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#kee general
aro-culture-is · 1 year
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Aro culture is having not a single fucking clue what to say when your coworkers start talking about relationships. Like how am I supposed to contribute to this conversation. I can’t tell you about my nonexistent partner. I can’t whine about how I haven’t found anybody I don’t want. I can only say “oh that’s cool” and “damn sorry about that” so many times. And now I look awkward and standoffish.
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#Anonymous#aro culture is#aro#aromantic#actually aro#actually aromantic#ask#mod kee#honestly i think the best way to add to that#is like... ask about plans and things they like to do together#talk about details#like... say ur coworkers are talking about a date night#you can ask where they went for food and respond with stuff about like. oh have you been to such-and-such place - they've got the best#[similar food style]#or like. just... find a point of connection to the topics that aren't just the relationships#though i'd generally advise leading with a question that includes the relationship so it feels less like an intentional topic change#and for the 'damn i'm sorry about that' types of convos#consider if you've ever had a similar situation in some way.#like... 'wow ngl if i were doing a project with him i'd be losing my damn mind. is he always like this?'#also sometimes it helps to create a topic#like... bring in homemade food and talk about how you found the recipe and thought they'd like it#or like... if u have some sort of hobby you can talk about how you've been working on a project or w/e with that recently#you can also redirect to that stuff! like ur coworker is talking about having a date night -> oh that's neat! personally i'm really excited#to work on my embroidery project - have i shown you any pictures?#or say they're talking about a fight in their relationship - 'that's so stressful! you should do something for yourself - do you read?#i've been reading xyz book - maybe you'd like it?'#overall like. acknowledge their topic and validate their emotions -> handshake it to a similar but more relatable topic
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criticalfai1ure · 8 months
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CREW of DE VLINDER ( an incomplete list ).
august van de hoek. captain. expert navigator and tactician.
atsuyuki nakamura. quartermaster. skilled in multiple forms of close quarter combat. met august off the coast of madagascar. taught him to fight with a two pronged kaginawa.
fabian de la fuente. ship’s surgeon. deadly with a knife. met august when de vlinder crossed a spanish patrol while still privateering. it took very little convincing to get him to defect from the navy and join their crew.
cornelius smeenk. bosun. very bad at playing the panflute, very good at keeping the ship in order. met august aboard their first ship as cabin boys. kees happily follows him from merchant seaman to privateer and pirate.
ingvi vik. gunner’s mate. attack dog. met august when she snuck aboard de vlinder at sixteen, two years into his pirate career, and incapacitated two of his crewmen. the closest thing he has to a daughter.
pascal descoteaux. cook. bemoans the lack of fresh ingredients when they are long at sea, makes a mean bouillabaisse. met august at twenty, four years into his pirate career. pax had never been on a ship before de vlinder.
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Keegan w/ C5 for that emotion chart thing? (As for the mootual thing, I rate you an Eehh (AS POSITIVE AND AFFECTIONATE AS I CAN!!!))
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Here we go! Yes, Kee has longer hair in this one, he gets excited when it's time to cut it.
But, he kept it a bit longer so Amelia could play with it and braid it. It gave him a sense of.. Happiness. Not something common that linked to with long hair, but he liked the change of pace for a moment.
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tumblr just really trying to force us all off this website eh
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yrwestillhere · 11 months
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Songs that scream Kendall Roy and should already be in edits:
Falling Ashes -Slow Dive
Boy and the man / Hear the ghost in this town - Could this be it / Your final words, your own / We rolled the bed / Piece by piece, plank by plank
Posthumous Forgiveness -Tame Impala
You have to see the lyrics for yourself, it's perfect
Wolf River -Reign Wolf
Please just make it stop / The rhythm, the beat of your soul / The rust tears us apart / I'm spinning out of control / You are breaking my heart - And I swear I'm drowning <-S1 ending
Hole In The Earth -Deftones
Can you explain to me how / You're so evil, how? / It's too late for me now - Can you explain to me now? / If you're still able, well /(It's time) I think you know the truth
Saturday Saviour -Failure
I'm never gonna say the words / That you want / I'm never gonna feel the shame / Like you do / I'm never gonna stretch my shape / To be with you / I only need you for a day / 'Cause I only want to be your / Saturday savior / I can be that / Saturday savior / I will be your / Saturday savior / I can be that impostor in your bed / Wake him up please
Drowning -A Boogie wit da Hoodie
Wrist so icy, wonder why she like me, bitch I'm drownin' / In water, I just bought a Cuban, dipped it in the fountain / Chain so heavy I feel like I'm holdin' up a mountain / Everywhere that I go it's a light show, I'm surrounded / Bust down, bust down, bust down, bust down, bust down, bitch I'm drownin'
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crossbackpoke-check · 2 years
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hi, just wanna say I love all the little stories you tell in your tags! 💖
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y’all are all so nice to me and i am just sitting here grinning furiously holding the screen to my chest like i can hug you (with consent) through it like:
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boringauntie · 1 year
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I hate that I feel so internally disturbed by being around my family. I love the kids so much and they’re pretty much the only people I feel fine around. but being around the rest of them just bothers me. at first I thought it was because they treated me like a child, but then they treated me like an adult and it still doesn’t feel good. I thought it was because I lived away from them, and then I lived near them and still didn’t feel good. maybe I just don’t like them
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angelfoxx · 5 months
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Coddling Keegan while giving him a handjob😖😖he’s cuddled up to you, head buried in your neck while your hand pumps his cock slow nd sloppy, whines a little when you pay attention to his tip, rubbing it with your thumb, “feels good, baby? Hm?” While ruffling his hair❤️❤️
“You wanna cum, sweet boy? Yeah?” You murmur, practically babying him🫶🫶
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┊ ➶ 。˚ ° ❝ SWEET BOY? ❞
…in which a very tired keegan gets special treatment.
