#need to draw lyle too

[templnut]

more gundam with some Neil sketches

[lucksea]

now that artfight is over i can take some time to properly design them before i make new refs

[7s3ven]

SHORT STRAW. human! miles quaritch

IN WHICH… miles quaritch needs a scientist on his team, and you just had to draw the short straw.

Notes: scientist/doctor! reader, petnames, inappropriate jokes, age gap (not explicitly stated, but it is there),

—

As a kid, you were always quiet and introverted. As a teenager, you rarely spoke. Now, as an adult, you were on the most dangerous planet, working as a scientist despite having a medical degree. You weren’t even sure how you got on Pandora. All you did was get outstanding grades, win some awards, and then the RDA shipped you off. It’s not like you were complaining, you had nothing left on Earth.

Pandora was your home now and little by little, you grew comfortable with the new environment. You were working along Grace Augustine, a renowned scientist. And you were finally happy with where you were in life.

“Those idiots!” You heard Grace yell as she slammed her cup of coffee onto the table, accidentally spilling the hot liquid onto her latest report. She screamed out a string of curse words, causing every head to turn in her direction. "I need a damn cigarette!"

You hurried over with a pack, handing it over to Grace. "What's wrong?" You asked, furrowing your brows together lightly. You didn't have to question it too much to know what was running through Grace's head. You knew, based on the frown and sneer pulling at her lips, that it had something to do with Parker Selfridge or Quaritch. Maybe even both, with the way her eye was twitching in annoyance.

"Quaritch, that bastard!" She exclaimed, throwing a rage fit. "He wants a scientist on his team for today, even though I offered before, and he said no!" Grace clicked her tongue, banging a hand down onto her desk.

No scientist would willingly work for Quarditch, and Grace knew that. That's how you ended up in the conference room with about ten other scientists who doubled as doctors, Miles Quaritch, and Lyle Wainfleet.

You stood close to Grace, almost hiding behind her. The Colonel had always intimidated you; he towered over you, and you were rather scared of his strength. You had seen him punch another marine, sending the soldier flying back. So, it was safe to say you wanted to stay on his good side.

"Alright, everybody, grab a straw," Grace muttered. Some of the other scientists groaned, tilting their heads back in frustration. Drawing straws was the usual method the scientists used to decide who would write the next report or who would have to chug the year-old alcohol sitting in the cupboard.

"That's how you're gonna decide my team's scientist?" Quaritch grumbled, clearly unimpressed by the childish method. Grace merely rolled her eyes. "Just assign me your best one. Or better yet, assign me the prettiest one." He pointed right at you, lips curling into a snarky smirk.

Grace held out an arm, "She is my best scientist."

Quaritch shrugged, "That's a bonus."

Grace ignored him, holding out a handful of straws. Quaritch watched as each person picked a straw, their gazes darting around nervously and hoping they weren't the unlucky person. "Okay. Hold 'em up." Grace muttered. There was a moment of silence before her eyes flickered to you in pity. "Y/N got the shortest."

"Well, lookie here, I won." Quaritch didn't even try to hide the grin on his face, mocking Grace.

She scowled, pointing the middle finger at the marine. "You better keep her in one piece, you dog. I need her to finish writing her thesis."

"Yeah, I'll keep your pretty little scientist safe." He uttered as he walked around the table, stopping in front of you. "In the meantime, get that damn report on my desk before Selfridge has a fit again." Quaritch hooked a finger around your belt, pulling you forward. "Let's go, Wainfleet."

You barely had time to process the situation before Quaritch’s firm grip on your belt yanked you forward again, pulling you into unified steps with him. You struggled to keep up with his long strides, feeling the stares of your coworkers burning into your back.

As you walked, more like jogged, you could feel the intimidating presence of Lyle trailing behind you. He didn’t say a word, but you knew he was watching your every move. The hallway seemed to stretch endlessly, the cold, metallic walls making you feel claustrophobic.

Quaritch finally broke the silence, his voice gruff but not as harsh as you expected. "Listen up, Doc. I don't need a nervous wreck on my team. You’re here to get the job done, not to cower in the corner. You got that?" He poked your shoulder, and you quickly nodded.

“Good,” He continued, his pace not slowing as he spoke. “My team and I need someone who can act as a scientist and a doctor. We're lucky we got stuck with you." You heard a loud click beside you, and you turned your head to see Lyle grinning at you. He was replacing the bullets in his gun as a means to scare you even more. "We’re going into the forest, and I, more like Selfridge, need you to analyze some samples. Think you can do that, pretty?”

You swallowed hard, trying to keep your voice steady as you responded. "Yes, sir. I can do that." You kept your gaze lowered.

Quaritch glanced at you from the corner of his eye, his expression unreadable. “Good. Keep up that attitude, and you might just survive this.”

You didn’t know whether to be reassured or terrified by his words. You knew that Pandora was dangerous—more dangerous than you ever imagined when you first arrived. The creatures, the environment, and even the air could kill you if you weren’t cautious. You had never actually left the science base before, and now you were being dragged out against your will by a team that seemed to care more about their mission than your life.

As you reached the armoury, Quaritch stopped and turned to face you, his gaze piercing. “Suit up. We leave in ten.”

You nodded again, quickly moving to gather the gear you needed. Your hands trembled slightly as you secured your equipment, the heavy weight pressing you down. You had always been comfortable in the lab, surrounded by data and experiments. This was entirely different—this was survival.

Lyle handed you a weapon, and you hesitated for a moment before grasping it. You weren’t used to holding one, and the cold metal felt foreign in your hands. “Better learn to use that fast,” He said, patting your shoulder. “You’ll need it out there.”

You barely had time to attach the last handgun to your hip before Quaritch approached you again. "You ready, pretty?" He grinned down, hands resting on his hips. Without another word, he turned and led the way towards the rest of the marine team.

They lifted their heads, raising their eyebrows. "Who's that?" One of the only female members questioned, pointing at you.

"Our little scientist." The Colonel uttered, slinging an arm around your shoulder, "Play nice with her. She’s never been outside before.”

The team gazed at you, looking you up and down with a mix of curiosity and amusement at your height compared to Quaritch. Their eyes soon flickered to Quaritch's arm that was draped around you.

"New meat? The forest will eat her alive." The same female marine, Z-dog, smirked as she crossed her arms over her chest.

You heard Quaritch chuckle and felt his grip tighten around you as an act of reassurance. Or perhaps it was to keep you from running. "She’ll be fine. I’ll ensure she knows how to use more than just her brains out here."

Lyle, leaning casually against a nearby chair, grinned as he chimed in. "Oh, I bet you will, Colonel." There was a grin spreading across his face. "You always did have a soft spot for the smart ones. Just don’t get too distracted."

The team laughed, their voices rough and playful. Quaritch rolled his eyes but didn’t bother to deny it. "Don’t worry, Wainfleet. I can multitask. Besides, if you’re so concerned, why don’t you take her under your wing? Show her how the big boys play."

Lyle gave you an exaggerated once-over, his grin widening. "I dunno, boss. She might be too delicate for me. I wouldn’t want to break her."

Z-dog snorted. "Please. You’d be lucky if she didn’t break you first, Wainfleet. Don’t underestimate the quiet ones—they’ve got a lot of pent-up energy."

Quaritch raised an eyebrow, clearly enjoying the banter. "You heard the lady, Wainfleet. Better watch yourself. Might just find out what this one’s capable of." He slapped you on the back.

You couldn’t help but blush at the teasing, not accustomed to it. Your science and medical coworkers never mocked each other; they were far too lost in their own worlds.

Another marine piped up with a grin. "Hey, just make sure you keep her out of trouble, Colonel. The last thing we need is her getting lost out here and us having to play rescue squad. Unless, of course, you’d enjoy being her knight in shining armour."

Quaritch huffed, giving his teammate a mocking glare. "I’m nobody’s damn knight. And she won’t need rescuing. Right, Doc?" He nudged you.

You nodded quickly, trying to ignore the heat creeping up your neck. "Right."

"Atta girl," Quaritch said with a grin. He gave your shoulder a light pat before stepping away, his authoritative tone taking over again. "Alright, enough with the jokes. We’ve got work to do."

The thick vegetation continuously slapped your oxygen mask, causing you to stumble every second. The suffocating air clung to you as you slowly trudged after the marine team. You noticed how Quaritch, who was at the front of the pack, would glance over his shoulder at you. You could tell in his gaze that he saw you as a liability.

After what felt like an hour of jogging through the forest, Quaritch abruptly stopped, raising a hand to signal to the others. The soldiers halted with practised ease. You, on the other hand, clumsily crashed into Lyle.

"Alright, Doc," Quaritch grunted, turning to face you. "Before we go any deeper, we need to ensure you know how to handle yourself. No point in lugging around dead weight."

You felt a lump form in your throat as he stepped closer, his tall figure casting a shadow over you. He gestured to the weapon slung over your back. "First lesson: how to use that thing. Have you ever fired a gun before? Or, are you more of a delicate touch type?"

Despite being covered from head to toe in weapons you had never held before, you knew you still looked out of place amongst the hardened soldiers surrounding you.

You shook your head quickly, trying not to let Quaritch's words fluster you. "No, sir. Never."

Quaritch smirked, clearly expecting your answer. "Figures. Well, you’re gonna learn fast." He grabbed your belt loop again, leading you a few steps away from the group. "See that tree? That’s your target."

"Hey, Colonel," Lyle called out, “Didn’t know you were into giving private lessons. Thought you left the hand-holding to Grace."

The other marines chuckled, their laughter low and suggestive. "Careful, boss," Another of them exclaimed. "You might have to be gentle with this one. Don’t want to scare her off."

Quaritch rolled his eyes, but the smirk never left his face. "Don’t worry, boys. I’ll go nice and slow for her. Gotta make sure she enjoys her first time, right?"

You blushed, trying to focus on the task at hand instead of the suggestive jokes being tossed around. Quaritch stepped closer, grabbing your gun and handing it to you. Quaritch moved to stand behind you, his hands settling over yours on the rifle to line up the weapon with the tree.

"Feet shoulder-width apart. Don’t lean too far forward, unless you want to kiss the dirt.” Quaritch grabbed your hips, pulling you back. What must have been an insignificant touch to him felt huge for you. You had never let anyone touch you in that way, too busy with your academics. “Keep your grip tight; You’re aiming a gun, not giving it a massage."

Behind you, Lyle couldn’t resist another remark. "Hey, Colonel, careful where you’re putting those hands. Might give her the wrong idea."

Quaritch shot him a sideways glance, his smirk turning into a full grin. "Jealous, Wainfleet? Don’t worry, I’ll let you hold her hand next."

Behind you, the marines barely held back their laughter as they leaned against the nearby trees. "Colonel, you gonna take her to prom next?" Z-dog teased, earning another round of chuckles.

Quaritch laughed lowly before returning to you to whisper the instructions in your ear. You took a shaky breath, nodding your head to his words. You shifted from side to side, steadying yourself before you squeezed the trigger.

The rifle's recoil almost knocked you off your feet. Lucky for you, Quarditch was there to catch you.

"Oh, Colonel's getting handsy," Lyle exclaimed. The bullet you had shot grazed the side of the tree trunk, missing the target.

Z-dog laughed. “Maybe you should teach her to aim at something a little closer, Colonel. Like you."

Quaritch didn’t miss a beat. "She doesn’t need to aim at me—she’s already got me in her sights." He loudly clapped his hands together, gaining your attention again. "This time, don’t overthink it. Just line it up and shoot."

You nodded, focusing on the tree once more. This time, you steadied yourself better, and your muscles started to faintly remember the movements.

Quaritch gave a grunt of approval at your second attempt. "Better. Keep at it. You’ll get there."

You practised under Quaritch’s watchful eye for the next hour, gradually getting more comfortable with holding the rifle. The marines kept up their teasing, mainly aimed at their boss and how he was eying you like a hawk.

"Not bad, pretty," Quaritch finally muttered, his usual hardened gaze softening just a bit. "Maybe you won’t get us killed after all." He turned to the Marines, clearing his throat. "Let's move out."

The next time the group stopped was in a secluded part of the forest deep inside the jungle. Your gaze studied the trees and plants around you.

“This is it, Doc. Get to work.” Quaritch handed you the rest of your tools. Lyle sat down on a rock, fidgeting with his gun.

