#oh shit tysm!!!!

[just-null]

Fr bro I love your energy! Noritoshi is so pretty and so criminally underrated. Keep up the good work in making more of us lusting publicly for him. You've done amazing job! That boy well-deserved it :)

tysm!! I try to open the eyes of the public to his qualities. join my cult yall, Noritoshi is so good listen to me.

but on the topic of energy, whether you're high or low energy, Noritoshi loves it. the only difference is how he reacts to it.

Let's say you're low energy or prefer subtlety in your affection..

Noritoshi will initiate first! ..after a while... in his own way.... He needs to gather enough courage and collect his thoughts properly, then hes good to go! He prefers more subtle displays of affection too, but if needed he'll be blunt about it. He'll learn to adapt to slightly teasing remarks, going as far as to banter and tease back, moreover he's just very loving. So loving it can be embarrassing from time to time because of how intense the atmosphere can get.. the best way he can be described here is princely.

A small smile forms on Noritoshi's lips when he feels you're around. He turns to you, already memorizing each and every quirk you have so that he doesn't waste any time setting his sights on you again. His hands reach out to tug on your sleeve as he looks at you with a gaze so needy you can practically tell what he's about to ask. "May i hold your hand?" His voice comes so smooth that if you didn't know him, you would've missed the twinge of desperation it carried. You couldn't help yourself, you shook your head, a mischievous grin slowly creeping onto your lips at the sight of Noritoshi's pouted lip. Of course he'd do as you say even if it was clearly unfair, but not without some complaints. He clicks his tongue, a quiet mutter of "cheeky.." escapes under his breath. He knows you do this on purpose to mess with him, he was tempted to beg a little, but decided against it. it was an embarrassing thought to begin with. Seriously, how mean can someone be to make a guy think like this? ..Extremely, if the guy's pouting is cute enough! Noritoshi lifts his hand to his chin, thinking of the many ways he can try to get around this obstacle you cruelly placed in front of him. He leans in close, hovering next to you as he usually does when he thinks. He faces you as who knows what goes on in his head, his closed eyes not even giving you a hint as to what he could be thinking. "Ah, pardon me, I got lost in thought. I suppose i can keep my distance, so long as you keep looking at me with that charming gaze of yours." Ah, so he was just winding up for a pick up line. How lame, but.. get used to it. He's going to shadow behind you the entire day with more one liners like that unless you shut him up yourself. Wait.. was that his plan? The faint sly smirk tugging on the corner of Noritoshi's lips and the warm hue on the apple his of cheeks are all you need to figure out the rest.

If you're high energy or prefer more blunt methods of affection..

Noritoshi gets overwhelmed and flustered from such raw approaches from you that he comes off as a bit rude. It's only because you make his heart so full that he needs to shut you down or else he'll do something embarrassing!! He wants to impress you, of course he enjoys your advances very much, but it's not very slightly to see someone like him act like a crushing school girl!! or so he thinks.

Noritoshi yelps in surprise as you snake your hands around his waist from behind. He doesn't push you away or even move for that matter, he's frozen stiff. Is he still alive? Like any good lover would, you benevolently press your ear against his back to listen for a heart beat. ..You didn't hear anything until the sound of Noritoshi sharp inhale came through. That was unexpected, but it works. He squirmed a little, seemingly trying to shrug you off but quickly giving up, accepting the fact that you've got him trapped. "You imbecile, e-enough of this!" he scolded, though he made no actual effort to stop you. Noritoshi remains stiff for the most part, but looking at the back of his increasingly flushing neck reassures you that he is, indeed, alive. He's just being stubborn! Not turning or even a greeting, just rude name calling again! You raise one hand and place it over his heart to hold him tighter in your embrace. As expected, its practically pounding against his chest. He swats your hand away and finally turns back to you with those cute furrowed brows and rosy cheeks. "You're such a bully, you know that?" he huffs out, any semblance of sternness failing to take effect as his jutted bottom lip quivers. Mercifully, you finally let go and spare him by not pointing out the quiet whine he let out. He stumbles forward and turns around to face you fully, trying to keep an eye out for any more of your stunts while he catches his breath. He felt so dizzy from being in your arms, if he were held for a moment longer, he surely would've melted right then and there. Noritoshi's hands trembled as he smoothed out his clothes, his mouth opening and closing as any and all words died in his throat. He wanted to yell at you for being so forward, for giving him no chance to prepare, for letting go of him, for a lot of things..! Yet he just pouted as he tried to calm the flush on his face. His hands instantly whipped up in front of him when he noticed you took a step towards him. He can't handle another display of affection right now, he'll go weak at the knees! But how can you hold back when he's just so damn cute?

