#about syb

[erriga]

Hello pathologic community, guess who became a Bachelor today by defending a thesis about the brechtian influences in our fav plague game

Eng title: "The Theatre and a game about Plague. An analysis of the video game "Pathologic" in the context of Bertolt Brecht's theatrical theories"

If you're curious about my paper feel free to ask me! A jeśli umiesz czytać po polsku to mogę ci ją podesłać w pdfie lol

[direwombat]

tagged by @josephseedismyfather for this fine wip wedesday (tysm~ <3)

working on the damaged (aka, the jakesyb slasher au) becuase this fic holding my brain hostage in a cage. so here's a scene from later in the fic (which is to say, after syb and jacob have made their truce fucked and caught feelings) during their road trip to montana. this is a super rough rough-draft and will be edited. also. uh. trigger warning for lighthearted discussions of cannibalism (but none actually depicted, it's all hypothetical).

Sybille kicks her feet onto the dashboard, the dried mud of her boots flaking and dirtying the control panel. "I got a question for you," she says, after taking a drag and letting her arm hang lazily out the open window.

"Shoot."

"You said you's wanted for man-eatin'."

Jacob hums an affirmative.

"What part of me would you eat first?" He takes his eyes off the road just long enough to give her a [puzzled] look. When his gaze briefly flicks to the cradle of her hips, she grins and adds, "Previous meals nonwithstandin'."

He diverts his gaze back to the road and sighs thoughtfully. "I'd start with the organs. Heart, brain—" he casts her a quick side-glance "—probably not your lungs or liver."

She barks a rasping, smoker's laugh. "Wouldn't blame ya. What about the rest 'f me?"

He pauses for a moment, presses his lips in a firm line, contemplating. "Don't take this the wrong way, honey, but you're not exactly prime cut beef."

"Kinda hard to tell what other way I should take that." She takes another drag and casts him a sidelong smirk. "'Sides, weren't like you was complainin' the other night—or woulda any pussy done?"

"That's not what I—" he groans, mildly frustrated. "Look," he says, and he takes a hand off the wheel to run his knuckles down her ribs, allowing them to knock against the protruding bones and notch into the divots between them. It kind of tickles. "You're like a hare. Skin, bones, and muscle, but not much fat. Tough meat."

"Ooh, careful Mr. Hunter," she coos, the teasing sarcasm coats her voice, saccharine and honey-thick, "neg me harder 'n I might feel insecure enough to give ya a blowie." Self-satisfied pride swells in her chest as she watches the tips of his ears turn pink. "Well, fine — 'f ya had to cook 'n eat my tough meat, how'd ya do it?"

He's quiet for a long, long moment. "Stew," he eventually answers. "Take the meat from your shoulders and thighs. Tenderize ya with a mallet. Sear ya off to lock in your — uh — your juices." He coughs awkwardly and her grin widens. "Toss you in a slow cooker and let you simmer with carrots and onions or something. Bag you up, keep you in the freezer and have you as a hearty meal on a cold winter day."

There's a tenderness in the emotion to his voice. If she didn't know any better, she might've called it affection. It settles warmly in her chest and all of a sudden she feels exposed. With words alone he's cracked open her sternum. He might as well be holding her still-beating heart in his hands, and somehow, the image of him lifting it to his mouth, teeth bared and ready to take a bite, sounds more romantic than it does grizzly.

She scoffs. "Just don't forget to season me. 'F I find out you ate me without addin' any seasonin' I'm gon' haunt your ass."

He chuckles. "Got any requests?"

"You will use Slap Ya Mama cajun seasoning and nothing else."

"Heard."

She brings her cigarette to her lips and sucks in another lungful of smoke. "What 'bout trophies. Anythin' you'd keep?" she asks on the exhale.

"Your eyes," he answers, perhaps a little too quickly.

She snorts. "What, you gon' keep'em in a mason jar in that duffle?"

He shrugs. "Dunno. Don't really take trophies."

"Right, right," she waves the hand holding her cigarette dismissively. "Use the whole animal 'n shit."