At first, you were so focused on collecting samples that you didn’t notice the eyes following your every movement. You could hear the quiet shuffling of Quaritch, Lyle, and the other marines as they spread out to keep guard. They continued with their teasing banter to pass the time.

As you crouched down to get a better look at some glowing moss, you could feel Quaritch’s gaze on you—intense, and not exactly subtle. The other marines noticed too. His eyes trailed over you, lingering on your body.

You tried to avoid talking to the soldiers as best as you could, desperate to return to the lab so you could study your samples. That was your definition of fun.

Your silence was interrupted by Lyle crouching down beside you. “Careful with those flowers, Doc. They look like they bite.” You glanced at the cluster of spiky flowers, shrugging.

“They don’t.” You quietly murmured.

“Well, if they do, I bet I could beat them.”

Quaritch, overhearing Lyle’s nonsense, shook his head. “That’s ironic, Wainfleet, considering you’ve lost every fight against me.”

“Yeah but you ain’t a flower, Colonel.”

Quaritch sly grinned before looking at you. “You sure you don’t need any help, pretty?” You quickly shook your head in response. The last thing you needed was a soldier ruining your research.

“Watch out for the Colonel’s ‘help.’ He’s got a way of making it sound real nice, but before you know it, you’re running laps around the base at 0500." Lyle pitched in.

Quaritch rolled his eyes, standing up and slapping Lyle on the back of the head. “Thats only if you keep running your mouth, Wainfleet. Which reminds me, you still owe me ten laps from yesterday. You can start now.” With a groan, Lyle stood up, leaving your side to run his dreaded laps.

You were pleasantly surprised that you had not tripped yet. You were naturally clumsy, always managing to make a mess out of the simplest of tasks. You walked forward to look at another flower but a vine that was hidden within the foliage caught you off guard.

You tripped and fell with a large thud, catching the attention of everyone nearby. Quaritch walked over to help you but not before laughing. “Careful.” He teasingly warned. The Colonel made no attempts in hiding how he eyed your body up and down. “You gotta watch where you step. Though, I gotta say, I don’t mind the view.”

You quickly scrambled to your feet, cheeks heating up. Lyle, who had been watching intently, snickered. “You sure you’re just out here for the plants, sir? No other reason?”

You were ready to head back for the day before a plant in the distance caught your attention. “I’ll be quick.” You muttered to Quaritch, hoping he’d let you look at it. He nodded after a long pause.

“I’ll go with her. The rest of you, stay here.” He ordered his soldiers before following after you. You had a skip in your step as you carefully manoeuvred through the maze of tree roots but you were soon too distracted to keep up the pace. Quaritch easily overtook you as you scribbled messy notes into a small notebook.

You were almost at the plant before you slipped again. You mentally cursed at your clumsiness and inability to stay focused of your surroundings. You couldn’t catch yourself in time before stumbling into Quaritch. The impact was enough to send him forward but he quickly turned so his back would take the brunt of the fall. You landed on top of him with a soft grunt, hitting your head on his shoulder.

You took a few moments to regain your breath before you felt Quaritch’s hands rest on your hips. “If you wanted to lie on top of me, pretty, you could have just said so.” He teased. “I always knew you scientists had a habit of being direct but this is a little much, don’t you think?”

You quickly pushed yourself up. “I’m sorry, sir! I didn’t mean to!” This was the loudest Quaritch had ever heard you talk. He could barely hear your whispers sometimes, having to lean down to understand your words.

“I ain’t complaining but unless you’re into dangerous places, you might wanna save this stuff for when we’re not in the middle of an alien jungle.” He drawled, causing your body to heat up with embarrassment. He didn’t let you stand up, wanting to see how much of a reaction he could draw out.

Lyle peaked his head around a bush, having heard the sound of you falling. “Are you guys gonna keep us waiting for long while you deal with all that tension? Because I have some coffee I’d really like to drink back at the base.”

“Calm your horses, Wainfleet. We’ll be there in a second.” Quaritch responded, letting you go like he hadn’t purposefully held you down.

In the end, you got the plant and you returned to the base safe and sound. You had expected the Colonel’s attention to be a one time thing but he followed you into the lab.

Grace arched an eyebrow at his appearance. “Here she is, Augustine, safe and sound like I promised.” Quaritch grinned, patting you on the shoulder. “The next time I need a scientist, I want her.” You were already scrambling towards your workspace, laying out your samples.

Quaritch turned to leave but he flashed you another grin. “See you later, pretty.” He called out.

[concretejunglefm]

𝐌𝐀𝐆𝐈𝐂 𝐌𝐈𝐊𝐄 𝐋𝐈𝐕𝐄 𝐏𝐑𝐄𝐒𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐒… 03

Summary: When you were convinced to visit a male strip club, you didn’t anticipate that the guy you locked eyes with on stage and who subsequently pulled you up for a routine, would turn out to be the same guy whose roommate advert you’d be responding to less than 24 hours later.

Pairing: Noah Sebastian x reader, (slight) Jesse Cash x reader.

CW: two idiots in love, reader ogling Noah like he's a piece of meat, Noah in his short shorts.

WC: 5.5k.

AN: Alright, so I’m not sure how many parts this will have. All I know is that this is for fun I hope you enjoy Noah being a lovable himbo.

Dividers: silent-stories.

Fic Masterlist

With a heaving sigh, you throw yourself onto the couch and lean back, resting your head against a cushion you’d moved to the armrest. It was back to the drawing board after yet another failed date, scrolling through the now limited options. If it wasn’t some cheesy line in their bio that put you off, it was the fact they were either clearly out of your league—or out of your radius.

“No, no, no,” you repeat, swiping past a firefighter, a guy who looked like he could be a fighter—or maybe a trainer—some ‘voice actor,’ a real actor, a guy wearing a mask to obscure his face with his whole ass titties out, dubbing himself as being from Arcadia (whatever that meant), a guy who looked like a potential contender… only for you to double-check his profile and see you weren’t his type (read: not a man), and then a young woman about your age with long hair, tattoos, and incredibly pretty, that made you pause until you saw the picture of her with a friend who was clearly far from just a friend.

“I wonder how long before they realize they’re in love with each other,” you mumble to yourself with a sigh.

The final profile—someone who looked potentially like a priest, is what makes you roll your eyes and give up altogether, lifting a hand to pinch the bridge of your nose, trying to ease the tension headache building behind your eyes.

It’s useless, and you’re making no progress in moving on from your crush on Noah. In fact, you swear it’s only getting worse, especially when you catch him flaunting around in those short shorts while shaking his protein shake.

What man’s ass jiggles while he’s shaking his arms???

You’d like to think the dates hadn’t been all that terrible—except they had.

First, there was Sam: the influencer who insisted on taking selfies or recording everything for their TikTok page, even going as far as wanting to move tables because “the lighting looks better over there.” They spent the entire date talking about themselves, never once asking about you, and rattled off their stats like it was a business pitch—ending with, “Obviously, I get better numbers than you do from streaming.”

Then there was Darren, the magician. He actually caught your attention at first, until he performed his best trick yet: a disappearing act… right as the bill arrived. Asshole.

After that came Lyle, a guy completely obsessed with crypto. He decided to give you a full breakdown of everything from blockchain to Bitcoin, proudly showcasing his NFT collection like a parent showing off baby photos.

Your last ditch effort had been with an older woman, Gillian, and while the date had started out great, it was her sly comment—“What do you plan to do with your life? Streaming isn’t exactly a real job, is it?”—that made your mommy issues flare up, a little too close for comfort.

While you’re scrolling through your phone, a large tattooed hand suddenly reaches down from above and snatches it right out of your fingers.

“Noah!” you huff, pushing yourself upright as he starts scrolling through the options on your screen.

“Wow, these are the dudes you’ve got coming up?” He tuts like he’s personally offended, shaking his head. “This won’t do. You need a better selection pool.”

“Well, that’s the only one I have. Now can I have my phone back?”

He ignores your request entirely and turns, heading into the kitchen. You push yourself up from the couch to follow after him.

“Noah!”

“And this is your profile?” he scoffs. “You need to liven it up a little. Maybe a few better pictures—we can get Bryan to take some real photographic shots!”

“I’m not using Bryan to take pictures for a dumb dating app.”

“Why not? These do nothing to compliment you.” He pauses and turns to gesture down at you in your shorts and oversized T-shirt, making your cheeks warm at the implied compliment.

“Uhh… thanks?” you mutter. For a second, you swear his eyes rake over you a little too long, lingering, but then he’s back to studying the screen like your love life is a group project.

“Where are the guys?” you ask, glancing around.

As if on cue, the sound of music blares to life from the backyard, followed by the low hum of voices and laughter. That answers your question, and Noah simply points in the direction of the backdoor, eyes still locked on your screen like he’s the one whose dating profile is currently under scrutiny.

Following him outside, he offers your phone back, and just as you step out, Jolly calls over to you from the bench he’s currently sitting on, a dumbbell in one hand that he’s steadily lifting into bicep curls.

“Hey! How’d the last date go?”

“Terrible.” You screw up your face, lifting a hand to block out the sun. “It was like being on a date with my mom—probably would’ve been cheaper, too.”

“Hot,” Folio chimes in.

There’s a chorus of disgusted groans and “gross” comments thrown his way before he quickly backtracks.

“I mean me going on a date with her mom. That sounds hot.”

Suddenly, there’s a shift from disgust to agreement, a few thoughtful hums, and now it’s your turn to be disgusted. You roll your eyes and move beneath the shade provided by the neighbor’s overhanging tree.

It doesn’t take long for your eyes to wander, settling on Noah, who must’ve had breakaway pants on earlier, because now he’s wearing nothing but a tight tank top, showcasing the multitude of tattoos trailing along his arms, throat, and peeking out from his chest and back, paired with a set of tight short shorts that leave very little to the imagination as he starts squatting.

While the guys have their workout circuit going, you’re just standing there, watching until Folio creeps up beside you and whispers, “You’re drooling.”

Naturally, he catches you—staring, ogling, literally drooling. You can never escape him and his keen eye. You roll your eyes, but he just smirks and saunters over to Noah.

“Come here, buddy. Use me as support to get deeper.”

There’s a cheeky grin on Folio’s face—he knows exactly what he’s doing, because the next moment, Noah’s gripping onto him and suddenly squatting lower, whole ass practically out, and your mouth goes dry.

“I’m gonna… cool down,” you mumble—more of a poor excuse than anything—as you march straight to the pool’s edge and throw yourself in.

It happens quicker than you have time to process. Suddenly, you’re being scooped up by a pair of strong arms and pulled out of the water, Noah surfacing right after, tossing his head and hair back like some majestic mermaid.

“What the—?” you gasp, shaking your head as you cling to him while he carries you over to the edge of the pool.

“You haven’t paid this month’s rent yet,” he explains.

Your brow furrows. “Excuse me?”

“You haven’t paid the rent,” he repeats casually, “so you lose your pool privileges until then. Don’t worry, I’ll set up the paddling pool for you.”

You scoff, completely unable to believe what you’re hearing, as Noah lifts you from the water and sets you on the pool’s edge.

“And you’re gonna jump in and drag me out every time I get in there?” you ask, a little bewildered.

Noah stands back slightly, nodding as he runs his fingers through his wet hair. “If I have to, yeah.”

“Unbelievable,” you mutter under your breath.

“Oooh, someone forgot to pay their rent. Naughty, naughty,” Folio taunts.

“Fuck you,” you snap, half laughing, and splash water in his direction, only for him to dodge, jumping away with a high pitched laugh.

“It’s just until you pay up,” Noah says so politely, despite how matter of fact it sounds. As he climbs up and out of the pool, you almost have to avert your gaze—his now wet shorts have become so skin tight they leave nothing to the imagination.

Size, shape, cut or uncut—you can suddenly make out everything with how tightly they cling to him. All it does is feed the beast you’ve been trying to quell, adding to the ever growing catalog of fantasies rolling around in your mind like some twisted choose your own adventure.

“But I’m not paid until the tenth of the month!” you call after him as he walks past, heading toward the heart shaped paddling pool. He drags it a little further from its usual spot and retrieves the hose to start filling it up, clearly trying to make his point.

“Then you’ll be without privileges for ten days. You know the rules,” he shrugs.