The most likely outcome is a mixture of both with a heavy leaning towards one. Either way, you're very right!! He's extremely pretty.

[pondslime]

subterranean

FANDOM : house of wax (2005) PAIRING : bo sinclair x afab!fem!reader RATING : explicit 🔞 WORDCOUNT : 3.9k

Reader POV. Basement fuckery. He tells you it's to keep you humble. It’s really just to keep you scared. The distinction doesn��t matter. You end up here again and again, knees biting into the concrete.

Crossposted on A03 here.

⚠️ Stockholm Syndrome. VERY dubious consent under duress. This was supposed to just be porn without plot. But then I lost my goddamn mind. Oops. Decent amount of weird prose. Depersonalization and derealization. Pet play (but make it weird and kinda metaphorical). Collaring. Forced boot riding. Vibrator and anal plug use. Bondage/gagging/edging. Bo at his absolute WORST (his natural state), being smug and mean and awful. Dirty talk dialed ALL the way up. Extremely dehumanizing and degrading language. Mind break elements. LOTS of backhanded praise. ⚠️

You always got too comfortable.

A lifetime before—when you were first here—you sat on this mattress with him, swallowing down mouthfuls of cold beef and carrots. You can remember the soup swirling in the can, murky and brown like a puddle of stagnant rainwater. He hadn't bothered to warm it up for you, but it hadn’t mattered. The food was something. Sometimes it felt like everything.

You licked the broth off the spoon as he plugged another tape into the VCR.

“One of my favorites.” He told you. Of course it was. Every movie he showed you down here was one of his favorites. Every can of soup might be the last. It was always the same things, over and over.

That’s when you started to lose track of time, you think—when you’d started to cling onto all that nothing.

Time wasn’t all that bad of a thing to lose, was it? Who needed it when his thumb was rubbing against your knee, stroking up your skin? The soup was cold, and his hand was warm. You traded one for the other and you liked it.

Funny. Thoughts like that always felt like they came with an or else tacked at the end.

A chunk of potato sat unpleasantly on your tongue—almost bitter, gravel in your mouth. Just like everything else, you swallowed it down.

He pressed play, his fingers drifting up your thigh. The TV quality was fuzzy, interrupted by the occasional flicker of static. Sometimes the films he chose would start in the middle of scenes. You’d get brief glimpses of things he’d recorded over—the triumphant blare of a talk show theme cutting off mid-note, dropping you in media res. He always assured you that you weren’t missing anything. At least that was one thing he didn’t bother lying about.

The movie wasn’t why you remembered that day, though. It was because of something he’d asked you.

“Where’d ya’ grow up?”

You hadn’t known what to say. He never asked you things like that. Your confusion only deepened when you turned towards him. There was no tension in his jaw, no furrowing of his brow. He looked, for the first time, wholly and startlingly calm.

When you failed to answer, he leaned forward and switched the TV off. He never did that either.

“Tell me ‘bout it. Whatchu do out there, anyway?”

You always regret not lying to him.

The world had shrunk down so much in the time you’d been in the town that it almost felt like you could gather it up and stuff it in your pocket.

You think about home. It looks different now.

Spidery tendrils of dust cling to the gaps between the balusters. It’s so difficult to get light in the house. No matter how many windows you open, there are always corners lost to shadow.

It’s strange how you could be up there one day, replacing the bulb under a fringed lampshade—and the next, you’d be tumbled back underground.

Just last week, you were lying on the couch in the living room.

The dog had padded into the room. She’d been gone for the better part of the day. With the doors unlocked, she went wherever she pleased. It had worried you at first, but it didn't anymore. She'd never leave town. She knew better.

At least, that’s what he’d said.

“Come here, beautiful.”

Jumping up, she curled into the space beside you. You wrapped your arm around her, wrinkling your nose. She reeked terribly of dog, stale corn chips and dirt and musk. You wondered if she might let you give her a bath now that you were in her good graces. It took a while to get there, but she came around. In a manner of speaking, the same thing had happened with you.

Pretty funny, huh?

Earlier, you'd been thinking about the puppies in the pet store window. Did she know about them? Slumbering away behind glass and dust, forever only a couple breaths old. Click. A switch was flipped, and they were as alive as they would ever be, nestled on newspaper shavings. On days like this, did she ever make her way down the hill to see them?

“Girls don’t last in this town.” You murmured, scratching behind her ear. “Just me and you, yeah?”

With a huff, she buried her head in the crook of your neck. It seemed like she was done listening to you.

That was fair, really. Half the time you weren’t even saying what you were really thinking anymore—and when you did, you weren't entirely sure that you made much sense. So much of yourself was locked up in your head and you kept forgetting where you left the keys. It all got clogged up inside your skull and oozed out of your mouth in a trail of sickly platitudes. You were just so thankful, so grateful.