"Something like that."

"Why my eyes?"

He's quiet for a long moment. "Nice shade of green."

tag list (opt in/out)

@voidika, @buggknife, @cloudofbutterflies92, @la-grosse-patate, @tommyarashikage

@florbelles, @statichvm, @fourlittleseedlings, @wrathfulrook, @harmonyowl,

@ivymarquis, @carlosoliveiraa, @cassietrn, @confidentandgood, @strafethesesinners,

@trench-rot, @miyabilicious, @simplegenius042, @g0dspeeed, @inafieldofdaisies,

@josephslittledeputy, @aceghosts, @adelaidedrubman, @finding-comfort-in-rain,

@socially-awkward-skeleton, and @strangefable

[rooolt]

Jaina/Morrigan political marriage of convenience to unite the dwarves and the giants after their recent conflict. Both of them being so stiff and awkward but also so polite and chivalrous. The sexual tension when they spar together. Mutual admiration of each other’s devotion to their people. Morrigan cracks a smile at an egg joke and their eyes meet shyly. Cue beauty and the beast “there’s something there that wasn’t there before”

YOU GET ME!!!!! Political arranged marriage was my exact thought like oh my godddddd. The thing about jaina bronzebeard is that her cool facade is only present for like 0.2 seconds and then you have a conversation with her out of combat and you realize she is wildly socially inept and I just think morrigan would find this endearing and I think in their quest to unite their people they both manage to let loose with each other. Like how Murph was talking about how he thought jaina might have a wife she’s distant with or an estranged ex, morrigan wouldn’t be that. Morrigan is confident enough in her own worth to know that if they want to have a relationship beyond politics, jaina needs to be present with her. ALSO, also they’re like the ultimate battle couple and they become feared across Bahumia. Both of them and their deeply complicated relationships with their family would find that within each other. They would find love for the other that goes beyond the love for their country. Come on this could be a love story for the ages AND THEYRE BOTH BUTCH!!!!!!! I’m swooning (also dwarf x giant,,,,,, need I say more)

[fang-revives]

Been thinking about her off and on all day (horrible failgirl and all around rat Jay White)

[cacophonylily]

Amerzone Demo is out.

The Microids' opening animation was so nostalgic. 💚

I never played Amerzone before because of the motion sickness first POV induces for me so I was pretty excited to hear about a remake and hoping for some accessibility options. It's still a bit dizzying but you can fast forward the exploration and skip most movements that are just transition from one place to the next, climbing ladders, opening doors and such.

No free movement though, it's giving old time point-and-click vibes but with the things we like most about Sokal's works : exploration, puzzles, old tech and lots of reading.

They've added a layer with "side-quests" for the journalist protag, giving more depth/insight into the story by gathering/corroborating information to "write" articles.

The demo is approx an hour long (took my time and also it crashed twice) and there are already two very great easter eggs, made with Syberia fans in mind. Made me a bit emotional, ngl.

Also Inon & Ori Zur's music, man... Amazing as always. The main menu song is crazy.

The demo stops right when it's getting really interesting and now I really can't wait.

[katewalker]

RIP my 2024 backlog and future releases so far because I'm in a loop where I only wanna launch either FFXIV or Coral Island.

[busaikuknee]

talk to me about Katsuhiko Nakajima!

“average person has 3 deeply fraught interpersonal relationships” factoid actually just statistical error. katsuhiko nakajima, who has 10,000 deeply fraught interpersonal relationships, is an outlier and should not have been counted

i've tried drafting a more thorough response because i had a lot i initially wanted to talk about, but it's late and i've been in a very brainfog-heavy state lately. i'm just going to leave it at: i think part of the reason i like him so much is that i tend to be drawn to wrestlers who don't manage to really pull everything together—in-ring work, character work, that wrestling-specific genre of charisma—until later in their careers. obviously he's always been very good at Wrestling, but it hasn't been until the past few years that he's become a…holistic performer, i guess? and found what works for him character-wise. i don't know, i guess seeing people go through that growth makes me a little hopeful; may we all find our weird violent wolfman gimmick equivalents

[gggoldfinch]

Shoutout to the one (1) person who gets my vision. I love putting my brain to work for oc faceclaims

(grandparents: tilda björck, ???)

