#mmmmm I don't know about that...!

[lazylittledragon]

so uhhhhhhhh. not to be cryptic and bitchy on main but congratulations to everyone in my messages for like 5 months on being right i guess

[holnnetd]

König and his past

I've done too much research...

He's still a handsome young man, but now he holds a rifle and skiis.

WARNING: just some canon mentions of violence, I don't think it's bad, nothing else, yeah I'm being tame

"Ich will ein Jagdkommandos werden." This boy, now a young man, 21, four years of service behind him, never stopped to scare the living hell out of you.

"I'm sorry, you want to become a Jagdkommandos? Young man, you're aware you're 21?" You ask him, turning your head around to look at him.

Still same after all these years, worrying and fussing over him. He smiles, scratching his cheek as he leans against the kitchen counter, eyes follow you as you wash the dishes.

"Mhm." He muses, arms crossed over his chest.

As much as you haven't changed much, he did. Physically, mostly. The boy that was about half a head taller then you, towers over most furniture in your house. The upper cabinet you never organise because it's a little too far up? He can easily reach and grab the muffin tray you thought you once lost.

Mentally? Did he change? Sure. He became confident. That's about it. The anxiety is sometimes still palpable, mostly when he doesn't take his meds, which he clearly doesn't.

"I mean, I became a Gebirgsjäger pretty quick. Two years in the Alps is soothing my nerves, sure, but I want something more." He adds, now placing both his hand on the counter behind him, tapping his finger repeatedly on the wood.

"You can't keep still." You conclude, reminding him that this was the exact reason why he couldn't become a sniper. Because he couldn't keep still.

"It's not the same."

"Sure."

"Liebes, I can qualify. And if not, I can reapply again. And if they don't accept me I will just stay in the freezing cold, skiing all day." That's far from what he does everyday, but he'd rather tell you that's the main activity.

He couldn't imagine how you'd react if he told you he climbs 15-20 km every day, carrying around 30 if not 40 kg of equipment, shooting birds when he's bored—Sure, shooting birds in your free time is not up to the code, but he's still salty about not being accepted as a sniper. If he can shoot a bird from half a km away, in the freezing temperature, he should be allowed to shoot people—, and drinking tea from melted snow.

"You don't skii around all day in summer."

"I climb."

Sigh.

"Why Jagdkommandos? I'm already terrified you won't come back home, and I'll only get an ice cube of a man at my door."

"You were terrified I'd die in bootcamp."

"You could have!"

"The computer isn't doing you any good, just reading about how soldiers die in the most tragic ways isn't healthy. It's giving you anxiety. You think any phone call will be to notify you that I'm dead in a ditch."

Guilty as charged. In some down time you do scroll through the web, reading all about military and how many die, or the stories of dead soldiers being shared by devastated family members. Whenever he's back you fuss over how many soldiers across the world die, only for him to tell you that he didn't.

"But what if you will be dead in a ditch?"

"Then my ghost will come back and haunt you." He laughs, walking up behind you and placing his head on yours, glancing down at the dishes.

It's a comfortable moment, a soft beat of silence and some bodily warmth.

"What do the Jadgkommandos do?"

A smile perks up at the edge of his lip, and he wraps his arms around your waist. Of course you give in.

"Kill."

Your brow furrows and you lightly elbow him to his side, drawing out a hearty chuckle from him.

"What? They do." Another jab.

"Fine, fine. Other then rigorous training? They are like the elite of elites. Badass. But I can't tell you a lot. I'd have to kill you if I did."

It's not uncommon for him to talk boldly, never keeping his tongue to himself around you.

Sometimes even literally.

From time to time he'd come up to you, wrap his awfully huge arms around you, and then just lick your cheek before walking off, no words said at all. And you sit with a confused expression on what the fuck that was supposed to mean.

"How long are you staying?" You finally ask him, and he hums in thought. "Week. Then I'm going back to the mountains."

You nod lightly.

...

Something is off.

"What? You want me to leave early?" He asks, a light smile tugging at his lips.

"No- no. That's not it. It's just—" and that smile of his drops. "—I'll have a guy over. I don't want him to get the wrong idea."

"A guy?" The questions comes out slowly, his brows furrowing, as if he wanted you to repeat yourself. "Wrong idea?" Surely he misheard.

"Is something broken? I can repair it." He quickly chimes in, figuring "a guy" is just someone that wants to help a lady in distress.

"No.. no. Nothing is broken."

"Then why is a guy coming over? And why would I need to leave?"

There's no reason to. No, no.

"I... wanted to spend time with a friend. He works at the butcher, and—"

"You want to have Konrad over?" Well if that's not a damn betrayal, he doesn't know what is.

"...How do you know him?" You ask softly, placing the dishes away before taking off the gloves and looking up at him. His arms let go of your waist, and you think you can finally have some space, but he just grabs your ribcage and turns you to face him.

