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Literally how it feels to be taking Murkoff's therapies lately so you come up with the most OUTRAGEOUS idea of combining two popular universes together.
By the way, the Reagent is me - of how I look in the game! And this is me drawing Easterman for the first time. I tried to make him look edgy but well, I might need more practice 😭
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Hiii! I was the one who sent in the request about obsessed Coyle and I just wanted to say thank youuuu :) your writing is absolutely perfect and thank you so much for replying to my request <3
Awww thank you for that request! I had a lot of fun writing it!
As I said I would still like to explore it in a longer, more detailed piece because Yandere/Obsessed Coyle is definitely one of my favourites hehehe
I might even write a little yap leaning more into the stalker vibes of obsession as well eheh
But thank you so much aaaaah I’m so glad you liked it 🖤
Hey guys! My exams are finally over so now I can have time to be creative again - and this time, I've been working on a new OC, from The Outlast Trials (yes, this game has consumed me) and here's the lore behind it so far! <3
BACKGROUND:
Clyde Perry traveled to southern India in search of potential candidates suitable for Project Lathe.
Within a rural village in Tamil Nadu, rumors began circulating regarding the distant sound of jingling anklets echoing throughout the area late at night. Several villagers who attempted to follow the sound later disappeared without explanation.
Their bodies were eventually recovered brutally mutilated, accompanied by broken salangai bells scattered near the crime scenes. Investigators additionally discovered bloodstained footprints leading away from the bodies before abruptly disappearing into nearby forested areas.
The villagers told about a woman named Vasanthi, a young Bharatnatyam performer who was locally admired for her grace, discipline, and stage presence. She aspired to compete professionally, elevate her family’s reputation through performance, and eventually teach dance to young children within her community.
Due to her talent and commanding presence, many of her peers referred to her as “Apsara”, which means a celestial angel belonging from Svarga Lok, that is Heaven.
Outside the household, Vasanthi’s family was also widely regarded as respectable and socially disciplined. Her father was viewed as stern but honorable, a man deeply devoted to order, stability, and familial responsibility. Her mother was regarded as patient, religious, and dutiful. Witnesses frequently described the household as traditional, structured, and well respected within the local community. But from inside, nobody knew the truth.
Vasanthi’s ambitions gradually became the source of severe domestic conflict. Her parents disapproved of her desire to pursue dance professionally. While dance itself was considered culturally respectable, her father reportedly viewed the idea of building an independent life around performance as irresponsible and unsustainable.
The family valued discipline, obedience, and social order above personal ambition, particularly for women expected to maintain domestic responsibilities within traditional households. From this, there were frequent arguments between Vasanthi and her father, regarding her continued performances and increasing desire for personal independence, that escalated into emotional neglect, resentment, humiliation, and repeated psychological abuse.
Vasanthi even stopped performing publicly under parental supervision, instead leaving the household in secret to continue participating in local performances.
As The Apsara began gaining popularity within nearby communities, resentment toward her success also increased. Prior to a major local performance, her own rivals that grew envious of her, tampered Vasanthi’s anklets by placing sharpened metal fragments within the inner bindings.
Vasanthi continued performing despite severe injury and visible blood loss before collapsing during the performance, forming multiple deep lacerations to both feet, requiring extended recovery and temporary inability to continue dance activity, to which she protested and panicked, fearing she'll lose all the status she made.
Realising Vasanthi’s been sneaking out to perform for her art without their knowledge from the injury, the father discarded her multiple costumes, and performance materials that belonged to Vasanthi outside the family residence in view of neighboring residents.
He then blamed her artistic ambitions for the incident and lying to her parents, which accelerated the chances of her marriage. Her mother supported the arrangement and made no attempt to intervene. Despite repeated objections from Vasanthi, the marriage proceeded against her will.
During the days preceding the ceremony, Vasanthi became emotionally withdrawn and displayed signs consistent with dissociation.
The marriage ceremony was completed. Weeks passed, and Vasanthi later saw her husband’s true colors, and began to endure physical and psychological abuse from the man. From this, she gradually became emotionally unstable and un-reactive, as if she was bottling herself up despite evidence of ongoing abuse.
Vasanthi’s husband was later discovered deceased inside the marital residence, his body on the bed extensively mutilated, with an Aruval that was kept inside of their home. One day later, both of Vasanthi’s parents were too found murdered under similar circumstances, with other victims identified to be suspected of involving in sabotaging Vasanthi’s last performance.
Search parties organized shortly after Vasanthi’s disappearance later discovered her within a forest, clearing near an aged Kali shrine surrounded by fire pits.