(grandchildren: sigurd björck, matilda björck)

[sybilius]

thinking about my fic unsolicited musings, specifically thinking about Ch 3 of fuck all clue...

I think there is something that means a lot to me about the idea of someone...really taking the time to think through and speak carefully about some kind of break in a relationship. It’s like. The thinking is a love language, but one that is labor that mostly goes unspoken, right? If you have a conflict with someone you love, it is an act of love to sift through the details of that carefully, to consider their perspective and sort out as much as possible what your needs actually are. To look at the wreck without flinching or brushing it under the rug. It can take a really long time, and it's hard to know when exactly that work will come out or be recognized/realized. It might even amount to nothing.

It’s somewhere along the ethos of “say it as kind as you can manage, while acknowledging that might still cause conflict”. What hits me a lot about Ch3 of fuck all clue is that each of them have taken the time to do that, separately, and that chapter is like. The realization of it.

It’s also kind of the whole thing about Sighted Crows, though I feel in that case the conflict manages to be a lot more one-sided, like. Even though the conflict is knotted and the characters are utterly ill-equipped to understand it like...okay, yes, Angel Eyes is the one at fault.

It hits me a lot that even though yes, I feel like Shibata is the one that actually apologizes, yes also Kenta threw stones in response to that. Hard, and hurtfully. And this is all in the backdrop of like, a decade or so of unspoken stuff that they both participated in shoving under the rug (for whatever reasons they told themselves: it’s not reciprocated (Kenta) // I wouldn’t give him enough time/would be a shit partner anyways (Shibata).

Anyways long story short, that scene means a lot to me because that more than anything is the result of the thinking-labor. They don’t blow up or hurt each other precisely because both of them have been thinking a lot, and despite their dysfunction, doing their damndest not to hurt each other. So yes, as bleak and hurtful as all that realization is, there is still something there for them. And yes, as much as all the time one spends spinning wheels and occasionally venting to a friend about a lover, a loved one you have a problem with -- sometimes they meet you where you’re at, and that shit is worth it. It starts to make sense.

[fire-tempers-steel]

One of the big struggles with this canon divergence AU is that a number of things in canon like, barely make sense to begin with due to RGG melodrama logic, so coming up with a plausible alternative is like. Well how plausible does this need to be really when the origin is just a little stupid?

[silly-goofy-mood]

sad paladin milf brainrot 🥰

[direwombat]

tagged most recently by @socially-awkward-skeleton and @simplegenius042 to share some wippy stuff (thank youuuuu~ i promise i'll start catching up on tags later this evening i know i am. behind orz) some werewolf au syb waking up from her nap after getting home from the hope county clinic after her incident at st. francis. this is. uh. a little gross, so trigger warning for a human (or. werewolf in human form/human unaware she's a werewolf) consuming raw meat.

It’s her stomach that draws her out of bed before she’s fully awake. The soft haze of sleep still clings to her vision, blurring the harsh edges of reality into gentle shadows and muted colors. Pale light from the waning moon streams in through the windows as she stumbles in a stupor out of the bedroom and into the kitchen. She stops in front of the refrigerator. Her fingers curl around the handle, flinging the door open.

She reaches inside not for the pitcher of water nor the bag of shredded cheddar, but rather the pound of ground beef sitting on the top shelf. The plastic wrap gives way as she tears into it. Her fingers dig into the soft, wet meat, curling her index and middle finger to spoon it into her mouth raw. It squishes against her palate and between her teeth, smooth and creamy. The flavor bursts on her tongue, sharp, metallic, but with an underlying sweetness that only seems to stoke her hunger, rather than sate it. 

A low, satisfied moan rumbles deep in her chest. She leans back against the counter and slides down to sit on the cool linoleum floor. Already, her hands are tacky with blood. Her tongue curls around her fingers as she sucks them clean, desperate to savor every last drop. 

