#this anime is growing on me more and more

[wttcsms]

⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖࣪ adore me, mark your territory !!

ᝰ.ᐟ after having to endure locker room conversation since his blue lock days all the way up to his pro days, yukimiya realizes that if he wants to show you just how serious he is about his thoughts on his relationship with you, he needs to make his mark on you. ( fem!reader )

pairing kenyu yukimiya x reader word count 3.6k content contains corruption kink/innocence kink, loss of virginity (both you and yukki), first time, creampie, breeding kink, slightly manipulative!yukki, you two attended the same private catholic high school, mentions of purity culture, coercion, very naive reader, talks of marriage, dark(ish) content kinktober masterlist

To love someone is to know them. 

You love Kenyu Yukimiya with all your heart; you know his hopes and his dreams, his fears and the tiny voice in his head that serves to either goad or encourage him. The two of you grew up together, attending all the same Catholic private schools up ‘til he went pro fresh out of high school graduation, and you decided to attend a tiny, private all girls university. 

You know that he’s kind and funny, much more outgoing and adventurous than you. You know that he can be gentle, and that he chooses to always be gentle with you. You know that he loves you just as much as you love him. 

But while distance makes the heart grow fonder, perhaps it’s the distance that has caused this newfound unfamiliarity between the two of you.

“Kenny, I don’t… I don’t understand.” You’re lying down on your painfully small twin-sized mattress in your dorm room. Kenyu’s on top of you, his body hovering over your own. He gives you that familiar, comforting smile of his as he asks you gently (your Kenyu’s always so gentle with you), 

“We love each other, don’t we?” 

“Of course we do.” You say softly. Your arms are by your side, and you’re playing with the frills on the oversized comforter of your bed. Your whole entire room still screams girl. Yukimiya finds it endearing; he finds everything about you so damn endearing. Your floral quilts, and the stuffed animals he’s won for you from claw machines and unfairly rigged carnival games. Your fluffy comforter, and the way you always love to wear dresses, even when it’s just to attend a lecture. 

And your unwavering innocence. 

Everyone knows that Catholic private schools aren’t as pristine as the parents of the students like to claim it is, but you’re the only one who remained devout. The only one who genuinely stayed true to the lessons taught. You didn’t drink, you didn’t smoke, you didn’t sneak out. The only parties you attended were birthday parties chaperoned by a trusted adult and held in the early afternoon. You always followed the dress code and never tried to get away with folding the waistband of your school-issued skirt to make it shorter, like some of the other girls did. Hell, Kenyu had to literally ask your father for permission to date you before he asked you out. 

And while Kenyu’s always been on his best behavior, it’s not like he’s unaware of the world. He’s not naive like you. And that’s okay. One of you has to know enough to lead the other; Yukimiya’s more than happy that he’s the one taking on that role. 

The thing is, Kenyu truly does love you. It’s why he doesn’t rush you, doesn’t try to force you to go further than what you think you’re capable of, than what you think you’re allowed to go. He ignores the hard on he gets every time you two make out, the way your hips sometimes move on their own, grinding against him with no thought to strip out of your clothes and let him finish. You’ve been together since the first year of high school, and now you’re in college, and he’s playing professional soccer, and he loves you, and he still hasn’t even seen your pussy. Honestly, his closest friends tell him he must be a saint. 

But the talks in the locker room, the snide comments from his least favorite teammates, the jokes and the teasing and the mocking, condescending tones — gotta protect Yukki’s ears, can’t let him Mr. Private School hear this, as if he’d even know what we’re talking about; damn virgin — all of it is chipping away at his pacifist, mild-mannered demeanor, revealing the feral, greedy egoist that lies underneath. 

You had been so excited to hear your beloved boyfriend was flying down to your college town this weekend, just to see you! Your roommate’s out on a holiday with her parents, leaving the dorm room all to yourselves. In your cute mind, this just means more room for the two of you to hang out.

For Yukimiya, it means he has no more obstacles to get in the way of him fucking you for the first time. 

“And you know what two people who love each other do, right?” He’s still using the same pacifying, soothing tone he always uses when he’s trying to calm you down. When you skinned your knees and cried from the sting of the alcohol wipes used to clean the cuts, he had used this voice on you. When you cried at the airport because he was leaving the country to meet the team who paid an exorbitant amount to have him on their starting lineup, he had used this voice on you. Right now, you can’t understand why he’s using this voice on you. You’re not hurt; just confused. 

“Kenyu, wh-what are you talking about?” 

“I’m talking about making love, [Name].” One large palm is rubbing up and down the smooth skin of your thigh. The movement causes the thin fabric of your sundress to rise up. Yukimiya’s never touched you down there before. You don’t know why his touch feels so good, but you do understand what he’s talking about now. 

“But Kenny—” Your voice is reduced to nothing more than a nervous whisper, almost as if you’re scared someone is listening in. “—we can’t. That’s for married couples.” 

Well, if it’s any consolation, Yukimiya’s always planned on marrying you. 

He kisses your forehead, his hand never relenting from its position on your thigh. Your dress remains lifted up at an angle on one side. He can see part of your cotton panties; plain and white. If he moves his fingers up a few more centimeters, he could tug at the waistband of them. 

“I know, sweetheart. But I’ve been thinking…” His hand travels from up your thigh to rest on your hip. The one side of your dress is now all the way up, and his thumb rests on the thin waistband of your panties, rubbing reassuring circles to get you to remain calm underneath him. “We’ll get married soon, anyway, right? I love you so much that I need an outlet to show you just how much I love you.” 

“Married? Soon?” Your eyes widen. You find yourself daydreaming about marrying Yukimiya, starting a family. Yukimiya’s smile stretches wide across his handsome face. His sweet girl, he knew you’d be putty in his hands after he mentioned that. 

“Of course.” He kisses you on your lips sweetly, his hand never leaving your hip. “And I want to give you all the love a husband has for his wife. Won’t you let me, [Name]?” 

Kenyu’s always been handsome. You have a collection of all his professional photoshoots, and you know that he has a bunch of fangirls from just his looks alone. It’s so unfair of him, really, to give you that imploring look of his. You can’t say no to Yukimiya, and you think you never want to.

And so you do let him. 

Kenyu’s quick. With the speed he normally reserves for on the field, Kenyu’s mouth meets your at the same time his other hand grips your neglected hip. Now both of his hands are bunching up the fabric of your dress, pulling the skirt up to reveal your simple, plain panties. 

“Mmph.” You moan into the kiss. This is a bit different than what you two normally engage in; somehow, everything feels a lot heavier, headier. You can’t seem to think straight. All you can focus on is chasing after his lips, matching his hungry pace. 

The heat radiating off the two of you is enough for Kenyu to separate from you momentarily. The lens of his glasses are fogged up, and he grins at you, satisfied at the progress you’re making, before taking his glasses off and setting them neatly on your nightstand. 

And then he’s back to kissing you passionately again. You’re lost in the pleasure of his kisses, unknowingly bucking your hips up, not knowing why your body is craving friction, for some attention, down there. Your hands reach up to grip the front of Kenyu’s shirt, tugging at him, trying to bring him closer. You’re getting desperate, and he finds it so cute. 

“Lift your arms up for me, sweetheart.” He mumbles against your lips, and your head’s too hazy for you to properly register his request. He repeats it, still as gentle as ever with you, and this time, you manage to comply. 

“Fuck.” You don’t hear Kenyu curse often; he says it’s impolite to do so in front of his girl. He breathes out the word, and you feel shy all of a sudden as his eyes roam over your body. He tossed your dress to the side unceremoniously, and because the dress itself had padding, you decided not to wear a bra. You’re laying on your bed, nothing to protect your modesty besides your cotton panties. 

“You’re the most beautiful girl in the world. The only girl I see.” He praises you, and you don’t feel too shy anymore. 

“K-Kenyu—” You look up at him, all doe-eyed and sweet. You’re pressing your thighs together, drawing his attention to the plush of your thighs, the way hiding in between your legs is your special place that only Kenyu will be allowed to see, to touch, to taste, to love. “What do we do now?” 

He leans down, whispering in your ear in his familiar, kind voice, “Now, you lay down, and let me show you how much I love you.” 

You love Kenyu so much, you think it should be impossible for your heart to have so much room for him. You know Kenyu must feel the same way, but never before has his love for you ever felt so overwhelming. Kenyu pries your thighs apart, forcing you to open your legs for him, but you didn’t know showering you in his love meant that he was going to take his fingers and rub against the mound in your underwear. 

“W-wait, Kenny!” You yelp, trying to shut your legs, but he’s too big, too strong. He blocks the movement, keeps you nice and spread for him. “I—” You don’t know what to tell him, and you don’t know how to explain why there’s a tiny puddle gathering in the thin fabric of your panties. Sometimes, you feel funny and this starts to happen, usually after a long makeout session with your boyfriend. 

“You’re so wet for me, [Name].” He almost sounds in awe, staring down at your covered pussy almost as if in a trance. The pace he’s using is rather slow; he’s content, for now, with just stroking his fingers up and down your covered slit, fascinated with the way he can watch you slowly drench through the cotton. The wet spot only continues to grow; he bets he can get his fingers damp with your arousal soon, and he wouldn’t even have to take your panties off to do so. “Do you always get this wet for me?” 

You want to cry, and you can even feel the tears welling up in your eyes. He looks up, instantly stopping his ministrations, his concern written all over his expression. “Hey, hey.” He shushes you, peppering kisses all over your face. He’s not stroking you anymore, but his large hand is cupping your pussy, the heat of his hand encasing your special place. You’re practically throbbing against him, your cunt aching and hungry for his touch. He just has to get you to open up for him, to understand. “There’s nothing wrong with that. You’re supposed to get wet right here for me, you know that?” 