“Sorry.” You whispered. You were always sorry for something, and sometimes you even meant it.

The rays of light were receding off of the arm of the couch, crawling up the wall. Your thoughts filled the living room. You could almost see them floating through the air, bouncing off each other like bubbles. Fleeting, effervescent things, popping as soon as you tried to track their paths. When you turned your head, you could smell his cologne. It was his jacket, hanging discarded over the couch cushions.

For a sudden, terrifying moment, you missed him.

That’s when you said the prayer. You didn't know where you meant for it to go. You guessed it was for whoever was around to hear it. Most days it was him and some of the time it was his mother. Both choices rang false. If God was still in this town, it was here, caught in these beams of light. Or maybe God was the dog heavy on top of you, her breath a rhythmic rumble against your throat.

Maybe you wouldn’t last long. Maybe it was all just wishful thinking.

Today, Bo fastens the collar around your neck. The leather feels heavy against your skin.

He tells you it’s to keep you humble. It’s really just to keep you scared. The distinction doesn’t matter. All the light bulbs you screw in will eventually need to be replaced. Wiping away the dust only gives way to more dust. You'll end up here again and again, knees biting into the concrete.

This almost feels more like his room than the one he sleeps in up at the house. Here, you can feel him more than anywhere else. There's more of you down here too. Real, tangible parts of yourself. Look around. There you are in the stain on the mattress, the blood crusted on the vinyl.

Welcome back, baby.

You keep your gaze on the ground, searching for something to bore your eyes into. Your eyes land on his shoes. Flecked with dirt, they bear obvious signs of wear. There’s a sizable hole in the toe of one of them. You focus in on that as he readjusts the collar, tightening the strap around your neck.

Embarrassment heats your cheeks as you hear him click the leash into place. Even without looking up at him, you can picture the expression on his face. It isn’t a good one. You still can’t decide if he looks more or less like himself when he screws his face up like that.

Tugging roughly at the leash, he forces you to look up at him. Wrists bound; your hands flex uselessly against your back.

“Please—”

Without warning, he sticks his fingers into your mouth, forcing them to the back of your throat. You choke, your hands flexing in panic behind your back. When he pulls them out, you cough, eyes watering.

“Now, normally I like hearin’ you, baby.” He says, smiling down at you. His face is a discordant thing. All American, boy next door. A slice of apple pie that someone put a cigarette out in. “But you know somethin’—”

He crouches down in front of you, still smiling. You watch him silently, shifting anxiously on your knees.

“I never did meet a dog who could talk.” Reaching over, he flicks at the metal ring on the collar. “Feels wrong.”

Dropping the leash, he gets to his feet, striding away. You crane your neck to the side as he rustles around behind you. After a moment, he lets out an affirmative grunt.

Quickly, you pivot your head back to the front. Making his way back to stand in front of you, your eyes flash to the item in his hands. Seemingly amused by your concern, he dangles it in front of you.

It’s a ball gag, shiny and black—noticeably a hair newer than the rest of the junk down here. Maybe he bought it just for you. It’d make a pretty lousy gift, but then again, he was always shit at stuff like that.

He had an incredible knack for getting you shit that you never asked for. Everything came with conditions, a laundry list of provisos and conditions that you didn't remember signing up for. Everything he gave you was actually for him.

“Open up, baby.”

Before you can think to do as he asks, his thumb forces your mouth open, pressing down on your teeth. You sputter as he forces the gag into your mouth, securing it around the back of your neck.

“That’s better, yeah?” He asks, grabbing hold of the leash again.

You stare up at him, exhaling tight bursts of air through your nose. You tilt your head a bit, working your jaw around the ball. Your teeth rest uncomfortably on the rubber.

“You been so good today, think we outta give that pussy some attention, huh?” He smirks. “Whatchu think?”

You whine, the noise coming out in an embarrassingly wet gurgle. Spit runs out of your mouth, dripping down your chin and trickling onto your neck.

“So cute.” His voice is syrupy sweet. He can play at authenticity, but never with you.

He kicks your thighs apart with his foot, nudging the tip of his boot between your legs. His eyebrows shoot up expectantly as he nods down at you.

“Go on, then.”

Disgust is an old friend. She disappears for months at a time, only to show up unexpectedly as if no time has passed. She’s back again, turning your stomach around in her hands. You tilt your hips down. Rubbing yourself against the tip of his shoe, you wonder if he’s doing this for old times' sake.

Rocking forward, you imagine a glossy magazine cover. You could see him on the cover of one. He does have the face for it, when he bothers to put it on.

Bored? 50 Ways to Keep the Spark Alive!