It isn’t until she’s shoving her face into the styrofoam tray and licking the cellulose pad in an attempt to suck out more blood that she registers what she’s actually doing. She freezes and the empty tray falls to the ground as she stares aghast at her red-stained hands while her chest heaves with rough, ragged breaths.

and some of the viking au that's been coming together in bits and pieces. here's some syb (a frankish christian living in england and a prisoner of war) having a bad shroom trip because faith gave her a potion (bliss) that made her see visions of her and jacob (pagan, the one holding her hostage) where she is behaving in very. uh. un-christian ways.

[Sybille’s] head throbs and her stomach cramps, her guts threatening to turn her inside out. Tears burn her cheeks as they streak through the dirt and grime, and she stares up at the wicce who forced her to drink that vile potion. “Why do you show me these things?” she sobs. 

Faith dips a rag into a bowl of water and gently dabs the sweat from Sybille’s brow. 

“She shows you nothing,” murmurs the False King, “all she has done is open your mind to the Will of God.” He leans in close, piercing blue eyes staring into her very soul. “Tell me, what do you see?”

taglist (opt in/out)

@josephseedismyfather, @la-grosse-patate, @knakrack (tumblr was only letting me tag your retired oc blog, sorry), @florbelles, @statichvm,

@fourlittleseedlings, @wrathfulrook, @harmonyowl, @ivymarquis, @carlosoliveiraa

@cassietrn, @confidentandgood, @strafethesesinners, @trench-rot, @miyabilicious,

@g0dspeeed, @inafieldofdaisies, @josephslittledeputy, @aceghosts, @adelaidedrubman

@finding-comfort-in-rain, @voidika, @strangefable, and anyone else wanting to share a wip today!

[eldritch-spouse]

Reader who’s in Sybastian’s labyrinth and is tired and horny. They decide if they’re going to go out they are going to at least relive themselves so they hop on a bed and get to it. The bed seems weirdly shaky to them but they just assume it’s that they’re just getting really into it. (Un)fortunately for them the mimiced bed decided it wasn’t going to kill this human I mean if you expose your self to him you have to be their mate!

[Fem reader]

TW: Dubious consent; Mentions of gore; Excessive drool; Squirting.

Sybastian spared you little thought at first.

It only took a few months of participating in Vinnel's game to understand how to profile his catches a lot better. He knows who the clever ones will be, the troublemakers that kick and bite, the overly paranoid, and the ones that are so incredibly stupid he almost feels gross getting rid of them.

You didn't fit into any category, when Sybastian first saw you, his mind lumped you into the "standard" group and he moved on to the assumed challenging targets.

This hunt has singlehandedly made the mimic question his own profiling skills.

First, he mistakes the smartass for someone who actually knows what he's doing, and manages to tear into him in no time. Then, a girl who froze at the sight of him actually managed to make him trip, alerting the whole group.

He's had to try to catch the same people several times just because he's failed so drastically in his attempts to gouge their attitudes, and he's sure the jester is cackling behind his many screens upstairs, relaying Syb's failures to the audience like a verbal paddling.

Naturally at this point, Sybastian was wrong about you too.

Because he sure as shit didn't expect you to be the last one standing.

That's not all though. Not only are you the cream of this crop, your savvy side seemed to completely expire as soon as you realized everyone had perished. It's as if you deflated.

Yet, instead of crouching down in a corner to scream your lungs out, or crawling under somewhere to pretend you can hide forever, or simply start pounding at the doors until your nails chip into pieces...

You pace the bedroom where Sybastian disguises himself as a bed. Back and forth, silent footsteps on a carpeted floor. You were smart to discard your footwear and avoid the wooden floors, Lord knows they're made to creak at the slightest miscalculation.

He couldn't help but wonder what was in his prey's mind.

Now that he can see you a little closer, you're one of those pretty humans. At least, the ones he thinks are prettier. The kind he likes to pet on their hair and run his fingers all over. Pretty thing with pretty meaty thighs and a juicy ass. He didn't quite know if he wanted to bite you or lash his tongue against every crevice of skin he could see. It was good that you were the last one, the others weren't as nice-looking.

