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#I’m not a furry I’m not a furry I’m not a furry—
atalante241 · 2 days
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Being Bruce Wayne’s kid is such a trip bc what do you mean “Bruce Wayne isn’t real”, what do you mean Bruce— oh I’m sorry, Batman. Like imagine having to listen to your dad say that he isn’t real and the only real person is the version of him that indulges in his furry cosplay.
No like actually imagine it.
Your dad, the man who raised you after you lost your original parents, just looks at you and straight faced in a calm voice says: “Bruce Wayne isn’t real, only I — Batman — am.”
If you’re still not getting it imagine it in a reddit post format.
My (M27) father (M4X) is trying to make everybody believe that he isn’t real and that he’s actually his furry OC.
That shit would be wild.
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addsalwayssick · 2 days
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When Remus awoke, he felt an unfamiliar pain on his face. He was used to pain everyone else, but never really on his face. He looked his side, and his long term, and also goregous crush, Sirius Black, was asleep at his bed side.
Remus touched his face lightly, where the pain was and felt his heart rate spike because no, this could not be happening. He prided himself in the fact that his already ugly face didn’t have a scar, but there one was. He glanced at a sleeping Sirius, who had probably already seen the scar. Remus started to panic. Sirius probably already thought he was ugly, but now what would he think of Remus?
Remus felt himself choke, and knew he had to get out of that room with a knocked out Sirius. He slowly got out of the cot, and he walked quickly to his dorm, locking himself in the bathroom. He didn’t really know what time is was, but he knew that everyone would be at classes. Remus doesn’t know how long he sobbed. He just knows that there were guttural sobs coming from his gut, gasping noises as he thought about how Sirius wasn’t even gay, but thought he was ugly. Even when Sirius called him perfect and beautiful, he knew now that it wouldn’t even matter.
After maybe an hour or two, he wiped his teary eyes and faced the mirror. It was worse than he thought. The scar spanned from his eyebrow to his lip, causing Remus to let out another choked sob. He heard a soft knock on the door followed my a soft voice. “Remus? It’s Sirius,” Sirius spoke from the other side of the door.
“Go away,” Remus choked. His heart clenched painfully, because why did Sirius have to be nice to him?
“Did I do something?” Sirius asked, too soft and kind for what Remus knew he was thinking on the inside. “Remus please let me in.”
Remus breathed deeply, knowing Sirius would stay until Remus came out. He opened the door carefully, sliding back to the bathroom floor, hiding his face.
Sirius, who at only 14 years old, stood tall and proud, had such worry and fear in his eyes. Remus had never seen it before. He looked through his fingers at Sirius.
Sirius dropped to his knees to look at Remus. “Remus what happened?”
Remus slowly uncovered his face, showing the scar and exposing it to the cold air. “Oh Remus,” Sirius gasped.
Remus put his face back in his hands and sobbed. “Get out, get out, please get out,” Remus sobbed hard.
Sirius waited until Remus lifted his tear stained, red and puffy face to look at him. “I’m sorry, I know i’m ugly, please just go away.”
Sirius looked at him funnily. “Remus…”
“What?” Remus snapped.
Sirius didn’t answer, but instead kissed him softly on the lips. It only lasted maybe a second, if that, and Remus still believes it, even 60 years later when they’re old and gray, that it was the best day of his life.
“What?” Remus asked softly. Sirius grimaced.
“God, i’m sorry Remus. I know you’re not queer or whatever it’s called, but I just-“
Remus just hugged him and sobbed. “You don’t think i’m ugly?”
“Remus you’re the least ugly person i’ve ever seen. You’re beautiful”
Remus shook his head. “You’re lying.”
Sirius looked heartbroken at his accusation. “Remus, i’m not. You’re amazing. And even the scar looks sick- like you fought a dragon or something.”
Remus sobbed harder, but not because he was sad anymore. Remus really didn’t deserve Sirius. But everyday, until the day they died, Sirius reminded Remus of how much Sirius didn’t deserve Remus.
ugh sirius is such a pookie in this guys. forcing the tall strong pookie sirius agenda onto all of you (forcing all agendas onto you i’m a pathological liar boooooo) meow <3
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crabcantwrite · 1 day
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I’m so normal about him
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thylasupial · 19 hours
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jason todd but as a cat furry cause why not
tbh this was mostly just experimenting with random things lol
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Look I appreciate what furries have done for our society but stop trying to recruit me so aggressively I’ve already told you I’m not interested in joining
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dreamlandreader · 2 days
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Hounds of Love
Part One
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Eris Vanserra x Fem!Reader
Summary: When Eris Vanserra storms through the woods in a rage, the last thing he expects to come across is a beautiful fae who is heading right into the path of his father. Eris knows he can’t just stand by and watch this oncoming storm, but in helping this gentle soul, he may have to sacrifice more than he bargained for.