When you hear someone snickering, you look over and catch Jolly doing his best to hide his amused expression beneath the brim of his cap.

“Jolly!” you sigh.

He just shrugs, raising his hands like he’s Switzerland. “Don’t look at me—we’ve all been there.”

With an exaggerated huff, you push yourself to your feet and stomp over to the half filled paddling pool. Still fully clothed and dripping, you step inside and plop down with crossed arms and legs, making your point.

“See? It’s not that bad, right?” Noah looks down at you with that same wide grin and soft eyes.

The expression makes you crack a little, because while his ‘rules’ sound utterly ridiculous, he’s being too reasonably adorable for you to even argue with him.

Later that night, while you’re mid stream, you catch a faint knock on the door and glance over, calling out, “Come in.”

Across the screen, several remarks light up in chat along the same lines—‘surprise guest?’, but thanks to your setup, the identity remains a mystery.

Still, the smile that crosses your face is the undeniable giveaway.

“I’ll be right back, guys,” you call into the mic, pulling off your headphones. You quickly bring up your paused stream screensaver before turning in your chair toward Noah, who stands in the doorway to your room looking like a sad puppy.

“I thought you’d want some snacks,” he offers quietly, holding up one of his premium bags of chips.

“Oh? I thought I’d lost my privileges,” you tease, and that makes a slight grin break across Noah’s face. He relaxes a little, clearly gauging that you aren’t too offended by what happened earlier.

“Well, I can always sneak you some. Just don’t tell the guys I let you off easy,” he says, stepping into the room and settling on the edge of your bed, close to you.

“They might start to think you’re playing favorites,” you murmur, gently nudging your knee against his as you turn to face him more. You feel yourself flush a little at the thought—though you swear you catch the faintest blush at the tips of Noah’s ears.

“Well, you are prettier than Jolly. Maybe not Davis, though.”

“I’ll take that,” you laugh, reaching for the bag of chips he opens and offers. You pop a couple into your mouth as he glances toward your paused screen.

“What are you playing?” he asks, nodding toward your computer.

“Would you believe… Animal Crossing?”

“No way!” His face lights up with excitement, and you shuffle back a bit as he moves closer.

“I wanna play!”

“Wait, you like Animal Crossing?”

He quirks a brow at you as he stands. “The jock villagers are literally my dudes.”

That makes you laugh, because of course they are. Out of all the personality types, that would be the one he’s drawn to.

“Here!” You lean over, pulling your spare chair into place and patting the seat for him. You hand him your second controller. “Are you okay with streaming?” you ask, ready to switch the stream back on.

“I’m your favorite guest, aren’t I?” he teases, flashing a wide grin.

You just nod with a quiet, “Sure,” and switch the stream back on, offering him your spare headset—complete with matching cat ears.

“Well, I guess we do have a special guest tonight.”

That sets the chat off in a frenzy, messages spamming across the screen as Noah eagerly begins creating his character to join your island.

“What are you doing?” you ask, narrowing your eyes as you watch him.

“Moving in,” he replies, not missing a beat.

You scoff and shake your head. “Making yourself right at home already.”

“Like you haven’t,” he teases, glancing over at you, his tongue peeking out briefly—revealing a glint of something silver, before he turns his attention back to the screen.

You’re left momentarily dumbfounded, your stomach doing flips. The butterflies you thought had long since fluttered away now back.

Coming to the club has become a regular occurrence for you, especially on nights when you’re not streaming. Mostly, it’s for the company, because the moment all the guys are out of the house, it feels a little too quiet and frankly, a little too lonely.

When you first moved in, you never imagined you’d actually end up enjoying having multiple guys shouting around you—working out, blasting music, watching movies, wrestling in the pool. The chaos that always seems to ensue somehow became part of the charm, and eventually, all that noise just faded into the background—comforting, familiar, a soundtrack to their constant presence.

Taking your usual seat at the bar, you pull out your laptop with the intention of finishing off a handful of video concepts for upcoming streams. On top of that, you’ve still got side uploads you haven’t even started to piece together. Realistically, you could look into hiring someone to help with editing, but you’re a perfectionist, and your income, while steady enough to sustain yourself, still doesn’t justify bringing someone else in.

“I’ll have a bottle of water,” you say to the unfamiliar voice that asks for your order. When you glance up from your screen, you clock someone who isn’t Matt placing a bottle of water down on the bar beside you.

“Where’s Matt?” you ask the new guy behind the bar, who—unlike Matt—is dressed in a more uniform like style: a collared shirt, black pants, and even a matching black button-up vest. There’s a distinct curl to his hair, and each time he lifts his tattooed hand to card his fingers through it, you watch the strands spring to life before flipping back into place.

“Not here,” he answers quickly, glancing up at you briefly. “Am I not good enough?”

That makes you pause. For a second, you almost assume you’ve offended him, until you catch the faint smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth.

“No, just… you’re new,” you say, and he nods, showing off a little as he tosses a bottle for his next customer before smoothly pouring their drink.

“Jesse,” he introduces himself, setting the bottle down and sliding the drink across the bar. He wipes his hands on a nearby rag before offering one to you. You give your name in return.

“You a friend of the guys?” you ask, gesturing toward the stage, already alive with the four male dancers.

He makes a slight face before breaking into a grin. “Yeah. We all go way back. Used to be roommates with Noah and Jolly once upon a time.”

“Oh?” Your brow quirks. “Had to get out the nest and spread your wings?”

He pauses, glancing at you with a slightly raised brow. “That, and someone moved in and stole my room.”

“Ouch.” You lift a hand to your chest in mock offense. “Whoever would do such a thing?”

That sends you both into a quiet, shared laugh.

Watching him struggle was becoming painful. Between the influx of customers and his terrible attempts at tricks with the bottles and drinks, you decided to save him from drowning any further. Shutting down your laptop, you hop off your stool and walk around to the back of the bar—only for Jesse to catch sight of you with a curious eye and a quick, “Wait, whoa, what are you doing back here? You can’t be back here!”

“I’m saving your ass,” you declare, turning to a nearby customer and taking their order before effortlessly starting to make their drinks.

“So you’ve bartended before?” Jesse asks, pausing just to watch how seamlessly you go about mixing the combination of drinks being requested.

“Back in college,” you shrug, giving him a brief glance.

“You went to college?” It comes out more surprised than he probably intended, and you gasp dramatically, reaching over as though to kick him.

“Yes, computer engineering, actually.”

“Oh, so you were one of those pretty nerds.”

“Who said anything about was?” you quip, flashing him a quick wink before turning back to the customer and offering them their drinks.

“What about you?” you ask in the brief reprieve between customers, your eyes skimming along his tattooed forearms, exposed by the way he’s rolled up his sleeves halfway.

All of the boys seem to share a similar style of tattoos—something you can’t help but notice, but his look good on him. Just like Noah’s, they suit him in a way that feels intentional, like a pretty canvas you couldn’t imagine being bare now that you’ve seen it like this.

“What about me?”

“Was bartending always the dream?” you tease, and he chuckles, shaking his head.

“Oh, no. I did English Lit.”

“Oh?!”

“With plans of being the next great American author,” he explains.

“You need a degree for that?” you tease again, biting your lower lip to hold back your laughter.

“Yeah, I guess not,” he sighs, leaning against the bar as he laughs quietly. “And you need a computer engineering degree for what you do?”

“Streaming?” You quirk a brow slightly. “I didn’t want to make it too easy on myself and do something entirely relevant to my degree.”

Your tone drips with sarcasm, but Jesse picks up on it instantly. Before long, the two of you are batting jokes back and forth with ease, the night slipping by in a blur—only breaking the spell when Noah approaches the bar.

“Want a ride home?” he asks, sweat still dripping down his collarbone and tattooed neck, glitter smudged across his face.

“Yes!” you bounce up from behind the bar, already moving to gather your laptop. “But you really need to learn to hose off before you leave work. I’m tired of glitter in the shower.”

You point at him, but Noah just raises a brow, flashing a cheeky grin.

“And lose an excuse to have you help me? That seems unfair to you,” he teases.

Behind you, Jesse mutters under his breath, “Don’t miss that.”

You shake your head with a quiet laugh, waving at Jesse. “Thanks,” he says, as you cross over to Noah, your laptop bag slung over your shoulder. Your free hand finds the small of his back, guiding him toward the door.

“How’d you do tonight?” you ask, stepping into the cool night air, watching how a light breeze lifts a few overgrown strands of his hair. Even in the moonlight—smeared eyeliner, glitter, and all—he’s pretty.

“Not bad. A bachelorette party was asking about private shows.” He pulls a slip of paper from his pocket and shows you a number.

You raise a brow. “And I want this because…?”

“They thought you were our booking agent or something. I don’t know—maybe you could be.” He shrugs as you reach the car. He pops the trunk, tossing his bag in, then opens the passenger door for you.

“You want me as your booking agent?” you scoff, not sure if you heard him right.

“For events and stuff outside the club? Sure, why not?”

“Because I’ve never been an agent in my life?”

“You stream. You’re basically your own PR team. You make your own content, handle your own promotions, moderate your own chat most of the time, and you edit everything yourself.” Noah starts listing things off like a checklist. “You’re a one man band. Why not use those skills for something else?”

“Oh yeah? And you’ll use your skills?”

“If you insist.” He smirks, and before you can respond, he starts to gyrate his hips the same way he does on stage, laughing as he dances toward you.

Naturally, you can’t help but burst out laughing. “You keep up the good dance moves, babygirl, and I’ll take care of you,” you tease, reaching out to give him a playful smack on the ass as you climb into the car and he brings a hand to his forehead while closing the door, dramatically pretending to faint over your charming words.

It’s Noah who starts it.

You’d been happily watching Dirty Dancing alone in what you thought was an empty house—until he wandered in, claimed it was his favorite movie, started singing along, and now he’s sliding off the couch onto the floor, stretching out just like Patrick Swayze on screen, a mischievous gleam in his eyes.

“How do you call your loverboy?” he sings, playing it up like the natural performer he is.

You’re quick to fall into step, shifting to the edge of your seat, lifting your hand to beckon him with one curled finger as you sing back, “Come ‘ere, loverboy!”

The two of you go back and forth, perfectly in sync with the movie. Noah begins to crawl toward you, slow and dramatic, after easing onto his knees, and you slide off the couch to meet him on the floor, mirroring his movements as you both crawl toward one another.

When the scene shifts, Noah mimics playing air guitar, bent backward on his knees in a way that shows off the flexibility you’ve seen so often on stage. You would’ve taken the moment to admire him—his form, the way he moves, the ease in his body, but you’re too caught up in the rhythm of your shared performance.

Then comes your daring touch. As he straightens up and moves toward you, your hands find his upper arms, fingers pressing lightly into the warm flex of muscle. His nose brushes yours, breath warm against your lips. He’s close—so close you expect him to pull away, but he doesn’t.

Instead, he leans in closer, hands settling at your waist. The only time he breaks contact is to mimic the choreography on screen—his head dipping toward your stomach, your hands cradling the sides of his neck to guide him upward again, until he’s pressed against your chest.

His hips sway with the music, his hands on your hips, guiding them as you rise to your feet together, until he finally lifts his head just enough to look down at you.

Even as the scene continues to play, the music fading into a soft lull in the background of the scene, it’s the words that follow that catch your attention—You’re the one.

They stand out like a spotlight, echoing in your head as you gaze up at him. It makes your heart pound, because you can’t help but feel like maybe he is. Or maybe it’s all in your head—wishful thinking, misreading something that isn’t really there, but he still hasn’t pulled away.

His hands slide around to your lower back, gently tugging you closer, your bodies swaying, almost grinding, to the slow, sensual rhythm. The movement mirrors the dancing he does in the club, deliberate and intimate, full of unspoken promise.

“You’re a pretty good dancer,” he murmurs.

That pulls a quiet laugh from you as you turn your head slightly, avoiding his gaze. “Compared to you? I don’t think so.”

“No, I mean it. You should come on stage sometime at the club. I could teach you a few moves.”

You want to ask if he’s teasing, but you know better. When it comes to dancing, to his work, he never jokes. He’s proud of what he does.

Your arms hang loosely around his shoulders, fingers gliding up into the back of his hair. You look up at him, and nod. “Yeah, okay.”

