunt, imposter, jaeger, night hunter, pitcher, pouncer, pusher, screamer, scapegoat

mdni‼️cw(s): yandere themes, canon typical themes (suffering and gore), light to mild nsfw, assumed nonconsensual touching (ex-pops to reagent), dubious consent, implied sexual assault, self-harm by hitting (grunts), drugging (pusher)

tag: @kat-stoopid

ʚ berserker ɞ

scared of a blind man? you ought to be ashamed. all the times he's grabbed you to get you out of danger, and you're still so apprehensive. you're downright unappreciative. it irks him greatly. your footsteps are so light he, on occasion, misses your presence when you're only a few feet away. that's when he gets really upset. he'll start shouting and thrashing, intent on killing whatever he comes in contact with (except you). he can't make any promises that any accidents wouldn't happen.

he can tell when it's you because of how you walk and the faint sound of your gear. everyone's gait is different, and he's memorized yours. if he were in a room full of people, he reckons that he'd still be able to recognize your steps.

when sitting idle in trials, anxiously waiting to hear if you're in one of them, he can't help but get self-concious. it's hard for him to think most of the time, but he pushes past it when worrying. do you truly look at him and just see a monster? the thing murkoff made to maim and kill? he knows he must not be the most attractive thing to look at. he also isn't an ideal partner. but he protects you. that's a lot more than anyone else in this facility has done for you. other reagents don't count! they'd stab you in the back if they got the chance. he knows it, so he doesn't listen to your pleas when you try to get him off of one of them.

he daydreams about what you look like. he hopes one day he can get you to describe yourself to him. whatever you look like, it's already perfect. the gauntlets on his arms make it hard for him to touch without hurting, but all he wants to do is touch. touch you, feel your body, and worship it.

when he manages to nab you, he drags you to a corner and leans over you, not executing a finishing move. he merely pants, chest heaving as he tries to think of what to do. if someone else gets close, he gets violent, even if it's a prime asset. he won't stand down. he'll proclaim that this is his kill. coyle pisses him off the most. he has several barely healed wounds from where he's been bashed by the prime asset's electric baton.

he gets greatly disgruntled if you attempt to use a rig or a throwable on him. he hates stun the most. it makes his ears ring so painfully that sometimes they begin to bleed. blind isn't too bad. he's already, well, blind, but it does mess with his sense of smell for a few hours after. he hardly feels bricks, but bottles are a pain. the glass always cuts into him, and he can never properly get it out. it leads to nasty infections, and some of the medical staff don't help him. they jeer and comment about how stupid he is in particular.

jealousy courses through him at the thoughts of your fellow reagents interacting with you, scientists or guards grabbing at you, and other ex-pops taking part in your pain or pleasure. the thought of one of the prime assets getting ahold of you makes him as angry as he is terrified of them.

when he hasn't heard you in a while, he becomes more violent, bashing reagents' heads in the first chance he gets. he works through rig effects quicker. the only thing he has on his mind is to kill everything that isn't you: hurt all the evil people that have hurt him and are keeping you away from him.

They have to hose him down like a feral animal every 2 weeks because he refuses to bathe

og under cut

joshua graham face design + hair version for those optimistic 10 endurance = hair regrowth

Chronic pain can make you an asshole and make you lash out out of nowhere, which is something not many people explore with Joshua Graham.

Being in constant pain and being unable to get relief is extremely emotionally taxing, and I think omitting or "fixing" those parts of his character removes one of the things that make him more interesting to me. I mean, if both the Courier and Joshua want it he could just be shoved into the autodoc in the Big Empty and come out good as new, but I think you still need to take this element of his character into consideration.

You can feel the frustration when he says "it never stops burning" and yeah, no one wants to live in chronic pain. Duh. He probably has days were he's very irritable and just can't stand anyone's presence.

More Screamer >:3

He got one of the best rooms in the expop sleeprooms

All the way at the end of the hall, in a corner, second floor

He isn't allowed to sleep much though because everyone else is so loud all the time

Leland is always scream talking and it pisses him off

Pathetic puppy dog eyes

His favorite reagent walks past him without laying down for a nap?? He's doing whatever it takes

Crawling after them and wrapping himself around their legs until he's holding them so tight that they can't move

Cuddle puddle with his favorite reagent plus a few expop

Food and blanket hoarding

He hides snacks in his bed

He's like a bear getting ready to hibernate I need him chubbier

Oral fixation that he can never satisfy

AN: I'm very into crying lately...anyways which are crying versus like making others cry

TAGS: NSFT, dacryphilia obviously, pain play, canon typical warnings, overstimulation

Leland Coyle

He loves making people cry

Whether it's from mental distress of physical pain

He does really like making them cry from being upset though

He has to work harder for it

Makes his partner feel really sad and gets hard as soon as you tear up

"Pathetic mutt, cryin' over spilt milk...I'll spill some 'milk' for ya, hehe"

Starts as crying from being upset and turns into crying from overstimulation

Franco Barbi

Franco is the one crying

Franco getting so worked up that he starts to cry

Really ashamed about it

If he starts to cry and his partner says something they're getting hit and flipped onto their stomach

But if you say the right things coddle him then he'll let you watch

Crying into your chest, resting his chin on your breastbone to watch your face as he cries

All while humping away like a rabbit

Mother Gooseberry

She doesn't make you cry on purpose per say

But if you start crying she can't help but get excited

Less about humiliation and more about taking care of you

"My poor gosling is so overwhelmed! Come sit in Mama's lap so I can make you feel all better"

Kress Twins

PATHETIC!!!

Arora likes crying and making others cry

They like to overstim their partner until you're sobbing and begging for a break

"Oh? I didn't think you were a quitter, dear"

"Poor thing. You can't handle it? How about just one more"

"Two more! One for each of us"

Liliya Bogomolova

She likes both

Both of you are overstimulated and crying

Her mask is on, damp around her eyes

Scissoring and she's wiping her tears on your calf, pressing mock kisses over your skin

If she starts crying and you aren't already crying she's being mean

Pinching your nipples and cutting them between her claws

Moving her mask to bite you

Genital slapping

Night Hunter

HE LOVES WATCHING PEOPLE CRY

He's hard constantly

Making you cry out in pain as he cuts you and immediately moaning

He is shoving you onto the floor and cutting away your clothes

If you stop crying he's giving you gentle encouragement

Aka pulling your hair until you tear up again and then slamming as deep into you as he can

Licking away your tears

Your face is covered in drool, tears, sweat and blood

Pitcher

He's meh about it

He likes when you cry while giving him head

Gagging and tearing up

Instead of overstim it's orgasm denial

You're so frustrated and on the edge that some tears slip free

He's smearing them around and covering your mouth so you can't even beg

Screamer

He's crying for sure

I hc him as a crybaby

So he's 100% crying because you feel so good

Whimpering and hiccuping as you ride him

He doesn't even bother wiping away the tears

Berserker

You're both crying

Overstim and him being rough with you

If you're his favorite reagent he loves you! You make him feel so pretty! It's enough to make him cry

You can't see it, but you can feel him shaking, his shoulders jumping as he tries not to sob into your shoulder

Pusher

He only likes crying if it's because you're overstimulating him

Use his dick like a toy and he can die happy

Biter

THEY LIVE FOR IT

You finally start to cry and they're hunching over you to lick the tears away

Purring and cooing at you in delight