Content Warning - Parental abuse, parental illness, off screen injury caused by a dog (very briefly mentioned).
A/N: Here it is - the piece that landed me with major writers block for weeks and weeks on end and then got stalled because life got in the way! Inspired by the song Hounds of Love by Kate Bush and Feyre’s encounter with the water wraith in ACOMAF✨
Part two will be out soon 💖 Hope you enjoy 💖
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The hounds of love are hunting, I’ve always been a coward, and I don’t know what’s good for me … 
In the limited light of the quickly setting sun a furious male and his hounds stalked through the trees. 
The bronze leaves shivered in the wake of the Autumn Court heir, who bustled past in a burning rage. Embers of fire flickered at his fingertips as he watched his hounds run wild and free with a glint of jealousy burning in his warm eyes. 
Eris Vanserra was sick. Sick of his court which became more and more suffocating by the century. Sick of his title which kept him tethered to this land. Sick of his father, at whose hands he now bled. 
It had become a regular routine over the years, the way his father would manipulate and berate and twist the knife until Eris could bear it no longer and his calm exterior would shatter. Beron, unimpressed by his son’s outburst, would then beat him back into submission, and Eris would take it until his father got bored. Then he would slip out into the woods with his hounds, using the space to breathe, and to prevent himself from burning the whole damn court to the ground. 
As Eris stormed, the yowls of his hounds swirled around him, twigs snapping beneath their heavy paws as they ran and ran. Eris was all consumed plotting his father’s demise. He knew it was only a matter of time before one of them destroyed the other, and he would be damned if he gave up without a fight.
Lost in his own thoughts it took a few seconds for Eris to notice the sudden silence. The excitement of his hounds tapered off, and the only noise left was the ringing anger reverberating through his skull. A knot formed in his stomach, as he began to run in the direction of his dogs. Eris had spent centuries training his hounds, and they had a rhythm. They never once went silent unless he ordered them to. Not unless something terrible had happened to them. 
Burning orange trees blurred in Eris’s peripheral vision as he ran into a dusty clearing, the fire at his fingertips warmed his hands as he prepared for a fight, but he faltered when he saw the largest hound of the pack lay flat on his back with his soft stomach bared to the skies, a slender hand scratching away at his furry tummy. Glancing up in shock, Eris was greeted with gentle laughter as a joyful fae female watched his two youngest hounds prance around her, play fighting for her undivided attention. Eyes gazing back down once more Eris tutted as he watched the usually stoic leader of the pack bury her large head into the female’s lap, snuffling into her skirts and drawing another delightful giggle from her. 
“What well trained dogs I seem to have bred,” Eris spoke sharply, arms crossed and eyebrows raised. 
His hounds stiffened and stood to attention immediately upon hearing their masters sarcastic growl. You jumped to your feet in surprise, wiping your dusty hands on your dress, meeting Eris’s hard stare with a sheepish smile, crimson flooding your cheeks.  
“Oh, hello. I’m sorry, I didn’t realise they were out here with anyone. Your dogs are beautiful,” 
“My lady, you are lucky you still have your hands. My hounds do not usually take so kindly to strangers,” It was the truth, a few months ago a wandering merchant lost three fingers when he reached out to stroke the dogs without their permission. The fact that you stood before Eris not only whole but covered in fur from their loving affection was baffling to the Autumn Court heir. 
“These dogs?” You ask skeptically, holding back a laugh, reminding Eris of the position in which he had found them. 
“It appears they must have taken a liking to you my lady, a rare thing indeed,”
“I am not a lady,” you state gingerly. He should have noticed the lack of jewels, the plain dress, the absence of guards - but something about your sheer presence was so captivating that all of that had faded into the background. 
“I do apologise, you will have to pardon my ignorance,” It was Eris’s turn to blush then. He prided himself on his intuition. His innate ability to size up his opponents had served him well over the centuries, allowing him to swiftly understand a person and their motives in order to stay five steps ahead of them at all times. In your enchanting presence however, Eris’s usual instincts evaded him completely. 
“What may I call you then?”
“Oh right, my name is Y/N,” you reply, bashful as Eris takes your delicate hand and places a kiss upon it. 
“Whilst it truly is a pleasure to meet you Y/N, I am curious to what you are doing alone in the forest so close to nightfall. You are aware of what lurks within the trees once the sun goes down, no?” 