You’re close enough now to feel the heat of his breath ghosting over your lips. Close enough that if one of you moved even an inch—

Then the back door slams. The sound startles you both, making you spring apart. You quickly busy yourself, flopping back onto the couch and fixing your eyes on the movie—pretending nothing just happened.

Jolly and Davis’s voices filter through the house, followed by the sound of Folio and Nick entering. As Folio peers into the living room, he catches sight of the movie playing on the TV.

“Ah man, he hasn’t tried to get you to do the lift yet, has he?” he asks.

You quirk a brow, glancing between Noah—now seated back near you—and Folio.

“He’s obsessed with trying to get one of us to do that lift. Watch out, or you’ll be next.” He points at you as if issuing a warning, before disappearing into the kitchen just as Jolly announces the food is ready.

Noah practically vaults over the back of the couch, promising to return with your plate, but all you can focus on is the pounding in your chest—the lingering effect of just how close the two of you had been.

Your thoughts drift, dangerously, to the idea of recreating that iconic lift scene, and you realize, more than ever, that you desperately need a distraction from him.

It’s in the local coffee shop that you spot a familiar face—Jesse, leaning back in his chair, a book in one hand and a coffee in the other. Narrowing your gaze as you draw closer, you tilt your head to read the title of the book, saying it aloud to catch his attention.

“Lolita, really?” You raise a brow—part amused, part curious—your lips tugging into something resembling the former.

“Are you really judging the taste of an English lit grad?” Jesse replies, lowering his book and peeking up at you from behind it.

“Hm, depends on your take, I suppose,” you shrug, swaying a little on the spot.

“Probably not something most people would agree with.” He shifts forward, setting his book on the table and gesturing for you to sit. You slide into the chair opposite him.

“So that means it’s pretentious,” you tease.

He scrunches his nose and raises a hand, holding his forefinger and thumb an inch apart. “Maybe a teeny bit.”

You laugh and lean back, taking a sip of your iced coffee. “So, where’s your laptop? Aren’t all aspiring authors supposed to sit in coffee shops with their laptops, looking all tortured and artistic or something?”

“Well, usually yes, but not today. I’m here because I’m supposed to be meeting a date.”

“Oh?” Your brow furrows, and you reach into your pocket, pulling out your phone to glance at the time. It’s not that you feel like you’re interrupting, but the coincidence is just a little too perfect.

“That’s… interesting. I had a blind date a friend set me up on. I was supposed to meet him about five minutes ago.”

“Is that so?” Jesse leans back in his chair, brow raised and a sly smirk curling at his lips—like he’s already pieced the whole thing together.

“Could you give me a second?” you quickly excuse yourself, slipping outside as you hit ‘call’ on Troy’s number. Naturally, he answers within a couple of rings, his voice too bright, too vibrant, clearly aware of what he’s doing.

“How’s the date?”

“Why did you set me up with Jesse?” you hiss down the phone, not bothering to hide your annoyance as you walk further away from the coffee shop to prevent Jesse from witnessing your meltdown.

“Because I saw the way you two have been flirting behind the bar and—”

“That wasn’t flirting,” you interrupt, correcting him with a huff.

“Oh, please. A guy who challenges you in both wit and intellect? You were about ready to eat him alive on the spot.”

You huff again, momentarily silenced by the fact that he’s not wrong. You admittedly have a type, intellectual sparring is your version of foreplay, and Jesse definitely lit that fire beneath you when you helped him behind the bar.

“So, me and Matt spoke—”

“And how are you and Matt?” There’s a snipe in your tone, not hiding what you’re insinuating: that you’re not the only one nursing a crush on someone in the club. Only in your case, it might be two someones.

“I’m still playing hard to get, thank you very much.”

You roll your eyes and audibly growl as Troy returns to his train of thought.

“As I was saying—we spoke and decided you two were a perfect match, so we set you up.”

“And you don’t think setting me up with the friend of the guy I have a crush on and live with was a bad idea?”

He grumbles something about not always having the brains to go with his beauty, and you roll your eyes again.

“It’s either this, or you get desperate and go back out with some other Tinder knucklehead. So either suck it up and tell that big, beautiful himbo with the jiggly ass and too little shorts how you feel… or go on a couple dates with Jesse just to get him out of your system.”

“So, Noah’s always been like that, huh?” you ask.

“Oh, the whole ‘taking away privileges and replacing them’ thing? Yeah, he’s a bit of an ass for that,” Jesse chuckles, your hands just brushing as you walk side by side.

“I’ve gotta ask,” he continues. “Do you like him? Noah, I mean. It’s just… I’ve never been on a date where the sole focus has been multiple questions about my friend slash ex roommate.”

You feel your cheeks warm and drop your head, staring at the ground like it might help deflect what he’s insinuating. “It’s complicated.”

“I get it.”

You peek up at him, brow raised slightly, urging him to go on.

“I’m not insecure or anything. I know he’s a charmer—there’s a reason he has a Facebook support group. Which I’m pretty sure Folio moderates,” he adds with a wry look.

You snort, brow furrowing to match his. “It’s just a stupid crush,” you say with a shrug, brushing it off.

Jesse raises his hands in a lighthearted defense as the two of you come to a stop at the end of your driveway.

“I’m not judging, but I like you. I had fun, and if you decide you want a second date—one where Noah isn’t the sole topic of conversation—I’d love to take you out on one.”

You worry your lip between your teeth, nibbling over the thought of a second date with Jesse, and just how much you’d unintentionally—or maybe subconsciously, brought Noah up tonight.

“You don’t have to decide right now,” Jesse says, slipping his hands into his pockets with a casual shrug. His tone is almost nonchalant, but there’s something about his posture, the restraint in his expression, that suggests he’s holding himself back. “Figure out where your head’s at… and call me.”

He pulls one hand from his pocket, gently lifting it to your chin, tilting your head toward him. Then he leans in and presses a kiss to your cheek. It doesn’t feel entirely platonic, but it’s not quite romantic either—something soft, in-between. It stirs a flicker of warmth, but nothing like the heat Noah ignites just by being near you, and that realization leaves you heavy with guilt.

“Thanks, Jesse,” you whisper.

He steps away, and for a moment, you pause—watching him walk off. You catch him glancing back. Your eyes meet, lingering just a second too long, before you both turn and disappear your separate ways.

When you come in, the house is still full, but quieter now, with everyone scattered around the living room, watching a movie.

“Where have you been?” Folio calls over, brow raised with a teasing grin.

You just roll your eyes and sigh, plopping down on the couch beside Noah. He shifts, just enough to make room for you, and as you melt against his side out of habit and comfort, his arm wraps loosely around you.

This has become a common theme between the two of you—light touches, quiet closeness—somewhere between casual affection and what you’d consider flirting, though you weren’t sure if he thought of it that way. Still, you always seemed to gravitate toward each other—like now.

“My friend set me up on a blind date,” you mutter, waving a hand to brush it off as unimportant.

Noah shifts beside you, glancing down. “Good?”

There’s something in his eyes that looks hopeful, but not in the sense that he wants it to have gone well. Maybe the opposite, and the thought catches in your throat, echoing the words Jesse had said just moments ago.

“No. It was… just okay. Probably not gonna happen again.” You shake your head.

You feel the way Noah relaxes beside you before he dips his head, gently nestling it against the crown of yours.

On screen, George is telling Mary, “You want the moon? I’ll throw a lasso around it and pull it down.”

And for a moment, you swear you hear Noah mumble the words softly against your hair—something quiet and almost instinctive. It sends a warm, fuzzy flutter through your chest. You already knew he was a hopeless romantic, but that doesn’t stop it from making you fall just a little bit more.

tagged: @fadingangelwisp @deathblacksmoke  @geminigirlfromfinland @fuck1ng-queen @xxkittenkissesxx @lacy1986 @ami--gami @floodflameschosen @dominuslunae @tosoundlessdarkistare @alwaysfightforwhoyouare @lonelydragonlady @th4t-em0-k1d @amelia-acero @dollieomens  @sitkowski @athenexe @trvshdxddy @collapsedglasshouses @overmydeadbodysblog @xmads-omensx @ajordan2020 @astronoids @courta13 @oobleoob @bluehairpunklol @follow-me-down-to-wonderland @swissy23 @i-love-the-smell-of-your-blood @kenjipepsi1 @birdie-in-arcadia @blackcherrywhiskey @saythatuwill @concretenoah @death-ofpeace-ofmind @ichoosetenderomens @chey-h @blade-dressed-in-red @limerinseme @lilgarbitch @pipidoll @heyyoplayer @iconic-taurus @flowery-mess @jesuisunchaton @bloody-spades @bluestdai @respectfulrebel @dravenskye

[godslush]

I'm not really one for shipping in Look Outside so I don't consider this a shipping thing, just a good friends thing, but I do think that post-Flawed Ritual is a great time for Lyle and Jeanne to personally console and comfort Sam about his new situation because he hasn't changed in a way that both of them haven't already gone through and gotten over (very big, too many eyes, too many limbs).

It kinda goes along with the additional tags on my drawing that I don't think many people saw due to the dashboard cutting off tags (where everyone in the whole complex hears his scream when he transforms and they all know it's him, and a bunch of people whom he had a positive impact on show up at the door from every floor to see if he's okay).

I do see a momentary funny moment where the folks gathered bang on the door but can't get in because the other roommates (especially Hellen) are keeping people out because they have 'a situation' and don't need a crowd of people making it worse... Lyle proceeds to unlock the front door himself with his stolen key and gets into an argument over it with whoever is at the door (he insists he just 'got it out of the planter because he's Sam's friend and knows where the spare key is' except whoever is outside with him obviously just saw him pull it out of his cloak).

While everyone's busy bickering, Jeanne just breaks down the walls to give him a hug and console him because she's made it very clear that her new body is capable of breaking down walls.

[hellosweetart]

My planned posts for Tumblr and other social media sites:

- TNMN comics, about my OC Zoey and some other neighbors

- Look Outside fanart of Sam in his normal and Eldritch God Form

- Fanart of Lyle from Look Outside

- Some Milkbread art

- A mini crossover fanart/fancomics of South Park and The Coffin of Andy and Leyley

- A concert art of the TNMN Nightmare Bois in Astral Realm (With some familiar characters as their audience)

There might be some Anon Asks that I need to draw with quick sketches. I got a bit too busy with current commissions and I want to make sure they don't look like they are rushed and half-assed; I want to make the clients feel that their requests are valued and their money is worth it

And with my full time job consuming my time and energy, it's hard to post some art that I truly want to create. This is why I can't wait for my fifth anniversary with the company to come in because once that date arrives, I will pass my resignation. While I have some decent co-workers and made great friends from my previous team, it's hard to keep up with higher ups who think they were above everyone else and a team leader who doesn't give a shit with their team' s well-being.

It's also hard that I always come to work on time and take calls while my other team mates are either absent or come in late, and my team leader doesn't do anything to correct them.

Honestly, working in a call center with a toxic management sucks. I can't wait to take a break for a few months then look for a better company who pays better.

[pragerswoman]

hey i was wondering if you could write headcanons for the recoms for when reader uses her safeword during a particularly graphic and rough scene 🤔

-🖌️glitter gel pen anon

Safe word

Pairing: All recoms

Warnings: smut, (mndi), NSFW

A/n: hope you enjoy thank you so much for the request 😊

Miles Quaritch: Her hands were not idle. They roamed his chest, tracing the scars that were a testament to his battles. Her fingers found the button of his trousers, fumbling in her haste to free his hard erection, thick and demanding. He didn't bother with gentleness, pushing aside Y/N's shorts and underwear, exposing her to his hungry gaze. He slammed into her wet tight hole, burying himself balls deep, feeling her tighten around his cock like a vice. He didn't give her time to adjust before slamming into her, fucking her like a dog in heat. She cummed so many times that a creamy ring formed around the base of miles cock. After hours of miles filling Y/n's little pussy with his cum she screamed her safe word "red," miles halted as soon as he hear it.