FEATURING: keegan p russ (duh)
WARNINGS: obviously nsfw. mild overstim. mentions of crying. whoopsie
NOTE/S: hi anon hope u know i read this and my stomach clenched up. sorry just thought u should be aware
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“Feel good?” Your voice is just a soft murmur, sickeningly sweet and practically dripping in endearment. “Is that good, Kee?”
The only response you get is a breathy half-groan.
Poor Keegan. Genuinely. He’d come back from what he dubbed a shit mission this past afternoon; nothing too risky. Just a job that the “regular” recruits hit a wall with. A job that he had to go finish, because apparently the general force couldn’t get the fucking thing done.
His next assignment? Tomorrow afternoon. Approximately twelve hours from now, he’d be out again.
The poor guy was fucking exhausted. Hell, he’d called you that morning from the bed of the truck, and…you know why he had to go, you know that it’s his job and all, but…Christ, he’d sounded so tired. Tired and strained and done. Every nerve in your body had been screaming at you to fawn over him the minute he got home; a warm bath, a hot mug of tea (black). Some soup, bowl steaming. Hell, you’d been wringing your hands together at the mere thought of washing his hair. It had become a regular practice at this point; whenever he came back from an assignment, you’d be there to give him a soft landing upon arriving home.
This time around, you didn’t have the time for that. Despite his arguments, you’d probably have a word with whatever shit-for-brains commander had been in charge of putting him on back-to-back assignments.
To focus on the task at hand. Or in hand, rather. Keegan had told you he didn’t want all of the fancy stuff; tea, sure. Soup, sure. The bath and everything? No, he’d just shower.
He wanted a hot mug of tea, a bowl of soup, and then he wanted you to make him feel better in the best way you knew how.
Hence; your current position.
You hadn’t even made it to the bed. Keegan hadn’t even finished his fucking soup. He’d been staring into it like a ghost; gaze vacant, face empty, eyeblack staining his skin charcoal-gray. Hell, the man had just thrown whatever clothes he could find on; just a plain white tee and sweats. For once, he hasn’t been careful with his gear; he’s got it slung haphazardly across the chair beside him. His fucking rifle is sitting on the thing like it’s also eating soup.
He didn’t have to say much. He just kind of shifted and looked you in the eye; sat back, opened his legs a little wider.
Upon swinging a leg over him and sitting in his lap, Keegan had all but deflated.
He’d smelled like soap. Kind of tasted like it, too. Either he had scrubbed off a layer of skin in the shower or he’d just neglected to fully rinse all of the shampoo out of his hair. Either way, you didn’t mind; the fact that he smelled vaguely of vanilla (because for some reason he continued to take your shampoo and not use his own) and he was just slumped back in the chair, weakly holding onto your head as you littered a trail of little marks along his throat…
…oh, sweet boy.
He thought the pet name was stupid. Usually. He’d laugh at you if you called him by it in most situations; the day he’d apparently decided it was safe enough to kiss you goodbye before he boarded the plane to head out on an assignment, you’d called him a sweet boy and Keegan, fully geared up in his vest and helmet with probably five different weapons strapped on around his waist, had just whistled and hummed in response.
Sweet boy, carrying a rifle and a knife and god-fucking-knows-what-else.
Now, though, he doesn’t complain. Either because he’s too tired to or because, right now, even he knows that it’s fitting. Big, beefy soldier, pretty blue eyes rolled back, pretty pink lips parted and pretty little mouth too tired to fight the quiet little noises that would normally remain buried under his tongue. His brow knits, and his nostrils flare, and — oh — his chest rises and his breath hisses in through his nose.
A fat pearl of pre swells up on his tip for a moment before you run your thumb over it and spread it across the blunt round of his cockhead.
It’s not fair to him. Maybe. You’re going so slow and you’re just lazily stroking him but he doesn’t seem to mind. Oh, not at all. His brow knits and his mouth opens a little further; he lets out a short, hoarse breath, chest puffing up before it shudders back down and the muscles along his neck flex.
“Deep breaths, Kee.” You lean forward, kissing the side of his cheek and biting back a grin when his entire body shudders. “Easy.”
“I’m ff…fffuckin’ trying.” Keegan’s voice is rough, strained breathlessly thin. “I’m ff…uhhhckin’ trying, princess, but…”
“Can’t?” You smile, body shuddering. “Aw. Sweet boy.”
Keegan tries to shoot you a glare. He tries. One squeeze of your hand closing over his cockhead has him tensing up again, head tipping back and jaw clenching up as he bites back another groan.
You don’t say anything. You could tease him more (hell, you’d be jumping at the chance any other time), but right now he’s almost pitiful. Sore, exhausted, run-down and on a tight deadline to head back out tomorrow.