“I’m here to see the High Lord,” 
Eris stiffened, so many questions flying around his mind as something thick and painful settled itself deep in his chest. Why would such a seemingly gentle being want to be anywhere near his beast of a father? 
“Th-the High Lord?” was all Eris could stutter out.
“My family, we have a farm to the south, just above the border. Only for the past few years my father has been sick, and the crops have suffered greatly due to the droughts we’ve been experiencing,” 
Eris’s heart cracked for you, for the pain that swam in your eyes. There was no reason he should care, he had met you a matter of moments ago, and yet a part of him ached to fix your situation.  
“I would like to ask our High Lord for a reprieve on our tithe - just for six months. By then I hope and pray to the Mother to have our little farm back to the flourishing haven it once was,”  
You were dead. If you got to his father and begged him for anything then you might as well sign your own death warrant. Eris had witnessed too many times the tithes that ended in bloodshed. Beron was too clever to kill anyone in a public forum, he knew it would lead to rebellion, but his spies would soon catch up with anyone who was lacking in funds and they would all mysteriously vanish. He had to do something, he couldn’t let you wander innocently to your death. 
Oblivious to Eris’s internal struggle, you suddenly perked up, eyes widening, 
“Oh how rude of me, here I am prattling on and I haven’t even asked how I should address you? You are dressed so finely you must be a Lord, please forgive me,” you stated, sinking into yourself as you took in his perfect appearance.
The Lord’s pristine shoes alone likely cost more than your family could scrape together in a whole year. Embarrassment tainted your good mood as you pulled your cloak tighter around your body to hide your shabby clothing. 
Eris could sense the shame dripping off you, and unable to stop himself he placed a finger under your chin, and made sure your eyes met his.
“My name is Eris, but you needn’t concern yourself about formalities’ he told you “I am of little importance”. 
It wasn’t exactly a lie. Whilst his position in the Autumn Court provided him with the finest luxuries money could buy and any outsider could easily assume the heir had unlimited power and freedom, behind closed doors, under Beron’s harsh regime, Eris was nobody. He was liked by few and truly understood by none. 
 “Eris,” you say dreamily, tilting your head to truly take in the beautiful male before you. 
Under your gentle gaze Eris feels a glittering warmth spread across his body, a primal rush to protect you, and then a life altering snap.
“You’re-,” he stumbles, unable to finish his sentence before you begin your own.
“Anyway I best be going,” you rush out, realising the passing time and lifting your skirts to turn. “It was terribly nice to meet you, but I really must be on my way,”
“Please don’t!” Eris blurts, gently grabbing your hand, sending a shiver down your spine. You turn to him, confusion taking over your face as he explains softly.
“The highlord, he isn’t a good male. He won’t hesitate to hurt you. If you approach him with any vulnerability he will do anything he can to manipulate you into making a deal you can’t keep, and if that doesn’t work he will just kill you,” he said, stroking a surprisingly calloused thumb down the back of your hand.
“But, maybe if I can just explain my situation to him then-”
 “He won’t care, Y/N. You will die,” Eris’s eyes go dark and you know in your very soul he is telling the truth. “I just- I need you to believe me,”
“I do, it’s just-,” You faulter, breathing deeply before you continue.
“I can’t go home without this six months reprieve. We have nothing more to give. Surely if I turn up to the tithe next week empty handed he’ll just kill me anyway?”
Eris looks down at the wealth that drips from his body, and suddenly recalled the scandal that Tamlin’s ex-human had caused at the last Spring tithe. Rumours swirled far and wide of the Cursebreaker’s controversial gift to a poor wraith, and without a second thought Eris followed suit, pulling off the gold rings which covered his fingers.
“Here,” he says, shoving the pieces into your hands before he began to unclasp his cuff links.
“What, no! Eris, I can’t take this,”
“Yes, you can,” Eris insisted, moving on to his many earrings. “I will not let that beast touch you. I’m not in a position to offer you safety, but please let me give you some help,”
You nodded, frozen in shock, and watched as Eris filled your hands with rubies, opals and orange sapphires all set in the finest metals money could buy. Finally he takes out a fine leather pouch filled with gold coins and helps you to gently stuff the rest of his riches inside. Once the pouch is fit for bursting he removes his fur lined cloak and tells you to swap it for your own threadbare one.
Looking you once over, Eris swallowed down his instinct to press his lips against yours, knowing his relentless father would never allow for his eldest child, his heir, to be mated to a peasant.
Collecting himself, Eris let out a sharp whistle, making you jump as the leader of his pack came to his heel.