Lyle wainfleet: "Just a little more, baby," Lyle panted, his breath hot against Y/n's ear. "I want to feel you come apart in my arms."y/n's eyes rolled back in her head, a silent plea mingling with the ecstasy on her flushed face. Her nails dug into the bedsheets, the fabric tearing with the force of her passion. Lyle hovered above her, his own muscles tight with restraint. He thrust deep, his movements sharp and deliberate, each stroke calculated to push her closer to the precipice without letting her fall. The room was a cocoon of heat, the scent of their desire thick in the air. The only sounds were their ragged breaths and the rhythmic slap of skin on skin.Y/n's eyes fluttered open, her pupils dilated with pleasure. Her voice strained. "I need it."Lyle's own need was palpable, a living entity demanding release. But he clenched his teeth, drawing back slightly, his self-control a steel rod against the tempest of desire. He knew the sweet agony of edging, the delicious dance between pleasure and pain. He'd been pushing her there for hours, her cries and gasps a symphony of need. The heady scent of her arousal filled his nostrils, a potent reminder of the power he held.And then she did it, her voice a crescendo of passion that shattered the quiet intensity. "Blank!" she screamed, the word echoing through the room. It was the safe word they'd agreed upon, a stark reminder that even in this maelstrom of ecstasy, she was in charge.

Recom Mansk: The heady scent of pheromones danced around the figures entangled in the sheets, the only sound the steady rhythm of their breaths and the occasional slap of skin against skin. Mansk, a seasoned warrior with a penchant for the unconventional, found himself lost in the fiery embrace of the elusive y/n, a woman whose beauty was matched only by the intensity of her passion.Her eyes, gleaming with a fierce hunger, bore into his as she straddled him, her wetness coating his thighs. Each thrust was met with a grunt from Mansk, his strong hands gripping her hips, guiding her in a primal dance that spoke of a craving that went beyond simple lust. Their bodies moved in perfect synchrony, the soft cries of pleasure escaping her lips egging him on. The room was alive with the energy of their union, the mattress squeaking in protest under their fervent movements.Her hands clawed at his chest, leaving red trails of passion across his skin. She leaned forward, her hair cascading around them like a fiery waterfall, and whispered a desperate plea into his ear. "Harder," she breathed, and the word was like a match thrown on gasoline. Mansk's grip tightened, his rhythm becoming more punishing as he gave her exactly what she asked for. The slap of their bodies grew louder, the room echoing with the sound of their shared need.But in the heat of the moment, Mansk's hand slipped, his palm connecting with her flesh with a crack that was almost too much for even her heightened senses to handle. Her eyes watered and she let out a gasp that was half pleasure, half pain.Yet the pain grew, each smack sending a new wave of agony crashing over her. Her body thrummed with it, the line between pleasure and pain blurring until she could no longer tell which was which. Her breaths grew ragged, her grip on Mansk's shoulders tightening until her knuckles were white. Finally, unable to bear it any longer, she whispered, "Sea." The word was a soft exhalation, a mere brush of sound against the cacophony of their lovemaking, but it was enough. Mansk stilled beneath her, his eyes snapping to hers, filled with concern. He knew that word, knew what it meant in the context of their games. Carefully, he eased her off him, his touch suddenly gentle, his body cooling from the heat of their passion.

Recom prager: "Prager, you're a fucking genius!" Y/n exclaimed, her eyes glazed over with pleasure as she leaned back on the sofa in his quaint RDA base room. Her legs were spread wide open, giving him full access to her glistening wetness.For hours, Prager had been relentlessly devouring her pussy like it was the last piece of food on a starving planet. His tongue danced around her clit with a precision that would put a seasoned ballerina to shame. Each flick, each suck, each gentle nibble sent waves of ecstasy coursing through her body, making her toes curl and her fingers clench into the fabric of the couch.Y/n's moans grew louder and more frequent as the intensity of her pleasure mounted. She could feel her orgasm building, a volcano threatening to erupt from deep within her core. She bucked her hips, trying to grind herself against his face, desperate for that final push that would send her spiraling over the edge.And then it hit her—a climax so powerful that it felt like a supernova exploding inside her. Her body convulsed, her muscles tightening around his head as she screamed out her safe word, "lemon," at the top of her lungs. He immediately pulled back, his face glistening with her juices, a smug grin playing on his lips as he looked up at her.

Recom lopez: Lopez chuckled, his eyes never leaving hers as he stroked her smooth inner thigh. "I could do this all day," he murmured, his thumb brushing against the damp fabric covering her pussy. The heat from her body was palpable, and he felt his own pulse quicken in response.Her legs fell open with a gentle sigh, revealing the dark patch of her underwear. Lopez leaned in, his breath hot against her skin, and y/n's hips twitched in anticipation. With a devilish smirk, he hooked his finger under the elastic and pulled it aside, exposing her glistening folds.He took his time, exploring her with the pad of his thumb, tracing lazy circles around her clit. He watched her face, the way her eyes fluttered closed and her mouth parted, a silent invocation to the heavens above. His other hand caressed her stomach, the muscles tightening and releasing in time with her breaths.The first orgasm hit her like a sneak attack, a sudden wave of pleasure that made her back arch and her nails dig into the bedsheets. Lopez felt a thrill of satisfaction, his own arousal growing as he watched her come apart for him. He didn't stop, though, continuing his ministrations, eager to feel her climb the peak again.Her breathing grew ragged, her hips moving in rhythm with his touch. Y/n was a maelstrom of sensation, a whirlwind of need that spun faster and tighter with every pass of his thumb. The second time was harder, her muscles clenching around his finger as she whispered his name like a prayer. He felt the tremors in her body, the way she tried to hold back, but the dam had been breached. He pushed a finger inside her, feeling her warmth and wetness envelop him, and Y/n's eyes fly open. Her teeth clenched, and she gasped, her hand reaching down to grip his wrist."Orange," she screamed.Lopez's eyes snapped to hers, the smirk on his face replaced by a look of concern. He immediately ceased his movements, his hand hovering over her. "You okay?" he asked, his voice thick with desire and a hint of worry. Y/n's chest heaved, her eyes searching his for reassurance. "Yeah," she managed to breathe out, her body still quaking from the intensity of her climax. "I just... I needed a second."

Recom ja: "You're so beautiful, y/n," Ja murmured, the air had anticipation as they lay together on the bed, a pattern of shadows playing across their skin.Her heart raced as she felt the head of his massive cock pressing against her tight anus. Ja pushed forward, the tip of his cock stretching her open. Y/n gritted her teeth, her eyes widening as she felt the intense pressure building. His girth was more than she'd ever taken before, and she could feel every inch of him as he slid deeper into her.Ja's self-control wavered as the sensation of her tightness enveloped him, the heat of her body threatening to overwhelm his senses. He'd never felt anything so good. With a groan that echoed through the room, he lost control and began to pound into her, his hips driving his cock in and out with a ferocity that surprised even him.But as the pleasure built to unbearable heights, Y/n's eyes grew wide with pain. Her body tensed, and she let out a blood-curdling scream. "Cake! Cake! Cake!"Ja froze, his cock buried deep inside her, his eyes snapping to hers in alarm. He recognized the safe word immediately, his heart plummeting at the thought that he'd hurt her. He gently pulled out, his eyes never leaving hers.

Recom brown: her eyes squeezed shut, her back arched in ecstasy. She hadn't heard Brown come in. She looked up at him, her cheeks flushing a deep shade of crimson.He took a step closer, his eyes darkening as they scanned the array of sex toys scattered around her. He knew she had them, of course; they had played with them together countless times. But this was different. Brown reached out and took the vibrator from her trembling hand. He turned it off, the sudden silence echoing through the room. He studied it, his expression unreadable.Y/n swallowed hard, her heart racing. She felt a strange mix of embarrassment and arousal. She had been caught in the act, but she also knew that Brown was as kinky. He had a penchant for pushing her boundaries, for making her beg for release. He had done it before, and she had loved it every time.Brown's gaze lingered on the sex toys, his mind racing. Without a word, he took a step closer and slapped her pussy with the flat of his hand. The sound was sharp, echoing in the quiet room.Y/n gasped, her body jolting at the sudden sting. He slapped her again, harder this time, watching as her lips parted and her breath hitched. Her cheeks were now a brilliant shade of red.Brown dropped the vibrator and reached for the largest dildo on the bed. It was a deep shade of purple and glistened with the remnants of her lube. He didn't bother with asking if she was ready; he knew she was. He slammed it into her, making her cry out. She was wet, so wet that the toy sank in easily, filling her up to the hilt. He began to pump it in and out, his rhythm relentless, his eyes never leaving hers. He watched as she bit her bottom lip, her eyes rolling back in her head.He switched to a smaller vibrator, turning it to the highest setting. He traced it along her clit, teasing her, bringing her to the brink of orgasm before pulling it away. She whimpered, her body writhing with need. He smirked, enjoying the power he had over her. "You're going to come for me," he murmured, his voice low and commanding. "But not yet."Her breath came in ragged gasps, her chest heaving with each thrust of the dildo. Brown watched her reactions closely, reading her body language like a seasoned conductor leading an orchestra.The smaller vibrator danced around her clit, the intense vibrations causing her to buck her hips. He knew she was close, could see it in the way her toes curled and her knuckles turned white as she gripped the bedsheets. But he didn't let up, his movements deliberate and precise, she'd let out a little scream, her body arching off the bed. He watched her with a mix of hunger and satisfaction, "Cum for me, y/n," he ordered, his voice thick with desire. "I want to hear you scream."Her eyes snapped open, meeting his, and she did as she was told. The orgasm ripped through her, a tornado of pleasure that left her trembling and gasping for air. She screamed his name, her back bowing off the bed, her body a tapestry of sensation. The vibrator didn't stop, though, nor did the dildo. Brown was relentless, pushing her past the point of pleasure into a realm of pain and ecstasy that she had never experienced before.But then, something changed. The pleasure morphed into something else—a panic, a fear. Her breath caught in her throat, and she whimpered the safe word that they had agreed upon. "Lost," she whispered, the word barely audible over the buzzing of the toys.Brown's movements stilled immediately, his eyes snapping to hers. The smirk on his face vanished, replaced by concern. Carefully, he removed the dildo and set the vibrator aside. He climbed onto the bed, his hands gentle as they cradled her face. "Y/n, are you okay?"Her eyes searched his, a mix of fear and confusion swirling in the depths of her pupils. "I-I don't know," she managed to say, her voice a tremulous whisper. "It was just too much."

Recom fike: In the dimly lit room, Fike's muscular frame hovered over the small, fiery form of his girlfriend, Y/n. Her eyes, a piercing shade of green, locked onto his, filled with a mix of passion and trepidation. The air had the scent of their desire, the gentle rustling of their bodies the only sound that broke the silence. His hand, calloused from years of manual labor, wrapped around her slender neck with a gentle but firm grip. It was a silent declaration of his love for her, a love that thrived on the edge of pain and pleasure.Their bodies moved in a frenzied dance, a dance that was raw and unrehearsed. Each thrust was a declaration of need, a demand for more. The bed beneath them creaked under the weight of their passion, the worn springs protesting with every collision of their hips. Her nails dug into his back, leaving a trail of fire that only served to fuel his hunger. Her gasps for air grew more desperate, her body arching and writhing beneath his. The choking was a part of their ritual, a twisted symphony of breathlessness that brought them closer to the precipice of climax. The base of his cock, now glistening with a creamy ring of cum, was a stark contrast against the flushed pink of her pussy. It was a sight that could have been plucked straight from the most intense porn scene, but the reality was far more intimate, far more personal. This was their love, their secret, and they reveled in it. The way she looked at him, the way she bit her lip to muffle her cries, it was a silent plea for him to push her further, to show her just how much he craved her.But in that moment, as he felt the beginnings of his own orgasm coil tightly in his balls, he made a mistake. He tightened his grip around her throat, not quite understanding the delicate balance of power that they had established. The gasp that she usually made was replaced by a wheeze, a sound that didn't quite match the symphony of pleasure that usually accompanied their lovemaking. Her eyes grew wide, and for a brief second, he saw fear in them. It was a stark reminder that their kink had boundaries, that there was a fine line between the rush of erotic asphyxiation and actual danger. Her safe word, "chocolate," barely escaped her lips, a desperate little sound that pierced the haze of passion. He immediately released her, his heart pounding in his chest. He had gone too far. The air in the room grew thick with tension, the silence now a stark contrast to the chaos of moments before.