You sniffle, unsure if he’s just placating you. “Really?”

“Really.” His smile is so gentle, his tone so soothing and reassuring. He’s back to grazing his knuckles across your cunt, enjoying the way the fabric keeps on getting damper. “It means your body is happy, and it lets me know that you love me as much as I love you.” 

His other starts to tug at your waistband, dragging down your panties until he’s pulling them right off. His breath catches in his throat as he looks down and stares at your pussy for the first time. Your folds are glistening, your little clit peeking out at him, begging for him to suck on, to rub against. 

“Cute.” He tells you, tracing a finger curiously against your slit, the tip of his index finger so close to entering your clenching, unbreached hole. “I’m going to make you feel really good now, okay, [Name]? Tell me, have you ever played with yourself down here?” 

“Wha-?” You’re confused, appropriately so. The boys and girls were separated during sex education, but you remember your teacher drilling it into your heads that under no circumstances should a young girl ever touch herself. You had been confused at the time, confused as to why anyone would ever. You’ve been taught that only your husband should ever touch you right there. But Yukimiya loves you, and he’s going to be your husband, and now you’re starting to think you know why girls may want to touch themselves. You’ve felt this heat in between your thighs before, this mysterious hunger for something, but now you’re feeling it tenfold. You shake your head, too choked up to speak. 

“No? Not even like this?” You don’t expect Kenyu to insert his finger. The intrusion is foreign, but not entirely unwelcome. Your walls instinctively clench around his digit, and he has to remind himself to breathe, to remain collected, to take things slow so you can enjoy yourself properly. “You’re clamping down on just one finger.” He breathes out, curling his finger, moving it against your walls. He brushes against a spongy spot inside of you, one that has you jerking up, a shocked, pleasured moan escaping from your parted lips. “That feel good?” He asks, before adding a second finger, both of them bumping against that same sweet spot. 

Your legs feel like jelly, and you nod weakly. It does feel good. Too good. So overwhelmingly good that a foreign, euphoric sensation is taking over you. You can’t seem to control your body, and you can’t stop the flow of cute, pleasured mewls flowing from your mouth, and you manage to scream out a warning to Yuki. “S-something is—” 

A clear stream of liquid spurts out of you, splashes onto him, soaks your cute comforter. 

“Fuck, you’re amazing.” Your walls are too sensitive now, but throughout the whole process, Yukimiya never stops thrusting his fingers in and out of your inexperienced cunt. His eyes are wide, but the gleam in them is sharp, hungry, calculating. “I didn’t even get a chance to mess with your cute little clit. You came just from penetration?” He finally removes his fingers, examining the way your juices are dripping off his digits. “You didn’t just cum, you squirted.”

You turn your head, trying to bury your face in a pillow so he can’t see the embarrassed and debauched expression on your face, but he takes his dry hand and forces you to continue looking up at him.

“That’s a good thing, sweetheart.” He coos, sucking at his fingers obscenely before releasing them from his mouth with a pop!. “It means you’re perfect and all ready for me.” 

Kenyu knows that his cock is the first cock you’ve ever seen, and he’ll make damn certain that it’s the only one you’ll be seeing for the rest of your life. There’s no frame of reference for you to use, but you don’t think that men should be so big. When he frees his dick, making a show of squeezing tightly at the base and pumping it, showing off to you, you swallow hard. 

He taps the head of his cock against your swollen, needy clit, teasing the both of you. He’s losing all sense of restraint, and even rubbing the underside of his cock against your glistening folds, trying to slick up his cock so it’ll be easier to glide into your soaked cunt, is enough to make him want to cum. 

“I’m going to fuck you now, sweetheart.” His voice sounds strained, the gentle tone hanging on by a thread. “We’ll be making love for the first time. Aren’t you excited?” 

You nod. Excited and nervous. His cock much larger than his fingers, and maybe he should have prepped you more, but you came so easily. He always knew you were perfect for him. Pleasure is so unknown to you, the tiniest taste of it is enough to take you out. Perfect, perfect, perfect.

He holds your hand and kisses you to distract you from the sting of his cock breaching your virgin cunt. You gasp into the kiss, pain registering in your mind first, but Yukimiya is quick to take your breath away, to swallow up any potential protests that might have come. He keeps on kissing you, his fingers intertwined with your own, and he’s pushing himself as deep as he can go. He only lets up from the kiss the second he’s buried to the hilt, and you greedily swallow up the oxygen you’ve been deprived of. 

The feeling of a hard cock inside of you is foreign, but your body clings to his length. Unlike his fingers, with its dexterous ministrations that had you keening and squirting when he brushed them against a special spot, his cock fills you up, stuffs you full. Your cunt is greedily sucking him in, and when he whispers that he’s going to really start moving now, it’s not just one spot that he’s hitting.

You’re not sure what’s happening to your body, but it feels like Yukimiya is wringing out pleasure from you from every angle inside of you. 

“Ah, fuck, you feel so good for me, sweetheart. Such a tight pussy, so wet, so warm.” The heat encasing his cock is nothing like he’s ever experienced before. The wet warmth of your pussy is so inviting, so intensely pleasurable, that Kenyu doesn’t think he’ll be able to last. Cumming so soon might be embarrassing, but it’s not. Not when it’s his sweet girl’s pussy that’s begging for his cum. 

You wail out his name, your legs reflexively encircling around his waist, locking him in, keeping him close to you as you cum again. This orgasm is practically ripped out from you, your cunt way too sensitive, the repeated battering of his cock drilling into your hole too much for your inexperienced mind and body to handle. 

“Kenyu, Kenyu, Kenyu!” When you say his name like that, it makes it hard for him to not immediately bust a load inside of you. Gone is the gentle expression from your boyfriend’s face; in its place is something feral, dark. 

When he pulls out, he sees your white cream coating his cock. When he thrusts back in, he hears the lewd squelch of your wet, overstuffed pussy. It’s enough to drive a man insane with lust.

“Hey, sweetheart.” He grunts out, and your head struggles to remain straight, to not loll to the side and let yourself be used. You look up at him, but your eyes are glassy and your mind seems to be in a far away place, so far gone, so fucked out. “We’re going to get married soon. So it’s okay if I get you pregnant right now, right?” His bare cock fucking your virgin pussy raw. He’s going crazy. “I’m gonna fill you up, get you all nice and bred for me. Make you my wife, make you a mommy.” 

The domestic daydream makes you tighten up around him, even though your body is too weak to cum again. That’s alright. He’ll just have to cum enough for the both of you. 

“Hang onto me, sweetheart.” And you do. Your legs are still wrapped around him, but you weakly raise your arms, holding him close to you. He starts pounding at your pussy, his unrivaled speed and strength turning you into mush. You have to dig your nails into the muscled skin of his back, feeling like you’re on the edge of a cliff, about to crash. 

“Fuck, I’m about to put a baby in you, love. My sweet girl, my sweet wife.” He kisses you, messy and sloppy, and he stills. The aggressive thrusts stop, and you realize why. 

There’s a new heat entering inside of you; hot spurts of his cum are pouring into you, and he only moves his hips a bit to plug you up further, to make sure none of his seed can trickle out of you. 

You’re about to lose consciousness, your brain fried from pleasure and exhaustion. All you do is weakly mumble out his name before the world goes black.

You think if this is what making love is, you love love.

“Holy shit, Yukki.” Isagi gapes at his shirtless teammate. 

Yukimiya glances up, about to pull his jersey over his head. “What?” 

“What the hell happened to you?” 

“Hm?” He asks, before turning to try to examine his back. Across the pale muscles are thin, red scratches, fading slightly from the time it’s been etched onto his skin by your nails. He smiles serenely, his mild-mannered attitude ever present. “Oh, this? My fiancee likes me close to her at all times.” 

[goldenmagnolias]

​hello my darling tree twin!

I hope the soil that feed nutrients to your roots is rich;

I hope the winds are kind;

that your little animal friends not only find solace in your shade but keep you company.

hello my dearest tree twin!

I hope that you’re cared for;

I hope that once this little life of mine comes to an end for me that you grow and grow forevermore.

A millennia from now beloved Tree twin,

My descendants you shall greet.

For the loveliness of your shade is not mine to keep.

A millennia from now Tree twin,

You and I shall meet,

Me on my ghostly form.

So that you and I mayhaps be complete.

Through the whispers of the wind I shall tell you my name,

So that it is perhaps spoken to the earth in another place other than my gave.

In such whispers, kindness comes from an unknown face,

Because while we never met,

we were both the same.

(My most honest thank you to @bloomingdarkgarden for rebblogging this and making it make its way to me.

dearest author of one of the most beautiful prose, who also reignited my love surrounding botany one more after it had been dormant for so long,

I shall thank you deeply for curing a writers block 🤍.)

[loganhowlettshousewife]

something something dark!logan who puts reader in dangerous situations so he can save her and then convince her that no one is safe and he’s the only one she can trust. is it bad that i find the thought of logan baby trapping me hot?