What could you possibly be thinking of, in that moment? So concentrated, so serious, he could almost have fooled himself into thinking you were on the cusp of hatching a plan.

He didn't think it'd be this...

He didn't think you'd take off your pants. Could hardly believe his concealed eyes when you laid upon him, giving him a spectacular view of your panty-covered goods before he felt the softness of your skin on him.

He shuddered, but if you noticed, it didn't stop you from getting comfortable, adjusting your underwear and playing with yourself.

Sybastian has been sweating for a while now. He hopes you're dumb enough to think the sudden moisture is sweat from your little session. Truth of the matter is that mimic has never had this happen to him. He's never had someone sit on him while in disguise and start masturbating.

Sure, he's been a bench to a few couples drunkenly making out, but it doesn't last long before he's got at least one of them in his jaws.

Nevertheless, this has proved to be a special kind of arousing to the mimic, who relishes the feedback of your movement and desperately tries to shift the position of his eyes so he can get a better view. He's daring enough to catch a glimpse between the sheets you crumpled, locked into the motion of your fingers as you dip an index and middle digit into a wet cunt and clumsily circle your clit with the remaining hand.

You seem rushed, desperate, trying your damndest to rip an orgasm out of yourself for reasons that he can't understand. None of Santi's fluids were utilized in the making of today's traps, so it's not as if you're in an incubus-induced frenzy. He's perplexed, but far from complaining.

Is it that you want him to find you? What a little freak you are, waiting for the big bad thing that's been picking you all off one by one to show itself...

He wonders what you'd do if he rushed into this room, if he wasn't the very bed you're being depraved on. Would you lift your ass and invite him, beg him to please have mercy? Hoping and praying that maybe the offer of your gorgeous body could keep him subdued, could distract him. Cute as you are, not a bad strategy, he'd say.

Syb makes a rumble of delight when the first sounds start tumbling out your lips. Little stressed mewls and gasps that have him this close to losing his mind. Somewhere in his modified form, the monster's cock swells and his need starts to become unbearable. He was never the master of self-control, these games just drive him that much wilder. Drool seeps to the ground when his long, gross tongue peeks beneath the mattress. Sybastian slowly allows his arms to emerge from under the bed, giving them more and more mass while they reach upwards.

With your eyes closed in focused pleasure, you could never hope to see those claws hovering in the air, inches from making contact. The mimic is swift to lock one of said hands around your throat, keeping you pinned to the faux mattress by the neck. The scream he assumes you were going to belt out becomes no more than a surprised cough.

Naturally, he expects the following tantrum. Flailing like a fish out of water, your shrill noises of confusion and terror only excite him further, though the mimic is patient, allowing you to tire yourself out for the time being, rumbling lowly like an engine on standby. Eventually, much to his liking, your motions slow down, vastly due to the realization that the monstrous hand around your neck is static. You breathe rapidly on him, body still overheated and wet.

Syb's reward is a softer hold of the vital location, his remaining hand shamelessly groping the leg closest to it. He doesn't let you have any time to think or react, because one second he's rubbing your thigh, the next he's cupping your belly and slipping fingers between your soaked cuntlips, grabbing you quite literally by the core.

He's excited and rough, able to hear your prior terrorized noises turn into confusion and discomfort. An improvement, in his opinion. Sybastian brushes your clitoris more accidentally than purposely, and the reflexive squirm of your legs paired with the whimper that you let out is what makes him lose composure.

Your poor body nearly tumbles to the carpet when the very furniture you laid on transforms before your eyes, into a looming, lanky monster with a purple chest for head, rows of misaligned teeth decorating the edges of that maw, gangly arms just as long as his legs protruding from it. He makes sure to not let you fall face first, but that might have been a bad idea, because when your doe eyes lock with his acidic yellow ones, you scream again.