Your jaw is beginning to ache. Bo's hand strokes softly at the top of your head. You hate that the pressure against your clit almost feels good. Your mind unhelpfully supplies more article titles, bubbling up in your mind in obnoxiously curly lettering.

10 Mouth Exercises For The Modern Woman. Have You Tried Screaming? It’s All The Rage in This Town. Once You Start, You Won’t Want to STOP!

“That’s it.” He grins. “What a little slut.”

You look up at him pleadingly, another dribble of spit running down your chin.

“Always got told ya’ shouldn’t let dogs up on the bed.” He muses, the amusement plain in his voice. “But you been on your best behavior, huh?”

Last week, you fell asleep on the couch. You woke up somewhere else.

It was dark and you were pressed against something warm. Not the dog, not the light. Those were both gone. His jacket hanging off the side of the couch, maybe. But it was moving now, and so were you.

“Gotta getcha to bed.” He’d muttered, carrying you up the stairs.

You lay across Bo's lap, the side of your cheek against the dirty mattress. You shudder, your legs shaking.

“Pretty girl.” Reaching over, he tugs you up by the leash, forcing your head back.

Every breath you take seems to make your muscles clench around the plug in your ass. He works it in and out of you slowly and you gulp, shallow breaths whistling out of your nostrils. Every time you jolt forward you can feel him press against you, hard against your belly.

“Hey. What’s wrong, baby? That hurt?”

You nod frantically.

“Huh. Funny…'cuz I don't think it does. You wanna know how I know?” You feel him spread you open, fingers dipping into your pussy. “You’re wet for it, baby.”

He pushes the plug deeper, and your head spins at the sensation. A warbling moan pitches out of your mouth as you feel it sink fully into you. You shiver uncontrollably, whimpering around the gag. Saliva gathers on your tongue, and you feel it spill out of the side of your mouth, pooling under your cheek.

“Good.” He rumbles out, stroking his knuckles along your back. “That’s my good girl.”

You squeeze your eyes shut when you feel him nudge something between your legs. With a click, the vibrator buzzes to life. You let out a startled cry as he strokes it along your pussy.

“It’s nice, huh?” He chuckles. “Don’tchu act like I never gave you anything.”

The vibrator teases against your clit in short bursts, pressing down just long enough to leave you panting before he pulls it away. Almost enough, not quite. You arch back uselessly, chasing after that glittery warm sensation. He laughs a bit, holding the vibrator just above your clit.

You can feel the edge of pleasure, but it’s nothing more than a distant dull thrum. He keeps you hovering over it for what feels like forever, squirming over a feeling that’s hardly there. You bite down on the gag, your sob watery and muffled around the rubber.

“This body’s all mine, girl.” He murmurs, running his thumb down your spine. “I ain’t gotta make it feel good.”

With a hum, he rests the vibrator fully onto your clit. The sensation you’ve been chasing envelopes you, shimmering through your core. Nasally, high-pitched whines escape you in quick, desperate succession.

“But I do, don’t I? ‘Cuz I’m just so sweet.”

You open your eyes, staring up at him in bleary gratitude. He presses down on the plug. The discomfort has crested over and all you feel now is loose and pliant. You moan around the gag, your eyes fluttering.

“You like having somethin’ in your ass while I play with this pussy?”

And you nod, humming out your agreement.

“Mmm-hmm? Yeah?” He teases, mimicking your garbled reply. "That's good, baby. That's real good. Reckoned I’d fuck your ass today, but that pussy’s gettin’ nice and wet for me. Whatchu think? Which hole you want fucked?”

You mumble incoherently through the gag.

“All of ‘em?” He exclaims, the grin evident in his voice. “Well, ain’t that real sweet. Good answer, baby.”

He keeps talking, but it’s getting harder to focus on what he’s saying.

“Next crew that comes through here—maybe I’ll tell ‘em I got a slut who needs breakin’ in. You spread those legs so nice, sure you’d fuckin’ love it.”

The image flashes through your mind. Hands everywhere, laughter and heat and friction from a kaleidoscope of people destined for death. You’re in the middle of all of those faceless people—a tribute to be used up, one last meal for a parade of living corpses.

You’re all destined for the same end, but theirs is closer than they know. Yours is prolonged, tied around touches and salt.

Bo would be in the corner, lighting another cigarette—watching, because he’s always watching. Mouth twitching into a smile because he’s right again. You’re exactly what he thinks you are. You’ll keep your eyes on him because you can’t look at anyone else. After all, if it isn’t his hands, could you even feel it? Would it even count?

The panic is sudden and hot, twisting inside your chest. A desperate little whine builds at the back of your throat.

If I’m everybody else's, I can’t be yours.

