#Feral Love

[hsrblake]

I love this silly movie poster I did I think we should do something called Feral Love for romance week or weeks if not I start doing it and take one for the team.

[petrikovphd]

crying thinking about simon spending every long, long day only being able to look forward to sleeping because maybe, just maybe, he'll dream of betty

but he just dreams about fionna and cake

over and over again.

and maybe that's what makes it feel so hard when people talk to him about fionna and cake. it's not just the shame (it's mostly the shame) but it's also the resentment of fionna and cake taking up the one space in his mind where he could finally get some reprieve.

and then he gets desperate, he tries to open the portal, and who comes out? cake, and then fionna. they ruin his chances to see her every time

he'll never see her again and it's all their fault

poor simon, man

[x-heesy]

𝚆𝚘𝚗𝚍𝚎𝚛𝚏𝚞𝚕 𝙸 𝚌𝚘𝚞𝚕𝚍 𝚌𝚛𝚢 😭

𝚁𝚞𝚗 𝚏𝚛𝚘𝚖 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚕𝚒𝚐𝚑𝚝

𝚈𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚎𝚢𝚎𝚜 𝚋𝚕𝚊𝚌𝚔 𝚕𝚒𝚔𝚎 𝚊𝚗 𝚊𝚗𝚒𝚖𝚊𝚕

𝙳𝚎𝚎𝚙 𝚒𝚗 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚠𝚊𝚝𝚎𝚛

𝙸 𝚌𝚊𝚛𝚎 𝚏𝚘𝚛 𝚗𝚘 𝚘𝚗𝚎 𝚋𝚞𝚝 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚘𝚏𝚏���𝚙𝚛𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚘𝚏 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚖𝚒𝚗𝚍

𝚁𝚞𝚗 𝚏𝚛𝚘𝚖 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚘𝚗𝚎 𝚠𝚑𝚘 𝚌𝚘𝚖𝚎𝚜 𝚝𝚘 𝚏𝚒𝚗𝚍 𝚢𝚘𝚞

𝚆𝚊𝚒𝚝 𝚏𝚘𝚛 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚗𝚒𝚐𝚑𝚝 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚌𝚘𝚖𝚎𝚜 𝚝𝚘 𝚑𝚒𝚍𝚎

𝚈𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚎𝚢𝚎𝚜 𝚋𝚕𝚊𝚌𝚔 𝚕𝚒𝚔𝚎 𝚊𝚗 𝚊𝚗𝚒𝚖𝚊𝚕

𝙱𝚕𝚊𝚌𝚔 𝚕𝚒𝚔𝚎 𝚊𝚗 𝚊𝚗𝚒𝚖𝚊𝚕

𝙲𝚛𝚘𝚜𝚜𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚠𝚊𝚝𝚎𝚛

𝙻𝚎𝚊𝚍 𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚖 𝚝𝚘 𝚍𝚒𝚎

𝚆𝚎 𝚙𝚛𝚎𝚜𝚜 𝚏𝚘𝚛 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚠𝚊𝚝𝚎𝚛, 𝚙𝚛𝚎𝚜𝚜 𝚏𝚘𝚛 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚛𝚒𝚟𝚎𝚛, 𝚙𝚛𝚎𝚜𝚜 𝚏𝚘𝚛 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚛𝚊𝚒𝚗

𝚆𝚎 𝚙𝚛𝚎𝚜𝚜 𝚏𝚘𝚛 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚠𝚊𝚝𝚎𝚛, 𝚙𝚛𝚎𝚜𝚜 𝚏𝚘𝚛 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚛𝚒𝚟𝚎𝚛, 𝚙𝚛𝚎𝚜𝚜 𝚏𝚘𝚛 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚙𝚊𝚒𝚗

𝚆𝚎 𝚙𝚛𝚎𝚜𝚜 𝚏𝚘𝚛 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚠𝚊𝚝𝚎𝚛, 𝚠𝚎 𝚙𝚛𝚎𝚜𝚜 𝚏𝚘𝚛 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚠𝚊𝚝𝚎𝚛

