#but i think it’s beautiful in its simplicity

[kiwriteswords]

HI! May I ask for the drabble prompts: Getting engaged/married?!?! Pretty please? 💜

Hi!! Thank you!!! Hope you enjoy this short drabble!

Drabble Prompts | Other Writing | Ao3

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x Fem!Reader!

Word Count: 1.6k

Rating: Everyone

TW: engagement, fluff

If every word I said, could make you laugh, I'd talk forever

It wasn’t anything grand. There were no rose petals scattered along the floor, no candlelit dinners at fancy restaurants, and no elaborate speeches rehearsed for weeks. No big romantic gestures that screamed, “Look at us!” No beaches or fancy trips. Aaron had never been one for theatrics, and he knew you weren’t either. Instead, the moment was quiet, simple, and intimate—reflective of the way your relationship had always been.

Aaron understood you better than anyone, knew that your heart didn’t crave the extravagant or the public display. You weren’t someone who wanted a grand proposal in front of a crowd, with cameras snapping and strangers cheering. You didn’t need the sweeping, cinematic gesture that so many people longed for. All you wanted was a moment that belonged solely to the two of you. And Aaron, ever thoughtful, ever in tune with you, had made sure that’s exactly what you got.

The world around you could have been completely still for all you cared. Wrapped in the familiar comfort of your living room, there was no need for anything more than what already existed between you. The dim glow from the lamp in the corner illuminated the room, casting soft shadows along the walls as you sat side by side on the couch. Your favorite blanket was draped over both of you, its warmth only adding to the quiet intimacy of the night. There were no expectations here, no pressure to perform or impress—just the pure, unfiltered connection between you and Aaron.

You didn’t need rose petals when you had the security of his arms around you every night. You didn’t need the formality of a planned-out dinner when the simplest meals shared between you had always held more meaning. No beach or vacation getaway was necessary because life was not something you needed to escape or take a break from with him. And you certainly didn’t need flashy rings or choreographed declarations when Aaron’s love had always spoken for itself, in every look, every touch, every quiet reassurance.

That’s why this moment, the one without the bells and whistles, was perfect. It was yours.

Aaron knew this wasn’t just any proposal—it was a reflection of who you were as individuals and as partners. It was a testament to how your love had grown, grounded in authenticity, built on trust, and shared through the smallest of gestures. It wasn’t meant to be a spectacle, but rather a quiet promise, a forever that didn’t need to be shouted, just softly spoken.

Aaron was certain this was what you would want too. If you were the grand gesture type, he would have put on a show for the world to see. But over the time spent together, he listened in and carefully asked without showing too much of his hand and plans. He still wanted it to be a surprise, afterall.

In this simplicity, there was a beauty that no grand gesture could ever match. Because the love between you didn’t need to be proven with fireworks or over-the-top declarations. It had already been proven, time and time again, in the everyday moments, the ones that truly mattered.

The two of you were sitting on the couch, your legs draped over his lap while a blanket cocooned you both from the chill of the evening. The TV flickered in the background, a rerun of some show you weren’t really paying attention to, too engrossed in the peaceful moment of just being. Aaron’s fingers traced absentminded circles on your ankle, a habit he’d picked up when you’d first told him it helped calm your nerves.

"I’ve been thinking," he started, his voice cutting through the comfortable silence.

You tilted your head to look at him, your eyebrows quirking up with curiosity. "About?"

Aaron smiled that soft, small smile—the one that always made your heart flip because it was reserved for these moments, the ones where it was just the two of you. No cases, no danger, no need to keep his guard up.

"About forever."

His words hung in the air for a second, and your heart skipped a beat. The way he looked at you right then, like you were the most important thing in his world, left no room for doubt.

Before you could respond, Aaron shifted, reaching into his pocket. Your breath caught in your throat when you saw the small velvet box in his hand. He didn’t drop to one knee, didn’t make some rehearsed speech. He just opened it and held it out to you, eyes full of love and certainty.

Oftentimes, when you would imagine this moment happening to you—from as early on as childhood, you thought you might feel a deep pit in your stomach. A sense of panic…uneasiness. But those feelings you could have bet money on years before Aaron being there, were nowhere to be found.

"Will you marry me?"

It wasn’t a question filled with uncertainty, but a promise. You knew Aaron didn’t ask unless he meant it with his whole heart. He wasn’t perfect, but neither were you. Together, though, you’d become something that was.

Your hand trembled as you reached for his, your fingers sliding over his before you nodded, barely able to get the words out through the lump in your throat.

"Yes."

He slipped the ring onto your finger, and you swore you saw his eyes glisten, just for a second, before he leaned in and pressed his lips to yours. The kiss wasn’t hurried or passionate—it was gentle, steady, the way you imagined a lifetime with Aaron would be.

"Thank you," he whispered against your lips, the words barely audible, as if they were meant to be spoken only in the sacred space between you. His breath was warm against your skin, and as he spoke, you could feel the weight of everything unspoken in those two simple words.

Aaron wasn’t the kind of man to voice his feelings often. He didn’t need to—his actions had always done the talking. From the way he protected you, to the way he made sure you were safe and loved in the quietest ways possible, his love was always there, constant and unwavering. But in this moment, with his lips still brushing against yours, he let his guard down just a little more.

He pulled back, but only just enough so that his forehead rested against yours. It was an intimate gesture, a connection more profound than any words could convey. You could feel his breath mix with yours, his closeness grounding you in a way that nothing else could. This wasn’t just about the proposal—it was about everything that had led up to this point: all the shared moments, the silent battles fought, the laughter, the tears, the love that had slowly, but surely, become the bedrock of your lives.

The warmth of his skin against yours, the soft weight of his forehead pressed gently to yours, spoke volumes. It was as if, in that small act, he was telling you everything he had yet to say: how much you meant to him, how you had brought light into his life in ways he never expected after all the darkness he had seen.

You closed your eyes, savoring the moment, feeling the unspoken emotions swirling in the space between you. "Thank you" wasn’t just gratitude for your answer, for agreeing to spend forever with him. It was deeper than that. He was thanking you for being—for being patient with him, for loving him despite his flaws and the baggage he carried. He was thanking you for bringing joy back into his life, for making him believe in the possibility of happiness again after everything he had endured.

Aaron wasn’t one to easily let others in, not after the pain he’d experienced, not after losing so much. But with you, it had been different. You had quietly slipped into his life, not demanding anything, just offering yourself, your love, your understanding. And now, in this intimate, quiet moment, he was thanking you for all of it—for giving him hope again, for making him believe that there could still be good things waiting for him in the future.

Your hands found his, fingers lacing together, and in that stillness, in the closeness of your foreheads pressed together, you both knew this was it—not just the engagement, not just the promise of marriage, but the deeper promise of always being there for each other, of being a safe harbor in the storms of life, of forever, in the quietest, most meaningful way.

"Thank you," he had said, but what he truly meant was, Thank you for showing me love again.

"For what?" you asked, your voice a bit shaky from the overwhelming emotions. You felt as if you should be thanking him. Thanking him for all he had shown you. Thanking him for loving you so both tenderly and fiercely.

Over your time with Aaron, you knew the idea of marriage could be a touchy subject…one you were okay with never crossing, never moving forward with. You knew everything that happened with him and Hailey. You were okay with not disrupting that side of him that could equate marriage with pain. Yet here you both were, more certain and more comfortable with the idea than ever.

"For making me believe in forever again."

And just like that, in the softest moment, surrounded by nothing but the warmth of his presence and the quiet hum of your love, you found your forever.

Tag List: @zaddyhotch @estragos

[literatureloverx]

One of the things I find curious about Fyodor is that in the latest bsd guidebook, he describes himself as the color white like his hometown's snow. Fyodor still remembers his hometown, after all he's gone through and after all this time. And he describes himself as the color white like its snow. That with his character's disconnect from people, makes me very excited for when Asagiri decides to reveal his character's backstory. Of course he probably means snow in a more way of "purity" than sentimentalism for his hometown itself but omg he mentions his hometown which is something enough. Not "like snow" which would convey purity enough but "like the snow from my hometown". Maybe it's because he found his faith there? Maybe he just wants to pay respect to where he was birthed? Idk but there's much to theorize. What are your thoughts?

-🎪 anon

I agree, 🎪-anon!♥️

I don’t know if it’s because he found his faith there, but I think that is very likely and seems reasonable.

However, I also believe he was born into a religious family to begin with. I’ve thought through other aspects as well. Let me break it down for you:

Purity and Fyodor’s inner moral code:

Fyodor describing himself as the color white, especially like the snow from his hometown, speaks volumes. It hints at his complex inner moral code—he engages in dark actions under the belief that they serve a greater good.

This idea of “purity” contrasts sharply with his behavior. But does it?

In my humble opinion, he is well aware that what he does is evil, but his inner moral depiction is influenced by Machiavellian tendencies.

He does whatever he needs to do to cleanse humanity of their sins. Therefore, his actions reflect Machiavellian principles.

In short: the ends justify the means (The Prince by Niccolò Machiavelli).

I’m imagining it like this: God has given him the enormous power of being immortal—never truly able to die.

God also gifted him with an intelligence that is above any other human being.

This means he must be someone important.

This means he is meant to be the rightful hand of God, tasked with creating a world that is worthy of God’s beauty.

Therefore, he wishes to help God’s creations, cleansing them and this sinful world of all their sins.

This is one reason why he says that he likes all humanity equally. Because he really does.

They are all the same to him—fools who could do better. Fools that could be worthy of God’s perfect world.

What fascinates me the most about him is that, even though he is doing all of this out of pure self-assurance and his own complex inner moral compass, he still claims that he is doing it for the whole world. And I believe he does.

I can totally see this being his ultimate end in the future.

His Hometown and it’s significance for him:

By referencing his hometown, he reveals a more humane side to himself.

If you haven't already, l'd recommend you read THIS and THIS posts of mine, where I explained very clearly how I perceive Fyodor's humane side.

It shows that he yearns for connection and perhaps misses the simplicity and innocence of his past.

This duality makes him such a fascinating character, caught between his dark pursuits and the remnants of his humanity.

Imagine feeling like, or even knowing that you're "the chosen one," only to end up isolated, dehumanized, and lonely, with nothing to hold onto but your belief in your God.

You can't die, because the only way for you to do so is by your own hands, which is considered the greatest sin.

You can't die. Not until you take your own life.

How deep must his religious beliefs run for him to be this dedicated to his goal, mentally able to endure and live for hundreds, maybe thousands of years?

This made me so emotional. I want to give him a hug. My precious love.♥️

[danothan]

makes me sad when ppl (esp other viet ppl!) say that pho is overrated 😞 okay yes, i think there are definitely other meals that deserve the overseas recognition just as much if not more, like bun bo hue or banh xeo, and i have no idea why pho, the dish whose broth takes 6hr AT LEAST to make, was the one to hit the mainstream, but i don’t think that makes it overrated either. it’s cozy, it’s warming, it’s simple yet complex, it’s like chicken noodle soup on a sick day if chicken noodle soup could also give you a kiss on the forehead…

i can’t think of a dish that says “i love you” more than pho, you guys don’t deserve her.

[gurorori]

ok i think i overdid it jus a lil bit but n_n i likes it.

[dnangelic]

'why do the women always have to save the monster' 'why is it the girl always accepting the ugly guy' has anybody ever considered i want dai to have an evil monster auntie too who he does his best to help and love and therefore he's treated really nicies

[definegirlfriends]

.