“I’d have a hard time sharin’, though.”

Relief. The vibrator pulses against your clit and your eyes go unfocused.

“’S funny. Gotchu down here—and nobody knows.”

Between your legs, your pussy feels pathetically wet, sloppily sliding along the vibrator. You almost wish he’d keep you like this forever, jolts of pleasure lapping hungrily between your legs.

“If there’s even anybody out there lookin’ for ya’…” He muses. “Wish they could see ya’ now, huh? Don’t think they’d feel bad for you, baby.”

Pleasure rolls dizzily through you, electric licks of sensation as he rubs the vibrator against your clit. The rubber in your mouth is an anchor, it feels good on your teeth.

“Betchu thought you were really somethin’ out there.” He chuckles. “How’s it feel to find out you ain’t? Feels good, don’t it?”

You open your eyes and nod up at him, panting out your agreement. Through the haze, you see him smirk. It’s a cruel, cold thing. You’re all full and useless, but he doesn’t need you to say it, because he knows. Thoughtlessly, you shift in his lap, trying desperately to spread your legs wider for him.

“Nothin’ but a little fucktoy.” He coos. “That’s all you are, baby. Want you to remember that.”

He doesn’t need to worry. You remember everything, except what counts.

“Good girls cum, baby. They can’t help it.”

You’re hurtling higher and higher, the pleasure battering against your brain. That’s where the memories are, where the time used to be. It feels better to fill it with this. But then again, you’ve known that from the start.

“Go on, baby. Cum all pretty for me, yeah?”

And you do, a million times over.

He keeps the vibrator pressed firmly against your clit as you tense up, your hands clenching into tight fists behind your back. Your orgasm is a bone-deep shiver, wracking your legs with uncontrollable chills. The pleasure throttles through the last of your coherency, prizing a desperate noise from your throat. Maybe it’s a word. It might be his name. It might just be the time. Maybe this is how you find it again.

The buzz of the vibrator goes dim and far away as he holds it against you. You’re twitching somewhere above it. Each involuntary movement you make brings with it a new hiccup of sensation. Around you, the room seems to spin—whirling into a terrific blur of green and yellow.

It can be beautiful down here, if you squint.

When he lifts the vibrator off your clit, you pitch forward, warbling out a dizzy laugh behind the gag. You wait for the sound of the wand powering off. It doesn't come. Behind you, the buzzing is a low, incessant drone. You’ve barely managed to ground yourself when you hear it kick up a notch.

Click.

The sheets smell like all the thousand versions of you, each one answering questions she shouldn’t. Four walls surround you and they feel like they’re collapsing down on all sides. They could be made of plaster or stone, but they might just be something else. Your limbs, your heart, your mind, him. Separate appendages, but all linked. All part of the same crumbling structure.

A scream builds at the back of your throat as you feel him set it back on your clit.

“We ain’t done, baby.”

Your sleep is deep. Quiet. Only one dream.

Bo’s sitting on the edge of the bed, an inky blot in the gray morning light. He makes a move to stand up and you grab onto his arm.

“Go back to bed, angel.” He murmurs.

It almost sounds real enough.

When you wake up, you're alone. You try the door and find it unlocked.

Figures.

Upstairs, the shop is empty. There’s a can of unopened Coke on the counter. You crack it open and take a sip. Lukewarm bubbles of carbonation fizz over your tongue. God, he really was shit with gifts.

Walking up the hill, you catch your reflection in the window of a sedan. You look haggard, your hair a raggedy clump around your shoulders. You try the handle and it cracks open easily. Crawling into the dirty belly of the car, you wince as you lower yourself down into the seat. You sit with one leg dangling out, absentmindedly studying the dusty speedometer.

There are cars in other towns, parked on different streets. There are places without dust. There are always other futures. Sometimes you turn down the wrong road, and sometimes you die. Sometimes you don’t.

That’s just the way these things go.

You imagine the town collapsing in on itself like a pop-up book. There’s Bo, frowning down at it. He seemed like he’d been the type of kid that wasn’t allowed to check those kinds of things out from the library. He’d bring them back with pages ripped out, scrawled with pen marks. Pilled white card stock where faces used to be.

God, you’re miserably sore. It’s impossible to narrow down the ache to a certain part of you.

Lifting your leg into the car, you pull the door shut. The dust inside tickles your nose. Unthinkingly, you reach up, your fingers brushing against the metal buckle of the seatbelt. The sting is sharp and immediate. You pull your hand away with a hiss, your hand smarting. When you reach for the seatbelt again, you’re careful to avoid the clip.

You buckle yourself in. Click. Alive again, now more than ever. Wrapping your hands around the steering wheel, you close your eyes. The leather is hot against your palms, and it hurts a bit. Just a little. That’s just the pain again, but you don’t really mind. It’s something you can keep. It’s all yours.