(this is not proofread, i wrote this in like 30 minutes)

-

the first time he sees you, something primal unlocks in him. you’re suddenly the only thing he can think about, your sweet smile taking over his dreams. he wants you in a way he’s never wanted anything before, willing to do anything you ask of him, willing to kill anyone who so much as looks at you the wrong way.

every time he sees your smile drop he’s filled with a murderous rage. 

but when he’s around you, the world slows down. there’s only you and him and the tension between you. your friends tell you that he’s dangerous, he’s angry and drunk all the time, but you just stare at them in confusion because he’s never so much as raised his voice at you.

so you wave off your friends worries, telling them that he’s an absolute sweetheart and maybe he just has a bad reputation, but you know him.

he invites you to go to a bar with him and you agree enthusiastically. you love spending time with him, and this is sounding almost like a date. you get all dolled-up for him, hopeful that something in your relationship will shift tonight. 

you agreed to meet at the bar, so you wait outside the building for logan, bouncing on the balls of your feet. that’s when a man approaches you, big and burly and asking what you’re doing all dressed up and alone. he drags you into the alley beside the bar, but before anything can happen, the man is being thrown into the wall.

logan stabs the guy in the chest with his claws, letting the blood run down his hand. because while he was the one who paid the guy to do this to you, he still couldn’t stand the sight of another man’s hands on you. so he brings his fist down again, claws puncturing the man’s lungs. and again and again and again, until you have to pull him off the bloody corpse.

the minute his eyes meet yours, it's like he becomes a completely new person. he drives you home, a hand on your thigh. he holds you close when you cry in his arms, whispering that he’s so sorry he wasn’t there to protect you, that he should have offered to drive you, that he should have known someone would try to hurt you, because you’re beautiful and pure and the world is a wretched place that wants to destroy souls like yours.

you start dating and logan becomes even more protective and jealous. now that he knows what it's like to have you, he’ll do anything to keep you.

so he stages dangerous situations, manipulates you into falling right into the traps he’s laid out, and every time he comes to rescue you. he’s the hero of your story, and you tell him that, laying with your head on his chest one night.

but he still doesn’t feel like it's enough. the animal in him longs to call you his, to claim you permanently. to mate with you, to breed you. 

so he convinces you to move in with him, something that’s pretty easy after he hires someone to break into your apartment. he observes your routines, memorises your little daily schedules, and when you’re in the shower he switches out your birth control pills for placebo ones.

when he fucks you it’s hard and rough. it’s the only time he lets himself be something other than gentle with you, because he knows how much you love it, can smell your arousal growing with every thrust, can feel how wet you are around him. you cry out his name, grasping desperately at his arms, shoulders, back, anywhere you can reach really, for some sort of support.

you’re so out of it that you don’t notice when he cums deep inside you instead of pulling out like you’d asked. he keeps fucking his cum into you, pushing it deeper. when the afterglow of your orgasm fades and you feel his cum leaking out of you, you freak out, pushing him off you.

but he asks, “aren’t you on birth control?” and after a long conversation he convinces you that it’ll be fine, that’s what birth control is for, and besides, doesn’t it feel better raw? don’t you love the feeling of his thick cum shooting inside you, coating your insides, claiming you?

you’re terrified when you find out you're pregnant, and logan acts just as shocked, as if he couldn’t smell when you were ovulating and hadn’t planned to breed you as many times as he could during that period to make sure it stuck. 

he tells you that no matter what he’ll be by your side, that he’s never really thought about settling down and being a family man but that he’s never felt for anyone what he feels for you, and the thought of having a child with you, someone that’s half your dna and half his, your love for each other in a physical form, sounds wonderful.

and then one day, after your daughter is born, as you’re watching logan holding her in his large arms, you admit that you knew he was borderline stalking you before you two started dating, and you knew after the third time that the men attacking you were being hired to do so, and you knew when he switched out your birth control.

and you confess to him that no one’s ever really loved you the way logan does, completely and unconditionally, and even if logan’s a little unhinged and obsessive about making sure you won’t leave him, you appreciate that quality. because he wouldn’t go through all that effort and all that trouble if he didn’t care about you.

logan, who thought it was impossible to love you any more than he already did, feels himself fall in love all over again at that confession.

[merumis]

kuroo loves thunderstorms.

the first time he tells you this, he's standing just before the threshold of your balcony—the door cracked open but the screen still closed, feeling the wind curl its way around your building.

it's early november and he's wearing a sweater you gifted him last christmas. you bought it two sizes too big and he insisted on wearing it again the moment the weather started to get colder anyway. it's a rich blue and warm and soft enough that you constantly find yourself leaning into him—on the couch, in public, even before your balcony's screen door—sometimes you wonder if he wears it just for that.

between that and the way your cat swirls around his feet, his tail dragging along kuroo's calf, he seems to almost melt into your apartment. your first place post-grad, that weird mix of childhood, college, and new-adult decor muddling the whole of it: a couch that you got at a discount furniture store but fell in love with anyway; stuffed animals your friends send you every birthday; a childhood favorite of a book sitting on an old thrifted coffee table, a dark oak that you wouldn't be able to afford otherwise.

and kuroo. warm, thunderstorm-watching kuroo, whose mug of herbal tea has been long forgotten on one of your homemade coasters.

you're never quite sure what to call him. the man you sleep with some nights; the guy who will always match your halloween costume if you ask; your cat's favorite of your friends; the name your grandmother keeps asking you about every time you call. you know you told you him you loved him once—really loved him—in some drunken college stupor that feels more like watching a movie from across an open-concept's kitchen island than a memory now.

(that's a lie. you know every detail. the rum warm in your throat, being fresh off the high of his birthday. it was the first snow of the season but the rain the next day mingled with it and turned it to muck that ruined your favorite pair of boots. his breath was hot against your cheeks, the stoop of his apartment building a hollowly adored wind tunnel that decorated your instagram—stone chipped away at the corners, moss growing up the sides, a buzzer that only worked if you pressed the button three times. you kissed him like you always have and his nose was cold as it pressed into your cheek. you whispered it to him and he laughed. you didn't text him for three days.)

there's a familiar pull at your tongue now. a burst of lightning briefly illuminates your apartment and is then followed by the crack of thunder.

"you should probably close the door," you say—instead of i love you.

kuroo shrugs, turns back with a lazy smile on his face. "if you say so," he replies, like every word is a game that the two of you play. he swings the door closed and twists the lock shut. he moves in a way you want to describe as "moseying" tonight, like all of his limbs are relaxed four times more than they should be.

"you should stay here tonight," you tell him as he moves to your couch. your cat follows after him, pawing up his leg as he sits down. he jumps up and settles deep into his lap—there's a brief moment where you envy him. "rain and all."

"so you're telling me i brought my umbrella for nothing?" he teases.

you laugh. "you can use it on the balcony."

he has a pair of sweatpants in your top right drawer of your dresser. you reluctantly washed them last week after spilling apricot jam on the third wear. you never choose to dwell on how a pair of sweatpants gets left at your apartment—you can imagine what his answer would be.

kuroo hums, "it's almost like you want me here."

"i don't," you lie, "just figured my apartment had a better storm view with how much you've been lingering." his apartment is about four stories higher, a few blocks down—closer to his work. it has more windows, a larger living room, a leather couch that you can feel sticking to your bare back if you close your eyes.

it's the better view. it gets fog in the early mornings so you can only see the bounce of headlights from the street below. his bedsheets like to twist between your legs at night in a way that pulls them from the mattress, though—so you suppose you always win there.

"it's homey here," he replies, and you feel the smile tugging up at your lips, "smells like spruce." he eyes the candle he bought you on your kitchen counter, lit and melted to the edges. three wicks, because he knows it's your favorite.

the candle, your favorite expensive lamp your professor gifted you last summer, and the range hood are the only lights in your apartment at the moment. kuroo calls them homey, you call them headache-reducing.

he pulls a hand away from your cat to gesture towards you over the back of the couch now. a palm upwards towards the ceiling, fingers outstretched in a subtle beckoning of your own. your tongue curls with that sickly desire as you step towards him, slip your fingers into his as you round the couch, settling into the cushions as his arm slides across your shoulders.

you reach up to play with his fingers—absent-mindedly. you swore you would do better when you graduated, that maybe things would start to fall into place and, for once, you wouldn't find yourself chasing after a man you could have if you would just allow it to happen.

but you don't know how to say i love you on a thursday—because you swear friday will feel right. you don't say it friday because it's too young, a whole weekend ahead of you that you can't mess up. a movie on saturday, brunch on sunday. you don't say it sunday night because you won't see him until wednesday, but then you catch him for happy hour on tuesday. and you don't know how to to say it.

"you know my grandfather loved spruce," kuroo says, and you look over to catch his eye. he's staring out at your coffee table, looking at nothing in particular as he speaks. "he used to whittle—before arthritis and tremors and whatever—but his dad told him that spruce was the hardest to work with. something about how soft it is or the grain or whatever." he shifts with your cat, letting him crawl up his arm onto the back of the couch. his tail falls over kuroo's shoulder, and now you get the curl into him a little more.

he pulls you closer before you really get the chance to move.

"but he always loved spruce. the smell, the needles, the look, all of it, you know? it was just one of those things, so he learned to whittle with it.

"and when he met my grandmother, he started whittling her all these little things. a duck for their first date, a wooden box for her jewelry, eventually toy blocks, when she was pregnant with my dad." kuroo pauses, and for a while, you think you have something stuck in your chest. you thumb traces up his forefinger and he catches your hand, finally moving to look you in the eyes.

"it's nice to come here and remember him sometimes."

there's another burst of lightning and it crackles across the whole sky behind him, dodging in and out of buildings and making the texture of the clouds pop out against the whole open expanse of it all.

his breath is hot against your skin, his ears are tinged with a bit of red and for a moment you consider running to your thermostat to turn it down a few degrees, but then his lips find yours like they always do.

and in the muddle of lips, you don't even think before you whisper an i love you, murmured into his mouth as his nose traces frigid shapes against your own.

you don't have to listen to know he says it back—though you do, listening for the timbre of his voice and feeling the vibrato of it against your throat—but you can smell it, you can hear it, some days, you can taste it.

spruce-scented candles, thunderstorms that make the whole city colder, the burning of rum against the back of your throat.

you think you can feel it: leather that sticks to your skin, hands that only whittled while his grandfather was alive, but are calloused anyway, a sweater that you'd buy him in the right size if he asked.

you tell someone you love them without ever saying the words. you know he drinks three drinks at happy hour and you only have one—he insists on walking you home anyway and he always stays the night.

and you know he never brought an umbrella, that he works from home tomorrow and his laptop is sitting in his backpack next to your door.

you know that he's warm, that he's kissing you, and that he told you he loves you on the thursday evening as a thunderstorm turned into rain and fog.