[your-thighness]

You are wise beyond your years and drop dead gorgeous too. That's a dangerous combination. I hope you find happiness in every day and meaning where you hope to find it

thanks! its the trauma 😘

and well now, that has become my path. i am allowed to freely find what excites me!

i am finally allowed to just live instead of just surviving. and to live is the scariest fucking thing i've ever done.

[marsprincess889]

Basic themes of nakshatras

May edit this later, this is as far as I understand and have observed them, and I think it's pretty nice to see them simply.

Ashwini:

Newness, freshness, the unmanifest, speed, energy, vitality, instinct, healing, fast healing, unlimited energy, self-expression, selfishness, blocking outside noise, trusting yourself, self-empowerment, unfiltered actions.

Things that remind me of Ashwini: bees, the sun, horses, two white horses, golden deserts, horses gallopping, honey, long hair flying in the wind, apples.

Bharani:

Love, death, sex, the female, the feminine, limitations, the material, fate, destiny, coming into the body, struggling against limitations, struggling against fate, mind trapped in its own hell because of the inevitable, dealing with the harshness of life, harshness of mothers and mother nature, the hierarchy, privileges and deprivations, desire, going after your true desire, the immortality of the soul, adapting to changes, passion, tragic love, bravery, facing the truth, choicelessness, nessecity, revenge, violence, gatekeeping, reduction, denial of access, conquering your fate, everlasting beauty, immortality, eternal love.

Things that remind me of Bharani: hot pink and black, darkness, roses, the yoni, gateways, keyholes, caverns, boats, rivers, the damsel in distress, fantasy, high fantasy.

Krittika:

Adam, the main character, naming things, language, rationality, precision, sharpness, criticism, the poet, the "it" person, simplicity, cleanliness, expressing oneself, selectivity, the heat, the knowledge, the light, masculine ideals, stoicism.

Things that remind me of Krittika: knives, razors, lighers, sparks, fire, hearth, cooking.

Rohini:

Eve, sugar babies, growth, receptivity, enjoyment, pleasure, unrefined, doted on, subconcious, absorbtion, sharing, union, creation, the youngest daughter, naivete, feeling no shame.

Things that remind me of Rohini: sugar, stickiness, sweetness, heaviness, red, pink, flowers, the A.I(lol).

Mrigashira:

Distraction, realization, fickleness, adventure, running away, chasing, the hunt, excitement, softness, pleasure, altering conciousness, magic substances(iykwim), curiosity, fulfillment, insatiability, teasing.

Things that remind me of Mrigashira: silver threads, deer, green forests, green and blue, running in the woods, alcohol, the moon, Shakespeare's "A Midsummer Night's Dream".

Ardra:

Disillusion, crying, lamenting, awareness of others, awarness of other's expectations, hyper-awarness of everything, intellect, the rational mind, pressures from society, rebelling against society, anxiety, hunting.

Things that remind me of Ardra: tears, water, storms, technology, teenage angst, emo culture, the rain, sad songs, dogs.

Punarvasu:

Mercy, forgiveness, permission, freedom, flying, expansion, gentleness, regrowing, realigning, returning, home, unconditional love and nurture, celebration, peace, peacefulness, centering oneself, sunlight, warmth, fostering, taking care, being taken care of, luck, unlimited fertile space, shelter, genuine kindness, believing in humanity again, cycles, patterns, seeing the cycles and the patterns, prophecies, the oracle, openness, second (and third, fouth...) chances, a comeback.

Things that remind me of Punarvasu: staying at home, pets, plants, cats, gentle rain, a bow and arrows, a target.

Pushya:

Asceticism, routines, self-restraint, servitude, control, self-control, working, working on yourself, patience, simplicity, striving for perfection, nurturing, nourishment, quiet ambition, symmetry.

Things that remind me of Pushya: milk, milkmaids, country life, milking, symmetry, goats, sheep, agriculture.

Ashlesha:

Manipulation, abuse, poison, emotional abuse, blackmail, resorting to everything for safety, protection, pent up energy, the nervous system, purity, water, sensitivity, cleanliness, energetic build-up, tension, restraint, preservation, self-preservation, virginity, feminine tactics, being "mean" for protection, lying for safety, sensuality, mother issues, agitation.

Things that remind me of Ashlesha: the color white, transparent things, cats, poisoning, snow white, Sofia Coppola films, teenage girlhood, ties, strings, knots, snakes.

Magha:

Royalty, power, ancestry, family trees, history, the past, regality, honoring the past, honoring the elders, honoring the authority, religion, tradition, customs, confidence, ego.

Things that remind me of Magha: crowns, thrones, churches, goth culture, smoke, big hair(like the lion's mane).

Purva Phalguni:

Pleasure, enjoyment, being spoiled as the feminine, loving to spoil as the masculine, procreation, sex, leisure, art, holidays, parties, exclusivity, pride, charisma, sexual dispersion, love as a method of self-expression, admiration, directness, active pursuit of your passions, indulgence.

Things that remind me of Purva Phalguni: fruits, eating fruits topless, rose gold color, the "rizz"(lol), the phallus, dramaticism.

Uttara Phalguni:

Favors from friends, family and partners, contracts, beneficial agreements, the perfect wife, likeability, popularity, friendliness, appearing cool, stoicism, beneficial arrangements, gain through partnerships, self-expression through relationships, wife/girlrfiend material, harvest, family associations, marriage associations.

Things that remind me of Uttara Phalguni: the "chads", simplicity, genuine friends, loyal companions, family business, the perfect male stereotype, the "rich heiress running away" trope, wheat, gold, power couples.

Hasta:

The earth, the veiled feminine, manipulation, denial of access, materialism, cheating, everyday matters, empowerment of women, deception, skill, seeking knowledge, wanting to be in control, activism, street-smarts, manipulation of masses.

Things that remind me of Hasta: the hand, Goddess Persephone, skilled hands, thieves, easy money, fairies, witches, scammers.

Chitra:

Crafting, building, perspective, truth, law, gems, sacrifice for your craft, vanity, stereotypes, aesthetics, the truth in stereotypes, building based on the law and the truth, the surface of things, the appearance of things, the substance reflected in the vessel, gossip, cliques.

Things that remind me of Chitra: the god Hephestos, martian gods in general, jewelry, fashion, make-up, drama, pettiness, the coquette aesthetic, pranksters, Olivia Rodrigo(ig).

Swati:

Space, the cosmos, shifting realities, love, rebellion, alternate realities, possibilities, seeing beauty in everything, inspiration, art, the cosmic egg, creation of the world, creation of worlds, microcosm and macrocosm, freedom through love.

Things that remind me of Swati: video games, the wind, plants beggining to sprout, the sword, technology, the Sims.

Vishakha:

The lightning, snapping, splitting, joining opposites, compromise, marriage, repressed anger, repressed aggression, alter egos, passion, enthusiasm, standing up for yourself and others, repression and then expression, energy, love and hate.

Things that remind me of Vishakha: lighning bolts, Zeus, Thor and other lighning gods, superhero "Shazam", celebrations.

Anuradha:

Friendship, devotion, depth, loyalty, unconditional loyalty, bonds, the occult, sex with love, numbers, gatherings, friend groups, groups, gentleness, humbleness, discipline, seriousness, organizing society, social groups.

Things that remind me of Anuradha: the color burgundy, dim lights, bunnies, "Sex Education" (tv show), sci-fi (for some reason), "The Vampire Diaries" (and very similar teen shows), frat boys, cheerleaders.

Jyeshta:

The battlefield, war, hunger, thirst, insatiability, conquering, the underdog, street-smarts, competition, strategy, extreme independence, mind games, the art of war, survival, ruling, rising above, self-reliance, wisdom, becoming the authority, the eldest, dryness, trust issues, enemies, destroying enemies, outsmarting all enemies.

Things that remind me of Jyeshta: grandmothers, owls, eagles, dry places, flags, marching, chess.

Mula:

Horror, the abnormal, the truth, the core, the center, the absorbing darkness, the black hole, the roots, violence against falsehoods, seeking the truth, seeking the cause, seeking roots, uprooting, chaos, from chaos to order, the unchanging truth, taming beasts, holding to your truth.

Things that remind me of Mula: "Phanton of the Opera", "Twilight", final girls, horror movies, dark murky green, the wilderness.

Purva Ashadha:

Art, beauty, alliances, artistry, ideals, fighting for the ideal, discrimination, exclusivity, philosophies about beauty and art, passion for love and art, attachments, secrecy, luxury, vitality, vigor, going for victory.

Things that remind me of Purva Ashadha: the sea, seafoam, goddess Aphrodite, seashells, mermaids, sirens, fans (the ones you hold in your hand lol), Arwen from LotR.

Uttara Ashadha:

Victory, loneliness, individuality, government, empowerment, independence, being looked up to, composed self-expression, ease, simplicity but regality, confidence, self-assuredness, melancholy and hardships of aloneness but contentment, stoicism, invincibility, unapologetic behavior.

Things that remind me of Uttara Ashadha: earnest people, goddess Nike, mint color for some reason.

Shravana:

Connecting everything, secret knowledge, interest in everything, reading between the lines, subconcious access, extreme sensitivity, holding the humanity together, secret agencies, percieving what others can't percieve, saving humanity, navigating, receptivity, mysticism.

Things that remind me of Shravana: Superman, Geralt of Rivia, Aragorn, King arthur, pathways, footprints, ear, color blue, spies, astrology, outcasts, fringe societies.

Dhanishta:

Celebration, celebrities, fame, visibility, aggression, agitation, action, bringing people together, idols, propaganda, wealth from fame, that which attracts attention, public image, benefits and downsides of fame, openness and flashiness, branding.

Things that remind me of Dhanishta: supermodels, Princess Diana, dancing, rhythmic drums.

Shatabhisha:

Complexities, seeing everything, lurking in shadows, holding the knowledge, secrets, secrecy, hiding, technology, innovation, being ahead of your time, advising but manipulating, society, the collective, trends, the conciousness of masses, propaganda.

Things that remind me of Shatabhisha: midnight sky, stars, the seas, water reservoirs, the circle, the all-seeing eye of Sauron(lol), Lord of the Rings, rings, the movie "Stardust" (the book too), the evil advisor/black cardinal trope.

Purva Bhadrapada:

Notoriety, expansion, uncontrolled expansion, persmissiveness, growth to ruin unless restrained, fighting for your soul, the scapegoat, going against society, getting tested, the point of no return.

Things that remind me of Purva Bhadrapada: gangs, famous criminals, laziness, femme fatales, the grotesque, deserts, werewolves, the black sheep.

Uttara Bhadrapada:

Finding grace, hardships, working, inner strength, steeliness, resilience, patience, restraint, contol, self-restraint and self-control, bravery, honesty, stubbornness, fighting for your truth, perfect control, freedom through limitations, seeking a permanent foundation built on truth, working for the foundation, long-term goals, innocence, purity of soul, stillness, refinement, honor and glory.

Things that remind me of Uttara Bhadrapada: butterflies, clouds, baby blue color, Cinderella, warriors, knights, knight orders, ice, coldness, queens, ice-queen, dragons, water dragons, deep waters, deep sea and its creatures, wings.

Revati:

Ultimate freedom, creativity, wisdom, gentleness, compassion, guiding, herding, fun, laughter, mischief, lightnness, ease, finding peace, reaching the end, enjoying what you have, contentment, nurturing, open-mindedness, conclusions, gratefulness, freedom and free will, having choices, diversity, finding the truth, true wealth, parenthood, the guide, guidance, individuation.