"Warum zur verfickter Scheiße willst du Konrad hier haben? In this house."

"I—"

"You know that he had his dick in half the women in the whole city? Him? That fucking guy?"

Your words stay stuck in your throat, not uttering a word. Not because of what he said, but because of his disapproving gaze, the deep eyes boring into your own. The shimmer dimming.

His hands hold tightly onto your ribcage, and you know he could break in a rib if he pressed a little harder.

Maybe something more then just his appearance changed.

"No." He shakes his head, letting go of you.

"Absolutely not," he repeats, turning on the balls of his feet to lean against the counter.

"Mh-hm." He shakes his head.

His foot taps, and he walks out of the kitchen, putting on his boots and grabbing a jacket before leaving without another word.

"█████! Wait!" You call out to him, quickly biting your tongue at the use of his name.

He came back in the evening. Footsteps heavy. He took of his boots, placed them neatly next to yours and walked to the bathroom, washing his hands.

You tip toe down the stairs to peek around the corner. "Kleiner..." That Nickname never changed over the years.

"Are... are you fine? Is he fine?" You question, walking into the bathroom to glance over his side.

He gruffs out a noise, before drying up his hands on the white towel, turning to glance at you.

"Alles ist okay." He then adds, ushering you out of the bathroom with a hand on your lower back.

Away from the bloodied sink and stained towel.

"It's late." He adds, ushering you to your bedroom, before lightly pushing you into bed.

Or well, what he perceived as lightly.

His trousers and shirt were both quickly discarded and he climbed into your bed with you, hands gripping onto your waist, only to pull the shirt up a little and wrap his arms around your bare skin, not saying a singular word more.

"Can you stop pulling my shirt up?" You just question, looking down at how his hands are perusing to tug to get it off fully. Seems like a little skin of your waist wasn't enough.

"I need to feel your skin." He murmurs, trying to tug it off. "Mama let me do it whenever I felt down."

You're not his mother.

"Fine."

"Hm...," he smiled and buried his face in the bare skin of your chest, pajama top discarded on the ground.

Exactly one whole person asked me to write part three, and I can't ever deny my precious content consumers a little food. @demothers-empty-blog yes I did it for you 😘

[swan2swan]

Another thing to love about Gia, you ask?

She's a Normal Someone that Ben met off the island.

He went to college. Took classes. Befriended someone. Fell in love. Wooed her. Did his best to learn her language. You know. Normal Things that Normal Human Beings Do.

For Ben, the Jungle Boy, that's a terrific narrative development...and it also really helps with him being a few steps of everyone else (even if his paranoia is still a thing).

[teddybeartoji]

hm would sae entertain my twitch streamer dreams..

[rnoonsetter]

the worst part about staying up late to write is that my brain can conjure ten million reasons to not be writing right now and the biggest one is food.

like, there's nothing open this late. and i know that if i eat anything (but especially fast food, which is my only real option) then i'm going to be horrifically sick, either now or in the morning. but i saw a pic of wingstop food on my dash and dear lord i could fucking destroy some wingstop rn

[hauntingjasper]

We are all afraid of something...

I wonder what Prince Gumball's biggest fear would be?

There's an episode (Five short tables I think) where it shows that he's afraid of dying alone/his own mortality to some extent. I imagine that because he's long-lived and most likely has watched many people die before him, he's scared that there won't be anyone else by *his* side when it's his turn. There's no way of knowing when or how, he wouldn't be ready for it, so that's probably double scarier for him. He's an anxious fella

[is-this-tf]

Most underrated type of tf, GO!!

Oh my GOD- okay first off to be clear: everyone has one of these. Everyone has an opinion on what kind of TF is underrated, what kind they want to see more of and what they think deserves more love, and they're all right. TF is a wide as hell interest, and like god damn we're insatiable, but that's alright because it really IS good. (so long as it isn't hurting people but that's a given.)

That said.

Fucking. OC TF. I want to TF into your OCs. I WANT TO TF INTO SO MANY OF YOUR OCS SO BAD THEY'RE SO COOL OR HOT OR CUTE OR GENDER OR WELL CRAFTED OR ALL OF THE ABOVE AND EVERYTHING, and holy GOD I wish people made more TF content for their extremely extremely TFable OCs. Fursonas or sonas in general, dnd characters, original content characters, in-universe self inserts or other OCs made for canon material, the list goes on and on and on and ON. OC TF IS SO, SO UNDERRATED.

(I suffer from what I like to call 'chronic fast TF mood metabolism' and it's terminal. It's forever. I'm in this for the long haul. I see a hot character or a fat OC or a fuzzy AU of a character or a goddamn cool half-finished sketch of a design for something (usually ANYTHING) and I pick that TF mood up so fucking fast. I'm so FUCKED, you have to understand. Please, please make TF content of your extremely TFable OCs I am STARVING.)

OC TF is the Best TF, and you can quote me on this because I am RIGHT!