The man deserves a break. He doesn’t deserve to be mocked. So you keep your mouth shut (at least, in regards to taunting him) and you tease your thumb over his slit in slow little circles.
Keegan’s body shudders. From somewhere deep in his chest, he groans, brow knitting and eyes squeezing shut. His hips buck up; his cock slides through your grasp, swollen and slick. He’s aching for release, aching for it; it’s like his self-control has been put out to float on a raft and is just drifting towards total euphoric collapse. His head lolls on his neck; he’s in a daze, exhaustion and pleasure mixing like a dreamy cocktail in his system.
“I’ll get a nice bath ready for you after this assignment. Sound good?” You grin as you swish your thumb over his tip and he stiffens, body wound tight and eyes rolling back in his head. He doesn’t give you a verbal response; he just groans, one of his hands pawing uselessly at your waist. His big hands, gloved hands, rough and callous…
The throaty auh Keegan lets out brings your head back into reality, just in time to see his jaw drop and his pretty lips form a pink O as his eyes squint and his lashes flutter. His cock jerks in your hands, and a dribble of thin pre runs down the joints of your fingers. His hips buck up; under that thin layer of cotton, you feel his abdomen flex tight.
Apparently embarrassed at his own sound, Keegan turns his face towards you. Messily, he thrusts his lips at yours; when your body ripples and your hand flexes, he groans, low and tired into your mouth. His skin is hot; he’s flustered, but he’s too tired to do much about it.
“You gonna fall asleep on me after this?” You manage a quiet laugh. “No real rounds?”
Keegan groans. His voice, when it does manage to come out, is throaty and hoarse. There’s a sort of grumble in his voice, a sort of sleepy drawl that has your knees weak. “Shit, if you want…”
You giggle, biting your tongue when you skim the tips of your fingers over the ridge of his head and he tenses, teeth sinking into his lip. “I don’t think you can, Kee. I really don’t.”
“Shut it.” Though his tone is gruff, a tease of your finger over his leaking slit has Keegan’s head lolling back and his eyes, pretty pools of sapphire blue, roll back as his lashes flutter. “I’ll just lay there. You…nngh…you can just get on top an’…”
Keegan’s body shudders. His shoulders lift off the back of the chair; there’s a tremor deep in his belly that you can feel under your hand as he slumps back again, stomach rolling forward and hips rolling up. His abdomen clenches and sucks in so hard you can see the outline of his abs through his shirt, despite the loose fit.
Close.
You’ve learned his bodily cues by now. He tenses, starts to breathe hard — you can hear air rasping in and out of his nose — and, yeah, he paws around until he can grab onto your wrist, fingers wrapping around the spot right under your hand. He’s funny like that; you wouldn’t catch him dead pitying himself, telling you he was nothing but your little play-thing — but god, the quiver in his hand and the tremor in his breath is so, so far away from dominant. It’s so far away from being in control. If anything, he’s feeling your control; he’s feeling your pulse pick up as you shift on his lap, he’s feeling your arm tense as you bite your lip and stroke quicker, faster, twist your hand, and — oh — he’s gripping tight as you swipe your hand at just the right angle, pull it flush against the base of his cock and pump up and —
The strangled cry that comes out of Keegan’s mouth is strained and loosely contained. His jaw snaps shut, his lips seal; his hips buck up, and there’s a soft scuffle as his feet shove against the ground and his socks give him no traction to hold on.
You see the corded muscle of his neck swell at the same time that you feel a ribbon of something hot and sticky squirt up your forearm.
Five times. Five times, Keegan’s hips jerk up; his head turns either way, and his eyes squeeze shut for the first two jolts. They start to open; they flutter, roll back. Close again for the third. The same goes for the fourth. The fifth, though, his eyes open when his hips twitch, and when you try to meet his gaze you look into bottomless blue hues lidded and vague with euphoria.
The blunt edges of his nails dig into your wrist right under a streak of cum. The stuff strings your arm and webs beneath it, threatening to drip onto his thighs. Not that he’d mind, probably. Not now, at least. He’s too weak and tired to really care. Too busy groaning, sound contained deep in his chest, body rippling as pleasure tides over him. Over…and over…and over.
“Feel better?” You prompt the question in a soft voice after a long moment of silence for him to recover. Not that he had any performance issues — just tired, like this, pushed flat-out for too long…he has this worn, beaten look on his face. Barely lifted after everything.
“Yeah.” Despite that, Keegan’s response comes quick; breathless, but quick. His eyes shift over to meet yours, and Christ, if he looked tired before…
“Kee.” The note of pity that leaks into your voice is entirely instinctual. When you lean forward, his breathing staggers; he sort of half-laughs when you run your thumb over his three-fourths lidded eyes, weakly turning away from the contact. “Don’t touch me right now.”
“Kee.” You repeat his name, more seriously this time. “Kee, you look like you’re gonna pass out.”
“I’m not.” Keegan shakes his head; as if to prove his point, he shifts a little in his seat, pulling himself slightly more upright.
“You look like it. You look so tired.” You lean forward, this time; it’s an effort to push his hair back, and one that he leans away from. “Keegan. Let me take care of you.”