Recom Zhang: Oh, baby, not too tight," y/n panted, her wrists bound to the bedpost with a crimson ribbon that matched the passion in her eyes. Zhang's strong hands adjusted the knot, ensuring it was snug but not painful. Zhang leaned in, his breath hot against her neck as he whispered, "Trust me, it's going to be amazing." He kissed her collarbone, his teeth grazing her sensitive skin. He slid down the bed, his gaze locked on the prize between her legs. The sight of her bare, glistening pussy made his heart race and his cock throb. Zhang's tongue darted out, tracing the delicate line of her pussy. The sweetness of her arousal filled the air, intoxicating him. He licked and kissed her inner thighs, savoring the taste of her skin. He could feel the heat of her desire radiating from her core. Y/n squirmed, her eyes rolling back in her head as she moaned his name. He took his time, teasing her clit with the tip of his tongue, swirling and flicking it with expert precision. He knew her body like a map, every inch of her a treasure to be explored. He felt her legs tense, her breath hitching in her throat. Zhang took a deep breath and plunged his tongue inside her, the warm wetness enveloping him. Y/n's moans grew louder, her hips rising to meet his mouth. He lapped at her, drinking her in, the sound of his own saliva mixing with her juices echoing in the quiet room.Suddenly, he stopped, leaving her trembling on the edge. He stood up, a smug smile playing on his lips as he untied the ribbon from her wrists. Y/n looked at him, confused and desperate for more. He took her by the hips and gently turned her over, positioning her on all fours. Zhang retrieved a length of shiny, black rope from the drawer of the nightstand. He began to tie her wrists behind her back, the rope biting into her skin just enough to remind her of her vulnerability.He didn't keep her waiting long. His cock, thick and hard, pressed against her wet entrance. He pushed in, slow at first, feeling her tighten around him. Y/n gasped, her eyes widening as she took in the sensation of being filled so completely. He watched the rope indent her skin as she struggled against it, her breasts bouncing with every shallow thrust. Her moans grew louder, more desperate, as he began to pound into her with increasing force.The headboard knocked against the wall in a steady rhythm, setting the room alight with the sound of passionate slaps. He was relentless, his hips moving like a piston, driving in and out of her with a primal urgency. He knew she was close, could feel her inner walls fluttering around his cock. He reached around, his hand finding her clit, and began to rub it in time with his thrusts. Y/n's scream was muffled by the pillow she'd bitten into, her body shaking violently as the fifth climax tore through her. Her pussy clamped down on him, pulsing as she rode the waves of pleasure. She could feel her legs giving out, but the rope held her in place, allowing zhang to continue his relentless assault. He groaned, feeling her tighten around him, her orgasm setting off his own.With a groan, he came, filling her with his hot seed. The sensation sent her over the edge once more, her body convulsing in a sixth orgasm. She collapsed onto the bed, her limbs limp and trembling. Zhang withdrew, his cock glistening with their combined juices. He untied the rope, his hands gentle as he massaged the red marks it had left on her skin."Snoop," she finally gasped, the safe word slipping out in a breathless whisper. It was their signal that she had reached her limit, that she needed a break from the intensit. He knew the rules of their games, and he respected them without question.

[wwworldwidewebzy]

Guh i need to make a lyle spec bio thingy. Soon. So im just gonna write down random bullshit ok

Ok first things first this fucker's legs are DEFINITELY uncoordinated as shit. Way too many. Or actually no its not that he has too much its just that theyre located fucking everywhere. Like??? If you took a children's drawing of a spider and translated that onto a real living creature. definitely walks like a wobbledog.

Has an exoskeleton AND an endoskeleton! The endoskeleton's still human, too. (this goes for all curseds) (not the uh endoskeleton part. i mean unless theyre also bugs but)

Semi translucent, veryyy viscous blood. Its yellowish and acidic to the touch. Not enough to cause anything bad but still

He has some fluff ok. Ik it. What if he sheds and gets fluffier during the winter ehh? Ehhh?????

Upper mouth leads to an bichambered reservoir (really shitty otherwise nonfunctional lung) for storage/protection, Lower maw in charge of actually disgesting and processing food.

Main camera used to be his face, still mentally considers it to be. Maybe

Cant climb on walls unfortunately 💔 way too big and fat and. Lyle too

Not really spec bio but all of his lenses go opaque when hes flustered like an anime character WHATEVER

I have more that im probably gonna write. Later!!! La la la la la weeee

[liesandspookyfairytales]

Cutesie little things they do for you

Pairing: Poly!recoms x Recom!reader

Word count: 875

A/N: Just a little something something for @raving-raven-writing's birthday, so here's my (belated) birthday gift to you! I hope you have a lovely birthday next year and I can't wait for your next awesome writings!

🌍 Recom Miles Quaritch If your shoelaces are loose or undone, he’ll tie them for you. That’s it, that’s the headcanon.

No but seriously, imagine this man crouching down in front of you, putting your foot on his thigh and tying your shoelaces. Or even better, after a long day, he’ll take off your shoes and massage the painful spots 😫🤤

😈 Recom Lyle Wainfleet He hates it when you’re sad. So if he sees your sad face, he’ll do one of two things. 1: he’ll make the corniest, most horrible jokes to make you laugh. Or 2 (this is his standard go to when you’re crying): he’ll cup your face between his hands and starts kissing your face everywhere. Not a single spot goes unkissed. And he’ll continue kissing your face until you’re laughing, even if it takes all day.

🍬 Recom Z-dog Z-dog has asked you many times to design/draw tattoos for her. Even if you have the artskill of a 3 year old who’s been left alone with several markers and a giant white wall, she’ll get them tattooed. If you have several tattoos, she’ll design one for you too. If you don’t like tattoos because of the needles, she’ll still design one and print (?) them out as those temporary ones. It's her way to make sure that you carry a piece of her with you (and to claim you as hers, but she's not gonna tell you that).

🥽 Recom Walker I headcanon that human Walker was (and still is in her heart) a woman of color. She used to help her mama with braiding at her mama’s shop and knows how to do all kinds of braids. So when she’s bored, she tells you to sit in front of her and she’ll braid the most complicated things in your hair. She has special products to use and everything she might need. You’re her only victim (muse) because you’re the only one with long hair, since she can’t really do anything with Z-dogs short mohawk (she tried, Z-dog looked ridiculous and she made Walker swear to never tell anyone, but Walker has pictures to blackmail Z-dog when needed).

😎 Recom Mansk Mansk always has a spare pair of sunglasses with him. If he sees you squint in the sunlight (Idk if Na’vi eyes work the same as human eyes, but just pretend they do), he’ll magically appear behind you and puts his spare sunglasses on your nose. If they are too big for you, he’ll order and carry a pair of the exact same ones that he has in your size.

🧯 Recom Prager We all know that dying as a human and waking up as a Na’vi is difficult. The memories of your past life, the life that you can never return to, sometimes give you nightmares. When Prager sees that you’re having a nightmare, he’ll run his finger over the bridge of your nose, careful to not wake you up. It’s really soothing and often calms you down. When you’re awake the next day, he’ll be expecting a kiss as a thank you tho.

⚕️ Recom Ja Ja always carries snacks for you (for the others too, but only if they really need it). You can just reach into one of his pockets for a snack anytime you want. He carries all your favorites, if one of the other Recoms is close to fainting and they need something to eat, they get what they get. If they don’t like it, too bad.

🧢 Recom Brown He celebrates everything in your relationship. He celebrates the first time you two met, the first time you two talked, the first time you two kissed, the first time you two hugged, literally everything. He even knows how long you’ve been together to the second. And he has gifts for every celebration. Those gifts are like the little things.

Imagine that there is a mall/store(s) on Pandora (accessible for recoms/Na’vi as well). If he sees you look at something, he’ll secretly buy it for you as a gift for those celebrations. Also, he’s definitely the type to do those trends where the guy buys everything his s/o has in her online shopping cart/wish list.

📿 Recom Lopez I’m pretty sure that we all headcanon that Lopez carries extra medical supplies for Ja. So I think that he carries extra mags and whatever you might need when you’re on a mission. You forgot something? Don’t worry, he knows how you sometimes forget things. You have run out of something? Don’t worry, Lopez has some extra because he knows that you can’t live without it. Sometimes he’ll prank you with it too. Imagine you’re looking for something. You’ve looked in every single one of your pockets, both of your clothes and of your vest, your pack, literally everything. So now you’re just going through everyones stuff. Suddenly Lopez has the exact thing in his hands. He swears it was in your vest the whole time, but you’re 100% sure it wasn't.

⛓️ Recom Fike So we all know that I headcanon that Fike is an anxious boy. When he’s stressed or when you’re stressed (and the situation allows it) he’ll hold your pinkie with his own. It’s not a huge gesture or something sappy (except it totally is), just a reminder that he’s there and that you’re not alone.

[puddle-nerd]

Use Me

Summary: The funny thing was that had you been asked an hour ago if you’d ever thought you’d be in this situation, you’d have said no. (Recombinant Lyle/Human Female Reader)

Prompt #6 (Thigh Fucking) for Avatar12DaysofKinkmas2023.

Story Tags: No use of Y/N, Thigh Riding, Female Reader, Interspecies Sex, In Public, Size Difference

Added Update: The lovely artwork I used in my banner (I found it on Pinterest) belongs to @thevanityofthefox 🤍🩵💙💜❤️ Thank you for such wonderful depictions of Lyle

AO3 Link

Your naked body was situated upon his clothed lap, your hands cupping the back of his bare neck and your lips sealed to his as his tongue danced with yours. His large, blue hands were gripping the curve of your buttocks firmly, moving you leisurely back and forth over his thigh as he wanted, listening to you whimper and moan from the stimulation of rubbing your bare cunt over the rough material of his workout trousers stretched taught over his muscular thigh. Lyle pulled back with a chuckle and then bounced his leg, making you release a whine before you shuddered in pleasure.

The funny thing was that had you been asked an hour ago if you’d ever thought you’d be in this situation, you’d have said no.

You were a human soldier working for the RDA and had been off duty so you’d decided to go to the gym to make sure you didn’t allow yourself to go soft, what with the lower gravity, if you ever got rotated back to Earth (you hoped you didn’t because there really wasn’t anything back there for you). Wearing a tank top over your sports bra and some knee-length leggings in your favorite color, you’d gone for using the human-sized treadmill first to warm yourself up, blasting your music in your headphones to get yourself pumped up.

Across the way, on the more Na’vi/Avatar-sized side of the gym, was one of the recombinants – Lyle… Wainfleet, you thought his name was; like you’d come to know of his routine, he was lifting weights and he was shirtless, letting all those lean blue muscles of his torso and abdominals out on display, shimmering with a light sheen of sweat. Normally, it took a lot more to get you hot and bothered but there was just… something… about this particular recombinant that just did it for more easily than any human man had attracted you ever before. Maybe it was that humorous smirk he always seemed to wear when you saw him and the jokes, he always seemed to rattle off that had you fighting off a smile. Maybe it was seeing all those beautiful stripes, especially all over his scalp leaving his braided neural queue as a striking focal point amongst all that built sapphire muscle or the several tattoos decorating his skin. Either way, you always found your eyes drawing towards him whenever he was around.

And if the sudden current grin adorning his lips was anything to go by, he knew you were staring right now, too.

Until he looked up at you and stuck his tongue out, bracketing it with his index and middle fingers suggestively.

You stumbled upon the treadmill, ducking your face away from him as you cunt clenched in want and quickly spread your feet to stand on the side rails before you made an idiot of yourself and faceplanted on the machine and possibly bloody up your face. You cringed at your slight blunder and decided to try to slink away, turning off the treadmill as quickly as it would let you.

Only to nearly run into a blue wall of muscle.

You quickly took out your earbuds, craning your neck to see Lyle peering down at you with a wide smile. He laughed, “Aw, don’t hide yourself, baby. I like it when you stare at me. Makes me feel all tingly.”

You flushed and shook your head in amusement. “Sure you don’t need a medic for that?” you shot back teasingly, stepping around his body with a full body shiver as you noticed his hip bones peeking out at you from the waist of his trousers. You licked your lips, eyes lifting back up to his golden gaze as you added jokingly, “Might wanna get checked for a rash or oozing or something.” Only to yelp as his tail swatted at your backside in retaliation. “Excuse you, sir.” Lyle groaned, “Yeah, that does it for me, doll. C’mere.” You squeaked as Lyle scooped you up into his arms before he sat on a nearby bench, depositing you onto his lap, your legs straddling his thighs. You bit down on your lower lip and grinned up at him, enjoying the feel of his huge hands settling upon your hips rather possessively.