Sybastian only tilts his head. It'd be pretty funny if you started running now. He'd have to go after you with an erection, with isn't very comfortable, but it'd be entertaining.

Instead, you shakily crawl back, hues widening like saucers when he brings his own stained fingers to his giant maw and calmly laps the traces of slick off them.

" What... What the fuck are you? "

If he was any other, more dignified type of monster, Sybastian would have felt offended.

" ... Syb. " He grunts out.

You don't look very satisfied with that answer. Unfortunately, you're neither talking nor moving, and his excitement won't let the mimic prolong this pause.

" Want to play. " He points at you, nodding. " I want too. Come. "

The mimic watches your face grow heated, little eyes darting everywhere but him after they catch sight of the tented loincloth doing absolutely nothing to conceal his arousal. He doesn't care to hide it either. You should look, you'll be getting acquainted soon anyway.

" N- No. No, I wasn't... "

Sybastian snickers, mocking. " Was was... I felt. "

Nervousness makes your throat bob.

" I liked. " He adds. " Naughty. Come. "

Sybastian adds more intensity to his poorly constructed coaxing, something you seem to pick up on. A healthy amount of self-preservation is, presumably, what stops you from flailing again when the mimic traces a claw over your ankle, scooting closer.

Sybastian eyes you like a hawk. There's little question, if you make stupid moves, you'll be punished.

Fortunately, you're smarter than that, allowing him to sit right next to your tense figure. Syb likes to think he's being gentle when he pushes the fabric of your shirt up, reaching your collarbone, inhuman eyes widening as you eventually take it off on your own.

Cooperation, from the humans he snags? Now isn't this novel. His cock all but throbs in response.

He laments to see that piece of chest padding your particular type of human tends to don, and his patience does have limits, because he simply uses a claw to rend the thin middle portion apart and free your chest to him.

You have pretty breasts.

Well, a lot of humans do in Sybastian's opinion, but yours have him salivating harder, those soft points visibly perked by your prior activities. The monster rumbles with giddiness, almost unable to belive a catch as appetizing as you landed in his grasp.

He roughly discards his own scant coverings and wastes no time using long arms to drag you closer, skin on skin contact having the mimic rumbling.

" Beautiful mate...! "

He praises, admiring your reaction when a blue tongue longer than your leg unfurls from his gaping maw. You lot always seem to squirm and gawk, and much to his ceaseless amusement today, he gets to see something more than just awe in your gaze. Curiosity.

There's little to no warning before the very same muscle rudely swipes across your chest, clumsily soaking your tits in warm drool while the monster chuckles at the yelp you let out. He savors them like he doesn't get to do this often, finally rolling that clapper between your breasts and easily allowing it to slink downward, across your softer portions and flicking the end of it around your mound.

" Stretch you nice... "

Sybastian sounds delirious even to himself, angling your legs a little roughly just so he can see what he's doing. Your flushed folds stare at him invitingly, he can only imagine what they'll feel like hugging his cock, but your kind is small and frail, he's learned he has to make you sticky and loose first. Whatever you were expecting when your wide eyes glanced down, it certainly wasn't the speed and dexterity that ravished your pussy.

He's never been one to play footsie, or tease, not when he's the one who's been teased to madness by your dirty little show. Sybastian's laps across your cunt are hard and fast, nearly jostling your lower body with their intensity, the pressure against your clit hardly giving you time to gasp in-between each harsh swipe. Not that it lasts long, he's shoving a drool-soaked tip inside far too quickly, trying to worm as much of himself in as he can before he's forced to give you room to breathe and adjust.

The monster beams down at you, his restless spidery hands stroking your thighs, a twitch of his member at every jolt of your legs when he hits something special. Syb can only hum and moan at the taste of your arousal before he's undulating his tongue forcefully, the grip of your inner walls doing nothing to stop him from making space. He salivates even more, a pool of drool drenching the space between your legs and the floor as Syb instinctively tilts his head, as if it could somehow shove him deeper into your poor vaginal canal.

