Undercover blonde
- Thread starter sweatyxx
- Start date
thegreatunknown1469
Member
If I'm understanding it correctly, Kemono isn't set up to auto pull from Patreon. It requires a subscriber of Patreon to initialize a process to upload to Kemono. One artist that I like is still active on Patreon, but hasn't had a Kemono update since August 2025, for example.
KidneyCracker
Active member
Think kemono on a subscriber sharing their patreon credentials or feeding it the content in some way... plus it looks like it requires some manual push to run since nothing has updated for months. same with their onlyfans scraper coomer.
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makoto shishio
Active member
Undercover Blonde Ch. 21
20 de julho
Evie lay in the darkness of her bedroom, eyes closed but consciousness stubbornly persisting. The digital clock on her nightstand silently marked the passage of time, 11:47 PM becoming 12:23 AM, then 1:42 AM. Nearly two hours had passed since sheâd first crawled into bed, yet sleep remained elusive, held at bay by the rapid drumming of her heart and the relentless carousel of thoughts spinning through her mind
It was Wednesday night, technically Thursday morning. Tomorrow, later today, sheâd return to Elysium for her first shift of the week. The thought alone quickened her pulse, a pre-performance anxiety that had grown rather than diminished with experience. Each return to Elysium now carried greater significance, more complex relationships to navigate, higher stakes.
Her mind refused to quiet, instead replaying the events of the past week in vivid detail.
Last Thursday, she had passed the fourth test, the fake Reynolds assassination plot. She remembered the near-euphoric relief of discovering she wasnât about to be executed, the validation from Damien that she had proven her loyalty. That single conversation had transformed her status within the organization, cementing her position in ways that would have otherwise taken months.
Friday night, sheâd wrapped her hands around Richard Harringtonâs cock and stroked him to completion while other dancers engaged in even more intimate activities nearby.
Saturday night, sheâd kissed Michael Laurent, her body responding to his touch before sheâd pulled away, confused by her own desires.
Then Sunday, the shock of seeing Lexi in the limousine as Victorâs date, the cocaine at Harringtonâs party, the explicit display upstairs. And finally, Damien Maddox naked in her bed, inside her body.
Mondayâs debrief had devolved into open hostility, her confrontation with Lexi about Victor escalating until Grant had been forced to intervene. The hypocrisy of her handlerâs criticism felt even more infuriating in retrospect. Lexi had spent potentially years with Victor Maddox, apparently with full authorization, yet continued judging Evieâs far less significant compromises.
Evie pressed the heels of her hands against her eyes. The chronological catalog of events provided structure but no resolution to the turmoil inside her. The density of transformation within the past week overwhelmed her attempt at mental organization. She had become someone else, step by step, choice by choice, compromise by compromise. The cumulative effect was a woman her previous self wouldnât recognize...
20 de julho
Evie lay in the darkness of her bedroom, eyes closed but consciousness stubbornly persisting. The digital clock on her nightstand silently marked the passage of time, 11:47 PM becoming 12:23 AM, then 1:42 AM. Nearly two hours had passed since sheâd first crawled into bed, yet sleep remained elusive, held at bay by the rapid drumming of her heart and the relentless carousel of thoughts spinning through her mind
It was Wednesday night, technically Thursday morning. Tomorrow, later today, sheâd return to Elysium for her first shift of the week. The thought alone quickened her pulse, a pre-performance anxiety that had grown rather than diminished with experience. Each return to Elysium now carried greater significance, more complex relationships to navigate, higher stakes.
Her mind refused to quiet, instead replaying the events of the past week in vivid detail.
Last Thursday, she had passed the fourth test, the fake Reynolds assassination plot. She remembered the near-euphoric relief of discovering she wasnât about to be executed, the validation from Damien that she had proven her loyalty. That single conversation had transformed her status within the organization, cementing her position in ways that would have otherwise taken months.
Friday night, sheâd wrapped her hands around Richard Harringtonâs cock and stroked him to completion while other dancers engaged in even more intimate activities nearby.
Saturday night, sheâd kissed Michael Laurent, her body responding to his touch before sheâd pulled away, confused by her own desires.
Then Sunday, the shock of seeing Lexi in the limousine as Victorâs date, the cocaine at Harringtonâs party, the explicit display upstairs. And finally, Damien Maddox naked in her bed, inside her body.
Mondayâs debrief had devolved into open hostility, her confrontation with Lexi about Victor escalating until Grant had been forced to intervene. The hypocrisy of her handlerâs criticism felt even more infuriating in retrospect. Lexi had spent potentially years with Victor Maddox, apparently with full authorization, yet continued judging Evieâs far less significant compromises.
Evie pressed the heels of her hands against her eyes. The chronological catalog of events provided structure but no resolution to the turmoil inside her. The density of transformation within the past week overwhelmed her attempt at mental organization. She had become someone else, step by step, choice by choice, compromise by compromise. The cumulative effect was a woman her previous self wouldnât recognize...
makoto shishio
Active member
Eddie Wilder
8 horas atrĂĄs
Evie moved through the corridors of Bal Harbour Shops. Four shopping bags already hung from her forearms, each one emblazoned with luxury logos, Gucci, Prada, Saint Laurent, Fendi. Sheâd spent over $6,000 and felt absolutely no guilt about it.