𝚆𝚎 𝚙𝚛𝚎𝚜𝚜 𝚏𝚘𝚛 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚠𝚊𝚝𝚎𝚛, 𝚠𝚎 𝚙𝚛𝚎𝚜𝚜 𝚏𝚘𝚛 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚠𝚊𝚝𝚎𝚛

𝙵𝚎𝚛𝚊𝚕 𝙻𝚘𝚟𝚎 𝚋𝚢 𝙲𝚑𝚎𝚕𝚜𝚎𝚊 𝚆𝚘𝚕𝚏𝚎 ❤️‍🔥

@atomic-apricot @bixlasagna @jadeseadragon @bigbonzo 😘

𝙼𝚘𝚛𝚎 𝚖𝚞𝚜𝚒𝚌𝚔 🎧❤️‍🔥

[aliceisinchains]

Ami te stessa?

meglio se ti risponde lei

[thisnoise]

We press for the water, press for the river, press for the pain.

[seaofwakinglife]

Chelsea Wolfe - Feral Love (Official Video)

[local-slime]

in the hopes i'll find a someone who drives me crazy in a non platonic way

!!!!!!!

[egggelatin]

hurry!!

[chososcamgirl]

he ain’t never beating the stalking allegations

art creds @hunnismokah

[kensatou]

"we know how to move our bodies, but i didn't know how to manage my heart, so you need help for this"

hi we need to talk more about judo gold medallist christa deguchi.

[sukunasteeth]

Sukuna has never said no to you.

It didn’t matter what the request was, simple or complicated, easy to fix or a days-long job, Sukuna was always at your side, completing the task as fast as he needed to to keep you satisfied. He would love to deny it, you’re sure, but evidence proves time and time again that he puts your needs and wants at the top of his priority list. 

And you were curious how far you could go with it.

The two of you are sitting in your underwear at the breakfast nook, warming yourselves in the bay window while the morning sun starts on the leftover night time chill. It wasn't quite time for breakfast, still too early for the both of you. In the meantime, you sip on your morning brews, preserving the comfortable silence. Sukuna is flipping through the day's newspaper, his eyes are groggy with sleep and he hasn't said more than a handful of words to you yet. He wasn't a morning person.

You were starting to change that.

"Kuna," You call to him, nudging him with your foot from your corner of the window bench.

"Hmm?" He doesn't look up from the paper, but his hand reaches down and grabs your foot, pulling it into his lap. His thumbs start to subconsciously knead at your muscles.

"I want these." You hold up your phone, which you had previously been scrolling through in an attempt to find something ridiculous for this exact moment. You were sure you had found it, something even Sukuna would find unnecessary. 

And yet, he merely glances at your screen, takes in the sight for all of two seconds, and then returns his attention to whatever news article he was in the middle of.

"My wallet's on the counter." He clears the sleep from his throat not sparing a second look. 

You blink at him in surprise.

"D-Did you even see what it is?" You flip your phone around to make sure you were displaying the correct thing. 

Sukuna is frowning before he looks up again, curious at your persistence. He gently cups your hand, bringing it only a minuscule amount closer to examine your screen a second time. 

You were on one of the most luxurious brand’s websites, showing him an incredibly regular pair of panties, no straps, no details, all black- with one of the most outrageous price tags you had ever seen for something so ordinary. 

Sukuna cocks a brow at you over your phone, "Can't imagine you need more panties when you're constantly stealing my boxers. But whatever, hand it over. I know my card number-"

"Kuna," You interrupt him with a surprised laugh, holding fast to your phone when he tries to pluck it out of your hands, "they're a thousand dollars."

He glances back, his eyes focusing lower on the screen where you know the price tag to be. The newspaper in his hands drops down, momentarily forgotten by what he sees. For a moment, you think you've found his limit.

"Wait, are those red one's assless?" He points just below the price, where the recommended products are depicted. "Get those too."

You drop the phone down so that he meets your eyes, which are wide with shock.

Sukuna always took care of you. Always insisted on being the provider of any single thing that you may need; a warm meal, a soft bed, anything your eyes twinkled at that was available for purchase- even if you would never think of buying or owning it. Granted, you never wanted much in terms of material possessions, so you didn't realize the true extent of Sukuna's leniency until now.