The monster's eyes squint, studying your reactions when you jerk and cry in sudden pleasure. He doesn't like to gloat, but he thinks he's got the science down to make pretty little things like you explode all over his tongue. And if he's not wrong, you're about to give him just that. Impatient, the mimic paws at you until he can get a better feel of your clit, hoping that rolling the nub between his digits while his tongue presses into every crevice of you does the trick.

In no time at all, your undignified noises of animal delight are chocked by a sudden inhale as you tense and freeze. The contractions of your muscles signal his victory, Sybastian all but rips his tongue away to keep torturing your little pearl while you erupt beautifully for him. He laughs and rumbles pridefully when you try to twist away in overstimulation. It could be shame too, but he hardly cares, there's no need to feel ashamed of something so hot.

A lot of monsters can't squirt like this. You though? He wishes he could spend a whole day making you burst over and over-

Giggling a couple more times, the monster finally allows your twitching form to get some rest, peeling away slowly to bask in the mess he's made of you. He makes no secret of his enjoyment, moaning when the flavor coats every inch of his mouth and dropping a hand to his aching cock. The pumping is furious and fast, but not enough, not compared to what you could be doing for him right now

While you pant and huff, the monster grabs you by the neck, careful -Oh ever careful- not to stick his claws where they're unwanted. Not to twist anything wrong. You're smart, smart enough to know you shouldn't jerk your neck or move much in his hold. He can say he's grateful for that, later.

At the moment, Sybastian pulls you closer, slapping something hot and throbbing against your cheek. The way you try to side-eye his dick from this position is hilarious to him.

" ... Say thanks. "

Said shaft bumps against the side of your face tauntingly a couple more times, until his grip eventually lessens and you're allowed to see what you'll be working with more closely.

There are many things a monster like him can flex over humans, and you've come to see plenty today. His speed, his strength, his durability, his tongue... It should come as no surprise that his size would also feature in that list.

Thankfully for you, Sybastian can muster some modicum of patience for this moment, watching the gears turn in that little head as you try to think of how to best please him. One of your hands grabs him by the root, the other cups his balls, your initial attempt to fit him in your mouth fails. On the second one, you manage to at least get a decent portion in, making the mimic pant at the sight of your plush lips wrapped around him.

Chains clink when the mimic lifts his hands, ready to grab you and start fucking into your hot mouth, though he's beaten to it by your own sudden enthusiasm, putting every ounce of effort into making sure he stays still.

Clever girl, you know he'd just hold you down and make you choke.

Syb supposes he can give you that mercy, you're so responsive after all, he's certain you're the perfect mate for him. The way you slurp and hum around his girth is only compounding on this.

As pretty as you look working at him, the mimic's legs are tense enough to snap and he's leaking precum at an alarming rate, so you're nudged off his flushed cock with hesitation.

For a brief moment, Sybastian considers getting you out of this trap and finishing it all somewhere more comfortable. But then he looks at the clear-ish shine on your lips, the peaks of your tits and those cute eyes so focused on his every reaction... No, he doesn't think he can wait.

" Want you bad-! " He all but whines.

It's all too easy to maneuver you however he likes, ending up in the position worthy of a rutting creature, the monster draping over you on all fours. He's long enough to curve his chest of a head and stare back at you when the tip of his slobbered dick teases your opening, beady pupils full of mischief and lust. Although there's mild worry painted on your expression, you spread your legs the smallest amount.

And that's all he needs.

He thinks, pounding into you, seeing your teary eyes glaze in a trance, your mouth hanging open yet silent, it'll be hard to keep such an appetizing little thing away from the others...

The first thrust is drawn out and intense, the two of you groaning in bursts of sensation. He only stops when he's hilted, grinding a bit to milk the perfect grip of your pussy kissing his cockhead. That's the one respite you're allowed before he starts snapping his hips against yours hard enough to clap, snarling and digging dents into the poor ground.

Better it than you.

But maybe, if he fills you up well enough, if he breeds you so hard that the scent of him never leaves, they'll get the message.