Things that remind me of Revati: shepherds, herding, everything easy and light, the tricksters, the fool, jokes, Loki, The Joker, fish, comedy, the movie "A Fish Called Wanda", caring for everyone and everything, light and soft shades of green and blue.

[danibeanie]

astronotes❤️‍🔥

underdeveloped virgo moons are HIGHLY critical when it has anything to do with themselves, others and environments. It can be exhausting having to work with these people cause they’re never satisfied.

cancer placements always have endearing nick names for their friends or their loved ones. especially if cancer resides in the 3rd house.

many people like to associate mysteriousness with pluto and while I do agree SOOOO many people ignore cancer placements/prominent moon aspects when it comes to that topic.there’s a reason why many iconic women have cancer placements and it’s because of that allure🌙 ALSO the moon card in tarot literally represents secrets/hidden.

-Angelina joline

-Margot Robbie

-Pamela Anderson

libra venus men will give you the world and are such romantics. my dad has this placement and he’s one of the reasons why I have such high standards in men😭

taurus placements are very much in tune with their 5 senses and THEY WILL make you feel as comfortable as possible when your with them. can’t tell you how many times people come to my house and say how cozy it is. I think that’s the biggest compliment when you make someone feel safe❤️‍🔥

I feel like earth placements are the most intimidating when it comes to 1st impression wether it be sun,moon, or rising. there’s always a no bs energy to them and are always searching for goals/stability. which can make people think that your not here to waste time.

scorpio risings are always studying people and if they’re comfortable with you they’ll tell you!! small details they notice about you ,changes in your movements when your uncomfortable, certain shirts you like to wear or body parts you like to show off. which I think is super attractive coming from a mercury dominant that’s always looking at details.

mars dominant/mars 1st house people always look good in active wear. it doesn’t even matter the occasion they will wear it and it will always look good.

working with someone that has the opposite mars from you is literally hell. your gonna have to find a common ground with them if not these people are gonna irk the living shi outta you. *cough* *cough* cancerxcap *cough*

chiron synastry is so funny because you end up finding their chart and your like “oh that’s why they triggered me so much” my ex manger had her chiron in my 1st house and yeah no. it also conjuncted my venus and she would say some things that weren’t too nice to say the least😭 it was a double whammy though because my chiron conjuncted her mars which triggered me the most because you use your mars placement a lot in the work field.

virgo risings are the easiest for me to spot. There’s this simplicity to their beauty but so detailed. very much clean girl aesthetic.

most leo risings I know have blonde highlights or just always CHANGING their hair. Its true what they say their hair is very prominent in their appearance.

anya taylor joy being a taurus rising is not surprising literally just look at her cupids bow😭 and her facial structure. she is so gorgeous

[rainyorca]

I'll swim down with you 𓇼 Kenji Sato X Reader

Content warnings: F!reader, Established relationship, childhood friends, kissing, fluff, a little bit of smut.

Words: 1,916

Notes: Rewatching Ultraman made me realize that Kenji does in fact have pools on his deck but I don't know if they're meant to be swam in, however, i really wanted to write something involving them soooo…..I am very deeply in love with this man and have seen this movie more times than I’ve seen my dad this summer.

𓆉︎ ☼ 𓇼 ☼ ꩜𓆉︎ ☼ 𓇼 ☼ ꩜𓆉︎ ☼ 𓇼 ☼ ꩜𓆉︎ ☼ 𓇼 ☼

The setting sun casts beautiful rays of golden light on the Earth, blanketing everything in warmth. It’s mid-June, which means baseball season is at its all-time high right now. For Kenji, it’s rather exciting but for you, it’s a little upsetting. You don’t get to spend as much time with him anymore due to practice and his games, but you still attend his games, all of them in fact as long as your work schedule doesn't overlap. As well as his duties as Ultraman, sometimes you don't even get to have him in bed next to you. 

You sit in one of the pools on his wooden deck, bathing in sunlight. You like to sit in the water and watch the sunset over the ocean, the view is out of this world. It's one of the many things you like about living with him. Ken is currently at practice, which he has practically been at all day in your mind, then again you left for work early this morning so you haven't seen him at all today. You close your eyes, sinking further into the pool and letting your head rest on the edge. The wood is smooth beneath your head, but you slide your hands under your head for more cushion. There's music playing softly in the background, one of your favorite songs from your favorite playlist. This was your idea of relaxing after work, especially with such a hectic day you had. 

“Ken is home,” Mina’s voice erupts softly from behind you, making you jump. You turn around to face the floating supercomputer. “I'm sorry, did not mean to startle you,” she says, her tone flat as usual. “It's okay,” you smile softly, “thank you for letting me know, Mina.” The floating circle gives you a nod before flying off to greet Kenji. You turn back to the sunset, waiting for Kenji to come by. You can hear him talking to Mina inside but it stops momentarily before starting up again. Kenji’s footsteps could be heard approaching you now, but you're too lost in thought to turn around or even notice.

“Enjoying yourself?” he asks, you can practically hear the smile in his voice. You turn around, smiling when you see him. “I’d enjoy it a lot more if you joined me,” you respond, tilting your head at him. He shakes his head with a smile, “I know, that's why I put my swim trunks on.” You watch him lift his shirt over his head, the golden light hitting his toned body perfectly. He looks warm, and the light makes his skin look supple and soft. He dips his feet in the water, pulling back from the slightly coldness but slowly easing himself in. The water isn’t too deep, he can stand perfectly straight and it only goes to his waist. He rests his back against the edge just like your doing but he follows your movements when you turn around to face the sun. He squints a little, turning his head to look at you rather than the bright sun. “How was your day?” he asks, his voice as soft as silk. You peer into his big gray eyes, resting your head on your hands again. “Hetic,” you respond simply, “How was practice?”

He picks up on the simplicity of your answer quickly, dropping the subject knowing you don't want to go into detail. “Practice was good, but I was a little distracted today,” he responds, reaching up and brushing a water droplet off your face only to get more on you. “Why’s that?” you ask, giggling softly at his failed attempt. “Because I kept thinking about you,” he smiles, almost teasingly because he knows what you’re gonna say. “You’re so corny,” you scoff, smiling brightly, “why were you really distracted?” He shrugs, “I'm serious, I was thinking about you.” There's humor in his voice and his expression is rather playful. You roll your eyes, turning your head to face the sun again. 

His eyes linger on you for a moment, taking in the softness of your face and admiring how your eyes look in the sunlight. A few thoughts from the past show up in his mind, like how upset you were when you found out he had to move back to Japan, or the sweet moments in high school when you went to all the school dances with him. You have always been a special person in his life and for so long, he feels rather grateful that you're back in his life as his lover rather than just a friend. He snakes a hand around your waist, turning you around so you're facing him and not the sun. Your back is pressed up against the edge again and he's standing in front of you, staring down into your eyes. 

“You’re so warm,” he says softly, running his hands up your exposed torso. “I’ve been out here a while,” you respond, reaching up and resting your arms on his broad shoulders. “I can tell,” he hums, reaching up to cup your face with his large, wet hand. “You’re warm too,” you point out, tilting your head a bit so you can melt into his touch. He drops his hand, sneakily lifting you so he's carrying you. You wrap your legs around his waist, holding onto him as he backs up from the wall of the pool. He smiles, spinning you around slowly in the water. You close your eyes, throwing your head back and hanging off him a bit as he spins you. 

There's a mischievous look in his eye, but it all goes away when you dip underwater. He surfaces you quickly, laughing at your surprised expression. “Oh you asshole,” you splash him with water, wetting his hair and face. “I couldn't miss the opportunity, sorry,” he lets go of you, protecting himself from your splashes. You give him your best angry expression, but it doesn't last long. You can't resist his charms, and that award-winning smile always makes you smile. He swims up to you, reaching out to grab you again and pulling you into his chest before you can get away. “I won't do it again, I promise,” he says, shaking his hair and sending water flying. “If you do, we're going to have problems,” you respond, pressing your hands into his chest. 

His eyes glide over your face, his smile still plastered on his lips. He cups your face again, making you tilt your head upwards so he can have access to your lips. He tilts his head a little, leaning in to place a soft kiss on your lips. You kiss him back almost immediately, sliding your hands over his shoulders as you have done before. The soft, pillowy feeling of his lips is enough to send you into a trance, parting your lips for him. Your heart rate spikes a little when you feel him pull you in tighter, his brows furrowing and what seems to have started off as an innocent kiss was now becoming something more euphoric and titillating. He tilts his head a little more, deepening the kiss with a quiet grunt before moving you back to the edge of the pool. Your back hits the smooth edge, the coolness of it suddenly more noticeable. 

His grip on you tightens, his knee coming up to part your legs slowly before pressing into your clothed cunt. The sudden shift in demeanor, and movements, makes you gasp a little. He pulls away slowly, a new look in his lidded eyes. He leans down to kiss the line of your jaw and then your neck. “I haven't been able to give you much attention lately,” he says softly but sensually, “the attention you need and crave.” You tilt your head back just a little to give him more access to your neck. His breath is warm and it fans over your neck, the tickling sensation making goosebumps rise on your skin. His knee presses up against your cunt again, a little harder this time making you squeak in surprise. You lift a leg slightly, opening yourself up more. 

Ken moves his hand down, further and further until stopping at the waistband of your swimsuit bottoms. He slips his lithe fingers underneath the fabric, inching closer and closer to your cunt. His lips find yours again in another aggressive, hungry kiss as if he's trying to devour you through the kiss alone. One of his fingers brushes over your sensitive clit, causing you to startle, and a sharp gasp erupts from your throat. The sound is like music to his ears, the noises you make are just perfect to him. You brace yourself, one hand on the edge of the pool, the other digging into his shoulder while he holds you still. He rubs agonizingly slow circles on your clit, drinking in your expressive behavior, soft moans starting to slide off your sinful tongue. 

You were his weakness, just like he was yours. It was hard to resist him really, a struggle you’ve had since your younger years with him. In moments like these, it was even harder. The sun was still setting on the horizon, however only half of it was visible. The night sky started to pool in, blanketing the sky with specks of stars. He couldn't help himself, hearing your delightful and heavenly moans, he needed to hear more, to feel more. His fingers speed up, rubbing a little harder but oh so perfectly. You part from his lips with a rather pathetic gasp, your mouth staying slightly open as he continues to draw his fingers over your clit. 

He leans in, mouth open against your soft neck, tasting, feeling, the area with his mouth. “I wanna memorize every part of your body,” he hums, breath ragged, “I wanna touch you everywhere, make you mine.” He blabbers, his words digging deep into your core, making you squeeze around nothing. He lifts his head to look at you now, bumping noses as he continues his movements against your clit. His eyes bore into yours, lovingly but lustful. You keep your eyes open, or at least try to. You can't help but close them every time a shock of pleasure rushes up your spine. “I wasn't lying when I told you,” his lips curl into a smug smile, “that I was thinking about you. I’ve been thinking about this all day.” 

“Ken,” you breathe, your moans melodic and messy. “You seem more sensitive than usual,” he points out a little teasingly. That warm tingling feeling starts to build up in your stomach, pleasure shooting up your spine as your climax starts to work its way out of you. Just as you're about to release, Mina’s voice sounds from behind Kenji causing both of you to stop. 