“I want you to take Hallie,” he said, his throat thick with emotion as he took your shaking hand into his own.
“Eris, I’m not taking your dog!” You argued, giving him an incredulous look.
“These woods are unsafe at the best of times, if you walk them with gold lining your pockets it is asking for trouble. She is a good hound. She will keep your safe,”
“I- I have no way to repay you for your kindness,” you breathed, silver lining your eyes, unable to fully comprehend the events of the last half hour.
“Stay safe, my lady, that’s all I ask,” he said, before kissing your hand one final time, petting his beloved Hallie on the head and then bidding you both goodbye as he disappeared between the trees, the sad howling of his remaining hounds in tow.
The walk back to the manor passed quickly in a mess of emotions, and even as Eris dragged himself to bed, accompanied by a glass of strong whisky, he tossed and turned all night, unable to forget the beautiful fae he left in the woods and the piece of his soul she had taken with her.
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Hope you enjoyed reading!
✨Let me know if you would like to be added to my general taglist ✨
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justsomeguycore · 12 hours
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i’m not a furry but i feel like furryism is kind of a good litmus test on whether someone can hang or not, like if i meet someone and they’re like “ew furries!!” i’m like you are not enlightened. you are not evolved. we have nothing more to say to each other
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malwarewolf404 · 1 day
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Not to rude but if I hear one more person say Hyena furries are basic or boring or not good I’m actually going to eat my phone. I’m sorry we can’t all be Binturoung-Beaver-Hyrax Hybrids, but Hyenas are some of the most unloved animals in nature and I’ll be damned if saying I imagine myself one is boring just because it has a niche popularity with punks like me. Go rub one out to Fnaf art.
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kaseysheart · 22 hours
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Me with the husky bf in Las Vegas. Perhaps two cardiofurs.
Not sure if I count him as a cardio boy but he sure loves my heart, his head stays on my chest for extended periods until he falls asleep. Perhaps his interest only extends to my own heart but I make content with him when ever we’re able to meet up.
I’m working on encouraging him to make his own heart content for me so I can share more of him here and on my YouTube, anything’s possible.
This was also his first furry experience at Las Vegas Fur Con
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fuck-customers · 2 hours
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There’s a place in hell for my former call center supervisor who was both a total rat who would throw anyone under the bus for the most minor benefits to himself and was ALSO an openly gay furry who I shit you not had like, vaguely sexy art of his sona on the wall behind him on our zoom team meetings where he would be shaming us about our handle times or whatever. I’m sorry I dont think you should get to do both! Go get a short sleeve button up shirt and Middle Manage you douchebag furries are comrades
Posted by admin Rodney
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YOU’RE STUCK WITH ME (chapter thirteen)
Main Navigation || Series Masterlist Please follow @your-eternal-library for all my fanfiction updates.
Pairing — Steve Rogers x f!Reader Summary — As his perfectly normal civilian neighbour, you’ve always been secretly curious about the Captain. Getting to know him while trapped together in your building’s elevator, however, definitely wasn’t on the agenda.
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Warnings — None.
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YOU’RE STUCK WITH ME
CHAPTER THIRTEEN HEAVEN ON MY SKIN
The door to your apartment opens with a slow and almost teasing creak, and on the other side stands Steve Rogers, his silhouette framed by the dim hallway light, looking like he’s just stepped off a vintage war poster. 
He watches as you freeze, eyes wide as saucers, darting all over him. A cocktail of emotions play across your face: surprise, relief, confusion, and something else that looks suspiciously like joy. 
He takes a sharp breath, eyes tracing the contours of your blue dress. It clings to you in all the right places, accentuating the sleep-mussed hair that gives you the appearance of a goddess roused prematurely from slumber.
There’s a smudge of red lipstick on your lips and a pair of carelessly tossed aside white high heels at your bare feet. 
The sight of you—vulnerable yet still undeniably you—strikes him with a wave of warmth that has nothing to do with the summer night air.
You are wearing his colours. 
“Steve?” Your voice is a mix of disbelief and an accusation, as if you’re both questioning his sudden appearance and blaming him for not being a figment of your imagination. 
For weeks, the news has been a relentless stream of Hydra Uprising updates. Steve’s absence had hung over the city like a shadow, and most likely left you wondering if the man who shared laughter and whispers with you in the elevator was still out there somewhere. 
“Can I come in?” Steve’s voice is a low rumble, breaking through the tableau of shock and disbelief. 