[fang-revives]

(blows a kiss to the aether), to the artist behind Cara Noir. Heal well Tom Dawkins, we miss you Cara

[labuenosairesfrancaise]

OTTERSHAW PARK

The mansion

Hi guys!!

I'm sharing Ottershaw Park. This is the 18th building for my English Collection.

I decorated most of the house ground floor, for reference.

The interiors:

History of the house: In 1784 Thomas Sewell died and ownership of Ottershaw Park passed to his son, Thomas Bailey Heath Sewell, Lieutenant Colonel in the Surrey Fencible Cavalry. He sold it in 1796 to Edmund Boehm who improved the interior of the house and enlarged the estate by buying tracts of wasteland and allotments.

In about 1805 Boehm built, to the design of the eminent architect James Wyatt, two Grecian-style lodges at the new entrance to the estate from where a coach road ran to the mansion. The same architect may also have designed for Boehm the Gothic Chapel which originally served as a kitchen, bake house, dairy and pantry but was demolished in 1962.

Ottershaw Park was bought in 1819 by Major General Sir George Wood, a Lieutenant General in the Bengal Army. At this time the estate was largely self-supporting with stables, smithy, brew house, bake house, laundry, dairy, slaughter houses, ice house and two farms.

Sir George died in 1824 and the estate passed to his son, also named George, who in 1841 sold the property to Richard Crawshay who built a new bailiff’s house, farm buildings and brew house.

On Crawshay’s death in 1859 the estate was bought by Sir Thomas Edward Colebrooke MP, who made a number of alterations to the mansion. He also gave the money and land for the building of Christchurch and the first village school.

The estate was later sold to Lawrence James Baker, a stockbroker and MP who sold it in 1910 to the millionaire, Friedrich Gustav Jonathan Eckstein. Eckstein demolished the old mansion and replaced it with the present building designed by Niven & Wigglesworth which is more magnificent and much larger.

During World War I Eckstein made the building available to the British Red Cross as an Auxiliary Home Hospital but soon after the war sold it to Miss Susan Dora Cecilia Schintz, the daughter of a Swiss nitrates millionaire. Miss Schintz lost most of her sizeable inheritance through gifts to charity and bad investments and finally had to sell the estate. Much of it was acquired by the Ottershaw Park Investment Company (OPIC) which planned to develop the rim of the estate for housing. In 1932 the mansion and central part of the park became Ottershaw College, a boarding school for boys which for a short time was very successful, but eventually became insolvent and finally closed at the outbreak of World War II.

During the war The Vacuum Oil Company leased the mansion as offices and laboratories. From 1940 much of the surrounding land was either ploughed for crops or grazed as part of the war effort and the woodland areas were used by the 19 Vehicle Reserve Depot (VRD) for storing vehicles.

The Vacuum Oil Company moved back to London at the end of 1947 and Surrey County Council established Ottershaw School which was opened in 1948. The school prospered until 1980 when it closed due to financial constraints.

In 1982 the developers DeltaHome converted the mansion and other buildings into the present residential estate.

Link: https://www.exploringsurreyspast.org.uk/themes/places/surrey/runnymede/ottershaw/ottershaw_park_estate/

The garden:

More info: https://www.exploringsurreyspast.org.uk/themes/places/surrey/runnymede/ottershaw/ottershaw_park_estate/

The floorplan:

This house fits a 64x64  lot, but I think you can make it a 50x40 if you lose part of the garden and the conservatories on each side.

Piano nobile furnished, the rest is up to your liking.

Hope you like it.

You will need the usual CC I use:

all Felixandre cc

all The Jim

SYB

Anachrosims

Regal Sims

King Falcon railing

The Golden Sanctuary

Cliffou

Dndr recolors

Harrie cc

Tuds

Lili's palace cc

Please enjoy, comment if you like the house and share pictures of your game!

Follow me on IG: https://www.instagram.com/sims4palaces/

@sims4palaces

DOWNLOAD (only members-free to download)

[katewalker]

if i had a nickel everytime i see some yuri happening inside a prison cell, i'd have two nickels which isn't a lot, but it's weird that it happened twice.