“A phone call from your father, Ken,” she says monotone. Kenji sighs, looks back at Mina, and then back to you, his fingers still positioned on your clit. “Before you try to put it off, it's urgent,” Mina continued before Ken could even speak. He groans, clearly irritated, and then gives you an apologetic look. “I’ll be back,” he says, kissing your forehead before releasing you gently. Your body relaxes, and you catch your breath, watching him get out of the pool and follow Mina into the house. A sigh escapes your lips, irritated but otherwise calm. You decide to stay in the pool until the moon comes up.

𓆉︎ ☼ 𓇼 ☼ ꩜𓆉︎ ☼ 𓇼 ☼ ꩜𓆉︎ ☼ 𓇼 ☼ ꩜𓆉︎ ☼ 𓇼 ☼

[markrosewater]

Elegance

Here’s my original article for Elegance.

 This is a topic I’ve wanted to write about for a long time.  Ironically, the words needed to explain the concept kept the column from being elegant. So I did what all artists do.  I found a way to say a lot in a little space.

 Enjoy,

 Mark Rosewater

 [NOTE: EACH OF THE ABOVE FIFTY WORDS IS HYPERLINKED.  BELOW IS THE FIFTY HYPER LINKS.  THE HEADERS SHOULDN’T BE ON THE LINKED PAGE.  I’M JUST INCLUDING THEM SO YOU KNOW WHAT EACH LINK IS.]

 ELEGANCE

 Merriam-Webster’s Collegiate Dictionary has five definitions for elegance:

 • refined grace or dignified propriety

• tasteful richness of design or ornamentation

• dignified, gracefulness or restrained beauty of style

• scientific precision, neatness and simplicity

• something that is elegant

 The common elements appear to be dignity, simplicity, and taste.

 THIS

 Elegance requires thinking, but it also requires feeling.  Elegant prose is judged by how it makes the reader feel. It needs to generate a sense of calm that puts the reader at ease.  Everything in your writing should feel as if it was carefully positioned to create the proper effect.

 IS

 Pound for pound, the writer’s greatest writing tool is the verb.  Nouns add substance and adjectives add flourish, but it’s the verb that drives the sentence.  Choose a strong, descriptive verb and the sentence has flair and purpose. Choose a weak one and the sentence lacks any sense of drama.

 A

 Here’s a little game to test an elegance relevant skill (based on an old game called Inklings).  Randomly choose a noun.  Try to convey that noun to the other players using the least number of letters possible. You’ll be surprised how much you can communicate in just a few letters.

 TOPIC

 One of the greatest stumbling blocks to elegance is the inability to choose a single focus.  Elegance requires simplicity.  Simplicity requires a single purpose of thought.  This means that elegance starts before you write a single word.  A good sculptor must know his image before he picks up his chisel.

 I’VE

 One of the common misconceptions of elegance is that it requires a writer to be fancy. Elegance though is more about familiarity than formality. You shouldn’t be afraid of friendlier language such as slang or contractions, assuming that such language adds an element of ease rather than one of laziness.

 WANTED

 An important element of elegance is a sense of passion.  Brevity does not mean pulling away emotionally from words, but rather the opposite.  When you find yourself limited to fewer words, you must pack each individual word with extra emotional punch.  You are not reducing your message, simply your messenger.

 TO

 A good tool in understanding elegance is studying poetry.  Poetry is the most concise of all written art forms.  It strives to maximize impact while minimizing expression.  Each word carries the burden of evoking some essence of the poet’s message. If it cannot carry its own weight, it is excised.

WRITE

 To be an elegant writer, you have to become a student of prose.  You have to study the mechanics of language to understand how it can be shaped.  Once you have learned how to transfer the feeling in your head into meaningful words, you are on the path to elegance.

 ABOUT

 Be careful not to fall in love with ambiguity.  While intoxicating in its beauty, it is the enemy of elegance. Remember, the goal is not to make the reader struggle for comprehension.  Rather it is to lead them to the obvious conclusion. Elegance should be used to illuminate, not confuse.

 FOR

 Elegant prose requires connecting with your reader.  To do this, you have to understand who that reader is.  Nothing should come before this task.  It needs to be done before writing can begin. I like to compare this to planning a trip.  Maps are useless until you know your destination.

 A

 Another major key to elegance is the understanding of the importance of the tiniest detail.  Just as a chain is only as strong as its weakest link, a piece of prose is only as tight as its messiest detail. A good writer doesn’t stop at the nouns, verbs and adjectives.

 LONG

 Don’t confuse elegance with brevity.  Elegant things are short not because they have to be but because the difficulty to craft an elegant piece of prose combined with the limitations of time forces writers to be brief.  Elegant novels, for example, do exist, but they are few and far between.

 TIME

 To quote Roman orator (and letter writer) Marcus T. Cicero, “If I had more time, I would have written a shorter letter.”  

 Simplicity takes more time not less.  Anyone can get a point across with ten thousand words.  But a true artist can do it in ten (or possibly fifty).  

 IRONICALLY

 Irony is a potent tool for commentary.  Its genius lies in the fact that it comments not on what is, but rather on what isn’t.  Like all good humor, irony makes you laugh.  But like the best type of humor, it also makes you think.  It’s both funny and funny.

 THE

 Elegance in writing is about more than words. Equally important is how the words are woven together. Tempo, pacing, rhythm – these are the tools that set the mood for the piece.  Try reading aloud your text.  The natural beat of language is more suited for the ear than the eye.

 WORDS

 To realize the power of words, you must first understand how they work. Art is expressive; words are connotative.  That is, words draw their power from their ability to extract different ideas from different people.  A circle is a circle, but the concept of “scary” varies from person to person.

 NEEDED

 Elegance is not the result of any one attribute.  It is the combination of numerous factors coming together in harmony. This is why it’s such a hard skill to master.  Most people can pat their head or rub their tummy.  But put them together and it’s not quite so easy.

 TO

 An elegant piece of prose needs to hit the reader at a gut level.  Often they won’t know exactly why they like it, but they will recognize that something about the piece moves them.  There are many types of writing where subtlety is lost.  Elegant writing isn’t one of them.

 EXPLAIN

 There are many ways for you to explain an idea.  The most elegant one though is not through definition but by example. By connecting your idea to one already known by the reader, you’re leaving the work of teaching to someone in the past.  Education is hard.  Comparison is easy.

 THE

 If writing is like building a house, the structure is like the foundation. Its design will dictate how the house is built.  If it’s faulty, no amount of fancy brickwork will undo the damage.  So take the time to ensure your structure is building the kind of prose you want.

 CONCEPT

 Never underestimate the power of a concept.  An important part of elegance is condensing big ideas into little words. This is far from an easy task.  It often takes a genius an entire lifetime to create a truly innovative concept.  So take advantage of all their hard work and inspiration.  

 KEPT

 A common barrier to elegance is the belief that only one way will work. Often a writer is unable to abandon a beloved piece of prose even when evidence demonstrates otherwise.  If something doesn’t add to the larger sense of the piece, you have to learn to let it go.

 THE

 Readers notice things at a minute level far beyond their mind’s ability to interpret. This means that although they may not consciously notice many of your tiny details, they will do so unconsciously. Aesthetics teach us that it’s this unconscious structure that will determine whether or not it feels “right”.

 COLUMN

 All communicators, whether through speaking or print, need to find a voice. A voice provides familiarity and it teaches the listener or reader how to more quickly absorb the information. Elegance is all about the conservation of ideas.  Having a pre-learned voice to guide you is a very valuable tool.

 FROM

 I’ve spent some time talking about understanding your reader.  But there is one more person who is even more important to understand – yourself. Writing is about sharing your ideas with others.  If you haven’t spent the time to figure out what you think, how can you possibly communicate it?

 BEING

 “A picture is worth a thousand words.”

 Or so the saying goes.  What the cliché forgets to mention is how many words a single word is worth.  For example, take the word “being”. To capture the essence of what “being” represents is tens of thousands of words if not more.

 ELEGANT

 What is the value of being elegant? Why should you care? Elegance adds aesthetics. It evokes poetry.  It grants beauty.  Elegant prose draws the reader closer because it gives them something to not just learn but to admire.  Good prose stimulates the head, but elegant prose resonates in the heart.

 SO

 Who, what, where, when, how - all important questions.  But for a writer they pale next to why.  If you don’t understand the reasoning beneath the surface, the other details are irrelevant.  The act of elegance is cementing the why.  It’s taking the purpose and engraining it into the piece.

 I

 Elegance is a very personal thing.  If something doesn’t resonate with you, there’s no way for it to resonate with your reader.  Writing is an art, not a science.  There is no rulebook for how things must be done.  If your instincts are telling you that something isn’t working, listen.

 DID

 An important tool in your toolbox is time. Elegance cannot be rushed.  Mental ruts only get deeper the harder you focus on them.  Make sure to work time into your schedule so you are able to walk away from your writing. An hour next week is worth a day today.  

 WHAT

 Don’t let attention to detail pull you away from having a larger sense of what you’re writing.  Take this column as an example.  While I spent a lot of time fine tuning each entry I never lost sight of the effect they created when all the entries were put together.

 ALL

 Elegance requires taking a holistic view of writing.  Every word, every sentence, every paragraph is a piece in a larger puzzle. It’s not enough to understand the impact of a single element. You must understand how any two elements interact if you want to understand the potency of your text.

 ARTISTS

 Elegance and art are very intertwined.  Both seek to achieve a similar goal: to illuminate and inspire with a conservation of expression.  If you’re trying to be elegant, I think it helps to think of yourself as an artist. The instinct for the latter mirrors the needs of the former.

 DO

 An important part of any writing is understanding the feeling you’re trying to evoke.  And then realizing what mechanic tools you have available to evoke that feeling. Diction, verb tense, sentence length, alliteration, word flow, phonetic juxtaposition – each of these will control the mood and tone of your piece.

 I

 A writer’s life is the ultimate fodder.  Don’t be ashamed to plumb your own experiences.  You understand them deeper and more personally than anyone else.  No painter would refuse to use his finest paints. And, as a bonus, by using your own experiences, you will become better educated about yourself.

 FOUND

 Don’t forget that the act of revealing is also an act of exploration.  Don’t be afraid if you learn more than the reader you’re trying to educate.  Writing is not an exact science.  (Or even an exact art.)  Often you will find that the road to salvation has a fork.

 A

 Your future is paved with your past.  If you want to learn how to grow as a writer, you need to look back at what you’ve written. With time and a detached eye, your will find your mistakes become clearer.  Remember that it’s failure, not success, that bests drives education.

 WAY

 The problem with looking for a single solution is that you’ll never find more than one.  And the first one isn’t always the best.  But if you’re open to the possibility that every problem has an infinite number of answers, you’ll have the freedom of choosing the solution you want.  

 TO

 Sentences are filled with freeloaders.  Because writers seem to love overwriting. (I include myself in this camp.)  Make sure to create time for the editor side of you to prune unnecessary words.  If a word can be excised without any harm to the sentence, it has no right being there.

 SAY

 I’m spending my time today talking about elegance in prose, but most of what I’m saying is applicable in speech.  The key difference is that prose has less defining attributes like appearance or tone.  The key to elegant speech is making people focus on the words rather than everything else.

 A

 It’s ironic that something designed to be so simple can be so complex.  But that, my faithful readers, is the joy (and mystery) of elegance. Like an onion, elegance has numerous layers that reveal themselves as you slowly peel them away.  Oh yeah, and it can sometimes make you cry.

 LOT

 An interesting exercise is to look at each word you’re using and think about how much content is loaded in that word.  Then explore what other words exist that fulfill the same role but with added content.  Once you’ve found the word you can’t best, move onto the next word.