After the debrief concluded, sheâd driven back to her apartment in silence, her mind churning through everything Grant and Lexi had said. Sheâd walked through the door, dropped her keys on the kitchen counter, and sat on the couch, pulling her knees up and wrapping her arms around them. The afternoon stretched ahead with no scheduled appointments, no shifts at Elysium, no operational requirements, just empty hours that would allow her thoughts to spiral.
The restlessness built until she couldnât sit still anymore. Sheâd changed out of her yoga clothes, grabbed her purse, and left the apartment, driving to Bal Harbour Shops.
She needed movement, distraction, something to occupy her hands and quiet her mind.
A woman with a toddler moved aside as Evie approached, unconsciously yielding space in the way people did for those who radiated wealth and confidence. Evie hadnât noticed this phenomenon when sheâd first started coming here. Now she recognized it as one of wealthâs invisible privileges, the subtle deference, the presumption of belonging.
She paused outside Valentino, adjusting her sunglasses before entering. A sales associate looked up from folding a cashmere sweater and immediately smiled in recognition.
âMs. Blake! Lovely to see you again.â
âHello, Sophia,â Evie replied, allowing a small smile. âHow are you?â
âWonderful, thank you.â Sophia approached, her gaze taking in Evieâs outfit, the tailored white pants, silk blouse, and gold jewelry that marked her as someone who belonged among these price tags. âWe just received our new collection yesterday. Several pieces made me think of you.â
âShow me,â Evie said, setting her bags down by a velvet upholstered bench...
makoto shishio
Active member
Undercover Blonde Ch. 23
Foto do perfil do criador
Eddie Wilder
2 dias atrĂĄs
Sam buckled himself into his Porsche Macan and started the engine. The underground parking garage of his building was quiet, most of his neighbors already out for the night or settled in for the evening. Heâd dressed in a navy linen suit and white shirt open at the collar. On his wrist was the Rolex Submariner he always wore when he needed to project wealth and success. It was the same style of outfit heâd worn last Saturday at Elysium, the same presentation of affluent professionalism.
He shifted into reverse and pulled out of his spot, then navigated through the garageâs maze toward the exit ramp. The sound of the engine echoed off the walls, amplified by the enclosed space.
The clock on his dashboard read 9:09 PM when he emerged onto the street. Plenty of time to make it to Elysium for his 9:30 meeting with Jonas, Kiran, and Zheng, three tech executives from an enterprise software company based in Boise. They were finalizing a contract worth just north of $600,000, a solid commission for Sam that would more than cover tonightâs expenses and then some. More importantly, they were the perfect clients for his purposes tonight. Young, probably mid-thirties at most, flush with corporate money and expense accounts that could absorb whatever they spent without raising eyebrows during the next quarterly review. They were eager to celebrate a deal that wasnât even finalized yet, treating the signing as inevitable rather than pending, which meant theyâd be loose with their spending and enthusiastic about whatever entertainment Sam provided.
But the clients werenât what occupied Samâs thoughts as he navigated through Miamiâs Friday night traffic.
The truth was that every quiet moment, every pause in conversation, every gap in his schedule, his thoughts returned to the same obsessive loop. Evie at Elysium, in the VIP section, doing whatever it was she was actually doing up there...
Foto do perfil do criador
Eddie Wilder
2 dias atrĂĄs
Sam buckled himself into his Porsche Macan and started the engine. The underground parking garage of his building was quiet, most of his neighbors already out for the night or settled in for the evening. Heâd dressed in a navy linen suit and white shirt open at the collar. On his wrist was the Rolex Submariner he always wore when he needed to project wealth and success. It was the same style of outfit heâd worn last Saturday at Elysium, the same presentation of affluent professionalism.
He shifted into reverse and pulled out of his spot, then navigated through the garageâs maze toward the exit ramp. The sound of the engine echoed off the walls, amplified by the enclosed space.
The clock on his dashboard read 9:09 PM when he emerged onto the street. Plenty of time to make it to Elysium for his 9:30 meeting with Jonas, Kiran, and Zheng, three tech executives from an enterprise software company based in Boise. They were finalizing a contract worth just north of $600,000, a solid commission for Sam that would more than cover tonightâs expenses and then some. More importantly, they were the perfect clients for his purposes tonight. Young, probably mid-thirties at most, flush with corporate money and expense accounts that could absorb whatever they spent without raising eyebrows during the next quarterly review. They were eager to celebrate a deal that wasnât even finalized yet, treating the signing as inevitable rather than pending, which meant theyâd be loose with their spending and enthusiastic about whatever entertainment Sam provided.
But the clients werenât what occupied Samâs thoughts as he navigated through Miamiâs Friday night traffic.
The truth was that every quiet moment, every pause in conversation, every gap in his schedule, his thoughts returned to the same obsessive loop. Evie at Elysium, in the VIP section, doing whatever it was she was actually doing up there...
likaponum
New member
Do you have chapters 21, 22, and 23?