[muffinpink02]

i take your suggestions and raise you...

the first time you're sleeping with alexia, right? it's been a month or two since you started dating and somehow that line has never been crossed. after training one time, she's dressed still in her kit with those tiny black shorts that somehow make her ass look better than it already is, you cant resist. and luckily she's thinking the same about you too.

you dance around each other, recognizing the look in each other's eyes but still having those first time nerves. until, after some teasing back and forth, you push her to sit on the sofa and straddle her thighs, gaze getting caught on how her shorts had ridden up the muscle there in the process. but before you could do a thing about that, her hand is gripping the back of your neck and pulling you down for a kiss, where she instantly slips her tongue in after nipping your bottom lip, and you can't help but whimper at it. it goes on and on, hands gliding all over each other, hers travelling from your thighs to your hips to your ass and back again, yours tugging at the baby hairs on her neck to pull out those addictive groans from her.

after a little while, her hands gently push against your shoulders, breaking the kiss, she's all breathless and lips kissed red and a little wet, and you whine at the fact she broke it off. so you grab her jaw and tilt her head to one side, attaching your mouth to that vein on her neck. she groans and chastises you under her breath and her grip on the back of your neck is tighter than ever as she reluctanly pulls you away again. "what do you like? what do you want? tell me what you want us to do." she asks.

"you can do anything you want to me." you tell her with a smirk, her staring at you frozen for a second before she pulls you tight to her and stands, her hands shamelessly placed on your ass cheeks and her fingertips digging in so much there'll probably be bruises that'll have you blushing the next morning. she gets to the bedroom and carefully lays you down before knocking your legs apart with her knee and slotting herself inbetween them immediately.

rather than kissing you like you wanted, she just gazes down at you, her hands beside your head and her lips millimeters from yours before she chuckles softly, menacingly, like she's an animal looking at its next meal. her mouth bypasses yours and heads straight for your neck, one of her hands sliding under the hem of your shirt and drifting upwards.

now, for the sake of not making this too long, you can fill in the gaps, but...

before you know it, she's sat back against the headboard, you in her lap in much the same way as earlier on the sofa. this time, however, her legs are slightly spread on purpose, so that when your thighs are on the outside of hers, she's got you wide open for her to play with. she's already made you cum once with her mouth, and you've had her too, but since then she's pushed you to the edge but never over. the first time she edged you, you were more than compliant. the second time too. but the third, as one of her hands switched between each of your tits and the fingers of the other pressed in and out of your cunt, she had told you to rub your own clit. when you told her you were near the edge, just as she had demanded you do, she stopped. but your hand didn't. she grabbed it instead and slotted your wet fingers into your mouth as she sucked her own slick digits to get a taste of you. the look in her eyes had your own rolling back, whimpers leaving your hoarse throat but muffled by her thick fingers.

but now, as you grow closer to coming for the fourth time in a row, your hands restless and moving from place to place on her body, she speeds up. her thumb is incessantly rubbing tight circles on your clit as three fingers of the same hand thrust in and out, her forearm and bicep muscles all flexing addictively, you can hardly tear your eyes away. the only thing that can make you is her telling you to look into her eyes as you cum. your heart drops when she slows down again, you'd do anything to cum at this point, so you look at her and drop your forehead against hers, desperate breathy pleas leaving your mouth every second without realising. all she does is laugh, teasingly, mockingly, smug and cocky with how she's turned you into mush in only the first time together. it's then, as she speeds up again, her fingers pressing deeper and deeper, that you notice the tightness in your stomach doesn't feel like it does normally. you tell her, she smirks. the feeling is overwhelming, and you drop your head to her shoulder, forgetting her earlier demand but she doesn't mind, because by the throbbing of your pussy and the wet sounds coming from it, she knows she's about to get what she set out for. her other hand that's not fucking you halfway to hell moves from its tight grip on your thigh and creeps up your back, her mouth moving to your ear and whispering the most filthy words you'd ever heard as her hand lands on the back of your head, tugging at your hair and relishing in the loud moan you respond with. she does it again, and again, and again, feeling your cunt grow impossibly wetter and tight, your moans turning into quiet, desperate cries and whimpers, until you grow silent. she carries on with her ministrations, the only sounds her panting from her work and the wet slide of her fingers and her occasional dirty comments. how wet you are, how good you sound for her, how tight your pussy is and how good you're being for her.

then, the coil snaps inside of you. you bite down on her shoulder but not even that stops the high-pitched, breathless moan you let out that seems to never end. alexia groans too, loud and animalistic in your ear which somehow prolongs your intense orgasm. it never ends; alexia's arm, the sheets under you both, gets soaked as you cum harder than you had ever before. it's a feeling that has euphoria coursing through your veins as it carries on, alexia's fingers pruning at this point from the sheer amount of it. her eyes are wide as she feels it, but then she looks down, her fingers still sliding in and out of you but slower now, her thumb on your clit carrying you through it, and she doesn't think she'll ever not think about this moment for the rest of her life.

your hand comes down and grasps at her wrist, willing her to stop, too sensitive to enjoy it now, and she pulls out with care, her dry hand moving to hold you close against her, the other quickly moving to dry against the more than ruined sheets as all she wants to do is take care of you now, to check up on you. she asks if you're okay, having not moved a muscle other than the up and down of your chest, completely and thoroughly wrecked. all you can do is wrap your arms around her and nod, the up and down movement of her fingertips on your back grounding you. fin.

look, all im saying is, the perfect payment for this is for you to take the whole thing and turn it into your own fic😤 that is a joke of course! but if you want to though, you're absolutely more than free too. hope it lived up to your expectations🫡 much love muffin im more than happy to help you out, in awe of your work and you as a human being overall, forehead smooches🫂

OMGGGGGGGGGGGG!!!! You got my feet kicking!!! This is so fucking hot 🥵🥵🥵🥵🥵🥵

I love that her neck vein made an appearance 🫠🫠🫠🫠 erghhhhhh. This was perfect!!! I can’t believe you wrote this so quickly and so beautifully! I fucking love it!! this has just made my day/week and month!

Turn it into my own fic? Babes, this is its own fic!! It’s got everything 🤤 and hair pulling you’re an absolute queen! Thank you for writing this! I feel privileged to have this written for me and I genuinely love it!! ❤️ 🥹 stopppp ittttt, you’ve got me blushing. Your the cutest human and I appreciate all your kindness you’ve sent my way, and I thank you from the bottom of my heart 🫂

[starryem0461]

[CW: mention of sexual themes, so to any minors reading this, please skip this. Not with spicy intent, but mature topics including pregnancy.]

No joke, Haunting Ground is creeping into being a secondary fixation of mine; it’s actually quite fun! I appreciate it as an art piece; I adore its sound design. All of the rooms are unique in some way, so you can generally find your way around through memory most of the time, and the puzzles and their solutions aren’t too terribly convoluted. The solution is usually somewhat close to the puzzle, and the panic system and chasing mechanics feel very fluid! Although it has its occasional hiccups in turning around, the controls are very satisfying.

Ironically enough, I’m acespec, so sex just as a concept is something both strange and fascinating to me. It seems to hold this power over people I just..don’t understand. Maybe it’s the ‘tism in me, but I tend to seek out such things being portrayed in varying lights. Maybe to research it, in order to understand it? I still don’t ’get it’, not entirely.

It’s a secondary fixation that’s come and gone, so I’m generally aware of the plot and what comes already. Even still, as a woman that’s terrified of pregnancy, a lot of Haunting Ground’s presented spooks hit home for me. The game is a masterclass on replicating The Ick, if you know what I mean. That instinctual lean back with a disgust in your face because of the stink that just permeated through your ears. I know some scenes coming up are gonna feel real icky😖

But hey, that’s how you know a piece of art is effective, you know? That it hits you like that. I respect this game a great deal for how it portrays the topics it does. It feels respectfully done, in my book. Nothing too terribly explicit is directly shown, and jumpscares aren’t flashy and loud. Very tame, and minimal. Has its tense moments, but not scary. (Then again, Alien Isolation does very little to me bc I internalized it as a stealth/puzzle game 💀 so I might just be numb to it)

(Psst speaking of fear, not to get political but yeah. Imagine being stuck with growing an entire ass human being in your body against your will. Please, for the love of god vote. Don’t subject millions to the fear this game emits.)

I haven’t beaten Debilitas yet (I’d have done so by now if I could remember pathing better), but what I’ve played for myself I do look forward to seeing more of the game!

As for now, Daniella is probably my favorite antagonist of the game. I’ve seen her cutscenes but I look forward to seeing them directly 👀 she has some of my favorite dialogue, props to her voice actor and the devs that worked on her animations and character design, yall nailed it! She’s so cool, there’s just something about her little “Blood, Flesh, Woman” speech’s phrasing that really gets my brain’s gears turning. I look for to seeing that scene for myself.

Maybe that’s the aceness talking? Like yeah, folks have sex and some are drawn to it, but…why? It’s just….weird. And the fact that she can’t feel pleasure—

Oh. Is..is that technically ace representation? Would Daniella be ace?

I found interest in this game before I even knew what ace was.