Vasanthi was barefoot, and dressed in her dance outfit, but this time, splattered and tainted with blood, with the same anklets from her last performance, attached to her legs. Her hair was disheveled, ceremonial makeup smeared across her face, and her clothing heavily saturated with blood.
When approached, Vasanthi turned toward the group and formed a dance posture which resembled the Nataraja, extending her tongue as if her presence threatened the group to not come any closer - as if she became unstoppable. They ran away before they could get killed, never returning to the forest again.
Following independent investigation, Clyde Perry identified the subject as a highly viable candidate for Project Lathe, and was subsequently transferred to Murkoff custody for further evaluation and experimentation under the protocols.
PROJECT LATHE REPORT OF “THE APSARA”:
Vasanthi displays severe trauma-induced dissociation combined with compulsive behavioral fixation centered around discipline, control, humiliation, emotional suppression, and ritualized order.
Unlike most violent subjects, Vasanthi maintains unusual composure under psychological stress, and demonstrates a pronounced ability to influence surrounding individuals through intimidation and representing herself as an authoritarian presence that she adapted from her father.
Despite the brutality of her actions, Vasanthi frequently presents herself in a calm and instructional manner, but later bursts out of impatience if ticked off. Vasanthi demonstrates obsessive perfectionism, emotional detachment, ritualized movement patterns, and heightened sensitivity toward disorder, disobedience, emotional vulnerability, or perceived failure in others due to her upbringing.
Periods of composure are frequently interrupted by sudden emotional instability, including violent outbursts of anger and sadness, compulsive self-correction, and dissociative mumbling directed toward unseen individuals believed to represent deceased family members and her former spouse. During such episodes, Vasanthi appears to relive traumatic experiences associated with humiliation, forced marriage, emotional neglect, and prolonged psychological abuse.
Psychological deterioration intensifies whenever routines are disrupted, authority is challenged, or surrounding individuals fail to comply with instruction. Under these conditions, Vasanthi responds with disproportionate physical aggression and threat, fearing the people around her will take away what she had.
PRIME ASSET'S PURPOSE:
Before her breakdown and becoming a Prime Asset for Murkoff, she used to hold dependency over her parents, her husband while meeting the standards of the society that caused her to suppress her passions that she had with her for the sake of pleasing whoever she loved. Even if the ones who didn't love didn't give her anything, she was in the mindset that maybe they’d change after a while, and prove them wrong with her talent.
It all went into shambles the moment she was forced to abandon the only thing that kept her alive - breaking her apart and killing the people who made her what she became.
As Easterman gives her a trial environment, she feels she has her own stage, she feels liberated, and dances with all pride. Anybody trying to intervene in her trial makes her feel they're one of the "people" who tried to take her passion away, and she murders them with an emotionally, yet deadly intent in the exception they're trying to spoil whatever she earned so far. She cries, she screams, she berates them for being "one of them".
Her trial signifies and teaches the Reagents that reality will always take away what you always wished to be, or have, or desired.
TRIAL ENVIORNMENT:
Her trial environment is an ancient-themed architectural pavilion - with the roots of her culture. They call it the Mandapam.
MAIN TRIAL
“Appease the Audience” - “A successful performance requires discipline, coordination, and obedience behind the scenes. Maintain the theater, successfully conclude the performance, and we will let you out."
MK-CHALLENGES
“Prepare the Performer” - “A well dancer graces the stage and it's own audience. We want you to prepare the performer for it's biggest debut, before we set you free."
“Spoil the Marriage” - "Marriage is a sacred bond between two people. But how does one decide if it's all pious? A household built upon corruption cannot be allowed to endure. Enter the ceremony, prevent the marriage from reaching it's completion, and we will let you out."
I have some Liliyas to show as well!
She's so pretty URGHHHH I LOVE HER SO MUCH
I have really loved just standing in front of her mannequines this Prime Time and just admiring them oh my goshhhh
🕷 As usual, feel free to use these for profile pictures/headers etc, just please do not reupload thankiesss!
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Hiiii! I just love how you write Coyle, it’s just perfect. Anyway, I was just wondering if you’d be willing to write some obsessed Coyle smut? Not like in a stalker way (although…), maybe just like a he needs the reader in a primal sort of way, just always desperate for her?? Idk if that makes sense and feel free to ignore this :) but anyway, for my sake, plz keep posting <3
Awww thank you so much, anon!! 🖤
That Cowboy!Coyle fic is still in the works I promise!! I have just been so busy recently and every time I return to it my brain just blanks but I swear, I am trying to finish it!!
