#i say all of this with affection to clarify

[alpinezro]

i dont know im kind ofnot an expert on this topic at all so take my opinion with a grain of salt but. imo when people talk about this shit and they're like "hell yeah the US is gonna collapse" it just. seems like such a strange thing to say. like sure maybe the US is gonna collapse but maybe stop and think about *how* its collapsing, who thats actually going to affect.

if this nation just collectively shits its pants and dissolves into a fine paste do you think it will have done so in a way that deconstructed the systems leading to that, and benefits those harmed? or will it lead to vulnerable people being hurt? it's not like the people in this country just disappear with the government and all problems disappear if the U.S. dissolves. The consequences of that will echo into the future and affect the people living here.

again you gotta love people more than you hate the systems that oppress cause it leads to shit like this.

same genre of thinking as "just let all of humanity die we're horrible for the earth anyways" cause uh. pal. buddy. my friend. you know whos horrible for the earth? billionaires and colonizers and capitalism. like wiisagi-maiingan says, the U.S. is a colonial state built on stolen land through slavery and genocide. i dont want it to exist either. Indigenous sovereignty is fucking awesome. but you dont achieve a better future like that through defeatism or just being like fuckkk yeaahhhhhhhhh let it all burnnnnnnn

also i shoudl just clarify im not commenting on whether i think its gonna happen or not. i dont know. im just some guy

I know it's possible, but it's becoming increasingly difficult to see how the US government could ever recover from this. Shit is looking bleak.

[bleed-for-revenge]

I feel weird saying it but most mass killers don't generate anything for me, and it's not that many aren't interesting, it's that they don't cause me what e&d cause me.

I think e&d were victims of a society that turned its back on them. They didn't kill people because they were evil, they did it because they saw no other way out.

Eric admitted several of his problems to his therapist, and he did not take him seriously, Dylan felt pressured by his family, and it seemed he was not allowed to show his emotions, he had to be the perfect son for his parents who pressured him by telling him to have ambition when he was only 17, Eric carried the trauma of moving many times and abandoning his friends, and neither he nor Dylan felt loved by their parents; the bullying culture at columbine only made things worse, and bullying can ruin a person.

Their friendship was probably the only constant and secure thing in their lives, they had each other in the sense of loyalty, neither would betray the other because they both felt the same way, and life after columbine would have made them part ways.

I can't say all this about other mass killers who have massacred people for racist reasons, or even those who have killed little kids, and that's why they don't generate anything for me, not to mention all the fucking e&d copycats... imitating someone else, to seek the same fame (which they will never have because only e&d have managed to be the most remembered) is pathetic to me.

I want to clarify that this was a vent and not a need to impose my point of view, i just felt weird because i only feel empathy for e&d. I'm not interested in changing what someone else thinks, because it doesn't affect me at all if many here are attracted to adam lanza or dylann roof or if you like copycats. I just wanted to express a subjective opinion i have about my empathy for other mass killers besides e&d, it's not personal against anyone, it's 100% subjective.

[hrrtshape]

this isn’t a question i just want to yap bc u sound like u would like to hear about this stuff

but naturally as someone with higher intelligence i like to think about things a lot and ask questions and form my own opinions and theories about things regarding research and such

and i’ve come to the conclusion that people who disregard shifting as false or mental illness are of lower intelligence and have no sense of self. they disregard philosophy, neuroscience, sociology, and other forms of science because shifting/manifesting goes against the idea that their logic is always correct and never flawed (in that sense, they are right— one who says they will shift, will, and one who says they won’t shift, won’t, to put it simply). but with the logic they are using, they are condemning themselves to an existence of suffering

these people are content with being cogs in a corporate machine. even if they are creative or imaginative, they still hold a standard of mental health criteria that directly relates to how people function under intense capitalism and oligarchy. they think they’re normal because they get up and work their 9-5 and feed their families and repeat the same thing every day. they can’t imagine even having a sense of control over any aspect of their lives.