It was slightly intimidating, and part of it felt wrong. Sukuna had money, plenty of it, but that didn’t mean he should feel the need to spend copious amounts of it on you just because you could ask him to. He was giving you too much power, it felt like.

You huff through your nose, frowning at him, which only has him tilting his head further to the side in question.

You ignore it, setting your phone onto the window seat and crawling your way closer to him, until you can gather up his face in your hands and lock his gaze into yours.

He glares at you past smushed cheeks, but doesn't make a move to break free of your hold, humoring you. "The hell are you doing-"

"You know you don't always have to say yes to me?"

Now that has him taken aback. His mouth automatically opens for a witty response, but your question seems to have effectively taken the words from his mouth. You can see the cogs in his head turning, and what you wouldn't give to peer inside his mind and hear his thoughts.

It takes him a moment, but eventually that familiar confident smile stretches across his sleepy face. His hands seem to instinctively slide their way up your bare legs until his fingers grip your hip bones, pressing into you. 

He hums, "When have you ever said no to me?"

You scoff, ready to give him a prime example, but end up coming up short. The two of you loved to tease each other with disobedience, but in the end you were eager to give Sukuna anything his heart desired. You loved to please him, it was one of your favorite things to do, in fact.

"You never ask anything ridiculous of me." You remind him, smiling as one of his warm hands slides back down your waist and dips into the pair of his boxers you were sporting that day. 

"You know what's ridiculous?” His voice wraps around your throat, and suddenly has you swallowing past the delicious grip. You're folding into him before you even realize it, at the mercy of his calloused hands. "The implication that I wouldn't do just about anything for you."

You can't help but sigh hopelessly, although it comes out as a desperate noise that pleads him for more. You really were all his, just like he loved to tell you.

"Now hand me your phone." It's a whisper, coaxing you. "I wanna see you in red."

You can’t say no. 

At least it was mutual.

[cymk8]

her hair so CRISPY

(commission!)

[lilacxquartz]

love you, love you, love you;

mr. crawling x reader

plot: some things are best expressed without the need of words — themes: spooning/cuddling, smut, maybe yan vibes — w.c: 1.1k

a/n: my first homicipher related fic. i want to try one for mr. silvair & mr. gap next, bc they were also my favs. this game has been taking over my life so much lately. like it’s been in my dreams, haaah.

masterlist • ao3

Mr. Crawling was always loud when he was excited within your company; his laughter filled out the vast empty spaces that were otherwise unadorned with familiarity. Whatever you once sought from those winding corridors was ever-fleeting, temporary, leaving you stuck within the confines of his company.

Yet, when he felt what you could only interpret as affection—that’s when Mr. Crawling then became different—quiet, soothing, kind but also… curious.

And when you would usually sleep, he would stand watch, knelt over the floor as per his usual stance but sometimes crouched near you, sometimes leaning back against the wall with his legs pressed up against his chest. He would watch you as his life depended on it, unwavering in focus and with eerie intensity. He would watch as your chest rose and fell, leaning close on occasion to catch the sweep of your breath and sometimes, he would trace the pad of his milky fingertips in long, languid strokes against your face. Always so delicate, so tender, but for the most part, quiet and even shy.

Having once caught a glimpse of Mr. Gap in your blanket space, however, set something territorial off for Mr. Crawling and he was never able to recover from such an invasion. The very idea that someone else was able to infiltrate what he deemed to be your space—especially someone who he disapproved of—wasn’t something he could stand for. Especially with the sort of trickster Mr. Gap was, he couldn’t bear to see you get hurt. It would kill him on the inside (and on the outside, too).

So, just as you were getting into bed to rest up once more, he too, slipped in under the covers with you. At first, you were startled as usual, turning to face him with confusion evident in your eyes, murmuring out some words in a language that he still could not understand. He repeated something back, the meaning lost and indecipherable upon your ears, though soon surrendering to emphasis using gestures instead. A hug to bring you closer, a reassuring pat on your head and a small, longing kiss over your nose.

You listened to his words again, repeating over and over like a broken record.