This is something that I would definitely want to explore in a wayyyy longer and more thought out form but if you would let me just throw up some thoughts real quick
(Not very quick though are we, Anti, this turned out to be quite long already, strap in! Hope you enjoy!)
🖤 (NSFW Under the Cut, AFAB Reader, DUBCON, Marking, Obsessed!Coyle)
Coyle would 100% be a Yandere archetype, jealousy fuelling him every time he’d see his favourite reagent even so much as in the same room with another reagent, expop or especially Prime Asset.
If he came across your entire team, he’d wait until you all scamper off in different directions, but then only chase you out of the four. He wouldn’t let up either, stalking you like a wolf toying with its prey. Even if your other teammates tried to distract him to get him away from you, he’d still persist.
He’d likely corner you in a dark room, waiting until you were alone, split off from the rest of your team. You’d be quietly working on an objective or looking for a certain item that you needed, when all of a sudden, a leather-clad hand would clasp over your mouth, another wrapping around your stomach.
You could try to scream, to wriggle away. But it would be all for naught.
Coyle would hold you tight to him, breathing heavily down your neck before pressing his nose against it, inhaling deeply. Your scent intoxicates him, fuelling his drive to be with you even more. You suddenly feel his hardening length pressing against your ass as he’s holding you close.
“Now, sweetness. Sergeant Leland Coyle’s gonna show you just who you belong to.” He growls quietly against your skin, quickly latching his teeth into the delicate flesh of your neck where he bites and sucks at the skin.
It hurts, but you must persist. Your actions are the only thing that can tip the scales of fate in your favour.
You can feel your body betraying you in response to his touches, your hot breath mingling with the quiet whimpers tumbling from your lips. He chuckles in response, licking your neck to soothe the sting of his bite.
His breaths are heavy, needy.
He’s suddenly pushing you across the room, bending you over a desk and rutting impatiently against the soft mounds of your ass. Bending forward to pin you slightly, and to mumble in your ear.
“I’ve been waitin’ so long for you, sweetness. You’ve teased me for far too fuckin’ long. Y’understand? This is what you do to me.” His words are slurring slightly, almost drunk off of the fact he finally has you where he wants you. You can feel him growing more and more impatient as you hear him fumble with his belt buckle, the jingles subsiding as it hits the floor with a soft thud.
Next his hands grab at your hips, yanking your pants down and off of your ass, letting them pool around your ankles. His eyes widen at your glistening, bare skin, his hands immediately groping at the soft flesh. He’s groaning and whining slightly, even though he’s not even receiving any physical stimulation, just being able to finally touch you is more than enough.
“Oh, Sweetness.” He’s lost in emotion, even so much so as settling down on his knees behind you, kissing and biting at your asscheeks, leaving trails of bite marks and bruises in the wake of his teeth. Each bite is painful, but to Coyle it’s a reminder of who you belong to now. The person who marked you. Everyone will get to see the necklace of purples and reds that Coyle left behind.
He’s biting at your inner thighs, squeezing the skin roughly with his calloused fingers, leaving tiny crescents in your skin from his nails. Every inch of skin will be, needs to be, marked. By him.
He flips you onto your back on the table, settling back down in between your thighs, licking a long, slow strip from your entrance to your clit, sending shivers down your spine. His hands are holding onto your thighs like his life depends upon it, as he begins to eat you out like you’re the only source of sustenance left in Sinyala. He’s licking, sucking and slurping at your clit, allowing himself to delve a finger into your soaked heat.
The sudden intrusion shocks you slightly, a sharp gasp leaving your body, but quickly followed by needy moans and whimpers as he begins to thrust his finger in and out of you, shortly adding a second finger along with it, keeping up his brutal pace. You begin to see stars, and Coyle chuckles as he can feel your muscles tensing around his fingers.
But this is just the beginning.
As you gush out over his fingers, he’s there, lapping it up with his tongue, shivering as he tastes you. It’s delectable, and now more than ever he can’t bare the mere thought of somebody else getting this close to you.
He has to get closer.
He abruptly slides his fingers out of you, standing back up. He begins caressing the skin of your thighs gently, feeling your softness beneath his rough hands. He quickly pulls his length from the confines of his uniform pants, it springing free and hitting his stomach with a gentle thud. He’s already leaking precum, so riled up just from the sight of you, let alone being able to finally touch you.
“This is what you’ve made me wait for for so long, isn’t it sweetness? You made me wait ‘cus you wanted to see how desperate I’d get. You know what’cha do to me.” He leans forward, caging you in against the table with his big arms, his voice a gravelly whisper in your ear.