Go figure Daniella was my favorite, other than (Fiona and) the dog 🧹🚶‍♀️♠️

and they're so expensive (´;︵;`)

[eldritch-spouse]

That is a very generous offer Jonesy but I don't want to live on an island. I'm happy enough here. Now if you'll excuse me I need to-ah! Jonesy. Please let me go.

[Ambiguous reader]

TW: Kidnapping

" Why... Whatever do you mean? "

The throne looks entirely perplexed, as if nothing in this world could have prepared him for a rejection that, from your point of view, is anything but surprising.

All of your interactions thus far with this 'celestial' have been nothing if not positive. Jonesy, as he calls himself, is a positive force in your life. You're one of many 'lessers' who this Mother Miara entity he speaks so fondly of has selected to be judged for a certain period of time. Initially, the fear of what this might entail kept you defensive, but Jonesy's 'judging' honestly seems to consist in him inviting himself into your daily routines and generally being helpful.

Convenient enough that you decided to go along with it.

Maybe that's being a little harsh, you did grow to enjoy Jonesy's company, a little bit. He's pleasant enough, polite, seeming to have your best interests in mind, even if he doesn't understand that he no longer has the level of authority angels might have once had over humanity. And, most of all, he always brings small trinkets when he visits. Sometimes it's a new decoration for your home, other times it's some thingamajig he doesn't fully understand and wants you to explain to him under the guise of a simple present. Two of his gifts stand out to you.

Jonesy once gave you someone's personal phone. It was still locked and entirely undamaged, he likely picked it up somewhere. Lessers like theses things, he had proudly said, I found another one for you. He looked offended when you suggested he deliver it to a police station, so you dropped the subject and quietly took care of it yourself. Another time, the throne showed up with a gorgeous, reflective feather. He sounded a bit vague when you prodded for its meaning, but it looks harmless enough. You've decided to put it in a little case, to which Jonesy recommended that you sometimes take it outside with you.

You were never overly touchy with the angel, didn't think you should be. Jonesy is easy on the eyes, in his own bizarre sort of way, but he exudes authority in equal amounts to safety and comfort, so it felt inappropriate to simply take that step. Nevertheless, impulse once made you comment about the quality of his fur, the few times he'd wear something a little more 'casual', and Jonesy said nothing for a few moments, before placing your hand on his chest and letting you feel the expanse of softness there. You had never experienced something like it before, your fingers sunk into it yet it felt so incredibly light, so cozy, as if you could just lay your head upon it and have the best rest of your entire life. Neither of you said much of anything to each other for the rest of that particular visit.

He appears to like animals too, which is something you find very appealing in people. A few times now, he had this super beautiful cat -It was very large, some kind of maine coon?- With fur as white as his own and these wide eyes that seemed just a little too involved in anything around itself. Jonesy carried it with the utmost care and would regularly talk to it, calling it 'lady'. It made you smile, though he would always hand the feline to another celestial before properly greeting you, removing any chance to interact with it.

He's definitely weird.

But, perhaps, you could call Jonesy a friend in your little life.

Being friends with him doesn't mean you're about to abandon everything you've built and those you love just to join an island far away and be in some sort of paradise cult. Even if he's right about it being the best decision you could ever make, even if you'd live your best life there and be incredibly fulfilled, without having to bare the weight of your society's expectations on your shoulder- It's just not your home. It's not where you think you belong, and it certainly doesn't justify leaving your family and friends behind.

" I mean exactly what I said, Jonesy. " You shrug, finishing the basic omelet you were trying to make when he nearly pounded through your door in his excitement to see you.

You suppose these 'wonderful news' are why he didn't waste a second before dropping that bomb of a proposal on you.

" Dove, are you listening? Mother Miara herself has judged your profile and deemed you worthy of joining us in the most sacred location of Earth! "

You really just want to eat and end this conversation. " Jone- "

" Do you not wish to be welcomed into Lady Miara's arms? She will make you the best version of yourself, you will never know misery, you'll be surrounded by prosperity and harmony. I would help guide you- "

" No! " You interrupt, a lot more forcefully. " No, I don't want to go to some remote location and abandon everything I know, excuse me if that sounds crazy to you. I have people here who need me, okay? I have a community I belong to, I like having my own place with all the stuff I own. I like going to places you won't find on an island, Jonesy. I'm not going anywhere. "

He's motionless after your outburst, maybe in shock, maybe trying to make sense of your reasoning. You decide to soften the blow.

" Listen, I'm very flattered. It sounds like a great deal that I know many people would take. And good for them! I'm not one of those people, I'm sorry man. "

The kitchen suddenly seems too small and crowded. After a very tense silent that absolutely rips the hunger out of you, he finally speaks.

" You poor thing. " The throne murmurs, making you rise a brow. " You don't think you're good enough. You feel that you must be tied down to this frivolous nonsense in order to have meaning in your life. You could never be more wrong. "

Frustration bubbles by now. " Jonesy, can we not have this conversation right now? "

" It's quite alright, I see now. You'll need a lot of help to overcome your mind's delusions. Fret not, I'll take it upon myself to clear them. "

The celestial advances as he speaks, resolve radiating off of him. You barely get to turn away before he bodily picks you up. With little effort, as if you weighed less than the very trinkets he'll occasionally bring around.

Angels... Angels don't hurt humans unless they have to, right? It's not in them to be malicious... Right? Jonesy wouldn't hurt you.

He won't.

You hope he won't.

" Wh- What are you doing?! Put me down, please. " He doesn't. In fact, he walks outside. " Please put me down. "

" Silence lesser, be graceful about this blessing. "

You can't see them, but you can hear another celestial waiting for Jonesy, making a noise of confusion.

" Are they wounded? " The new one questions.

" No, just blinded of reason I believe. "

The nerve.

" Unfortunate. "

You're handed off rather easily to a larger set of hands, unable to see the face of this stranger before they run a hand through your face and the ability to see is quite literally taken from you. It's enough to make you freeze.

" Quite. I know they'll find a better home with us however. "

You dare not move when they take flight, knowing it'd be certain death to squirm mid-air, blinded, and horrified.

[lvmoure]

Jump Then Fall CS55

Pairings: Carlos Sainz x childhoodbff!reader

Summary: In which you loved him the moment you turned 7 years old. In which she fell first but he fell harder.

Warnings: none, pure fluff

Part 2

You were only seven when it hit you for the first time: a fluttery feeling, soft and strange, but warm like a summer breeze. The source of this unexpected feeling was none other than Carlos Sainz, your best friend since you could remember. He was the boy who sat next to you in class, the one who chased you around the playground, and the one who always let you have the last cookie at lunch.

It was a sunny afternoon, the kind where the sunlight spilled across the playground in warm, lazy beams, illuminating everything in a golden hue. You and Carlos were at your favorite spot by the swings, taking turns seeing who could go the highest. Carlos grinned at you, his cheeks flushed from the thrill of the game, his laughter bright and unrestrained. You felt your heart race, pounding in a way that seemed strange and exciting all at once.

"Hey, are you even listening to me?" Carlos called out, waving his hand in front of your face. He was laughing, his eyes squinting with joy as the wind tossed his dark hair in every direction.

You snapped out of your thoughts, cheeks heating up as you stammered, "Of course I am! You were saying… uh, something about soccer?"

Carlos groaned, rolling his eyes dramatically. "I was talking about how we should form a team, and I was going to ask you to be my teammate. But now I'm not so sure, since you're off in dreamland!"

You felt your face warm even more, but you managed to laugh. "Fine, I'll be your teammate, but only if you promise to pass the ball sometimes!"

He laughed, pretending to consider your terms. "Deal," he said, reaching out his pinky. You linked yours with his, feeling a spark—a small, inexplicable jolt that made you freeze for just a second. But Carlos didn't seem to notice; he was already excitedly planning your imaginary soccer team's strategy.

As the two of you chattered away, you realized how much you loved moments like this. Little did you know, these small, simple moments would be the foundation of a love that would grow with you, one that would shape your every feeling for years to come.

Years passed, and the innocent feelings you had as a child grew complicated, layered with insecurities and fear of change. By the time you reached high school, Carlos was no longer just "that boy next to you." He had grown into someone everyone noticed, with his easy charm, his passion for sports, and the same unfiltered laugh that always made you feel like the only person in the room. It wasn't just the small things that made you realize you were in love with him; it was everything about him, the way he treated people, the way he never held back.

You watched him from across the cafeteria, trying not to be obvious. Carlos was surrounded by his friends, laughing and animated, and you could see why everyone liked him so much. But you kept your feelings locked away, never daring to say a word. You were terrified of what would happen if he knew—terrified of losing him, of the awkwardness that might come with a confession.

"Are you staring at Carlos again?" your friend teased, nudging you playfully.

You jolted, quickly looking down at your food, cheeks flaming. "No, I was… I was just lost in thought."

"Yeah, sure," she said with a smirk. "You've got it bad, and you know it."

You groaned, hiding your face. "I can’t tell him. It’d ruin everything."

"He’d probably be flattered," she said gently. "But I get it. Some things are scarier when it comes to best friends."

A part of you wanted to believe that maybe, just maybe, he might feel the same way. But you couldn't risk it. So you kept quiet, holding your feelings close and letting them simmer in silence. There were moments when he looked at you, really looked, and you'd find yourself wondering if he could see the way you felt. But every time, he'd just flash you a grin or make a joke, and you’d brush it off, convincing yourself that he couldn’t possibly feel the same.

You told yourself that being close to him as his friend was enough, even if it hurt sometimes to keep the truth hidden.

The day he introduced his girlfriend to you, it felt like the world was crashing down around you. You plastered on a smile, trying to ignore the way your heart seemed to shatter into a million pieces.