In response, he only laughs. It’s a tired laugh, one that rasps in his chest, but it’s a laugh nonetheless. When he replies, his tone isn’t serious. “You’ve got it on your hands.”
so sorry for my absence. my cod hyperfixation chilled the fuck out a little whoopsie anyways
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muses-of-the-memory · 2 years
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Tag Dump (Mulan Edition)
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gremlingottoosilly · 5 months
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Cabin in the woods (yandere!shasher!Konig x fem!Reader x yandere!slasher!Horangi) chapter 5
Your friend is being tortured. Unfortunately for you, Konig and Horangi aren't exactly satisfied with just his misery.
WARNINGS: Blood, dub-con bordering on non-con, general slasher-y, mild knife stabbing
Masterlist with all chapters This on AO3
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— Alright, kitten, let’s try this again. The knife goes inside, the guts go outside. What is there to mess up?
— Don’t…don’t call me that. — How should I call you then? Future victim? — No? Please? 
— I’m old and I’ve seen all this shit before, kitten. Let me call you what I like and maybe, I won’t prolong his death too much. Or yours, for that matter. The shorter guy pushes the knight into your hands, making you press the blade against Max’s stomach. You refuse – as much as you can, with your trembling hands and desire to survive, no matter what. Max is frozen in the chair, tied up as securely as possible without cutting the circulation in his hands – the bigger psycho told you something about letting the blood flow freely, so your first killing experience would be more fun. 
Fun – the fuck was he thinking? 
Max is fixated in one place and you are holding the knife – well, to be quite certain, Horangi wrapped his hands around yours, making sure that you won’t try to wrestle the knife out of his hold and aim it at them. He makes you push the blade deeper, and scrap Max’s skin – his clothes were torn by the taller killer, another sentiment of his raw strength. You feel tears collecting in your eyes – you feel dread in every inch of your skin, walling in the endless possibilities of manslaughter. 
You feel the interest picking up at the level of your groin. You try to tell yourself that this is just adrenaline, a natural reaction, the big guy was basically fondling your pussy and trying to get you as aroused as possible before he got distracted by his partner – it’s only normal that your walls are clenching around nothing, that you are trying to think about different things and failing miserably. You don’t feel excited about killing your friend because it is simply impossible – even when said friend is as fucking horrible as one person can be. Even when this friend crosses the academic rivalry and dives deeper into the river of being a fucking asshole Even when…
— Her hands are trembling. Cute. 
— Kitten’s first murder? 
— Should have left the slut for her. Would be a nice cat fight. 
— Don’t think she knows how to fight, She doesn’t even try to get the knife, Ko. 
You writhe in his hold, trying to resist his firm, strong hands pressing on yours – but you both know that you are merely pretending, that you just need to try something so you won’t feel as fucking horrible about not doing anything to save your friend. You say to yourself that this is simply self-preservation. You can’t resist your captors, you don’t want to die a horrible, painful death – which is why you are so ready to inflict that on Max. You’d pray for his forgiveness in hell, but you both know that he spends most of his time on r/Atheism. 
Killers just love to speak like you are not even here – and you would love to not be here, you’d pay literally anything to just run away as far as possible, to not have them after you. You tried to run already, tried to resist – tried everything you could, and yet, it was impossible. No matter how much you try, they are always a step ahead of you – sometimes even literally, when they both are pushing you between them like you are merely a toy for their amusement. Perhaps, in some twisted way, you are. They speak over you, against you, and you hate the little nicknames they are giving you – treating you like a pet even though you do not know them, and they only know you for barely a few hours. 
This is probably something about you, making you a perfect victim. You always thought that your adaptiveness was just a signal of people pleasing and a horrible lack of spine – but it saving you now, keeping you interesting enough for the maniacs. You’d pay anything not to be their favorite, but you already know how they treat those who are of no use to them. And you’re fucking scared of dying. 
— You need to press deeper if you want to hurt him, Schatzen. 
It’s a good thing that they gagged Max’s mouth. You don’t know why, it seems like too much mercy for someone like them, but at least you won’t have to hear him screaming – especially when König envelops your hands on top of the hands of his partner, pressing it against your friend’s soft gut. 
You never knew that human flesh is so…vulnerable. You don’t even need any strength, they are doing all the job for you. you are the one holding the knife but you find a small mercy in thinking of your impact as just this – being a knife. An instrument. Instruments don’t have free will, you can’t blame a gun for killing a person – blame the one who fired it. You didn’t gut your friend, you were just doing what a good object is supposed to. 
God, you feel awful. 
— I don’t…please, don’t make me do this, please…
You whimper, pathetically – König can barely contain his erection. God, you’re simply fucking perfect like this, hands already covered in blood splurging from the small cut you made on this guy's stomach. In a rite of passion, König moved one of his hands to rip the gag off his mouth, listening to the beautiful squeals the guy was making. All of these pig-like screaming got him wanting a nice, hot Schnitzel. He licks his lips, tilting his head to look at the screaming man. 
— Screams like a pig. 
— More like a whaling dog. 
— Cut him again, ja? Deeper, or you’ll be sitting next to him. 
König knows that he won’t do it. You might be a weird addition to their little duo, but they both knew that they wanted someone, a pet for them to share – not because of some weird kinks, although it’s part of the reason, mostly out of a desire to be dominant to someone helpless, someone pathetic and weak. Someone who is so fragile would need constant protection, and constant putting in their place. Horangi’s savior syndrome and König’s control freakiness coming from his days as colonel made them…unstable, a bit. 
Until they found little ol’ you. 