i think it’s anti human to disregard shifting, among other things. as intelligent creatures compared to other species (who are no less deserving of respect despite, might i clarify), we are naturally curious. we want to build and create and nourish ourselves, both mentally and physically. we want life and community and love and food and to have fun and enjoy ourselves. in current societal structure, that is flattened, nuked, obliterated. anything that isn’t contributing to an oligarchs income is disregarded, because the art, philosophy, music, and culture of working regular people isn’t important to them. and unfortunately, many working people are so affected by propaganda and the belief that rich people are better and stronger is enough to paralyze them. and therefore, we’re turned enemies with the ordinary people, and seen as crazy for even thinking of something that doesn’t align with a capitalist lifestyle because this society is so focused on toppling each other just for a chance to get to the top. there’s no community, no understanding, no gentle or kind nature. we have completely disregarded the power of our own minds as humans, and these people have therefore lost their humanity.

they don’t even know what happens after they die, so how can they know all that happens when they live if they don’t even try to think of anything else?

just wanted to share. :P

you're so right !!!! imagine living in a world where human innovation has birthed quantum mechanics, existentialist philosophy, surrealist art, and entire simulated realities. but you draw the line at moving your consciousness somewhere else. be serious.

your take on capitalism hijacking imagination is so painfully true it makes me want to eat drywall. like yeah, of course, society doesn’t want people believing they have infinite power. how else do you get them to clock in at target for 8 bucks an hour? we’ve literally been gaslit out of our own potential.

also "they don’t even know what happens after they die, so how can they know all that happens when they live" is some next-level, put-it-on-a-plaque, tattoo-it-on-my-rib energy. 10/10. keep thinking. keep yapping !!!!!

[writer-room]

I had an idea, and so I made some low effort memes. Happy Dragons Rising everybody

That is all

[visions--of--collisions]

one of these days i'm gonna solidify my thoughts on hobie actively interrupting the narrative device to deny the audience (read: miles) a face reveal until he's good and ready for it and I'm. i'm gonna be Annoying about it (because i suspect it says as much about miles as it does him, honestly)

[demontisms]

my controversial spn take is that had rowena looked, like, 5-7 years younger than she did, samwena would be a more popular ship than saileen and the only real reason saileen is more popular is bc for all the talk of loving milfs in digital spaces, even (and sometimes especially) queer digital spaces, as a society we still have it deeply ingrained into us that women over the age of 35/40 are undesirable and because of this alone, consciously or unconsciously, i feel like a good portion of people see eileen as a much better love interest for sam.

[crehador]

the current state of the one with the clones is me whispering to clone!ichiro you have got to fuck him faster than this and him hissing back i am fucking trying?? because this 4p clone sex pwp is now

and there's still. there's still no fucking p.

[hawkeyefierce]

despite his appearance jack hughes somehow has negative rizz

[burningsolarsystem]

Why does my brother seem to care more about tik tok than his family?

[musical-chick-13]

Genuinely I cannot take the phrase "de-centering men" seriously anymore.

[waloeders]

gm

thinkin of them <3

[vaultedvagabond]

Not gonna mention names but seeing a trans woman on here make a take that does have a good point about a very specific situation and seeing people drasticly warp what she said to imply she was saying misandry is real and shes siding with the fucking trans/andro truthers is like.

Thats another form of a trans woman saying something and having it take out of context and getting her dogpiled. Like this happens to trans women all the time and why is someone saying something not related to this topic at all getting way more attention and vague posts than actual tme people makinf actual transmisoginistic posts.

[bitchthefuck1]

I actually don't fully vibe with my point here anymore. I think there's definitely an element of this going on, and it was never supposed to be a full explanation of his whole "thing", but it still feels a little too simplistic and overcooked. Post cancelled.

I feel like a really crucial scene for unpacking Roman's whole "oedipal" thing is the bit in Prague where he sees Tabitha, because one of the first things he says is "dad would go fucking nuts for her." He is constantly using "well it's what dad would do" as an explanation for his actions, and I genuinely think the jokes about wanting to fuck Marcia/Caroline are less about his mommy issues and any actual attraction to maternal figures and more about "well these are the women dad's into, so they must be the right women to be attracted to." It's like a defense mechanism--Logan can't think there's something "wrong" with his sexuality if they're attracted to the same people. It's what he would do.