"Hey, this is Isabela," Carlos said with a bright smile, his arm slung casually around her shoulders. "Isn't she amazing?"

You forced a laugh, pushing down the wave of jealousy and sadness that threatened to spill out. "Yeah, she seems great," you managed, feeling like every word you spoke was a lie.

Isabela was everything you weren’t—confident, beautiful, and effortlessly charming. She seemed to know Carlos in ways that you didn’t, ways that you wished you could. You watched them together, the way he looked at her, and it tore you apart. But you stayed by his side, putting on a brave face and pretending that you were fine.

"Are you okay?" Carlos asked one day, noticing the sadness in your eyes.

You forced a smile. "Of course, I’m just tired."

He gave you a long, searching look, as if he could see through your mask. "You know you can tell me anything, right?"

But you couldn’t tell him this, not now. So you just nodded, hoping he’d never find out how deeply you were hurting.

Years passed, and one day, Carlos showed up at your door, his face pale and eyes rimmed red. Before he could even speak, you wrapped him in a hug, sensing the heartbreak he was carrying. Isabella had broken up with him, and he was devastated.

"I thought we had something real," he said, his voice breaking. "But she said she couldn’t handle it."

You held him close, soothing him with gentle words, even as your heart ached at the sight of his pain. Part of you felt relief—relief that he was no longer with her, that there might be a chance for you. But mostly, you just wanted to be there for him, to be the shoulder he could lean on.

"I’m here for you," you whispered, your hand running comfortingly over his back. "You’re going to get through this, Carlos. I promise."

He looked at you then, and for a moment, something seemed to shift in his gaze. But he was hurting too much to notice it, and you were too afraid to hope.

Months after the breakup, Carlos found himself looking at you in a way he hadn’t before. It was small things—like the way you laughed at his jokes, the way you always knew when he needed comfort, or the way you were just there, unwavering in your support. He began to realize that maybe, all this time, the person he was looking for had been right beside him.

He wanted to tell you. Wanted to confess that he felt something he couldn’t quite explain, something warm and soft that made his heart beat a little faster. But he held back, afraid that maybe he’d missed his chance, that his feelings would only complicate things.

For now, he decided, he’d admire you from afar, letting his feelings settle and hoping that one day, he’d find the courage to tell you.

Because love, he realized, was worth waiting for.

[enviedear]

Ohmygosh. I haven't been able to stop thinking about farmer Jason since you first posted about him! It's the midwestern in me. I think the first question would be what does he farm? Do you think he would be a cattle or, like, a corn and soybean kind of farmer? More like a farmhand for those people. Alternatively, he could have his own little farm just for himself. He would have a decent acreage with an old fixer upper. He'd have chickens for eggs and grow his own vegetables. He'd work to being self sufficient. But he is a city boy so he doesn't really know what he is doing. Ooooh i just realized the weather would be so different from Gotham. One day it is 80+ the next it is hailing and oh what is that? A tornado warning the next day? But it is raining without any clouds in the sky?? The summers are like swamp heat and how is it -30 outside and people are still wearing shorts and oh gosh is that a hail tornado? I have more thoughts but I like hearing yours more >///<

yay!!! i'm so glad you're loving farmer!jason <3

what does he farm? Do you think he would be a cattle or, like, a corn and soybean kind of farmer? More like a farmhand for those people.

i think he'd stick mostly to easier farm animals, and for himself mostly! i think he'd sell some products if he ever has too much (he never wants to have too much, because he knows someone else may need it) think goat cheese, cow milk, and eggs! i think his main source of income would come from his crops! probably wheat, and then hay when it's season for it! (he hates doing hay, it's expensive and labor intensive but the profit can be fucking amazing) also corn!! he would have a cornfield and he would deck it out for hayrides and a maze for the harvest season (all the town kids love mr. todd's farm...and the candy apples he gives out for free) so basically i think he'd do mixed farming lol!!

Ooooh i just realized the weather would be so different from Gotham. One day it is 80+ the next it is hailing and oh what is that? A tornado warning the next day? But it is raining without any clouds in the sky?? The summers are like swamp heat and how is it -30 outside and people are still wearing shorts and oh gosh is that a hail tornado?

as a girl with multiple tornado shelters on her land...if jason experiences one tornado he's building one. also i just know his first summer there he'd be DYING!! it's hot in a way that's literally almost inescapable. it's humid and unrelenting. he think's he'll get a break in the winter...no. southern winter is just ice on the roads...and i don't think the city is salting any roads by his house. (cause they're all backroads/dirt roads)

[cakesexuality]

I take stuffed animals in public sometimes and find that people almost always either pretend they're not there or are excited to see them!!

On Thursday night, I took my newest stuffed animal, a cat named Blinx, out with me when I went trick-or-treating at the mall in my cat onesie. He only got comments when people at the stores thought he was cute!! Blinx also came with me to a medical procedure a couple weeks ago where a nurse told me that everyone in the hallway on the way to the procedure room were talking about how cute Blinx is. That nurse and the doctor both asked his name, which is always a green flag.

Last year, I had surgery and brought along my turkey, Ulana, who I got specifically for bringing to the hospital that day. When I asked a nurse what to do with Ulana, I was expecting to hear either "Oh you can leave her in your room" or more specifically "You should put her in your bag" but instead I got "Do you want me to ask if you can bring her to the OR?" so I got to bring her all the way to the OR and she got compliments from a couple nurses. When I woke up in the recovery room, Ulana was wearing my mask with the ear loops around her wings.

I went to a con a couple months ago and brought my bear, Ellie, with me. I paid for photo ops with a couple special guests, and Rock M Sakura from RuPaul's Drag Race asked my bear's name then said "It's nice to meet you, Ellie!"

A couple years ago, I had to go see an ophthalmologist, and I was getting upset during the pre-tests with the ophthalmic assistant (NOT from anything she did or said) so I got out my stuffed animal I had brought that day, Brock. The ophthalmologist came in and started asking me questions like what Brock is called and how he came to be called that, so I told him Brock came with that name and a short bio stating he plays football and wants to be a nurse when he grows up. On my way out, the doctor said "I'm glad you and Brock came in today!"

This past summer, I went to see a pride parade and brought my bunny, Vibri!! I don't think she got any comments or acknowledgement. I held her the entire time I was there and brought along one of my tiny rainbow flags but I almost brought the tiny bi flag I have for her, since Vibri is a bisexual icon.

I did once get asked to put a stuffed animal away, a small bulldog named Butch, but that was because I was having an echocardiogram and the tech was afraid of getting ultrasound gel on him, and I got to keep Butch in my hand because I said I was okay with getting gel on him since he was old and had been through a lot already

No picture for Butch

If people stare at me for my stuffed animals, I don't notice. I only ever pay attention to when they say positive things about my stuffed animals.

I’m not the first to say this but I really wish it were normalised for adults to carry around comfort objects like stuffed animals

[iliketangerines]

tangled up

a/n: lowkey forgot how to write for a moment here lmao, [smar]: prey

pairing: neytiri x afab!na'vi!reader

warnings: nsfw (MDNI), hunter/prey, slight bondage, pussy eating, finger fucking, overstimulation

you creep along the bushes, keeping your feet as silent as you can among the grass and the nightlife as your ears twitch back and forth, listening for any unusual sounds

it’s not like you were in any real danger, none of the larger animals ever came this way because of the pali herds, and they were friendly to the na’vi

and you had spent most of your life here in this forest, learning how to navigate the more treacherous parts of eywa’eveng in these very woods

rather, the danger came from the eerie stillness of the night, in the adrenaline rushing through your veins as you listened for Neytiri

you were the prey, and she was the hunter

carefully, you tread through the forest, making sure your feet don’t crack over any loose twigs, and you keep your breath as quiet as you can

a slight rustle in the bushes to your left startles you, and you snap your head towards the sound, inching backwards from it

keeping your gaze on the sound, you turn to dart away from the bushes and slam into something, and you stumble backwards, trying to regain your grasp of balance

rope wraps tightly around you, pinning your arms to your sides, and you fall to the ground on your back with a loud ‘oomf’

the only reprieve is that you fall into soft grasses, and you open your eyes to find Neytiri standing above you, a triumphant smile on her face as she stares at you

“oh, ma’smar, you are simply too easy to catch.” Neytiri falls to her knees and crawls toward you, eyes glowing with the bioluminescent plants

“hey! that’s ru-” she interrupts you by wrapping a hand around your ankle and pulling you towards her, spreading your legs around her waist

“mmm, rude or not, i think i want to enjoy my feast now.” she lowers herself between your legs, nimble fingers pulling your tewng to the left as your thighs rest upon her shoulders

it exposes your pussy to the air of the night forest, and you have no time to react before her tongue is on you, lapping at your sensitive clit

a moan escapes from you, and you let your head fall back into the grasses as Neytiri hums, her grip on your thighs growing tighter

she presses the flat of your tongue into you, letting the rough texture slide over your clit before flicking it back and forth and then sucking on the bud

it makes you whine and your hips to buck up into the air, the sudden assault of pleasure on your senses making your body crawl with fire

Neytiri grunts in displeasure, and one of her arms comes down to press against your hips, pinning them down to the forest floor and forcing you to take what she gives you

her other hand comes around, spreading your pussy lips as she sucks on your clit, and she slides in two fingers easily

“mmm, you’re already so wet for me. do you like feeling so helpless against me? unable to escape as i taste you?” her fingers thrust into you, curling up into your sweet spot and sending pleasure sparking through you

your tongue feels so heavy in your mouth as you try to answer, but all that comes out is a pitiful whimper as she brings her mouth back on you, ruthlessly lapping at your clit with her tongue

Neytiri just smiles and hums around you, and the vibrations travel up your spine and the beginnings of an orgasm melt your mind into nothing more than ash