Perhaps he meant no harm, after all.

You turned your back to him and settled into his chest, finding that he was surprisingly warm for what he was. His taller frame encased your body, wrapping his ashen arms around your waist—accidentally brushing the fabric that sat over your breast—nicking the cloth ever so slightly. Your breath hitched in surprise and as though in sheepish realisation, he withdrew right away, terrified that you were upset with him.

You drew out a long breath, reminding yourself again, that after everything that has happened thus far…

That, Mr. Crawling does not want to hurt you.

That Mr. Crawling has only ever helped you.

So perhaps, right now, Mr. Crawling only wanted to be closer to you.

You relaxed your breathing, settling into his comforting shadow once more and allowed for his presence to envelop you. He repeated the soothing motions of his grappling arm, although he held onto you softer that time. His hands explored your body with a delicate touch, as though afraid of breaking you—of upsetting you again—his motions growing confident the longer that you didn’t protest. It wasn’t long before he, otherwise not disturbed by your lacking, conscious awareness, decided to explore further with you. Mr. Crawling’s fingers didn’t ask for permission that time, creeping beneath the clinging fabric, feeling your skin against his palms, inviting a pleased, almost delighted smile to curl on his lips.

The silence remained unbroken as Mr. Crawling continued his explorative focus on you; the quickly-building evidence of his need growing harder the longer he pushed himself behind your body, the repeated touches arousing something warmer within him. To both his surprise as well as your own—you were not repulsed, allowing him to creep even lower, below the skirt of the dress and up, brushing his hand up to your exposed skin and, reading into it—you communicated your consent from the moment you parted your legs, allowing him to get even closer.

Confidence surged in Mr. Crawling as he pushed himself into your hilt, allowing his hardened length to slip inside. Betraying the stagnant silence, he shuddered out a ragged gasp before giving into his own rising need; grinding himself into your sopping sex with steadily increasing fervour. His fingers clamped around the curve of your hips as he held you in place, slamming every last inch of himself deep into your core.

Ever touch-starved yet wanting nothing more than to surrender to the sensation of you, Mr. Crawling continued to drive his cock into your needy cunt, soon wrapping his winding arms around your body and holding on tight. He bucked intensely as you soon succumbed to breathless whimpers, incoherently begging for his name. Equally desperate whines rolled off the slip of his tongue as he found his lips pressed into the crook of your neck, dampening your skin with sloppy wet kisses—as many as he could give.

It felt overwhelming for you in a way to be worshipped like this but you did your best to keep up with such intensity, especially as the warm, tingling pleasure built up inside of you, too. You held on just as tight as he did, your hand seeking out his own—fingers weaving into his bony digits—interlocking and squeezing tight the closer you got, your grip and otherwise clenching need tightening simultaneously. To feel him losing himself inside of you was dare you admit, addicting, feeling him completely fill and stretch you out leaving you almost dizzied from the impaling force.

Mr. Crawling, like you, soon surrendered to the rolling bliss from the flick of his hips, feeling a surging warmth mount and rise, encouraging him to lose himself to the searing heat of the moment and you. Encircling your body in a possessive hug, he suddenly began to mutter out a new word in a strained mantra, again and again.

Given how desperate he seemed to be, you understood the meaning as ‘close’, especially as his actions grew more strained and less controlled.

“Close, close, close,” he repeated.

It didn’t take his chased release to catch up as his hips grew to a stutter, rutting out one final pump before melting into you. Mr. Crawling cried into your neck, spilling out the entirety of his overflowing love, feeling the pent-up devotion trickle down your thighs—yet not letting you move away—still retaining his claim on you.

Instead, he kept you even closer than before, not allowing you to part from him ever again (despite understanding your yearning for rest).

Words were never the problem, it seemed.

Mr. Crawling would have always found a way to… connect with you.

[mischievous-thunder]

Logan's the prettiest, cutest and softest kitty Wade's ever seen

[marigoldendragon]

Floyd being tagged and bagged like a wild animal was not on my bingo card for this event

[triona-tribblescore]

I just wanna draw them being all soft n stuff okay? :'( <333