Nothin’ you can’t handle, girl.

That’s what he said last night. Afterwards.

You were laying with your head in his lap, the itchy crust of dried spit against your cheek. It was then that you decided that you were so ugly that you had to be beautiful. You had to be worth looking at. You’d rolled over on your back, looking up at him through swollen eyes. That’s when he said it, so low and quiet that you almost didn’t register it. There’d been a an edge of pride to his voice.

Nothin’ at all.

A lick of pleasure thrums between your legs and your eyes flash open. You unbuckle the seatbelt and scramble out of the car, ignoring the pain that sings through your limbs.

Things like that? They always came with an or else tacked at the end. You remember that, don’t you? You couldn’t have forgotten.

Looming above you, the house is a dark blot of ink against the blue sky.

There were no collars for dogs in this town—they didn’t need them. They’d always find their way back home, pawing at the door for some scraps. The only leash is the one that exists in your mind. You can almost see it, trailing off your neck and up the hill, looped messily around the front doorknob.

You were going to die here with all that wetness between your legs, begging him to take out more of you with his teeth.

It's like he said.

You don’t need to tie up a dog if it loves you.

[intotheelliwoods]

Little Sprout: what happened with big us?

Current Sprout: ................ *INCOHERENT SOBBING-*

yeahh- *sniffles*

[littleplantfreak]

Okay, as a certified ume lover (you), I had this thought and decided you had to know too, imagine you end up getting pregnant and ume is like tears and shit and considering his backstory, he genuinely looks at you and loses his shit, and HE WONT EVER LET YOU GO OUT OF HIS ARMS, go everywhere with you, not a step out of the house without him, hugging you more tighter in his sleep cause he doesn't want you to fall over accidentally and end up hurting yourself, he will be there for EVERY single time you are suffering with morning sickness, and hear all the complaint on how much you are peeing and how you can't reach the floor and see your own feet and go behind and lift your belly to lessen the burden and pain on your back as you melt into him. Let's not talk about the fact the baby is born and he gets to hold them? He would melt and have a breakdown so bad that gets the nurses smiling so bad seeing such a reaction from a father, he will be hugging you and kissing you thanking him for giving him this life and OMG IMAGINE MAKING A WHOLE NURSERY ROOM WITH HIM, FILLED WITH BABY SHOES, PAINTING IT, BUILDING EVERYTHING.

Or imagine he gets so overly protective and worries fills his mind when you tell him you are pregnant, and you just sit on his lap and hold his face every so gentle and kissing him between every sentence all over his face and comforting him that it will all be alright and that you know he is gonna be the best father ever and that he doesn't have to go through this whole experience with worries eating him up considering he already experienced losing his mom, dad and his unborn sibling.

OKAY FORGOT TO ADD,

Him just talking to your belly whenever you are sleeping and see it when you wake up and him telling the child to "don't bother your mom so much" while gently kissing it. I AM SO NOT NORMAL ABOUT IT AND I, GENERALLY DONT EVEN THINK ABOUT PREGANANCY, BUT ITS SO DIFFERENT WITH UME, I AM SORRY ‼️‼️

(I didn't read the ask after typing it , so if I made any mistake, my bad bestie)

Nonnie come sit with me on the couch lets chat so much ive got snacks and blankies 😎

I do think although he’s pretty well adjusted when it comes to his past, he WOULD have a few noticeable changes because if you went through what he did who wouldn’t have some residual issues? The tension in his shoulders when you’re both walking in a city or if he hasn’t gotten a text back in more than a few hours while he’s at work? An anxious mess, Hiragi give him some medicine or something. He’s never been so stressed and ecstatic in his life its exhausting for him but he refuses to ever say the stressed part out loud you just gotta talk him through it and be stubborn about it because otherwise he’s trying to take care of you TOO much.

It’s not your pregnancy with him it’s OUR pregnancy he’ll get sympathy sick when you’re puking your guts out or cry like he’s in pain when you get IVs or shots for it (dont even get me started on the epidural i didnt know the catheter stayed IN your back when you got it wtfff till like…last year) best guy to be pregnant with though and he won’t stop talking about how brave and sweet and perfect you are or how pretty you look despite how you feel like none of those words.

He’s ALL up in the delivery room despite the horrors and he’s apologizing profusely when you’re crying that he did this to you and that hes the worst and then you’re like baby i dont really mean that but this is fucking terrible rip he knows you dont mean it and you can squeeze his hand, hit him, yell at him he doesn’t mind at all if it makes you feel even just a little bit better

He tries your weird cravings with you no matter what it is or what time it is. You wanna eat peanut butter and pickles at 3am? Lets go bby we’re taste testing.