“ah-! mmh, Ne-Neytiri, please aah! mnngg-” your back arches off the ground as you clench your fingers around her, desperate to cum already

you try to ride her face in vain, her arm still pins you to the ground, and you can only moan her name as she laps at you

she glances up through her lashes, fingers massaging against your sweet spot, forcing you closer and closer to the edge of pleasure

her satisfied hums as she laps into you sends you over the cliff and diving into whirlpools of your orgasm

it crashes into you and drags you into its depths, makeing your mind spin and your body twitch and thrash, but her arm keeps your hips pinned down as she continues to fuck you on her fingers

Neytiri gives no reprieve, thrusting her fingers into you and dragging her tongue along your clit even as your orgasm bleeds away at the edges

“w-wait, Neytiri, i-mmnnh aagh ple-please!” she ignores your cries, only thrusting your fingers into you harder, listening to the wet squelch of your pussy as your slick stains the inside of your thighs and the floor

she drags another orgasm out of you too quickly, and it stings through you, pleasure and pain mixing together in a dangerous brew

and yet, her tongue continues to taste you, fingers relentless in her pace

you feel boneless, thighs twitching uselessly as she hums and moans at how you clench around her fingers, how your swollen clit tastes in her mouth

she finally removes her mouth, but her fingers remain in their pace, wet squelches echoing with your choked moans and whines

“i intend to feast on you for as long as i want,” her words barely process in your hazy mind, too fogged with pleasure to properly think, “and you’ll take it. because you’re my good smar, yes?”

Neytiri is back on you before you can answer, tongue ravaging your poor abused clit as she massages her fingers into your sweet spot

you weren’t going anywhere until she was satisfied

[librivore42]

A beast in the belly

@garnetdawn's illustration of Gale sent me into an angsty brain spin so you all get to suffer with me. Wheee.

Word Count: 703

Warnings: Some violent intrusive thoughts

Arcane hunger is so aptly named, if he does say so himself. A little arrogant to say, perhaps, since he was the one who named it. But one must find pleasure in the little things, even if that means feeling clever about naming the very ill that will eventually take his life.

The very ill he earned for himself by feeling far too clever. There’s an irony in that which he’d rather not examine, even as it stood there in the shadowed corner of his tower. In the long year alone, he avoided its gaze.

It isn’t until now that he realises just how easy Tara and the tower had made things, lonely as it was.

Tav’s wary assistance has done him some good, of course. But it’s been quite some time since they’ve gotten their hands on another magical artefact, and he can feel it starting to claw at him, shredding his resolve.

He’s told the others that the urge is like a forest fire, or a war. Something to keep at bay certainly, but manifesting as a distant, looming danger that he was simply a passive conduit for. It’s felt different, lately. More active. More searching. More savage.

It grows in ways more bestial than he’s ever been used to. It has teeth and claws and the frightening willingness to use both. It is no longer a burning, a frantic urge to be quelled. As he had so aptly, accidentally named it, it comes as a hunger, a starvation that fuels a primal instinct to be fed, to survive.

He refuses to confront the question of how far he would go to sate it. With whom would he bargain, to what degree would he take if it was not freely given? He clutches at the burning in his chest, staring at the wall of his tent, and avoids the question’s eyes as it lurks in the dark.

Alone, wracked with the strange starvation and the certainty that by noon tomorrow he must either absorb something or disappear before he kills everyone around him.

To die alone.

For all his fine statements that he would teleport himself somewhere he would do no harm, he finds the plan falling apart the closer he comes to it.

He doesn’t want to die.

A frightening thought flickers at the back of his mind. Tav. The vivid, violent image of sinking teeth into the sorcerer's skin to inhale the magic in their body. A fragile mortal shell full of potential power, waiting to be cracked.

The thought makes the breath catch on the existing pain in his chest as he struggles to pretend he never thought it at all. It was someone else, something else, not him. He is not violent. He’s not cruel or wicked, he’s just starving. And alone. Afraid. A wounded animal.

No, to call it an animal is inaccurate. It implies that if he gave in to the urge it would be a loss of control, a wildness for which he is not truly responsible. A separation for which he should suffer no consequence. But he knows better. It does not rip the power from his hands and pull him helplessly forward. It simply lurks, whispering darkness that is horribly, terribly pragmatic. Waiting for him to see the sense of it and act.

It’s only to survive.

Time. He has time again.

It’s for the good of everyone.

He takes a deep breath, trying to focus on the faint silhouette of Karlach through the tent fabric as she moves around on the night watch. Some of them have been worried about him, rightly so, for he’s kept them at arm’s length all day, uncharacteristically silent. But Karlach still pauses outside his tent as she passes. It’s a good thing to focus on. Because if he sleeps, he’s afraid of what visions might bubble up from the darkest corners of his mind, thrown up by the dying throes of that wounded animal.

First light takes years to arrive. Lae’zel’s voice is a blessed harshness as it cuts through the dawn air, thrusting an amulet into his tent and stalking off with a click of her teeth and without a backwards glance. He nearly sobs with relief as he grabs at it clumsily, presses the cool metal against the burning and breathes freely for the first time in so many days.

[xoxochb]

— too soft for all of it ꣑ৎ‧₊˚.

★ - “you're in the kitchen hummin' / all that you ever wanted from me was sweet nothin'”

warnings: just tooth rotting fluff! pairing: finnick odair x fem! reader a/n: it’s been so cold I’m developing an addiction to cozy/sleepy blurbs 😣

“It’s still hot, be careful”

you smile softly as finnick hands you a steaming cup of coffee in your favorite mug— it was one he had gifted you a few years back, adorned with small owls because he had known prior they had been your favorite animals (how he knew this, you were unsure). he takes a seat beside you on the couch, but not before making sure to take half of your cozy blankets and making himself warm with them also. he throws a glance (or longer than, whatever) over to your happy self as you take a sip from your coffee

“did I make it to your liking?” jokes finnick. you roll your eyes but your uncontrollable smile gives your mood away instantly

“yes, it’s lovely” you confess, placing it on top of the blanket pile you had created on top of your lap. finnick takes the opportunity to intertwine your newly freed hand with his. your eyes grow heavy at the newfound warmth. “I’m tired”

“give the caffeine about ten minutes and you’ll be bouncing off the walls”

“mhm, no” you say wearily, but nonetheless take another sip to hopefully fulfill his statement. when you yawn, however, you know you’re done for. finnick frowns and takes you onto his lap, careful of your fill mug in your hands. he allows you to take a few more sips before he removes the cup from your palms and places it atop the coffee table. with free arms, you wrap them around his neck and rest your head on his shoulder sleepily

“you can rest for a bit, lovely girl. I’ll be here when you wake up”

“promise?”

“yeah, I promise”

you know it’s more sacred than any holy oath ever formed. internally, you’re screaming and giggling and kicking your feet at this. “m’kay. only for a bit”

“sounds like a plan”

and it indeed was a plan. soon after, you’re lulled to sleep with the feeling of his handing running up and down your back, the faint fire crackling noise, and a cup of coffee thinking through your system

[sanemistar]

thank u letta and lina for the tag hehehe <33

last song: forever by chris brown

fav color: PINK PINK PINKKKKKK 🩷🩷🩷

last book: i haven’t read books in years 😭

last tv show: i dont rlly watch tv shows so im listing the last anime i’ve watched which is blue exorcist :3

sweet/spicy/savory: SAVORY !!! i love sweet foods too but i lean towards savory ones more hehe spicy tho…. im trying to work on my spice tolerance 😭

relationship status: unfortunately single 😕

last thing i googled: some work related stuff

current obsession: gojo satoru, SANEMI, bleach and giyuu !!!! also my bllk obsession from 2020 is starting to come back.. bachira my beloved 🫶🏼 (oliver aiku is also growing on me)

looking forward to: my birthday next month !!!!!

no pressure tags: @fushitoru @lovegasmic @itachiiwrites @iid-smile @ayrastv @stunies @twentyfivemiceinatrenchcoat @toadtoru @kisstoru + whoever wants to do this <33

10 people i’d like to get to know better

tagged by @bubonicbabybell <3

Last song: meat is murder by the smiths

favorite color: orange 🍊

last book i finished: bliss montage

last tv show i watched: supernatural (s12)

sweet/spicy/savory: savory? i honestly dont have a preference

relationship status: single

last thing i googled: stardew valley wiki 💀

current obsession: dead poets society + the sims 4

looking forward to: halloween! and nanowrimo

tagging > @laceyc0bwebs @thelifeofagirl @chiiiiiiiiiiiiiii (i have no other mutuals and am lowkey scared to tag people i follow so sorry this is supposed to be 10)

[itadores]

note: hello <3 this is very self-indulgent and very self-ship coded hehe

pairing: nanami kento x gender neutral reader

tags: gender neutral reader, fluff, slice of life

The rising sun slipping through the cracks of the blinds of your bedroom window rouses you from your morning slumber. Unwilling to wake just yet, you snuggle further into your pillow, burrowing yourself deeper beneath your blankets like an animal utterly content to continue its hibernation. But much to your dismay, the sun stubbornly continues to rise, scattering beams of light throughout the room. You squeeze your eyes shut, hopeful that you can stave off the brightness growing behind your eyelids and return back to sleep, but despite your best efforts to cling to sleep, you feel it slowly slip further and further away from you.

Unhappily, you crack your eyes open and blink a few times to gain your bearings. You look around the room and frown when you notice that the other side of your bed is distinctly empty, the ruffled blankets and a deep indentation in the pillow are the only pieces of evidence that someone was once there. Now aware that you’ve been left all alone, you lift the layers upon layers of blankets off of your body and slip out of bed. You grab one of the smaller blankets lying in the crumpled mass on your bed and wrap it tightly around yourself before you make your way over and push open the door of your bedroom.