— What the fuck are you doing?! Max can finally scream – and he screams at you, not the killers. You cry and shake, trying not to fall unconscious because of the tension and here he is, making sure that you feel as horrible as he is – mentally, for now. The pit in your stomach grows deeper with every squeal, you want to shut your ears and scream until your throat is sore, you want to push the knife away and hide somewhere. The hands are holding you in place and you can barely move. 
You plead – you want to take Max’s place, you hate being the object of their affection, your hands are trembling and your body is barely moving. Your head is still pounding and you feel like you’re going to fucking die because you can’t even breathe and you panic and…
— Hey, Calm down, ja? You don’t want to do this? 
König is surprisingly gentle when you sob, hands shaking uncontrollably. He pushes Max to the ground, poor guy is falling down, still tied up to a chair, probably hitting his head on the cold basement floor – Horangi pushes him even deeper with a kick on the ribs and you hear the sobs, so uncharacteristic for a smartass like Max. You don’t want to be here, you don’t want to be here, you don’t want to be here, you don’t want to-
— Please, d…don’t…
König gently puts your face in his hands, holds you as softly as someone like him can.
Then a hand lays on the curve of your ass – a harsh, rough spank that made your skin burn even through the jeans. You yelp, tears flowing freely down your face – König laughs, putting you in your place like a fucking unruly animal. The betrayal of the previous softness makes you cry. 
— It’s okay, Schatzen. 
You refuse to look when the knife goes inside Max’s stomach. You refuse to look even when the second guy twists your face in his hold and makes you open your eyes. Blood, nothing but it – it stains his clothes, your clothes, it makes you want to ouke and you fall to your knees because this is not happening, it could not be happening, your hands are clean and perfect, they would never be able to kill a living, breathing being – this isn’t something that you would do, ever. This isn’t something that…
— Thought she’d be calmer by now. 
— She is a bit skittish. Might have to lock her in the basement. 
— And getting rid of all the thrill. 
— Didn’t you want to elevate us to the next level? 
— I was talking about adoption, Ko. Maybe getting a freaking puppy, for starters. 
— She’s the second best thing. 
König’s hand goes to scrub your neck and you exhale loudly, still terrified of him. Poor, naive girl, just how scared you are of them – it’s funny, really, ridiculous even. They could have killed you any second now, so, if they aren’t doing it, you must be calmer now, no? Your reactions are adorable, but he starts to think that he won’t be able to make you choke on his cock like this. Scared animals tend to show their teeth and, well, he still wants his dick to be with him. 
Maybe with a gag…
He pushes a finger in your mouth – to his and your surprise, you don’t even bite him out of instinct. You wince, but don’t refuse – just look at him like a caged animal. He liked that look on you, made you all nice and submissive just for him and Horangi. God, it was so long since they were with someone so soft, so…weak. He counts your teeth – might need to pull something out, a trophy for him. Tugs at your tongue and you immediately started to suck on his fingertip – a welcoming intrusion. He didn’t intend anything like this, just wanted to check your biting reflex, but if you are welcoming…
Hong-jin catches the look on your face and the expression that can be so easily read on König’s face. You’re both adorable, his perfect fucking partners – or a partner and his victim, to be quite right.  He swiftly helps König undo his pants, knowing how tricky those cargo and multiple belts can be – everything to not let their prey get an advantage over them in any way. Getting sloppy seconds sucks, but the bigger killer would make you nice and warm for them, broken in exactly right. 
Besides, even if you would bite off a few inches of König’s cock, it wouldn’t do much difference. The man would still be a fucking stallion. 
You start to panic when Max isn’t even dead yet, and the killers are pushing their pants down, making you work your mouth on the enormous bulge in König’s briefs. You wince, closing your eyes and pretending that you are not here, that this isn’t happening, and you’re stuck in your happy place, actually, forever and ever, and…you want to cry and whimper, and you do – you can feel blood slowly coating the floor. 
You lapping your mouth on the underwear of a serial killer while your friend is slowly bleeding from a deep cut on his stomach. You smell the usual things, that you are accustomed to already – sweat, blood, metal. The same knife that cut Max is pressing against your neck right now, urging you not to bite on the killer’s cock. You are worried more about vomiting all over his legs – but you don’t want to get your neck scrapped too. You gulp, seeing the outline of a huge, enormously thick cock poking out of the top of a simple black briefs. There is…there is no way it would fit – your mouth can only open so far, you are not a fucking snake, you are…
Horangi pushes his boot to your clothed cunt. Presses deep, the narrow part is strangely hot between your legs. Jeans and panties are securing your dignity for now, not allowing the full strength of those feelings to rise, but you were already aroused before and the new pressure is only making it worse now. You open your mouth – maybe in shock, maybe in a feeble attempt to make them stop – and König pushes the head of his cock right in. 
Your throat is welcoming him. Tight and warm around his shaft, he can only push further and further, making it impossible for you to close your teeth enough to bite. He can feel the stretch of your jaw, how perfect the bulge in your throat looks for him – he can think of a few new ways of making your body bulge both from him and Horangi. It was quite a while since they had a partner to try double penetration with. 