He’s getting up in the middle of the night as much as possible when the baby’s born so that you can rest, you have to force him back to bed sometimes because he’s sleep deprived eventually.

[demonoftheseas]

microscopic fish data:image/gif;base64,R0lGODlhCQAJAOMIAB0HQiQlXlUeTkMqoelHpP+g0P/uw//u+TCpoTCpoTCpoTCpoTCpoTCpoTCpoTCpoSH+D0hhcHB5IGJpcnRoZGF5IQAh+QQBCgAIACwAAAAACQAJAAAEIBBJIqs0hNqcdy5CdxVHYVgIAWhVMbxFagVaoQUIHSMRADs=

oh my lrodg.. . what IS that thang.. . GUARDS!!! RETRIEVE ME MY GLASS!!! 🔍 oohh.... lets see here....

BY GOLLY!!! I-IS THAT!!!!??? oh how joyous....

[qsmpbutwithsignlanguage]

Arriving at Quesadilla Island is like, yes, you will live here, you will love here, and you will grow to call this place your home whether you like it or not. You will build a family, find your friends, and create a world unlike any other you have lived in.

But you will die here.

And no matter what, if you leave, you will leave a part of yourself on the Island that you will never get back. For that, there is absolutely nothing you can do.

It's just kind of interesting. The servers steal away a part of yourself you didn't know you had, and change you in a way you didn't know you could change. Especially with the possibility of new creators arriving this Saturday, I like to run this idea through my head.

(you knew these people before, you think. You know them now, though they're different: changed. You think you are too. It's what the island does, to the people unfortunate enough to end up on its shores. That's just the way things work. The way things always will.)

[chiiyuuvv]

So um..

[blkkizzat]

idk why people are complaining like they can literally just scroll past it and you control what YOU read and it’s not like anyone is forcing them to read it, me personally i’m not a fan of sacrilegious content but if i come across something i don’t like i just scroll past like its not hard whatsoever anyways tho i love ALL your writings!

[gothoffspring]

Suraj Kennedy for @rainymoodlet's Kiss Me in Komorebi Age: 33 Sign: Virgo Occupation: Freelance Photographer/Community Garden Enthusiast Traits: Creative, Loves the Outdoors, Overachiever Location: San Myshuno

more info under the cut! (like, a lot more.. too much probably)

bio:

Suraj was adopted when he was 5 years old, and raised in the heart of the Spice District in San Myshuno. He has two sisters with whom he is very close. He's currently working on saving up enough money to go back to school to pursue a serious career in photography. Nature is his best friend and greatest coping mechanism for when things get tough. He was employed at the San Myshuno Botanical Garden for over five years, and still does certain photography projects for them. Doesn't mind getting his hands dirty (literally, not figuratively). Is a very frequent visitor of the community garden space, and loves tending to his garden. He's a serious overachiever and has no room for slacking off or failure of any kind. Missed out on the opportunity to go to school due to lack of funding and the need to help out with the care of his siblings due to a family situation. He currently lives on his own in a one bedroom apartment, located in the Arts Quarter. He's been working as a freelance photographer for a few years now and takes excellent wedding photos, despite his interest really lying in nature photography. Brides just happen to pay a bit more than flowers. He's been able to save up a bit of money and is finally almost ready to pursue his dream of higher education. Happened upon the submission form for Kiss Me in Komorebi by accident on the internet, and decided to give it a shot without many expectations. Until he actually started looking into Daniel Taylor himself, and now he's only a BIT smitten and very excited to meet him...

fun facts:

He can often be found wearing the colors brown and green. Floral patterns are also a must. He greatly enjoys corduroy pants and spiffy shirts, but also likes to dress down at times too (while still looking incredibly polished. The dude does not leave his apartment without all 3 of his earrings and his favorite cologne lovingly patted behind his ears)

Highly interested in UFO's. One of the things on his bucket list is to one day eat at the UFO Crash Site Diner in Oasis Springs.

Has a journal he writes in every single day without fail. Usually doing some sort of brainstorming exercise or spilling out his heart and soul.

He also makes lists meticulously. He spends so much time making plans and writing them down that sometimes he lacks on the execution part.

His dad is like, an ALARMINGLY huge fan of Daniel Taylor and may fangirl just a little upon finding out his son is about to go on a reality tv show with the man.

His perfect night consists of Yahtzee, making homemade popcorn, watching nature documentaries and curling up with a very cute person on the couch.

Is an apple nerd, wouldn't dare touch an android (is this his weakness djfklds im kidding)

Loves carnivals, fairs and carnival games! If a boardwalk is involved, you've won him over completely. All of his closest friends have won him at least one stuffed animal from the fair.