 IN

 A good way to get better at understanding elegance is to look for it in every day life. I think you’ll be pleasantly surprised where and how often you find it.  Study each example carefully and try to see if you can put your finger on what makes it work.  

 A

 Writing is a shared endeavor.  No one owns the words.  If someone uses a technique that works, there’s no shame in borrowing it.  Like science, writing creates technology that’s brought back to the group to spur further advancements.  Elegance is hard enough to accomplish without refusing to use the toolbox.

 LITTLE

 How big should a piece of text be if you want it to be elegant?  The answer is as big as it needs to be – and not a word more. Just think of it as playing the game Jenga. Keep pulling words out of your prose until it collapses.  

 SPACE

 One of the most important lessons in art is learning the value of negative space, the idea that the eyes are equally drawn to what isn’t there.  Prose has a very similar quality.  When writing pay careful attention to what you aren’t saying. Often it will speak the loudest volume.

 ENJOY

 For some reason people tend to equate dignity with seriousness.  And as such they come to the false conclusion that elegance has no room for humor.  Ironic as humor is one of the most elegant of styles.  A good joke is no longer than is necessary to do its job.

 MARK

 As is always true when I head off the beaten path, I am curious to hear your feedback.  What did you think of this article?  Was it entertaining?  Was it educational? Did you actually read all fifty links?  And if not, why not?

 Tell me.  Inquiring mind wants to know.

 ROSEWATER

 I couldn’t end this week’s column without my trademark closing.  I mean, how inelegant would that be?

 Join me next week when  I go from being a letter man to a Letterman.

 Until then, may you learn to appreciate now just the “what” but the “how” and “why”.

 Mark Rosewater

[with-my-calamitous-love]

YOU’RE IN THE KITCHEN HUMMING

osamu dazai x reader

you show dazai the beauty in domestic life

inspired by sweet nothing

when dazai pictured his future, he pictured it short.

a mastermind of people, he knew that that the universe would eventually catch up to him. to his crimes, his wrongdoings, and all of his faults. truth be told, he pictured himself in some sort of prison, bleeding out on a stake of revenge, or simply just gone. he never exactly rejected death in the first place. he accepted it with open arms.

so to think he’d find himself, washing dishes from leftover marinated crab meat and glasses stained with sake while you do the laundry is more of a surprise than anything else. every now and then he looks over his shoulder, watching how you handle the delicate fabric of his brown vest with such care. you always use unscented soap. though you certainly have the money to buy lavender, or bergamot, the two of you enjoyed the simplicity of regular soap. because then, it has the scent of home.

but what exactly does home smell like? for so many years, he couldn’t answer that question. how do you match a scent to something that doesn’t exist? maybe he’d say it smelt like the port mafia hallways, or the smell of old bandages. maybe dazai felt that home smelled like it wasn’t there to stay.

now, home smells like you. it smells like the face mask you make him use because he takes shit care of himself. it smells like your bare shoulder in the morning, the patch of skin he always insists he kisses you awake on. it smells like your laughter, your smile, your beautiful eyes. you were home.

“samu?” you quip, pulling your boyfriend out of his trances. he blinks, his lazily draped arms subconsciously tightening around you.

“yes bella?” he asks, his voice lazy and his brown eyes tired from the day. if he could melt and simply become apart of you, he would. you’re the only part of himself he actually seems to love, anyway.

“were you listening?” you chuckle, knowing that he’s a thinker. he loves you for understanding that, for knowing the signs when he’s lost in his own brain. his nail biting, his wandering eyes, his occasional hums. you know it all, maybe better than dazai knows it about himself. you’d give anything to see what he’s thinking, the beautiful equations in his brain.

his lips curve into a smile, refocusing on you as you laid in his lap all tuckered out. “i’m sorry.”

you sigh, half disappointed but half too-love-struck-to-care. he pulls you flush against his chest, letting you listen to the steady rhythm of his heartbeat. oh, how beautiful it sounds.

“i was saying we should go down to that new bakery.” you hum, not minding to recount your experiences for him. “atsushi told me kyouka really likes the crepes there.”

you know he’s listening this time, evident by the way his slender fingers travel through your hair. he loves the silky feel of it, how it may be the softest thing he’s ever felt after years of strangling throats and pulling triggers.

he melts onto that couch with you. the only other sound that can be heard is the occasional drip and drop from the sink. he makes a mental note to check on it in the morning, making sure its not leaking too much.

in his experience, everyone was up to something. no person was just kind for the sake of being kind. and for all his life, people wanted things from dazai. he was used and shaped into a demon when all he’s ever wanted was just to disappear. he insists he’s fine, and that this is just the person he is. he assures everyone that the voices he hears, in and external, don’t bother him at all.

but to you he can admit, that sometimes, he’s just too soft for all of it.

you built a home from the ground up with him. you sheltered and fed a man who never knew what it was like to be loved without condition. all you ever wanted from dazai was nothing. sweet, sweet nothings. and he knew he’d give you everything he is and more in return for that love, for those sweet nothings.

[autistichalsin]

Halsin's autism coding really jumps out in his camp confession scene

Both the romantic and platonic one. Starting with the romantic one:

He thinks asking about his past lovers is a sign of interest (I notice a lot of autistic folks like us tend to never get it "right"- when we guess that someone might be interested because of cues we were told were romantic, we get it wrong, whereas when someone is showing certain cues, we think it's just friendly!)

The way he feels the need to explain why he thinks you're interested in him before you accept or reject. This one isn't explicitly explained, of course, but it is very easy to read it as an autistic person afraid of being harshly rejected/told they're insane to think there was a connection, so he puts out an explanation first in the hopes of softening the blow if he turned out to be wrong.

Halsin completely, and adorably, misinterprets the player if they tell him "maybe your heart stirs easier than you think"; he doesn't understand that the player is partially slut-shaming him (which is rude af on the player's end, but he misses this because he's honestly un-slutshamable, so he would never be offended here) and partially asking for clarification- how can you have had many lovers yet your heart doesn't stir easily? Not understanding this, Halsin goes on to tell stories of his past exploits, which are hot and very welcome, but also very much not what the player as getting at.

If the player is an absolute asshole and mocks him by comparing him to a deep rothe, he is crushed, but stays calm, simply telling them that they could have just said no- he doesn't call the player a jerk like they deserved. Just feels very true to the 'tism experience.

This line alone could stand as proof, I think: "Nature gifted us our desires, and the means to act on them. But we muddied its beautiful simplicity with rules, social strictures... clothes." He hates social structures for their complexity, and prefers something simpler. The dislike of social structures, of their nebulous nature, is a core autistic experience.

If the player says they only helped because he's a useful ally, he once again misreads; he misses that the statement was a rejection, and responds earnestly that he sees them as much more than an ally.

For the new platonic path:

If the player tells him they just want him to carry heavy things for them, he responds differently based on his approval levels to them (I.E. based on how close they are and how kind he feels the player is); at low approval, he is deeply hurt by this, and sadly muses that "perhaps not all friendships are destined to be balanced and reciprocal." Yet... he still considers it a friendship, even though that is in practice no friendship at all. A lot of autistic folks have this experience of being friends with people who don't share the same level of affection, or even outright mistreat, us.

In fact, the same thing happens in another variation: if the player snarks about Halsin inviting himself along (a way of saying "get lost"), he laughs and warmly says that he guesses he did invite himself along, and that he will be "more tactful when trying to make friends in future." Declaring oneself friends with others is such a classic autistic experience, but even MORE so is declaring yourself friends with someone who only tolerates, or even actively dislikes, you. It's quite sad- but also very endearing, because I feel so SEEN in that moment.

[corruptedcaps]

Beach Find

Lizzie and her husband Sam strolled hand in hand along the sandy shore, the gentle waves lapping at their feet. The sun was warm and comforting. Having a child allowed them rare opportunities to vacation away just the two of them but their daughter Vicky was 18 now and was far from the partying type. They knew she would be cooped up for the week in her bedroom at home with a good book.

"I almost had forgotten what sand had felt like." Sam chuckled.

"Yeah I agree- ahhh what was that?" Lizzie replied after stepping in something sharp. Lizzie’s gaze was drawn to something twinkling in the sand beneath her. Letting go of Sam’s hand she knelt down to investigate.

With a few scoops of her hand, she unearthed a jewel tiara, its pink gems shimmering in the sunlight. "Sam, look at this!" she exclaimed, holding it up for him to see.

"Wow, that’s beautiful." Sam said, leaning in for a closer look. "Where do you think it came from?"

His words were lost on her. All sound seemed to disappear as she held the tiara. She was entranced by it and felt a growing need to put it on. She lifted it over her head and placed it softly onto her hair.

All at once the sound around her rushed back and she felt a pulsating pleasure coarse through her body. Her bones started to creak and crack as the became stronger. Years of bad posture were erased in seconds. Her bad hip suddenly brand new again.

"Lizzie, what’s happening?" Sam gasped, stepping back in astonishment.

"I... I don't know, but I feel... amazing." Lizzie replied, her voice now softer and more melodic.

Her slightly saggy skin started to tighten around her improved frame, years of wrinkles disappearing. More than that it became smoother, softer. Even in her youth it had never felt so good.

Sam stared at Lizzie, his mouth agape. "Maybe you should take it off, this doesn't feel right, Lizzie." He suggested, a sense of unease creeping into his voice.

"Shut up, Sam!" Lizzie snapped, her eyes flashing with anger. The harshness of her words cut through the air like a knife.

Sam recoiled, stunned by her sudden outburst. "Lizzie, what's gotten into you?" He asked, his concern deepening.

Realizing what she had said, Lizzie's expression softened. "I'm so sorry, Sam. I don't know what came over me. I just feel soooo goooood." she said as the changes continued.

Her short mom hair grew long, cascading down her back to just above her butt, her brown hair becoming lighter and lighter until it shimmer blonde.

Her sensible nails transformed into long, fake pink nails, perfectly manicured. Her lips plumped up, now coated in bold red lipstick, and her eyes became piercing blue, sparkling with a newfound intensity.

Lizzie felt her body become strong and powerful, the sensation overwhelming. A shift began to occur within her mind. Subtle at first, her thoughts started to change, becoming increasingly materialistic. The simplicity of her previous life seemed dull and unsatisfying now. She began to crave luxury, riches, and all things glamorous.

"It's okay. Let's just take it off, alright?" Sam said gently, stepping closer.

But as Sam reached for the tiara, Lizzie pulled back, a sneer forming on her lips. "How fucking dare you try and take this away from me Sam. You've always been such a boring bastard!" she hissed, this time without an ounce of regret.

As if to reward her cruelness to her husband, her tits swelled up, growing into gravity defying orbs that made her moan in pleasure. Her regular mom-style clothing morphed into a tight pink dress, hugging her curves and featuring a long slit along the side that showed off her legs. She arched her back to push her boobs out to make them look even more impressive.

"Lizzie, this isn't you." Sam pleaded, trying to reason with her but the transformation was done.

"You're right, it isn't. I'm Eliza now and I'm so much better than I was. Who wants to be a fucking boring housewife when they could be a goddess like me? I'm going to be so fucking bad and love every minute of it!" She declared with a cackle that sent a shiver down Sam's spine.

-

Vicky had started to worry about her parents. She hadn't heard from them in days. She had initially put it down to them just having a good time on their vacation but it was so unlike them not to check in.