When you choke on the dick penetrating your mouth, Horangi can only chuckle, pushing his boot even deeper against your pussy. He can feel the wetness of your intimate parts, even through the jeans – you’re a dirty thing, getting off their touches while your friend bleeds to death. If he wasn’t so unsure that those pricks don’t have any STDs to give you, he’d use Max’s blood as a lube. Maybe make you lick it as you did with his knife. Maybe he’s…shit, all of these lewd thoughts make him want to fuck you right now – and he is certain that a dick in your cunt, no matter how wet and slutty it is, will break you right now. Fuckin’ civvies and their fragile brains. 
— Where we would dump his body after it’s done? 
Horangi can speak normally, for now. His dick is throbbing painfully in his pants, but he knows that at least one of them should remain calm and think with their upper head unless they want you to get away with your little friend. You are surprisingly resilient for prey – albeit a bit dumb, like all normal people are when the situation turns into a life-and-death one. His boot isn’t soft on your folds, the rough fabric of your jeans only making it worse - you still squirm and moan, crying on König’s dick and sending delicious vibrations down your throat. 
— C…can feed him to the river. 
König is breathing heavily, his hand goes to grab your hair and make you take his dick whole. He doesn’t really care if you are choking – giving you the opportunity to breathe through your nose should be nice already. You don’t want to admit it, but it’s still better than getting killed – you suck as enthusiastically as possible, just so you won’t make them too mad at you. Just so the feeling of heavy dick in your mouth would push away every other thought – about Max, for example. 
The guy is still bleeding on the chair right next to you – but every last bit of your brain, still remaining in your head, is getting pushed to the very back by König’s dick and Horangi’s boot. 
You whimper when the pressure on your pussy grows faster. You don’t want to cum, you can’t cum like this – fully clothed, covered in blood and scratches, on the boot of your tormentor. You don’t want this to be pleasurable, but it’s better than having them rape you raw – you try to say that your reaction is normal, you’re just adapting, you don’t actually get off your helplessness and the feeling of complete loss of power and responsibility, but you know that, deep down, it’s all bullshit. 
You like sucking him off – you’re wet enough from the lack of oxygen alone, not speaking about anything else. You like being on your knees, supported by a boot rooting in your cunt – and you also adore the fact that you don’t have to do anything. König is content with slamming his dick in your welcoming mouth without calling you a passive bitch with zero skills, and Horangi seemingly gets off just making sure you’re as aroused as possible. In a different circumstance, you’d beg them for more. 
In this situation, however, you just try to block out the bleeding guts of your friend less than a meter away from you. 
— We have to keep her, Tigeren. 
— What if she’d run away? 
— I can cut off her legs…Scheisse, she just got tighter from this. Good job, Katzen. 
— We can keep her in the basement, but she needs regular walks. 
— I will walk her. 
— With sawed legs? 
— I can hold her in my arms. 
— We still need to take care of her friends first. 
They both humm in acknowledgment, Horangi almost stopped pursuing your tenderness – only to slam harder, getting on his knees to take off your jeans completely. You shiver in the cold air, feeling the torn fabric falling down your legs. Of course, just taking your pants off normally wouldn’t be enough – he needed to rip them off, breaking the boundary between a fashionable and unrepairable. 
You whimper – the soft, thin fabric of your simple panties isn’t nearly enough to stop your puffy cunt from being wet. The white fabric is almost transparent from your juices, it’s pathetically easy for Horangi to make you squeal on his boot. He presses and rolls the rounded end down your panties and up your cunt, making you cry from the sensation. Your little whines only make the experience better for König – who already got his hand on the back of your head and slammed all length inside, making sure that your jaw would fucking hurt. 
You choke when he suddenly slams into your throat with full force – not allowing you to just hold his dick in your lips like you did before. You choke even more as his cum fills your throat. You don’t have to taste it, thankfully, your tongue laying flat under his dick. You can almost expel yourself from the situation, pretending that it’s your favorite movie characters or videogame heroes. 
You can try to pretend that you are not cumming from your pussy being folded by the killer’s boot. 
— Did you cum? Good girl. 
— College girls became sluttier since I was in college, ja? 
— I doubt you were in college, Ko. 
You hear their banter and can see the bigger man showing the other one on the shoulder. You don’t react, frozen in place, on your knees. Your naked legs are scraping on the floor, which is definitely filled with corpses and some nasty vermin – you can’t force yourself to care about it right now. You can barely fucking thing, just wanting everything to end so you could go to sleep happily. So you could close your eyes and never fucking open them again. 
You are being ushed to the air by your hands – like a cat, the one from insanely long memes. You whimper, thinking that killers probably have half a mind of just fucking ending your life once and for all – you gave them everything they needed, and now your helpless figure, coughing down the cum coating your throat, is probably of no use to them.
You can try to save your life. Really, you can – maybe they won’t listen to you but maybe, if they didn’t kill you yet, they can consider just…letting you go. Maybe these predators are getting sated on just Max’s body. Maybe you can still try to run away. 
— I…I don’t know who you are. If I just go, I won’t even be able to tell the police anything. 
— You’re implying we let you go because you don’t know who are we? 
— I won’t tell anyone. I don’t even know German! 
They laugh. The worst possible reaction – you feel blood drained from your body. God, are…are they going to murder you because of this little stunt? The bigger guy goes to you, cupping your face in his hand. 
The other one goes under his mask. 
— Hans, callsign “König”. Colonel for mercenary company, if that’s not enough. 