Amid the quietness of the early morning, your ears pick up the faint shuffling of someone moving around your home. Unperturbed, you follow the sound. Your feet lead you to the kitchen where you find your lover with his back towards you.

Kento does not so much as flinch when you come up behind him, wrapping your arms around his middle and pressing your cheek to his spine. You take a deep inhale of Kento's familiar and inviting scent and exhale, utterly content.

"Good morning, love," Kento gently greets.

"G'morning," you mumble, voice steeped in sleepiness that you've yet to shake off.

"Still tired?"

You yawn right on cue, which elicits a soft chuckle from Kento. His back rises and falls as it rumbles its way through him.

"I'll take that as a yes," he says.

You hum. The combined warmth of Kento's body heat and the blanket you have wrapped around yourself is nearly enough to lull you back into a state of drowsiness.

"What're you doing?" You peer around Kento's frame, eyes drifting to the kitchen counter to get a look at what it is that's keeping his hands busy.

"I'm making matcha," he replies as your eyes land on his hands whisking a mixture of matcha powder and water in a ceramic bowl.

You perk up, feeling much more awake than just a few seconds ago.

"Will you make one for me, baby?" you sweetly ask, cozying up even closer to Kento and nuzzling your cheek against his arm. Your best attempt at persuasion. "Please."

Kento's brown eyes fall onto you. The corner of his lips pull into a small half-smile. He looks beautiful in the morning light.

"I’m already making you one.”

Your eyes light up.

“Have I ever told you how much I love you?” you dramatically say, giving Kento a firm squeeze around his middle. You lean into his touch when he presses a kiss to the top of your head.

"Yes, but I suppose it never hurts to hear."

You press a kiss of your own to his shoulder. "I love you," you say, voice softening with sincerity. Perhaps it's the sleepiness that still clings to your bones or the sweetness of Kento's gesture, but you're feeling particularly sappy now.

Kento places a hand over your own, tangling your fingers together and giving it a gentle squeeze.

"I love you more."

[loveaurapearl]

Wild Life SMP connections to Alice in Wonderland

To say Wild life is crazy would be an understatement. It's a fun, silly, chaotic series and I love it. But something I wanted to analyze it was it's connections to Alice in Wonderland. Now... I'm not the first person to make this connection. I'm sure there are tons of people talking to their friends about it or at least thinking about it, but I wanted to put more thought into the connection.

I first have to make people understand why people make think this season is connected to Alice in Wonderland in the first place. The first reference was obvious, the shrinking and growing mechanic of session one and the randomized food of session 2 being a reference to how Alice could shrink and grow by eating mushrooms. Sure Alice didn't eat dirt to fly, but the Mad Hatter and Marchhair were able to eat their silverware and Alice could float thanks to her dress. Secondly, the wild mechanic itself. Wonderland is a world where anything can happen at any time. Where laws have no meaning and to try and understand Wonderland with logic will only hurt your brian. So a world where each session changes the rules of the world is the closest thing a Minecraft server can be to a Wonderland world. Thridly, the life Series itself somehow matches Alice of Human Sacrifice. Link to Animatic that showed everyone this connection: Alice of Human Sacrifice || Life Series Winners Animatic. The life series has always been about made up rules that are more suggestions, but thanks to the Watchers, these worlds have been twisted into a death game where only one winner remains. This is just the only season that leaned into the Wonderland aspects.

(Note: I'm actually NOT that well versed on Alice in Wonderland. I don't know all the characters and I don't know them that well. I only watched the original animated Disney movie, so if I'm missing any connections, please let me know. I just want to make a discussion.) Now, I will only be using 5 characters in this analysis... mostly because I want this to fit in the post and I don't know Alice in Wonderland that well. Anyway, here are the characters. Alice, the Red and White Queen, a little bit about the Red King, the Catapillar, and finally, the Mad Hatter. (Note: the most I got to say will be the Red and Queen segments and the Grand finale, the Mad Hatter.)

First off, who's Alice? Well... whoever the winner of this season is. Alice in the Life series is always the winner, but what kind Alice they are depends on who wins. There's a reason why I referenced Alice of Human Sacrifice, because it doesn't matter who exactly Alice is. I'm just here to connect the other characters of Alice in Wonderland to the lifers because that's more interesting.

The first one I want to discuss the Queen of Hearts and White Queen. Miss 'Off with their heads' and the other one. (Sorry White Queen, but there's a reason the Red Queen is remembered more.) Now, one might want to give the Queen of Hearts role to Pearl and the White Queen to Gem, after all, Pearl is becoming 5' am Pearl again. It's easy to say the one turning Red is the Queen of Hearts. But the thing is, I think it's the other way around. The Queen of Hearts controls the other people through fear and tactics. She is never questioned and controls the people through an iron fist. Pearl... while her teammates trust her and thanks to session three their relationships have become stronger so she's not alone, but they still aren't fully trusting of her. In fact, none of the other lifers see Pearl as a leader, as someone that they should follow. Sure, they don't want to be on her bad side, but she does not control them. Gem, on the other hand, is in full control over a vast majority of the server. Skizz is on her side, the Tuff Guys are on her side, and Renwood Mound is on her side, Scar is still technically family to Gem and Joel, and Gem has a secret alliance with Lizzie. Sure the other Spanners haven't made full alliances with them yet, and Jimmy has been trying to kill Joel all of session 3, but if I would guess to say who controls the server right now, I'd say Gem? And why does everyone, even guys who are on Red, don't attack her? Because they're terrified of her. She killed so many people in Secret life and it's a shield to her. So, if Gem wants someone to lose their head, it's easy for the other lifers to follow her command, after all, they don't want her to do the same to them.

Now, Joel isn't the Red King of Alice. Yes he is the Red King of Last Life, but that has nothing to do with Alice in Wonderland. The Red King in Alice is a Wimp and while Joel is trying to be nicer, he's not a whimp. I don't know who the Red King is, but I'm 90% sure he's not a lifer and I have no idea what character in Alice Joel would be.

The Catapillar would be Scott, they're just cool dudes who know a lot of things and are smart... I... I just wanted to add this in because Scott is the closest thing to the Catapillar and I thought it was neat and I feel like they fit each other's vibs.

Anyway, the final character I wanted to talk about, and the main reason I made this post in the first place. The Mad Hatter. The goofy, carefree man with a hat...and the Character I'm connecting it to is Scar. It's... just Goodtimeswithscar. From the moment I saw Scar's skin, I thought... hey doesn't he look kind of like the mad Hatter. Okay, he doesn't actually look like him, but it was the first thing that came to my mind other than, omg, Scar's skin is amazing. Scar is a whimsical man who loves Disney, so I couldn't help but connect him to a Disney character based off of Alice in Wonderland, and with Scar's hat, it made it easy to connect which character Scar would be. Scar is a silly, man who does silly things like the Mad Hatter. You could say the Bamboozler's campsite is like the Mad Hatter's tea area. But then... Scar saw red and... he's... he's not doing good. Scar's on Red and he's out for blood. So... Scar's no longer the Mad Hatter right? Because being Red would undo all the connections Scar had to the Mad Hatter, right? Well... no. Because there's a Dark Side of the Mad Hatter, it's just only explored with the Batman villain with same name, but a connection is a connection. After all, there's a reason the Mad Hatter is called the MAD Hatter. Sure, in a lot of adaptations, the Mad Hatter is just a silly guy with his silly hat, but with other adaptations like the Batman villain, we see the full terror that a mad man can be. You sympathize with them, but they're still villains, they still need to be stopped.

Scar... Scar has never been the most sane man. If you saw Scar in the Life Series, you see the full extent of the ruthlessness his mind will go. From trying to extort Ren for the Enchanter by threatening him that he would be the first to go if Scar ever turned Red in Third Life; doing it again to Team Best in Last Life; burning down bases in each season; stealing the Enchanter on multiple occasions, even outside of the life series during Grian's, Joel's, and Scar's 50 hours in HARDCORE challenge run; blowing up a ton of people in Limited life while on Yellow, trying to destroy the Mycelium resistance and making an evil lazer (go rewatch season 7 of Hermitcraft, Scar was the villain despite his denial of the situation), eating BDubs, Etho, Doc, and VintageBeef during season 5 of Hermitcraft (No. I'm being serious. Scar and Cub ate the NHO during season 5. Go watch Scar's season 5 of Hermitcraft, it's amazing for the Convex.), and his Villain arc in Secret life. Secret life was the most notable because he tried so to be nice and hinged during Secret season before the Secret Keeper decided to make him the Villain. As Skizz said to Scar when Scar confessed he was trying his best to be hinged, "THIS YOU BEING HINGED?" Scar isn't a mentally stable man. Grian said it best, "I'M STUCK ON A MOUNTAIN WITH A MADMAN!"

Scar is a madman. He's crazy and dangerous when he wants to be... but Scar also tries his best to be the best version of himself. To be nice, and kind, and sweet. It's why Scar didn't see himself as the Villain of Season 7 even while he was making evil lasers that drilled into the Eath to find the Mycelium Resistance's base. And even then he still denied he was a Villain until after the war was over.

Scar is the perfect depiction of both sides of what the Mad Hatter is. He's silly, he's whimsical, and charming. But he's also dangerous, vicious, and cruel. Not only that, but he's a Hatter. In Season 8, he made a hat factory for everyone. Scar is LITERALLY a Mad Hatter.

So yeah, I just wanted to give my thoughts. Hope you like them, and if you have any other lifers you want to connect to Alice in Wonderland and Wild life, make your own post. It'll be fun.