“Hi,” you murmured.

“Hi, baby,” Lyle replied, wiggling his eyebrows. “So… I don’t know if you realize this but I am really into you. Want to help me break my new in?” You raised your brows at his offer and bit down on your lower lip harder before you replied, “So, uh… I’m interested in this offer but, uh, it’s been a while. Before you fuck me, you’re gonna have to prep and stretch me first before I’ll be able to take something at least twice the size of a human.” He hissed as you palmed the front of his sweat pants, feeling his cock hardening in anticipation. “Think you’re up to the challenge, sir?”

The recombinant smirked, replying enthusiastically, “Yes, ma’am. Thank you, ma’am.” Lyle quickly lifted you off his lap like you were nothing more than the weight of a feather – and he was almost twice your size so maybe you were comparable to a feather to his strong muscles – and stripped you eagerly, right there in the middle of the gym before laying you down onto one of the benches and lifting your legs to rest upon one of his shoulders so he could kneel in front of you. Quickly sliding his sweat pants down, he pulled out his hard cock and stroked himself as he took in your naked body with a beaming grin. “God, you’re so fucking hot,” he purred, his tail and ears twitching in building arousal. He quickly bent down and kissed you hungrily, gripping your backside and sliding his cock between your thighs. You reached out and cupped the back of his tattooed neck as your tongue battled his, moaning as he squeezed your ass and thrust his length up against your sopping entrance to increase your excitement. “Fuck, baby. You’re getting so wet for me, ain’t ya?”

You nodded, your breath coming in stuttered gasps as you begged, “Yes. Oh… god… Feels so good. More, please.”

Lyle bit down lightly on your shoulder and moved faster between your squished thighs. “Yeah, baby,” he grunted against your skin. “Keep moving… just like that. Make a mess all over me when you cum.” You shivered and whined, speeding up your movements as the coil in your belly tightened. “That’s it,” Lyle purred, his tail wrapping around your calf, his fingers digging into your ass. “That’s my girl. Cum for me baby. I want you to soak my pants.”

In retaliation, you reached out and tugged on his neural queue when it dropped over his shoulder, making him cry out and grind up against your clit harder, cum splashing over your belly and tits in glowing blue goop. “Fuck, Lyle,” you whined, your slick trickling out of your cunt as you hit your peak, saturating his cock and his clothing.

The recombinant laughed breathlessly.

“Damn, baby, I feel like a virgin again,” he joked.

You met his grin with your own replying, “I mean… technically you kinda are. Wanna go change that?”

𖥸 · ─────── · 𖥸 · ─────── · 𖥸

Originally Posted: 19 December 2023 Word Count: 1,212

AO3 Link

[triscribeaucollection]

Hole in the Wall, Part 1

Lyle never needed to wonder ‘how did it come to this’. He could point back to the exact date and time of day, when the door of his small bar swung open, and all conversation between the handful of patrons died a sudden death.

Kid Flash, either bold as brass or too dumb to notice, walked right inside with his bright yellow costume and little red boots. To make matters worse, he dragged along a second, even smaller kid - though at least the boy with a cape seemed to have the good sense to look rightly alarmed. Most of the guys inside wore regular clothes, but off in one corner, Heatwave and Mirror Master were decked out in full gear, weapons obvious on the table between them, both men just as obviously staring at the two pipsqueaks with baffled suspicion.

Didn’t matter to the Kid, though. He came straight up to the bar’s counter dragging his buddy, and put on exactly the sort of great big grin Lyle’s nieces used when they were trying real hard to politely ask if they could break a rule. “Hi! Can we use your phone real quick?”

Lyle blinked. So did half his patrons. “...the phone.”

“Mmhm!” Kid Flash nodded towards the old landline Lyle kept up on the wall. “Our comms kinda got fried and Flash isn’t around, so-”

“KF,” his little friend hissed, casting a quick glance at the nearest guys, who made no effort to disguise how they were glaring right back.

“What? Dude, it’s fine-”

Getting over his shock, Lyle thumped a hand down onto the bar to draw their attention. “Phone’s only for paying customers.” Saying that, he cast a glare of his own around the room, saw how it immediately made most of the patrons ease back down. 

Kid Flash winced, turning an apologetic expression on his friend. The smaller boy sighed and grumbled something under his breath, but nonetheless pulled a crisp twenty dollar bill from one of his belt’s little pouches. “Do you have any soda?”

Lyle grabbed them a couple of root beers.

“Thanks. Keep the change.”

And with that, the boys became patrons themselves, and thankfully everybody else inside the bar understood Lyle’s biggest, firmest, ‘broken under no circumstances’ rule: no picking fights with other customers. Now, if someone came in to cause a scene, they either ignored Lyle or he flat refused to serve them, which lit the green light for the rest of the room to ‘escort’ the troublemaker to the door. But once money and drinks changed hands, that was that, everybody enjoyed their beverages in peace Or Else.

In the back corner, Mirror Master and Heatwave scooted their weaponry out of sight, but otherwise went back to sipping and swapping complaints like nothing happened. And slowly, the rest of the bar followed suit.

Kid Flash chugged down his root beer in five seconds flat, before letting out a belch that wasn’t half bad for a middle schooler. “Okay! Can I please use the phone now?”

Lyle tipped one shoulder up in a shrug. He stayed put as the Kid came around the far end of the counter, one eye on the smaller boy still fiddling with his own bottle. “Don’t have bars like this where you’re from, huh?”

“Oh, sure. But I’d get shot full of holes in ten seconds if I tried walking into one,” boy replied flatly. “Or grabbed and tossed into a box until Batman showed up.”

That gave Lyle pause. “You’re the Bat’s kid?”

The child who couldn’t have been more than ten, maybe twelve years old at a stretch, lifted one hand to wiggle his fingers in a wave. “Yep. Robin, nice to meet you.”

What the actual hell.

Following that new train of thought got derailed, though, as Kid Flash’s phone call went through. “Hey, it’s me! Look, I know you guys thought me and D- uh, Robin- were just gonna go do some normal stuff, but we kinda interrupted a bank robbery-” Ah, that was the job Miggen was talking about the day before, “-and we’re fine! But there might have been an EMP emitter around that went off, and our comms kinda aren’t working, and since I can’t carry Rob back and he doesn’t want us to just take a bus in our costumes-”

By this point Robin had dropped his head onto the counter, both hands still gripping his bottle of root beer. Age him up a bit and swap the drink for a beer, Lyle thought he’d fit right in with the usual I’m surrounded by idiots patrons who came in to groan about friends and co-workers at the end of a long week.

“-no, we left the backpack with our regular clothes on the other side of the bridge,” Kid Flash went on. “Well, yeah, I could, but- look, Rob is from Gotham, if I left him alone for ten minutes there’s no telling what would be on fire when I came back.”

“Hey!”

Lyle almost snickered at the insulted expression on Robin’s face when he picked his head back up. A couple of other patrons also listening in did snicker, which just made the boy’s expression twist up even further.

“...where are we? Uh. So- do you, uh, remember that place Flash mentioned? The hole in the wall bar all the Rogues like to hang out at...?” Kid Flash abruptly pulled the phone away from his ear, wincing, and even from three steps away Lyle could hear a very loud voice on the other end.

“You are so dead,” Robin remarked.

“Shut up,” the Kid hissed back, before returning to his call. “I know, I know, but Rob bought us root beers and customers aren’t allowed to fight so it’s fine, we just- oh no. No, wait, you don’t need to-!” Lyle raised an eyebrow at the boy’s sudden panic. And understood it perfectly a moment later, when Kid Flash slumped in place and said in a very small voice, “Uh, hi Mom.”

Several more patrons in the bar snickered, or choked on their drinks, or otherwise looked like Christmas just came early. Robin’s head dropped back down onto the countertop.

“No. Yeah. Yes- I know that, but- yes, ma’am.” From what little of it Lyle could see, the Kid’s face appeared to be turning an even brighter shade of red than the color of his boots. “But I did do my homework!”

In the corner, Heatwave let out a startled bark of laughter, and Mirror Master went ahead and turned in his seat in order to watch the scene with a wide grin.

“That’s not due until next week!” Kid Flash continued to protest. “And it was on my desk, how did- you didn’t need to do that, I would have brought dishes down tonight!” The next pause dragged on, until the boy abruptly burst out, “Three WEEKS?!”

“I should’ve gone to bother Speedy instead,” Robin mumbled into the counter.

---

When I need a break from Inflicting Awful Things on my favorite boys in other fan fic stories, I of course turn around to instead Inflict Awful Things, Humor and Embarrassment Edition xD

[isbruniii]

◇ Reunion ◇

Jumpscaring you with very-happy Lyle :D

Why are his pants white out of the sudden ? Just wanted to test if it improves his color pallete. Wich I am not sure off right now.

(I think I messed his gloves up again oops)

Enyway I've made some sketches with them at school today but I really really liked this one in particular, so I've remade it to digital :) Dw I am still working on other stuff I just have to make something happy and silly inbeetwen so I don't die. The Heather piece I am curently working on is pretty big and I don't know exactly how fast I can finish it. Don't want to force myself either because I hate grinding. I have some other posible art ideeas again but I am just trying to stay alive till vacation comes. I'm trying to bring myself back to optimism k ?

Well, about them. They are meeting at Russet's place. Its one thing to see each other kinda just in passing from time to time with Lyle just trying to cover his.... ehem betrayal up.... and a diferent thing to actually spend time togheter for no other reason than enjoying each other's company. Of course Lyle is kinda thin on free time so those occasions are pretty rare. But it just makes the time more special, in a way. Russet's just happy his dork is well and good(well tired and probably burying a lot of emotions down but he is fineee thats what he says ) and Lyle is just happy, maybe deep down, he has an excuse to not spend another night alone with himself. Because thats what he'd do with his free time usually. Like find him a better person to spend time with. Every time he sees Russet the worries leave his head for one moment and its about- him and how to make him happy and isn't it wonderfull someone as wretched as him is even just allowed near Russet ? And Russet wants him ? Maybe the world really is just trying to be ridicolous. But it dosn't matter. Theres someone out there who really, after all, can't posibly turn out to secretly be bad too, right ? And he needs all the love adoration for it

Also I was thinking abt ship names earlier, wich I am not good at usually 😔 For such a long time I've called them "Lysset " and it sounds bad but what if we called them GardenLetters haha. I think its cute.

One last thing. I was thinking of actually just writing stuff. Like actual scenes. Maybe making a drawing and adding the scene it takes place in or vice versa sometimes. Just... stuff. I guess. Idk making promises isn't a good thing with me. So we'll just see.

[zephyrine-gale]

hi! i took a long break from tumblr and im back and i still love your art sm and the colors aaaa goals! im glad someone else out there has honkai brainrot (affectionate) like i do, mihoyo continues to supply us with the gay people and every time im like look! theyre like me but cooler! god when will they drop apho3 im begging but them dropping oaths in the concert was legendary + hi3 seele and hsr seele my beloved <3 dsjghd anyway i hope youre doing well!

thank you so much!! I hope you're doing well too, im always having honkai brain rot, seele's arc has been so good i love her sm

cant wait for apho3 i need to see my boys again they mean everything to me (and lyle's concept art!!! art book 2 pls deliver... I'll draw u as many lyles as u want mihoyo)

[ophelialark]

A Symphony of Mischief

In her world, a wizard's soul can sing its truths. Aila Lestrange finds herself thrust into a world of magic and mystery, where echoes of music reveal more than words ever could. Navigating this new life of magic is even trickier when a platinum-haired Slytherin boy and two redheaded mischief-makers keep pulling at her heart, and her secrets, in different directions.

WARNING: This fiction talks about the physical and emotional abuse of the OC as a child.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/66076390/chapters/170280307

PROLOGUE

I have always been slightly different. Ever since I can remember, I have heard music from some individuals. I thought it was normal until I mentioned it to my parent one time. 

Maybe I was five at most, but the consequences taught me to never speak of it again. Growing up in a no-name town, in a seemingly ass-backward state, it was unwise to highlight these disturbing differences.

My childhood was not out of the ordinary. I went to school, had some friends, and had some bullies. I tried to lay low and keep my nose clean to avoid getting belted. 