You couldn’t even close your eyes before you saw him fully – ginger hair, uneven stubble. Face, covered in scars. You want to say that this is the face of a killer, you know this is the face of a killer – the handsome one. The pretty one. Not in the way that boyband singers are pretty, not cute – but you can’t deny that putting a face to your tormentor figure made your already soaked cunt even more wet. 
— Hong-jin, callsign “Horangi”. Still think we’re going to let you go? 
They are handsome – both of them. Without masks, their voices are unfiltered, pure. You see a handsome Asian man with a face covered in scars and burn masks, and his partner, covered in the same fashion. You knew they must be from the military, judging by the uniform and mannerisms – but you never knew they would be this…
You begged them to let you go, saying that you won’t tell anybody about them. You both know that you are not getting out of this forest alive, knowing their names and how they look like – you won’t even be able to pull out a “Hush” move and just text everyone who are they – no cell service and no family to try and search for you in rural Austria. 
You collapse to the floor when König gently pushes your face up, smothering your lips with a kiss. 
You are not getting out of this forest. 
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simtanico · 1 month
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Diesel Stuff Pack High Kee Pants converted to TF :)
What it says^ When working on other projects or making teen sims, it's wild to see how much EA made stuff for adult sims but rarely touched teen stuff. And the general lack of pants selection is borderline criminal. :) 
Base game compatible!
Details:
For teen female sims
base game compatible
Just changed the specular to eliminate shine.
Categories: Everyday, Career, Outerwear, Valid For Random
Has all the same original presets.
Compressorized
Custom Thumbnail
TOU Feel free to edit the textures or whatever as you like.
Credits: mesh by EA, TSRW, Milkshape, MeshToolKit
Download: https://simfileshare.net/download/4476682/
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criticalfai1ure · 4 months
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once again thinking abt the crew of de vlinder and their matching butterfly tattoos.
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Since it is now March, Ezhno's birthday month, I decided to show off a concentrating Kee making something!
If you're wondering about the background, it does hold semblance:
Kee hears the words people say about him, the looks they give, the eye rolls each time. It does plague his mind, every single day. He sees them each time, but does he ever let it bring him down? No, he tries not to.
Meeting Ezhno and seeing him smile.. Hearing him laugh.. Just seeing someone else that used to act non-human accept the fact he was human..? He loved it. And in hopes of seeing more smiling, more emotion, more human from Ezhno? He started on his gift early, plotting ways to give it more meaning, and hoping that he's just alright by the end of the days to come.
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I once again say, do not mark as shipping. No one has yet (thankfully) but I'm still plotting down. Ezhno ans Kee are roommates and friends, nothing more.
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Oh yeah, update: I have no sense of smell anymore 🙃
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thus-spoke-lo · 4 months
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Sexy Scumbag Series // Sanji x afab!reader Masterlist // Prompt List
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CW: afab!reader [no pronouns used]; dub-con/non-con elements, incl. non-consensual filming; vaginal sex; facial WC: 970
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You always told yourself never to mix business with pleasure, that you’d seen too many good careers ruined by bad decisions. But Sanji certainly made it difficult, lingering in the doorway of the kitchen now and again when it was slow just to watch you bartend, shooting you glances that said he was more than undressing you with his eyes—he was fucking you with them, bending you over and ruining you with them. Soon, you were joining him for cigarette breaks even though you didn’t smoke, biting your lip and finding any excuse to touch him—moving an errant lock of blonde hair from his eyes, running your fingers over an old burn scar on his forearm—just to see if he meant every longing look, every sweet word, or if it was all lip service that he gave to anyone with a pretty face.
It wasn’t long before he started bringing you home after your shifts, barely making it through his front door before he was pushing you against the wall and pinning your hands above your head, soft lips against yours, delicious compliments flowing from his mouth like fine wine.
Sanji was as meticulous when he fucked you as he was in the kitchen, moving you and manipulating your body on his bed with the same ease as he worked dough, positioning you just-so like he was arranging the components of a dish, turning you into a beautiful meal for him to devour. And devour he did, spending ages between your thighs, moaning into your cunt as he sucked and lapped at your clit, groaning against your heated core as his long fingers plunged in and out of you until you were shaking and sobbing and gripping the sheets so hard your palms would hurt the next day at work. Every orgasm was followed with sweet words of praise, and a nearly-breathless plea to give him one more, just one more—though one more never seemed to satisfy him.
He was as generous with his cock as he was with his tongue, taking his time with you, pulling more orgasms out of you before he’d ever dare to cum inside you. He was talkative, so much so that some nights you laughed to yourself and wished he’d shut up if only for a moment, even if it was nice to hear how pretty he thought you were, how well you were taking him, how good your pussy felt on his cock. And in return, Sanji liked you loud—he wanted to hear your pretty moans, begged you to tell him how his tongue felt inside you, whimpered as you described just how it felt to feel his cum dripping out of you afterwards.
Sanji found the walls you kept up around yourself when it came to intimacy and tore them down, brick by brick, until you were raw and exposed and laid bare just for him—and you learned to revel in the sweet depravity that he encouraged.
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Sanji groans as his hips press into your thighs, his forearms tensing as his thrusts grow faster, more erratic. “Fuck, ‘m gonna cum soon, sweetheart—you wanna taste it?”