Enjoys not having to wear pants in his own apartment ❤️ (we love a relatable king)

Extremely scared of dogs due to being bit when he was a kid, but stick a cat in front of him and he's picking them up immediately.

Huge museum enthusiast and wants to visit as many as he can!

[doctordiscosbignaturals]

look what i got for my birthday <3

eeeeeeeeee :)

[plsleafmelon]

dude i do not want to do this battle again i am so tired brooooo WHY IS THIS FIGHT TAKING FOREVER WHAT IS THE EX CONDITION????

[just-null]

How do we feel about Beach wear Noritoshi....

Everyone thinks he'd go covered head to toe wearing those wet suits divers use, but no. Noritoshi isn't the type to want to attract attention to himself when it's not needed, so he'd try to blend in. Emphasis on try.

He's the guy wearing a covering or some shit. I think you'd have to fight him to wear a translucent one. (if you splash him with water, you'll acheive the same effect thoughahahaha) even though it's a beach, he's trying to find an appropriate way to cover up, hes just like that. yes to sunscreen ofc. I can see him in a sun hat, but it's not his.. maybe he took it from one of the girls

HIS HAIR WOULD BE UP BC ITD BE TOO HOT AND THE SUN HAT WOULD HELP HIM FROM GETTING OVERHEATED H.H....H IS FACE WOULD BE FLUSHED BC OF THE HEAT AND. AND. AND.. he's like the beach babe on the shore, soaking up the sun and reading a book or smth. if you splash him with water, i can see him trying to get you back. then boom bam, hes in the water with everyone else.

OH FUCK that's even IF he goes to the beach. it's like seeing God in the flesh, idk man I'd go blind........... hed probably come along when he realizes theres hot people at the beach. he cant have you looking at people in that state, hold on hes going. give him five minutes..!

EXTRA

[untied covering version under the cut. like his booefjehsaf are out aha.]

ahahahahahahahahaa *froths at the mouth*

mf dont even begin to look at me like that

[carnivalcarriondiscarded]

man, your art is always so shaped. *eats it*

you drew human wally so adorable!!

ALSO

i LOVE reading tags on your art. so many thoughts i simply MUST imbibe. thank you

slowly (and Emotionally) breakdancing in my room over this ask <3<3<3

[xullian]

(saw your whole doodle page)

BRO I ATE THT UP?? LIKE YOUR ART IS SO SCRUMPTIOUS SO DEVINE

I don’t want to scream at you(use all caps) BUT I LOVE YOUR ART!! When you make more I just get so excited because it’s just so ????? Indescribable

(Sorry about all the memes but I literally can’t describe how it is any better)

DUDE WHAT???? First off PLEASE YELL AT ME IT MAKES ME SO HAPPY,, SECOND WHAAAATTTT WHATWJATWHATXHCKKD XMEEEE????? ME??? People actually get excited to see my art i mean wh.what? AncjBSJXAO I JUST????? UM THANK YOU SO SO MUCH LIKE ACTUALLY????,,,,,, UGHHHHHH ??? THANK YOU,,,

[hercarisntyours]

why is making an oc so hard

[mariusroyale]

hrgmghk, because- because- uhhrrgkk.... yeah. I don't know how to show appreciation like a normal person, so please take this instead

(｡• ᵕ •｡) ♡

it's a mix of "thank you" + "i hope you feel a little better/well-wishes" and a bit of "if i could fist-fight depression and life itself, i really would"

IM?!???????!?? I?!??!!!??

TEI!?;!:!/?/!

ITS THE!! THE SONG!! THE SOMNG I WAS TALKING ABOUT!!!!!! AAAAAAAGGHHH!!!!!

this is genuinely so beautiful and gorgeous i cant. i cant 😭😭😭😭😭😭😭

also- THANK ME?!?? THANK YOU!!!!

TYSM!!!!! i had to take a second to just stop myself from screaming when i saw this 😭😭

I DONT KNOW WHAT TO SAY IM SO BAD AT WORDS I JUST. FEELS. FEELS ARE TOO STRONG

everything about this is so 😭 like are you kidding!?!!! ARE U JOSHIN ME

ur art is as beautiful as ur writing and everything abt this makes me so SOFT and WEAK AND AGHHHHH

HOW DO I PUT HAND FLAPPIES IN WORDS AND THIS BIG OL SWIRL OF LIGHT IN MY CHEST IN WORDS HOW DO U ;; HOW DOES- *dies*

this made my day- truly 😭😭

ur such a peach for making this, thank u so much 💙💙💙💙💙

and the lil turtle and bird in the corner- im gonna collapse. i cant;;; 😭😭