“Well now you’ve got me, sugar.”
Your eyes widen as he pins you down with his upper body before pushing his entire length into you. The stretch is brutal, tears pricking at the corners of your eyes at the sting. By the gods he’s thick. The only thing you can focus on in that moment is his size, the feeling of him nestled deep against your cervix. It’s so overstimulating that your walls begin to pulse softly against him in a feat to adjust to his size.
He groans on top of you, a deep, guttural growl rumbling through his body. His face is scrunched up in an expression of pleasure and hunger, gazing down at your own face, which is also twisted into a pleasured yet pained expression.
One of his hands reaches over to cup your face gently, softly shushing you and mumbling gentle words of praise and appreciation toward you.
It’s endearing, yet at the same time utterly terrifying.
You gaze up at him in a teary daze, your face flushed and warm to the touch. It immediately ignites a fire within Coyle, as he growls again, louder this time, gripping your hips hard enough to bruise.
“You’re mine now, y’understand?!” He growls, accentuating every word with a harsh, deep thrust, skin slapping together after every syllable. “If I see anyone, and I mean anyone, be it reagent or any of those other fucking Murkoff freaks try to touch you, it’s on fuckin’ sight!” His voice is slightly shaky, as if the mere thought of you with anybody else is making him want to break down in tears.
His thrusts are at such a brutal pace, you begin to cry out. Pained moans and whimpers begin to tumble out of your mouth as he fucks into you, holding you close to him. Your arms tentatively reach up to wrap themselves around his neck to hold onto him, and he grins slightly through his concentrated thrusts.
Skin slapping against skin echoes throughout the room above the lewd sounds of the two of you moaning and panting. The heat between the two of you is beginning to become unbearable.
With a final cry you cling to Coyle, nails digging into his jacket as you finally hit your climax around him, which spurs on his own. Thick ropes of hot seed spurt out of him into you, the warmth filling your stomach as tears roll down your face.
He presses his face against the side of your own, a whispered growl pouring into your ear: “Mine.”
He delicately shifts the two of you, keeping himself nestled deep inside you but allowing him to sit upright with you perched on top of his lap. He’s holding you close, stroking your hair as he presses your head against his chest. You can smell his cocktail of leather and sweat, but it feels…strangely comforting?
He grins as he keeps you close to him, keeping you still. Keeping you. Forever.
cute fluffy cringe idea that doesn't make sense because I CAN
Imagine joining Coyle outside while he's smoking & you light his cigarette for him. You have a little lighter in your pocket & you pull it out. Coyle can light his cigarette just fine & he doesn't need your help, but he doesn't say no. You hold the lighter close to the long white end of the cigarette. To make it easier for you, he leans closer to your face as you hold the lighter.
Now, what makes this so intimate is that you can tell he's looking at you & giving you a little smirk as you hold the lighter. He's so close to your face as if he were leaning in to kiss you, but he's not aiming for that. It's a part of your dumb imagination.
The flame arises from the container, lighting the end & smoke comes out of it flawlessly. You put away your lighter & Coyle leans back. Silence resumes between you two. Coyle notices your little fidgeting as you put away your lighter. He saw the little light in your eyes as he leaned closer to you. He saw how your shoulders got tense.
Coyle pulls you by the shoulder, your shoulder touching his & kisses the top of your head.
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Franco, climbs onto Gooseberry so he can speak out: JIF, IT'S A JIF!
Otto, as Arora listens: No, it's like this if you skip your third and fourth grade, and the teachers don't want you there anymore, they'll just send you to a middle school you can't pronounce.
Coyle: It's an acronym, YOU IDIOTS! YOU DON'T SAY IT ALL OUT! IT'S G.I.F!
Easterman watching them, defeated: .. what has gone into them?
Easterman just wrangling up his kids like the single dad he is (Avellanos wants NOTHING do to with any of them AHAHA)
Also with Coyle's new voicelines of misunderstanding egregore (who the fuck is Ed Gregor), I feel like the others probably make fun of him for saying things wrong sometimes and he gets really angry about it
I feel like he is the easiest PA to ragebait also
Off of "Ed Gregor", I don't know if you've ever seen those vines of that guy pronouncing things incorrectly but me and a friend were joking about how Coyle is MOST DEFINITELY like that but he would pronounce things wrong because he genuinely thinks that's how you say certain words and when you'd try to correct him he would die on the hill that he's correct because his ego is too big and he WILL NOT get corrected on how he speaks by anybody