You nod eagerly and mumble something that sound like “yes,” reluctantly loosening the grip that your legs have around his waist. The feeling of emptiness as he pulls out of you is almost too much to bear, but you know the reward will be worth it.
“That’s it, sweetheart, look up at me and stick out your tongue,” he grunts as he moves up your body and kneels beside you, stroking his long, slender cock as precum leaks onto the sheets. He grasps his bedframe as his hand moves faster over himself, and soon lets out a long, low whine as his body tenses and shakes. Hot, sticky ropes of his spend spill from his flushed, throbbing cock and onto your face, drips settling on your tongue and running down your throat. His moans are loud and wanton, almost obscene as he coaxes the last sticky drops of his cum out of his pulsing length.
“You wanna do something for me?” he murmurs through panting breaths, smiling down at you with that sweet grin that keeps you wrapped around his finger.
Of course you do—you’ll do just about anything for him the way he fucks you, the way he cares for you, the way he makes you feel something you haven’t felt in forever. He’s safe, and he’s warm, and he’s sweet, and he makes you feel like the goddess he tells you that you are over and over again. You nod, trying not to disrupt the streaks of white that paint your face, and he sighs, almost proudly, in return.
“Good. Now turn your head and look at the dresser, okay?”
A sudden chill settles over you as the words leave his mouth, and your heart hammers away in your ribcage, almost enough to shake you. You turn your head and squint at the dresser, for the first time you see it and wonder how in the fuck you were so naïve, so consumed with lust and the warmth of whatever you thought was between you two that you didn’t notice the light bouncing off what looked to be a small lens nestled in between books and knick-knacks.
“Sanji?” Your voice is quaking and you can’t control it, your eyes glued to the little lens. A tingling hand gropes for him, but he grabs your wrist and pins it to the mattress with a strength that almost startles you.
Sanji leans close, his lips soft against your cheek, breath warm across your skin. “Shh, it’s okay. Just smile for the camera, angel—let all our fans see just how pretty you are like this.”
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thekatebridgerton · 3 months
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A little venting post about the changes made to the show.
Sometimes I miss the era where book adaptations were true to their source material. Lord of the rings, Harry Potter, pride and prejudice, Twilight, The Hunger Games. Books with adaptations that literally had the power to change whole generations. Create such a cultural impact that we'll still be defining facets of our personalities by their influence for years to come.
And I think that those books had so much success as adaptations because the people who made them understood that watching the movie had to be an interactive experience between a person and their book. Not just their screen. People would finish watching the movie, go home, read the book and feel connected to a story where they knew the ending. So giddy and excited to know something they thought other movie goers didn't know. This made the experience exciting! It made it interactive enough to cause an impact.
I recently watched Lord of the Rings (yes the whole 24 hrs of it) and I realized how much I miss that excitement. That same warm blanket of knowing the ending that I experienced when I watched The Ballad of Songbirds and Snakes.
Bridgerton showrunners are so obsessed with delivering something with a 'plot twist' or 'different from the books' that they completely miss the point of how big franchises managed to make their adaptations impactful. So focused on curating the source material to make it more 'original' and new. So focused on driving up buzzfeed articles that read ' 100 ways Bridgerton season 2 was different from the books' that they alienate the interactive experience that exists in a viewer who enjoys reading.
Call me a book purist or maybe I felt sad today because I saw yet another article titled ' 10 reasons why Eloise storyline shouldn't follow the books' but it sucks to have creators spit on the books you love. It sucks to watch an adaptation that looks like fanfiction because it's all the media is currently offering. And you just wanted to see Kate bite Anthony's ankle and laugh. But you have to put up with all the changes of season 2 because complaining is met with an ' oh we wanted to do something different from the book, we wanted to surprise viewers'
Excuse me showrunners, I liked that book, what's wrong with liking that book? What was so offensive about it you had to turn it into something so far away from the source material the Author herself had to come out and say ' the books are the books and the show is the show' basically drawing a line between her creation and the show she authorized to adapt said work.
Netflix If the books I loved were so bad you felt they needed to be changed so much for an adaptation, then why adapt them at all? Why not find some kind nice very much in need of their big break author who has written a story that looks like the narrative you've got in mind.
As a reader I loved all the storylines as they stood. To me it would have been a giddy and exiting experience to be able to follow the show along with the source material. And I'm so sick and tired of show viewers and basically all the sensationalist media like buzzfeed and screenrant implying and outright saying that there is something wrong... with people like me. Who simply liked the books as they were. Because that's how they treat us, and that's what they think and it makes me sad.
And as I wait for season 3 I I sit and wait to see how many ' 100 ways the show is better than Romancing Mr Bridgerton because of how much the showrunners decided to change ' articles start poping up on my feed as soon as it's released. Because it will happen and as a reader you feel so powerless and confused, because all the media kees saying is that you're not allowed to feel angry, because even getting an adaptation is supposed to be a good thing, so don't start being a Debbie downer about the changes made for the screen. The book you loved was outdated anyway, the book you loved was boring anyway, the book you loved needed more excitement anyway.... And the message you keep getting is that The things you loved needed to stop looking like the things you loved, to be worthy of the masses attention
So what does that say about you?
Tomorrow, maybe I'll be back to being my usual positive self. Tomorrow I'll look at the bright side and feel ever so grateful that Julia Quinn's work is on screen. But for today, just for today. I needed to get that off my chest.
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