Their flight was due to land that day and Vicky breathed a sigh of relief when at last she heard the front door open. Expecting her mom and dad to appear with their usual warm smiles and travel stories, Vicky was stunned to see a strikingly beautiful woman step into the house, her presence commanding and intimidating.

The woman wore a loose fitting pink dress with a sparkling tiara sitting atop her perfect blonde hair which flowed in perfect waves. Her piercing blue eyes scanned the room with a cold, calculating gaze. Sam followed in tow behind her, his posture subservient and his eyes downcast.

"Mom?" Vicky asked, her voice trembling with confusion.

The woman laughed, a chilling, heartless sound. "Don't you dare call me that again you vermin. I wouldn't want anyone to think I produced such an inferior offspring. Although I doubt anyone will even think a beauty like could be related to you. You'll call me Eliza now." She snarled.

"What happened to you?" Vicky demanded, tears welling up in her eyes.

Eliza sauntered over, her long fake nails glinting in the light as she reached out to stroke Vicky's cheek but quickly grabbed her face in her hand roughly. "I’ve finally become who I was always meant to be. Look at you, so plain and pathetic. You're the worst mistake I ever made. You should be grateful I even acknowledge you now. Fetch me a drink, and make yourself useful for once."

With tears in her eyes, Vicky dutifully set out to do as she was told. Every fiber of her being wanted to yell and scream at her mother but she found herself unable, as though she were under some sort of spell.

-

Over the next few weeks, Vicky could only watch helplessly as Eliza became notorious in their town. She stayed out late partying, shamelessly flirting and sleeping with other women's men. Their life savings quickly dwindled as Eliza spent lavishly on designer clothes, jewelry, and extravagant nights out, all for herself.

At home, Eliza treated Sam and Vicky as slaves. They were made to do all the cooking, cleaning, laundry, and anything else she demanded.

“Don’t fucking mess up the laundry like you did last time!” Eliza snapped at Vicky one afternoon as she lounged around basking in her beauty and cruel power.

Vicky picked up Eliza’s tight dresses, all which stunk of sex and obediently piled them into her laundry basket.

“Here take this as well.” Eliza said standing up and stripping all the clothes she was wearing off of herself. Vicky lifted her eyes to the sky but for a moment caught a glimpse of Eliza’s perfect form. A weird pang of jealously hit Vicky for just a moment. That’s when she heard the voice.

“Wear me.” The voice purred. It seemed to be coming from the top of Eliza’s head and only Vicky could hear it. Her eyes settled onto the tiara, its glomming jewels captivating her.

“What the fuck are doing just standing there? Get out and do the laundry!” Eliza said with a snap of her fingers breaking Vicky from her trance. Vicky quickly scampered away but the damage had been done.

Finding her father alone in the kitchen doing the dishes she sidled up to him and whispered in hushed tones.

"Dad, what is it with that tiara? It's the source of all this evil isn't it?" She asked as quiet as she could.

Sam looked around nervously before nodding. "I saw it happen, Vicky. When she put it on, it transformed her. She's not the woman I married anymore."

Vicky's heart sank further, realizing the depth of their predicament. "We have to do something, Dad. We can't live like this. We have to destroy it!"

"It's too dangerous sweetheart. We don't even know if destroying it will work. It might just enrage her even more." Sam said with a sigh and went back to his dishes. Vicky knew it fell on her to save her family.

-

Vicky returned home from school the next day, her heart pounding with determination. She had researched all about the tiara and was convinced it was from an infamous wreck. The King and Queen of Bratavia went down with their ship during a nasty storm right near where Vicky’s parents had been vacationing. The King and Queen were known as evil tyrants who kept their subjects obedient through fear.

Vicky feared that her mother was somehow being corrupted by the tiara in the same way the queen likely had been all those years ago. She was ready to destroy the tiara by any means necessary. However, as she entered the house, she found a smug Eliza waiting for her, with Sam standing beside her, his head hung low.

"Hi, Mom—I mean, Eliza. What's going on?" Vicky asked, trying to keep her voice steady.

Eliza's lips curled into a malicious smile. "What's going on is I know all about your plan to try and destroy my gorgeous tiara. Sam here squealed like the little piggy that he is."

"Dad how could you?" Vicky said in shock.

"Oh don't be disappointed him dear he's been under my thumb since my transformation. He's been reporting to me for awhile now about your rising rebellion against me. I must say I am impressed you've been able to resist my power." Eliza said with a smirk.

"We need to destroy it! It's turned you into a monster!" Vicky said pleading with her mother.

Eliza laughed, a chilling sound that echoed through the room. "Is that the real reason? Or is it that you want the power for yourself?"

Vicky shook her head vehemently. "No! No of course not! I just want my mom back. This… this isn't who you are!"

Eliza stepped closer, her piercing blue eyes glinting with cruelty. "I know it's true, I can see the desire in your eyes. You want this power I have. You want to be as big of a bad bitch as I am. You have heard it call out to you, I know you have."

"How could you know that? Whatever the case I don't want it, I don't want any of it!" Vicky insisted, her voice faltering slightly.

Eliza's sneer deepened. "Oh, but it is. You can deny it all you want, but I see the the way you look at me, with envy and longing. You crave the power, the control. You want to be just like me."

Vicky felt a pang of conflict within her. Despite her revulsion at what her mother had become, there was a small, undeniable part of her that was drawn to the promise of the tiara's power. The thought of wielding such influence, of being able to control and command, was tempting. To be a beautiful bitch. She couldn't help herself from getting wet.

"No, I won't let you manipulate me, you're wrong!" Vicky said, trying to push the thoughts away.

"We'll see about that, darling. You'll soon be a daughter worthy of me!" Eliza laughed again, her tone mocking as she snapped her fingers. Sam grabbed Vicky and pushed her down to her knees while holding her from moving.

Eliza stepped triumphantly over to Vicky, taking off the tiara. "You see, dear, the tiara's power is already in me. You could have destroyed it, but I would have remained. The only thing you would have stopped was your own ascension, but mommy is here to help with that." She said with an evil smile as she placed the tiara onto Vicky's head.

Vicky's hair began to change first. Her once plain brown locks grew longer and glossier, transforming into cascading waves of rich, golden blonde. "No, I don't want this!" Vicky cried, trying to pull the tiara off, but her hands were still held fast by Sam. Her resolve weakened as she felt the luxurious weight of her new hair.

Next, her eyes changed from their ordinary brown to a piercing blue, the color intensifying until they sparkled like sapphires, like her mothers. "Stop it! Mmmmm don't stop!" Vicky whimpered unable to stop letting out a soft moan.

Her lips plumped up, becoming fuller and more luscious, painted with a seductive shade of deep red. "I can't… I won't…" Vicky tried to protest, but the feel of her newly enhanced lips was intoxicating. She could feel her resistance slipping, the desire to embrace her transformation growing stronger.

By now Sam had let go of her hands and had stepped back. Vicky was free to remove the tiara from her head but as her hands rose higher they stopped at her chest which was expanding by the second. She ran her hands over her impressive new tits, squeezing them with perverse joy.

"Oh fuck these feel so god damn good! I could make so many weak boys into my puppets. Noooo I can't let this happen! I need... to... fight... it!" She fought in weak protest as her nails, once short and practical, lengthened into perfectly manicured talons, a vibrant pink color matching her mother's.

"Oh fuck yes these are perfect for a bitch like me! They would look so hawt running down the back of a hawt guys back! No Vicky, don't give in!" She whispered, but the sight of her elegant nails made her heart race with excitement. The transformation was nearly complete, and Vicky couldn't fight how good she was feeling.

"I can't fight it, I don't want to fight it! Yes! Make me hot, make me cruel, make me evil! Vicky is dead! Tori is hear to stay!" She moaned loudly, her body shivering with delight.

She stood up, her posture now confident and commanding, a cruel smile playing on her lips. Eliza clapped her hands in delight. "How do you feel?"

"Mmmm I feel so naughty. Thanks for the upgrade Mommy... Sorry I mean Eliza." Tori purred as she primped herself in the mirror.

"No need to apologize dear, you are worthy of being my daughter now. I couldn't be prouder of the wicked hottie you are." Eliza said beaming at Tori with pride.

"Thanks Mommy, I can't wait to show this patheic town who I am. Mmmm it's getting me so wet thinking about all those bitchy bullies who tormented me every day and how I'll have them under my heel. Of course I'll need a new wardrobe." Tori said remembering her closet was full of drab clothes designed to blend in. She needed to stand out now.

"Absolutely sweetheart, we'll take your simp of a father's credit card to the mall and spoil you rotten. Nothing but the best for my princess." Eliza said kissing the air around her daughter's cheeks.

"Speaking of which, can't we kick him out and bring in a real sugar daddy?" Tori said looking at her grovelling father with disdain.

"Well we have two options dear. First is that we use the kings crown on him. I found it soon after the tiara. It is designed to turn even the most weakest of men into strong confident bastards." Eliza said already dismissive of the idea.

"And the second option?" Tori asked curious.

"Well as gorgeous as the tiara is on your head darling, it has done it's purpose. You are forever an evil beauty just like me. But that is not to say it's power is done corrupting." Eliza said with an evil smile that was soon mimicked on Tori's face as her mother's plan crystallized in her mind.

The two women turned with their cruel smirks towards Sam, devilish intent in their eyes.

"Two wicked Mommies? I'll be the most spoilt girl in the world!" Tori said closing in on Sam who backed himself into a corner.

"Welcome to the family... Samatha." Eliza laughed as she watched Tori take the tiara from her head and shove it onto Sam's.

[cordeliawhohung]

If you are tired of doing mafia!Price than ignore this

But what if reader want to treat him good for all the things he does for her. (smut???👀)

oh hun, mafia!price is living rent free in my brain, i don't think i could be tired of him even if i tried. i hope you enjoy this 2k words worth of filth <3

warnings: smut, fem!reader, oral (m!receiving), praise, creampie, i think that's it?

more mafia!price can be found here (:

Cream colored fabric hugged your body as if you had been born with it. It melded to your body, perfectly complimenting every single one of your features. The fabric was light, perfect for the warm days that overpowered the cool end to the spring. Gathered fabric made up the sleeves that hung off your shoulders, exposing more of your chest as it was accompanied by a low, sweetheart neckline. Smiling to yourself, you couldn’t help but sway side to side and watch as the skirt of the dress twisted around your thighs. 

As you admired yourself in the mirror, you caught sight of your husband behind you. He sat in a large, upholstered chair where he comfortably leaned back as he took in the sight of you wearing his latest gift. Even in his reflection you could make out that twinkle in his eyes, like he never wanted to look at anything else ever again. With a grin, you turned around to face him for real, and you watched as he tilted his head to the side while his eyes flickered to the way the fabric danced around your hips. 

“Do you like it?” he asked, eyes slowly wandering up along your body until they landed on your face again. 

“I love it,” you answered. You glanced down as you ran your hands along your front. It was so soft, and beautiful in its simplicity. You knew it must have cost a good amount of money, but John always removed the tags on every gift he gave to you, never wanting you to worry about finances. Besides, with his line of work, he had plenty to spend on his wife.  

And you were well aware that there was rarely an expense he would spare on you. Always showering you with gifts and love; always taking care of you better than anyone else ever had. Your thumb absentmindedly played with the ring on your finger as you glided forward to sit on his lap. John welcomed you with open arms, and his hands instantly wrapped around your waist while you threw your legs over his. 

“Figured you could wear it tonight,” he mused while his thumb grazed along your waist. “Got us a reservation at Firenze’s at seven.” He tugged at the skirt of your dress. “You’ll be turnin’ heads wearin’ this.” 