It’s how you survive when you feel a little off balance. Don’t draw attention was the number one rule. It wasn’t until the summer of ‘87 that my world changed. 

If it were for the better, it has yet to be determined. 

One sweltering June morning just after my 9th birthday, I awoke with a thick layer of gunk sealing my eyes shut. Recognizing this from the previous winter, it was probably pink eye. 

The remedy was a warm compress to loosen the crusty, sticky discharge. Thankfully, the route to the bathroom was one I knew by heart, there was no need to see where I was going. 

It was too early for my Mom to be up, and Dad was probably off to work already, not that they would be much help. 

Once I loosened the layer clinging to my eyelashes with a damp cloth, I could see the yellow junk, confirming my suspicions. It wasn’t until I looked into the mirror that fear held me in place.

"It was not pink eye."

My eyes were no longer their usual dull brown. Instead, a pair of dark lilac-colored eyes looked back at me. I leaned over the sink, splashing warm water on my face, rubbing my eyes until they hurt, but they were still that same haunting lilac color. 

I let out a scream, and within moments, my mother stumbled out of bed. The metallic snap of her lighter could be heard as she lit her Newport. 

“What the hell is wrong?” she asked, standing in the doorway as the cigarette hung loosely between her lips, smoke billowing. The acrid smell was nauseating. 

My head was in my hands, sobbing, afraid of what might happen when I looked at her. 

She sighed loudly, “Shit, you got your period… pads are under the sink,” she mumbled as she turned away assuming her job was done.

“No, Mom, that’s not it.” She stopped. “Well, what the fuck are you screaming about at 9 a.m.?” 

I turned, looking at her with apprehension.

“Fuck!” she said simply. She took a long drag of the cigarette. “Fuck, fuck FUCK!” was all she yelled. She turned on her heels and went straight to her room. 

I was petrified. She would emerge from her room with the leather belt ready to teach me a lesson.  Instead, I heard the receiver being lifted. Her voice was laced with annoyance. 

“It's starting.” 

“Yes, I am sure, Lyle.”

“Her eyes are fucking purple.”

“No, you call the Ministry.”

“I don’t care if you're busy at work, this was your dumbass idea.”

“Oh fuck off and tell them to send something to cover her eyes.”

“NO, people don’t have purple eyes.”

The phone slammed down, making me jump. Her footsteps thudded toward the bathroom. 

My head raised as she approached, and she looked back at me with a sneer. “Creepy.” She tilted her head, studying me. Another cigarette sparked to life between her fingers.

“Look, don’t bother asking. I have no fucking clue what’s wrong with you, I’ll make some calls to see if I can get you into a doctor or something.” 

She lied. 

That entire week was spent locked up in the house until one day, Dad came home with a small blue box. He tossed it to me, “Go, you put ‘em in your eyes.” Then he walked to the fridge to grab a beer. 

That was my first experience with contact lenses. It took about twenty minutes to figure out exactly what I was looking at, and almost double that time to put them in. 

My eyes were never spoken of again. 

Four years had passed, and my eyes were still that eerie lilac color. Things didn’t get better either. I was struggling in school. I couldn’t keep my grades, and I couldn’t keep friends. 

I also couldn’t manage to stay out of trouble with my parents. They weren’t well-educated people, but they loved me in their own harsh way. 

They became far more evasive and cruel to me after my eyes changed. Something was happening, but I couldn’t pin down what. All I knew was that I felt more out of place than ever. 

In June of ‘92, I had just turned 13 when my parents told me we were traveling to Boston. They gave me a large suitcase and told me to pack it. 

I looked at the size of the suitcase and had my suspicions, so everything I absolutely couldn’t live without was packed.

Living down east, as the locals call it, not many people had a melody. When I did encounter people who seemed to have music emanating from them, they were often older and weird.  

When we arrived at the airport in Boston, the number of melodies was plentiful, which fueled my curiosity. 

Over the years, I learned not to ask questions; the proof was carved across my back.

When my father grabbed my suitcase from the trunk and left it on the curb, I followed him obediently. Neither of them had luggage. 

My fear escalated; they were not coming with me. What was happening? It was clear they were sending me somewhere, but where?

I racked my brain trying to find clues about what I did or where I was going, but I came up empty.

As we moved through the airport, the blend of voices, instruments, sounds, and faint whispers was disorienting. A stout woman with a cane sounded like a deep cello when she waddled past me. Another gentleman, in a pinstriped suit, sounded like cymbals clashing together. 

Wading through the crowd in the terminal, I started feeling jumpy every time music passed by me. My nerves were fraying. 

We stopped in front of a tall, sharply dressed man with a fedora neatly placed on his head. He also had a melody, like finely tuned string instruments. I stared at him, trying to discern what made him different. I saw nothing outside of his unusually formal manner of dress. 

My mother punched my arm, “Quit staring, idiot.” If the man in the hat noticed, he didn’t let on. 

My parents talked to him in hushed tones, the hat man periodically looking my way. His face showed no emotion. 

Even though they were right next to me, the noise was too much, and I couldn’t focus on their words.

My mind raced through what was happening, and it felt like they spoke forever, my parents' demeanor shifting from self-righteous to downright insulted. They were embarrassing. 

While staring at my shoelaces, trying to calm myself, I heard the most disturbing noise. It wasn’t music or common crowd noise; it reminded me of the white noise from television after broadcast hours, but there was something wet about it. 

Immediately, my eyes darted around looking for the source. The man speaking with my parents drew his attention to me and looked in the direction I was looking. 

There was a shadow of something—like a floating grim reaper. No wonder my parents were getting rid of me; I was going crazy.

The hat man grabbed my arm and started walking quickly. No further concern was directed toward my parents. 

When he touched me, I could focus a little better. “We must go quickly!”

I didn’t have time to look back at my parents. I was never going to see them again. The most shocking thing about my revelation? The idea brought me a sense of real peace.

[naavispider]

What would Spider's life have been like if Lyle had been given custody of him after Quaritch was locked up in the Cat in the Cradle ?

That's a super interesting thought, and it probably deserves its own oneshot. If Lyle had raised Spider since he was a kid, things would have been a lot different. First and foremost, Spider would have grown up believing his father was innocent. He probably would write to Quaritch and visit him often in prison (unless the judge forbade it). If he wasn't allowed any contact with his father still then I'm sure Lyle would have done a great job explaining what really happened to his dad, and Spider miss him a lot, counting down the days till he got out.

I reckon Lyle wouldn't raise Spider alone. He'd have to prove he had the means (both financially and emotionally), and I think he'd draw on RDA resources quite heavily. His best friend Z-dog would help out a lot and I really like the idea of those two co-parenting despite the fact neither is interested in the other romantically. Z-dog is a strong lesbian and Lyle (after getting custody of Spider) wouldn't be interested in chasing his own romances anymore.

Lyle would be a good uncle to Spider. I can see him sending Spider to a good private boarding school when he gets older, which Spider enjoys. When he was younger Lyle would struggle at first but eventually prove to Spider that he can give the kid what he needs. He's goofy and sympathetic, but he knows when to rein it in to be there emotionally for Spider. (On another note, I think he'd still be called Spider as a result of Lyle's jokey personality).

Quaritch would make sure that all of his funds were transferred to Lyle so that Spider never yearned for anything. They'd probably live in a semi-modest house, and Lyle would be too soft on Spider on the rare occasions Spider missed chores. Spider wouldn't get in trouble too much because he develops a close relationship with his uncle, borne out of mutual respect. If Spider ever stayed out too late though, Lyle would be super overprotective (maybe more so than Quaritch would have been) because he knows it's not his child he's looking out for. He'd be terrified to do anything wrong and so if Spider caused him to worry then Lyle would not take it well. That being said, Lyle is also Spider's biggest defender whenever the kid does something stupid at school (which is not often). He'd also play the whole 'kid misses his dad' angle at the principle and then later he and Spider would smirk at each other as they made their way out to the car.

Overall, Spider would be well rounded, respectful and happy. Lyle would be content with his life (he'd probably have given up the RDA) and not be able to imagine life if he hadn't been the one to raise Spider. Whether Spider was allowed to talk to his dad in prison or not, Lyle would keep Quaritch well informed and show him pictures of how Spider is getting on etc.

This was super interesting to think about because I'd never really considered it properly before. This is just one AU though but I'm sure there could be more angsty alternatives. I'm surprised there aren't really any fics that depict Lyle raising Spider because I'd love to read one!

[adventurefried]

Stakes Time! (1/2)

Time for Stakes! MARCELINE BUFFET YIPPIEEEEE

I actually remember having mixed feelings about this special. Going to nibble another gummy and watch the whole thing in one go!

Stakes Part 1: Marceline The Vampire Queen

Marceline is p much Bubblegum's Jake.

they were definitely already fucking again at this point but were in a "lets not call it anything" phase.

And this was the entire meaning behind this special but I take issue with it... more on that later.

I love this scene. It's like she's talking to her pet. And, when you're a being like PB, that's probably how everyone you're close to feels to you.

I just remembered one of my favorite artists, Joy Ang, got involved with Adventure Time and this miniseries around this time. I was already a fan of hers for years beforehand, so it was a nice treat (me and the AT crew's tastes are so in line this happens often actually haha). Also made me realize I haven't seen her around in a while, and looking her up she hasn't been too active since. Probably busy with motherhood or st, but I'll be looking forward to her next project!

that's kind of a fucked up joke bro

this would also be my final request only with my internet tabs

Stakes Part 2: Everything Stays

Rebecca Sugar incidentally writing her childhood existential moment into two shows will always be funny to me.

I wish non-vamp Marceline had some design differences, felt like they were too afraid to change her design for this special. I know she's still a half demon but I dunno... slight skin tone change? Different hair texture? I just wish it weren't exactly the same. The vampires all having special powers like Twilight is funny though.

this was a good look for her. i love when she has pigtails.

Marceline's transformation powers are stronger than Jake's since she can actually shapeshift. Jake can just stretch to mimic shapeshifting. I imagine how big Marceline can get is limited to her actual size though - which I think is the penis head demon form. So Jake could get bigger, that might mean his powers are stronger... sorry I'm power scaling Adventure Time lol. actually im not sure what the limits on this power are if they exist, Marceline needs her own The Limit episode haha.

While I enjoyed this episode it felt a little action heavy and less character heavy. Marceline feels buried under the plot. It's like okay the humans were scared of her - but how did she really feel about that? She didn't have much beyond a kneejerk reaction. Just felt like we should have gotten more emotion out of that moment.

but this was a cool reveal. other than the gnome guy, these guys had cool designs.

Stakes Part 3: Vamps About

Vampire King is so cool. I'm glad they brought him back in Fionna & Cake and gave him a special relationship with Marceline. It's a fun world to think about.

In reminding us of Marceline's soul-sucking skills, they remind us that she never uses it. It's a contrast I love with The Star Marceline who sucks peoples souls out before sucking their blood.

(this scene was rly hot btw Dx soul vore blood sucking all by a bratty himedere aough ouhg aouwhh my benis)

This will get long so the rest under the cut!

Oof. This is a loaded scene. Feels heavy on the innuendo. A deflowering of sorts... Uncomfortable connotations. Which was actually something people saw metaphorically in Marceline for a while with all her daddy issues. So this episode sort of reinforced that interpretation.

Marceline comes out swinging despite the Vamp King's claim to have changed, dubiously moral.

Stakes Part 4: Empress Eyes

Not much to say about that one. Marceline protecting humans because of Simon is kind of weird considering Simon was already vaguely inhuman when they became acquainted. And she has memory of her human mom so... wouldn't that be more of a reason? The curiosity and kinship she feels towards humans knowing they're part of where she came from?

Stakes Part 5: May I Come In?

alright

good wolfe drawings. Lyle Partridge I believe? Who iirc got hired from his sexy bubbline fanart but he seems to have vanished and deleted all his old art so can't confirm... shame, his art was rly cool.

the way Finn always mentions he's a teen is so fetishtic haha it's like how in faux-incest porn they're always going "oh no step bro" like anyone talks like that.

"im so hurt... so hurt and sexy" that transformation sequence had some cool designs (more Lyle Patridge I assume).

Stakes Part 6: Take Her Back

butch silver fox era

PB stronk but Marceline also probably weighs like nothing

Click Here to Continue to Part 2!