“Uh, yeah—yeah, of course,” you stammer out, stepping aside to let him pass. As he moves into your small living room, the air seems to shift, even as Chuck gleefully bounds over at the prospect of meeting a new friend. 
Steve places a hand on Chuck’s furry head, scratching absentmindedly behind those pointy ears as he takes in the disarray of your apartment—scattered chick flick DVDs, a box of half-eaten pizza, and a mound of throw pillows that had somehow ended up on the floor. 
“I like what you’ve done with the place,” he jokes.
“Thanks,” you laugh weakly, but the humour seems to fall flat. “Are you okay?” You blurt out, the words tumbling over each other in your haste. “I mean, after everything… with Hydra.” 
“Doing just fine,” he replies, his heart doing awkward somersaults at the earnest sound of your concern. “And you?” 
“Me? I’m fine… Just, you know, eating my feelings,” you add, gesturing to the pizza with a self-deprecating smile. Steve nods and for a moment, you both fall silent, the weight of recent events pressing down on you. “Look at me, I’m so rude. I haven’t even offered you anything to drink. What’s your poison? I have beer? Or would you prefer water?” 
You can’t seem to help but fidget, your nervous energy sending you fluttering around the room like an over-caffeinated little bunny.
He touches your arm. “Please wait.” 
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The contact halts you mid-flight between the table and the fridge, and you turn to face him, a question in your eyes. 
“I’ve been… I’ve been through a lot,” he starts, his voice low and even. “My life—it’s not normal. It’s battles, it’s constantly moving… it’s hard to promise someone I’ll always be around.” 
You hold your breath, your heart thudding against your ribs like a trapped bird. You watch him, searching for any hint that this is just another mission briefing, but his cerulean gaze holding yours with an intensity that feels far too personal for comfort. 
“But here’s the truth—as crazy as it sounds because I’ve only known you a few hours… I care about you. A lot. There’s been a lot on my mind the past few weeks, but… I thought about you every day.” His confession hangs in the air, a brave flag raised amidst the debris of uncertainty. 
In the span of a heartbeat, your mind somersaults through a series of emotions—surprise, skepticism, joy, and fear. Can you really entertain the thought of being someone special to a man who leaps from planes without a parachute? 
You think back to recent days; you could see him everywhere you went, desperate for any news of him, not knowing if he was dead or alive. 
But then flashbacks of the elevator incident flicker before you: the clench of his jaw, the unexpected warmth of his laughter, the way his presence seemed both exhilarating and terrifyingly permanent. The way he held you close under the guise of sharing warmth, and the way he swayed you to the music as he danced into your heart. 
“Since that day,” you begin, your tone steadying as determination quells your doubt with each word. “I haven’t stopped thinking about you either. It’s like you’ve been doing that ridiculous hero landing right into my regular, boring life.” 
A reluctant smile tugs at the corners of your lips, softening your features. A subtle shift lifts your expression, you can feel it spreading through your entire body as you take a hesitant step forward, letting down walls you didn’t even realize you’d built so high. 
“Somehow, I’m okay with that.” You smile, looking into those deep pools of earnest blue, sparking to life with a light that could probably outshine his shield on its brightest day. It’s as if your admission has breathed into him the very essence of hope, and the space between you continues to close. 
“Okay with that?” He repeats, the words barely a whisper but heavy with meaning. Chuck, as if sensing a shift in the air, heads over to his bed in the corner of the living room, hiding his face beneath his tail. 
“Shockingly, yes,” you laugh, your usual candour laced with a newfound tenderness. “If you make me say something mushy, I swear I’ll—” 
But Steve takes that final, decisive step forward, closing the distance at last. And then his hands are on you.
« Chapter 12 || Chapter 14 »
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Notes — Double release again today! Click that button for the next chapter :)
Taglist — My taglist has been discontinued. Please follow @your-eternal-library and turn on notifications for all my fanfiction updates.
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ap-kinda-lit · 2 years
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Honestly…same, Chi Chi
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bixels · 28 days
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Wish regular folks on the internet would stop towing the line and continuing to act like furries are some weird, deviant thing nowadays. I’ll be watching Vinny Vinesauce and a hot male furry design will show up in a game and he’ll go ‘oh. Oh god. Oh god chat no. OH GODD WHY. EUGH CHAT STOP. (makes an inhuman noise) WHY ARE HIS TITS SO.’ Like, man, relax. His tits are so because it’s hot, get horny like the rest of us, next question.
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bisclavaret · 10 months
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holds him like a coke can
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snowflake-sage · 1 month
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Complicated feelings
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yoshifawful64 · 9 months
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HUGE WIN FOR THE FURRIES
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