“Firenze’s?” you repeated. “I thought they had a few weeks waiting list, at least?” 

John’s mouth quirked up into a slight smirk. “Vito owed me a favor.” 

You playfully rolled your eyes. “Everyone owes you a favor.” 

“Everyone but you.” 

Which was odd. Out of everyone in the world, you certainly should have owed him more than anyone else. He fed you, showered you with gifts, gave you a beautiful home to live in, and never once did he ask for anything in return. Always took such good care of you like he had never known any different. 

Without warning, you leaned forward and planted your lips right on his. His facial hair rubbed softly against your upper lip and chin as he returned your kiss without hesitation. The faint taste of tobacco coated his lips and you devoured it as your hands started to roam around his body. You pawed at his chest as you deepened the kiss, tongue slipping into his mouth, and you allowed your hands to roam lower. When your fingers brushed against his stomach and continued to dip downwards, you felt his abdomen tense as his breath caught in his throat. 

“I love you,” you whispered as you pulled away, lips still ghosting against his. Finally, your hand dipped below his belt and cupped the still hardening bulge in his pants. You reveled in the way he let out a heavy breath by giving him a small moan. “Always take such good care of me. I wanna show you how much I love you.” 

“Fuck, darling,” John hissed as you pressed your hand against him. Between the confines of his pants and the pressure of you against him, he swore he was going to erupt. 

Offering him relief, your hands started to tug at his belt and the zipper of his pants until there was enough room for you to pull his cock out. You had just worked him up and already his tip was puffy and red, all too eager to find solace inside of you. Wordlessly, you slipped out of his lap as your knees gently came in contact with the wood of the bedroom floor and you nestled yourself between his legs. 

The sight of you on your knees with both hands wrapped around his cock had pulled a groan out of John’s chest. He was at a loss for words watching his sweet wife lean forward and place careful kisses from the base of his shaft, all the way to his tip. Your tongue lovingly licked along him, gathering the salty taste of precum in your mouth, and you moaned at the taste. 

He grunted once more when your lips wrapped around the head of his length, and one of his hands instinctively gathered your hair as your mouth enveloped him. His girth had your jaw opening nearly as wide as you could manage as you pushed him deeper in your mouth until he prodded at the back of your throat. 

You built up speed as you continued, lips running up and down his length. Each time you took him deeper and deeper in your mouth until you were nearly gagging, and even then you still pushed yourself. Strong muscles in his thighs tightened each time his tip reached the plushy flesh in the back of your throat, and it didn’t take long before he was muttering praises to you like a madman. 

“Look at you. Beautiful girl, christ. Takin’ such good care of me, such a sweet thing, aren’t you?” he mumbled, straining to get the words out with how tense his jaw was from the sheer pleasure. 

It wasn’t until his hips started bucking up into your mouth that you pulled away from him, forcing another hiss out of him. A thin string of saliva connected your mouth to the tip of his cock for only a moment before it broke and dribbled down your chin. Your lips felt puffy from the friction, and you panted slightly as you attempted to catch your breath. John’s hand let go of your hair as he swiped his thumb along your bottom lip, smearing your spit across your skin. 

“I want you to sit back,” you spoke as you pushed yourself to your feet. Not even a moment later your knees were on either side of John’s hips, straddling him as you hovered over his aching and twitching length. You offered him slight relief by gently grinding your clothed cunt down on him as you leaned forward to nip at his ear. “Let me do the work.”

His breath was hot on your neck as he exhaled, hands gliding along your hips and thighs as you hovered above him. His need for you was insatiable, and it was impossible for him to hold back the growl building in his throat. 

“Anything for you, darling,” he hummed, voice low. 

You didn’t even bother attempting to remove your underwear in that position. Instead, you pushed the fabric to the side, exposing yourself to him as you carefully lowered down onto his length. Not even a quarter of the way inside of you and you could already feel the uncontrollable twitching of his cock. It took everything in you to not just fully fall onto him in one swift motion, to just spear yourself open on him. 

Once you finally had him buried inside of you, you moaned as you gently grinded, making his hard length dance inside of you. The skirt of your dress completely covered the view of your bodies being joined together, and it was as if the two of you were just sharing a passionate kiss. 

Then your hips began to buck, rocking up and down along him, cunt continually swallowing him and then spitting him back out. It took everything in John to not thrust up into you, or grab your hips and work you himself. The back of his head leaded against the plush cushion of the chair as his blue eyes focused on you like some icy fire. Distracting himself from the urge to fuck into you, he let his hands roam; grabbing at your breasts, pinching your nipples through the thin fabric of your dress, brushing his thumb along your bottom lip. 

Eventually he couldn’t take it any longer. He gathered the fabric of the dress and bunched it up, revealing the way your cunt swallowed him whole. The sight left him grunting, and he noticed the way you fluttered around him at the sound. Your panties were soaked, having only been haphazardly pushed to the side, too impatient to take things slowly. 

“You’re always so good to me,” you panted from exertion. A thin layer of sweat made your chest glisten, and your lips still felt puffy from sucking him off earlier. John was utterly enchanted by the way your tits bounced with your movement. “Just wanna make you feel good. I- fuck- love you s’much, baby- fuck…”

That familiar heat began to tighten in your lower stomach, and John caught on instantly in the way your hips faltered and your words grew nearly incoherent. With one hand still holding up the skirt of your dress, he snaked the other one behind your neck, making you look at him. 

“Wanna make me feel good? That right, darling? Yeah?” he asked, lips brushing against yours. “Cum on this fucking cock. I want to feel it.” 

It felt wrong being the first one to finish. You were doing all of this for him, to show your gratitude, your love, and yet there you were, teetering on the edge. Still, he requested it, demanded it, and a few more needy rock of your hips later and you were coming undone around him with a pitchy moan. Every muscle in your body tensed and burned, and it felt impossible to catch your breath from the blistering heat that washed over you, yet you pushed on as your walls fluttered around him. 

His hands stayed firmly on the back of your neck and bunched up in your dress as you continued, hellbent on getting him off, but his grip only grew stronger as you pulled him closer to his own release. His breathing grew ragged and throaty as his legs tensed. Nothing could rip his eyes off of the sight of you taking him like a good wife. 

“Please,” you spoke up, voice choked with pleasure. “Please, wanna make you feel good. I need it, need to feel you, need your cum, please baby, fuck.” 

That did him in. The hand wrapped in your dress yanked you down hard, pulling your hips flush against him with no chance of escape. A rough grunt rumbled in his throat as you felt his cock twitch and pulse inside of you. Tensing around him, you milked him of everything he had to give you, and you groaned at the sensation as he filled your cunt full. Knees shaking on either side of him, your head fell forward and rested against his shoulder as he continued to fill you, and once he was finished, you felt his muscles melt. 

“You know,” he said, arms loosely wrapping around you, “if you liked the dress that much, a simple thank you also would have sufficed.” 

“Where’s the fun in that?” you exhaled, grinning into the side of his neck. “Besides, don’t act like you weren’t thinking about fucking me in this dress after dinner, anyway.” 

John hummed at your comment, and then gently bucked his hips upwards, drawing a sharp gasp out of you. He chuckled at the way your legs clenched around his waist, and he turned his head to plant an open mouthed kiss against your cheek. 

“Oh darling, I’m still thinkin’ about it.” 

[softsturn]

the beach - m.s

⩩ pairing: matt x fem!reader

⩩ summary: matt is caught jerking off to his best friend (inspired by @heartstreet !! full creds to them for this idea)

⩩ warnings: masturbation, handjob, p-in-v, half assed writing at the end.

⩩ a/n: sorry i haven’t posted much, its been so hard to think of ideas. i wanted to make a part two of what i last posted but i literally don’t know how to continue it😭 thank you for all the likes and follows!! pls leave me requests :)

Describing the bond between you and Matt exceeds the simplicity a mere friendship. Growing up, you lived only a few houses away from his, you shared the same schools, and practically every experience was a joint venture. It wasn't just common knowledge; it was an undeniable truth that wherever you went, a blue-eyed boy with brown hair was sure to follow, mirroring your every step like a lost puppy. The invisible tie binding you two seemed unbreakable, preventing you from straying far apart.

Now, at Cape Cod, a destination woven into the fabric of your cherished summer memories, you eagerly await Matt and his family’s arrival. Setting up foldable chairs and towels on the sandy shores, you can hardly contain your anticipation, eager to continue the tradition of shared moments under the sun.

As if on cue, his family strolled towards the beach, carrying an assortment of towels, bags, chairs, and a cooler. Your face lit up with a vibrant smile upon spotting the three identical boys approaching with palpable excitement. They placed their belongings on the sand, and you greeted them eagerly.

Matt's eyes widened noticeably, practically popping out of his sockets as he unabashedly drank in the sight of you. While you maintained your usual level of beauty, his gaze lingered on your figure. Stepping out of your comfort zone, you had chosen a two-piece bikini opposed to a one piece like you normally wore, showcasing newfound confidence in your evolving body. The swimsuit hugged you in all the right places, baring your torso and clinging snugly to your curves. Matt found himself caught in a momentary, lustful gaze, slightly zoning out as Nick and Chris enthusiastically hyped you up in the background.

"You look so good girl!" exclaimed Nick, with Chris joining in laughter, while you, feeling a bit shy, crossed your arms over your stomach.

Coming back to reality from his fleeting thoughts, Matt nodded and offered you a small, genuine smile. "You look..." he hesitated, carefully choosing his words to avoid any discomfort for you. "Pretty," he mumbled sheepishly, prompting a soft blush to grace your face. Matt's compliments held a unique significance, seeming to carry more weight than others, his opinion reigning supreme in your mind.

"Thank you," you replied with a shy giggle, while Nick and Chris exchanged amused glances, furrowing their brows at the subtle dynamics unfolding between the two of you. The unspoken connection, the palpable undercurrent of something more than friendship, was evident to everyone around. Jokes from your parents about an impending marriage and teasing from Matt's brothers were constant reminders of the unspoken truth – you and Matt shared a love that transcended platonic feelings, even if the explicit words hadn't been uttered.

After a few hours under the warm sun, the faint emergence of sunburn and light freckles adorned your face, telling tales of days spent soaking up the heat. Meanwhile, Matt wrestled with his thoughts, a delicate balance between loyalty to your friendship and the desire that threatened to breach inappropriate territories. He harbored a profound fear of jeopardizing the trust you shared or causing any discomfort, acutely aware that losing you was a risk he couldn't fathom.

As you stood, engrossed in gathering your belongings and bending over slightly, Matt couldn't suppress the way his gaze involuntarily traced the curves of your figure, particularly fixating on your ass. His mind danced with forbidden scenarios, imagining actions he both longed for and felt conflicted about. Sensing a warmth spreading through him, he nervously looked away, trying to prevent any telltale signs of his internal struggle.

You straightened up, holding your possessions with a toothy grin, completely oblivious to the subtle turmoil in Matt's mind. "I'll see you back at the house," you said softly. Matt offered a slight nod and joined his brothers in packing up their belongings. As you made your way to your car, your parents loading up the trunk, you settled into the back seat, succumbing slowly to sleep, the exhaustion of the day catching up with you.

Waking up with a groan, you found your parents' car parked by the side of the road in front of the triplets' house, just a few doors down from your own. The plan was to spend the night at their place, a routine that had become usual given your inclination to seek comfort in their home over your own. Extracting yourself from the car, you grabbed your overnight bag, bidding farewells to your parents as you watched them drive away.