[veerbles]

no thoughts head empty just some vague pynch as joey/pacey dawson's creek au

[sp3akfromtheart]

im about to eat so many olives and no one can stop me

[carthus-flame-arc]

I need to be a pilot in a mech hunting Kaiju

I need to be a pilot in a mech hunting Kaiju

I need to be a pilot in a mech hunting Kaiju

I n-

[babsbabbles]

the information junkie in me is really itching to do things like miniature literature reviews. I want to compile data bro it would be so fun

[quitedisastrous]

my mom told me i almost got diagnosed with autism as a kid (she says i wasn't officially diagnosed because the diagnosis wouldn't have been useful so i guess my symptoms were so on the fence that they didn't push for it) which. like i'm 100% sure i have autism but holy mackerel. she couldn't have told me this as a kid???? it's a good thing i'm both logical and oblivious so i didn't spend too much time thinking "something is wrong with me. what the fuck is wrong with me" but like. what the fuck?

[mistfallengw2]

If anyone wants to ask stuff about Vesska and their "everything goes well" AU, feel free to give an input to the rambles that WILL appear sooner or later 👁👁

[metranart]

Imagine Gojo setting a condition to his Clan for him to give them an heir. "It's HER or no one." The elders aren't happy that he chose a non-sorcerer, but they reluctantly agree... that is, if Gojo manages to convince you.

“Come here-...I’m far from done, kitten.”

God, Gojo still makes you nervous, with his mouth buried between your legs for longer than you can even imagine. Why are you still so nervous? Is it the proximity? Is it the way he leans in to make eye contact while he licks you? Is it those blue piercing eyes? Or that immensely amused smirk that twists his lips just enough so he can keep eating you out?

"Mmmmm... stop moving so much, (Y/N). We are making a mess of my desk..." he purrs, all too pleased to watch your eyes roll to the back of your skull. "That’s my good girl..." the man between your legs, praises, "my future bride to be...-"

"T-...that's still u-...under discussion, S-Satoru." Your quivering protests are sweet chords of music for him, "I already t-.... told you that I d-don't want to be part of the jujutsu world.... nor b-belong to a-.... any clan."

"Not any clan, pretty. MY clan." 

You hear him slurp greedily at your folds and feel a warm trick of saliva run down your ass, and when your mouth is about to throw another protest-... Satoru Gojo makes a vacuum on your quivering clit with that annoying mouth of his. Your thighs tense and the muscles of your stomach follow, a quake that rakes your entire form, making you a pathetic mock of a human.

Both your hands fly to cover your mouth and Satoru chuckles deep, amused rumble that cracks the rest of your self-control. Your cheeks grow in the most adorable shade of pink, and your breathing hastens.

"So CUTE~"

Satoru whimpers, dumb founded, his broad chest puffing with so much fervor, so much blinding endearment that he feels like about to explode. He can see the doubt in your beautifully contorted features, and he dips his tongue inside you, fucking you with that fat tongue to try to make you agree to his terms, to be HIS.

Dammit! You feel… amaaaaaazing. Why? It’s like a flip inside you only he can switch at will—... even so, he’s dangerous, you remember. He’s a special grade sorcerer, you remember. He’s a mystery, he’s unpredictable—he’s invincible, unreadable, impenetrable and lethal with a playful smile, and you really know absolutely nothing about him. 

Yet, he insists that you belong together. He insists on putting his child inside you, he insists that he will take care of you and his life will be yours. He insists that you belong in his world and if you're not there, he won't be there either. He insists on fucking you stupid every chance he gets, bending you over surfaces, of course! Always putting his coat or his shirt or any piece of his clothing, just so your skin never comes into contact with any unworthy surface. He insists, he insists and insists and insists...

“Fuck—” he growls, grabbing your hips, “—why are you... h-how do you manage to always have me wrapped around your little finger—?” 

“I want you, Satoru-u... but I can't-” 

He stops you with a soft but firm, squeeze to your waist. 

“Not like this,” he pants, tipping his head to slowly lick a strip down your sweet cunt, a farewell caress, the whisper of a kiss to his last effort before lunch time is over and he can try again, later. “Let me pretend just for a little longer that you said yes—"

Your gaze drops to his trembling thighs and the warmth that settles in the pit of your tummy is intensified by the clear drop of precum shining at the tip of his gloriously thick and long cock, now achingly swollen and a mouthwatering shade darker in color than the rest of him.  

“I'm yours, Satoru-” you offer in a quiet whisper and can feel him shake his head. “You aren't.... but I’ll make you change your mind. You, just watch me, kitten."

➡️ 👀 NSFW Sneak Peek artwork HERE ;)

➡️ FULL NSFW ART of this story

[drysauce]

another evening another instance of me helping other people instead of doing stuff i have to do for tomorrow hhhh

[keeps-ache]

i love genres!! i do not know what they are but they're cool !!