Your bathing suit clung persistently to your body, your hair still damp, and the weariness in your limbs yearning for the promise of relaxation. Shuffling into Matt's home without bothering to knock, the unspoken familiarity of years spent together allowed you the privilege of simply letting yourself in. Passing through the kitchen, Matt's parents greeted you with warm smiles as you entered the living room.

There, Matt, Nick, and Chris were sprawled on the couch, engrossed in a movie that you were sure they had seen at least a thousand times. When Matt's eyes met yours, a soft expression played on his face, evident in the effort to maintain eye contact with your face rather than letting his gaze wander.

"Hey," he murmured, and you returned the greeting with a gentle smile, playfully ruffling his hair as you stood over him. "Hey, I'm gonna go shower. I'll join you guys if you're still out here when I'm done." With that, you ventured down the hall, heading toward the guest bedroom.

In the midst of a hot shower, as you washed away the residue of salty water and sand, Matt and his brothers grew disinterested in the movie, dispersing to their separate bedrooms. Collapsing onto his bed with a weary sigh, exhaustion permeated Matt's body. Turning to his phone, he absentmindedly scrolled through various social media apps. Refreshing his Instagram feed, he stumbled upon a recent post you had shared before stepping into the shower.

The post featured a series of photos taken by Nick during your beach outing. One image captured you from the side, accentuating your ass and curves, while another showcased the contours of your cleavage and perky boobs from the front. Although the intention behind the pictures was innocent, Matt's mind became inundated with impure thoughts. Consumed by a sense of guilt, he recognized the inappropriateness of his desires, grappling with conflicting emotions. You were his best friend, and he was acutely aware that such lascivious thoughts were unwarranted. It was more than mere lust; he harbored genuine love for you and a desire to be a person deserving of your affection.

As Matt stared at his screen, a warmth enveloped his body, and he found himself unable to suppress the physical reaction, a boner forming in his pants. He felt conflicted, but it wasn’t like you knew what he was thinking, or doing. Succumbing to the intensity of his desire, he pulled his pants down enough to free himself, his cock springing out of his boxers. He took his cock into his right hand, phone in his left hand, and he began to stroke himself, allowing his imagination to run wild with scenarios that had occupied his dreams. The room echoed with subtle grunts and whimpers as he finally started to release the pent-up feelings that had plagued him throughout the day.

You emerged from the invigorating shower, enveloped in a towel, the sensation of cleanliness and renewal coursing through you. Exiting the bathroom, you ventured into the guest bedroom designated for your night's rest, shutting the door behind you. As you delved into your bag, extracting essentials like panties, shorts, and a tank top, the soft fabrics embraced you once you shed the towel. Nighttime rituals of hair brushing, skincare, and teeth cleaning completed, you settled into the guest bedroom, a sanctuary that had become almost like your own.

The tranquility was fleeting, interrupted by a shiver that prompted a quest for warmth. Rummaging through your bag, you discovered the absence of a hoodie – an oversight that led you down the hall to Matt's bedroom. Assuming he'd still be awake, you envisioned a simple request to borrow one of his hoodies. Little did you anticipate the unexpected scene awaiting you.

Without bothering to knock, a habit formed over years of friendship, you barged into Matt's room, focused on your hoodie mission. "I need to borrow a hoodie; it's freezing—" your words trailed off as your gaze absorbed the shocking sight. Matt, in his bed, his hand pumping up and down his cock, his phone displaying pictures of you. A gasp escaped him as your presence registered, his eyes meeting yours with a mix of surprise and guilt. "Y/N..." he uttered, his phone slipping from his hand onto the bed, his hand movements abruptly halted in the realization of the awkward situation.

"Oh my god, I'm sorry; I didn't think—I should've knocked. I'll just go get one from Nick," you mumbled nervously, ready to retreat. The air hung heavy with the unspoken tension, both of you grappling with the potential ramifications on your friendship. Before you could exit, Matt called to you, conflicted between wanting you to stay and the desire to erase this awkward moment.

"Don't go," he uttered, wincing at his own words, attempting to clarify that he wasn't making advances or asking for anything. You stood there, caught in a surreal tableau, uncertain about how to navigate this unexpected revelation. Blinking in an attempt to regain composure, you voiced a question laden with curiosity and awkwardness.

"Do you... do this often?" your brows furrowed, your gaze drifting toward his needy cock. Matt sighed, grappling with shame, attempting to rein in his emotions. "Jerk off? Or jerk off to you..." he replied, injecting a hint of humor to alleviate the palpable tension.

"Jerk off to me," you clarified, offering a sheepish smile, grateful for his attempt to inject some levity. Matt, in a vulnerable admission, stumbled through an explanation, striving to avoid sounding like a creep. The guilt weighed heavily on him, sensing that he had betrayed the sanctity of your friendship.

"This is the first time—I'm sorry. You just looked so pretty all day, and I couldn't... I don't know," he rambled, his remorse evident. Expecting you to recoil, Matt braced for the consequences of his impure thoughts. Yet, to his surprise, you stepped closer, the bed dipping as you sat on the edge near his legs. Your eyes danced everywhere but on his throbbing cock.

"It's okay; I'm not mad," you reassured, the tension easing with your understanding words. In that moment, you appreciated the side of Matt that could inject humor even into the most awkward situations, and despite the strangeness of the circumstance, a reassuring smile graced your lips.

"You're not?" he asked, confusion etching his face as his gaze reached the end of the bed where you were. The bewilderment stemmed from the expectation of your anger; he believed he deserved your fury. You shook your head, dispelling any doubts that lingered in his mind. "I'm not mad," you affirmed, inhaling deeply before contemplating the weight of your next words. The undeniable truth of their mutual feelings lay bare, an unignorable reality that both had been evading.

"Do you want me to help you?" you inquired, addressing the underlying tension. Matt hesitated, shaking his head in a refusal. Your offer, though tempting, made him reluctant, not wanting you to feel obliged, and questioning his own worthiness of such an intimate gesture. “Y/N… you don’t have to.”

Sighing, you crawled to sit on his knees, his cock twitching right before you, aching for release. It wasn't about obligation; it was about love. You wanted to be the one to bring him pleasure. "I know, I want to," you reassured, meeting his gaze as he deliberated. "Please," he whimpered, desperation evident on his face. Taking it as a signal, you palmed him, your hand trembling slightly as you sought confirmation in his eyes, ensuring every move was met with consent.

As you encountered nothing but longing in his gaze, your hand tentatively began to move, gliding up and down his length. The unspoken revelation that you were not very experienced was apparent to him, and a twinge of guilt crept in as he allowed you to pleasure him. Determined not to make this solely about his satisfaction, he seized the moment, grasping your wrist and redirecting your hand away from his arousal, prompting you to lean forward.

In an impulsive move, he pressed his lips forcefully against yours, his tongue seeking entry, savoring the taste of your chapstick. The kiss bore neither aggression nor softness; instead, it carried the weight of years filled with tension, prolonged gazes, and lingering touches, finally unfurling in this shared moment. Pulling back slightly, he noticed your lips chasing after his, seeking more contact with his lips.

"I want to make you feel good too," he murmured against your lips, his words flushing your face with heat, a wetness growing between your legs. The dynamics shifted, and now it was you yearning for him. His hands found your hips, drawing you closer until you straddled his waist, your clothed pussy pressing against his cock. His fingers hooked into the waistband of your pajama shorts and panties, seeking consent as he looked up at you.

"Can I take these off, baby?" he asked, and in response, you nodded, lifting yourself to allow him to slide them down your legs before resuming the straddled position, anticipation hanging thick in the air.

You took a sharp breath, nerves tingling as you ventured into unfamiliar territory with Matt. As he ran a finger through your wet folds, he licked his lips, captivated by the sight of your pretty pussy. In that moment, Matt would have done anything and everything you asked, he was completely at your mercy. Firmly holding your hips, he allowed your wet cunt to hover over his cock. While his desires tempted him to force you down and make you take it, his deep care for you held him back, especially given the significance of this being your first time.

"Go slow, okay? It's going to hurt a little, but I'm right here," he said. Nodding, you began the descent, wincing as his tip slipped into your enterance. "Oh my god, Matt," you moaned, your words interrupted as Matt leaned up, pressing his lips to yours to stifle your sweet sounds, mindful of his brothers sleeping down the hall.

Gradually, you took more of him in, whimpering at the initial stinging sensation as his cock stretched your tight walls. Eventually, you lowered yourself completely onto him, pausing to adjust to the sensation of him buried deep inside you. "Such a good girl, taking me so well," he cooed.

“Feels so good,” you murmured, the words escaping on a breath as you began to move your hips against him, keeping a steady rhythm. He gripped your hips firmly, and you were sure there would be red marks left behind. His kisses trailed down your neck, lips brushing over your collarbones and shoulders, marking you with purposeful hickeys that finally declared you as his, even though you had always belonged to him.

Slowly, he lifted your tank top over your head, tossing it aside in the room's shadows. "So fucking pretty," he mumbled, his gaze lingering on you through half-lidded eyes. His mouth descended, lavishing much-needed attention on your boobs, kissing and licking your sensitive nipples with devotion. In his eyes, your body was a masterpiece, and he aimed to ensure you knew just how perfect you were. Every gesture was a testament to his worship, eliciting small moans of pleasure as you succumbed to the sensations he bestowed upon you.

"Faster, please," he choked out, a desperate need cracking his voice as he trailed kisses down the valley of your breasts. Swiftly obeying, you quickened the pace, moaning as you rocked back and forth on his cock. Yet, the soreness lingering from your day at the beach made it challenging. Matt noticed, his hands helping to move your hips, orchestrating a rhythm that heightened the pleasure. He began to thrust into you, hips meeting yours, intensifying the sensation.

Throwing your head back, eyes rolling, pleasure consumed you, a knot tightening in your stomach. One of his hands left your hip, moving downward, his thumb expertly circling your swollen clit. Overwhelmed, words escaped you, your mind consumed by him. "Fuck, Matt," you managed to whimper in your love-drunk state, a proud smirk gracing his lips as he witnessed you lost in pleasure, knowing he was the only one to evoke such a response.

"Cum for me, princess," he urged in a whiny, broken voice, his own release imminent. His words triggered your climax, a stream of mumbled curses and whines escaping you as pleasure saturated every inch of your being. Surrendering to the intensity, you abandoned your movements, letting him guide and sway you through the waves of orgasmic ecstasy. His release followed suit, white streams of cum shooting into you, accompanied by his whimpering and grunting.

As the movements ceased, he lay beneath you, both of you attempting to catch your breath. Gingerly lifting yourself off him, a wince accompanied the sensitivity as his cock withdrew from your cunt. Rolling over, you nestled next to him, curling into his side, a lazy hand draped over his waist. His hand found its way to your head, tenderly stroking your hair as you rested against his chest, syncing your breathing with his.

"Get some rest; I'm taking you on a date tomorrow," he grinned mischievously, planting light kisses on your forehead. Raising your head, curiosity piqued, you questioned, "A date?" He nodded, gently pushing your head back to his chest, his fingers continuing to stroke your hair in a soothing rhythm.

"A date. So I can ask you to be my girlfriend," he chuckled, of course Matt wanted to do things right despite having just fucked you dumb. You chuckled in response, appreciating Matt's intent. "Okay, I can't wait to say yes," you declared, both of you closing your eyes, eager for the embrace of sleep and the beginning of this new chapter in your relationship.