Except this is obviously flawed logic that only makes him seem more "wrong," because "if dad does it then he must think it's okay to do and he won't get mad at me for it" isn't even the mostly-coherent reasoning of an adult choosing a partner their parents approve of, its the logic of a kid trying not to get hit.

[y3sterdaysproblem]

shifting - m.s.

summary: invisalign matt <3

cw: kissing, oral sex, invisalign kink?

wc: 2.7k

loosely inspired by take it or leave it by @plasticferal , mostly inspired by how horny matt with aligners makes me.

Click.

Click.

Click.

The sound of Matt absentmindedly pulling his invisalign tray off of his teeth and then pushing it back on filled the room, and you felt like you were about to explode if he did it again. He wasn’t even aware he was being so loud, his attention focused on whatever was on his phone that he held in front of him. You were both laying in his bed on top of the covers, having finished watching a movie around thirty minutes ago, now just doing your side by side doom scrolling in silence, or what was supposed to be silence.

You turn your head to the left to look at him, a slight look of annoyance on your face as you glare at his side profile. He doesn’t notice, still too caught up in his phone, fingers still toying with the tray in his mouth, clicking the bottom one on and off of the attachments on his molars. That was one of the nice things about Matt and his brothers being in the public eye, the fact that they didn’t have any of their attachments visible on the front of their teeth, leaving their smile otherwise smooth and normal when their trays weren’t in, however the downside was watching them stick their fingers so far in their mouth every time they wanted to take them out. Now was no exception, Matt’s thumb tucked into his mouth as he clicked, and then bit down, and then clicked, and bit down.

“Are your teeth hurting you?” You asked suddenly, breaking the silence between you both. He’s caught off guard when you speak up, turning to face you with a confused look. “What? No, why?” Matt responds in his soft spoken voice, pulling his hand away from his mouth.

“Because you haven’t stopped playing with your fucking trays for the last twenty minutes,” you tell him, flopping your phone on your chest. “I can’t focus on anything.”

“Sorry,” Matt smiles sheepishly, setting his phone down as well. “I’ve had this tray in for a couple weeks and I’m about to switch it out. Doesn’t hurt so… sometimes I just fiddle with it I guess.”

Truthfully, this conversation opened the door to a topic that had always piqued your interest, and maybe you brought it up for more reasons than how annoying the sound of his repetitive actions were. “It doesn’t hurt?” You ask him, looking away from his eyes to look at his mouth. When he notices your gaze shift, he shoots you a large grin to show off all of his almost perfect teeth covered in the clear plastic. “No,” he says, chomping his teeth together a couple times. “When I change it, it’ll hurt for a few days, but I’m used to it.”

You nod, still staring at his mouth as he spoke. “What does it… I dunno.. feel like?” You ask him, meeting his eyes once again. “The outside?” Matt clarifies, and you nod. “Just like plastic. Makes my teeth dull. You wanna feel it?”

You’re a big caught off guard by his offer and you can’t help it when your ears start to heat up, feeling embarrassed that you’d even brought this up in the first place. “Feel your teeth?” You clarified, and he nods at you. You hesitate and he notices, reaching down to grab your hand. “Come on, I won’t bite,” he teases, and your cheeks darken even further as he pulls your hand up to his lips, parting them so you can run your finger over the aligners gently. For some reason, the close contact sent a small shiver down your spine, not used to being this close to Matt.

You realize after almost a minute of running your finger over his teeth that you’ve zoned out and you pull your hand away from him slowly, bringing it back to your own body. “Weird,” is all you can come up with to fill the void, looking back into his bright blue eyes that stared over at you, waiting for your reaction. “Does it affect when you like… kiss girls?” Matt’s eyes widen slightly at your unexpected question, his own cheeks taking a turn at heating up. “I’ve never really kissed anyone with them in,” he admits, shrugging his shoulders shyly. “So I wouldn’t know.”

“Oh,” you say dumbly, nodding towards him. He mimics your action, feeling a palpable tension settle in his bedroom. He’s got an offer sitting on the tip of his tongue, but he can’t quite force himself to say it, feeling like he might ruin everything you guys have worked so hard to create in the years that you’ve been friends. You turn your head back towards the ceiling, staring up at it as your mind raced along with your heart, wondering what on earth has got you so intrigued about this interaction. There was always an underlying attraction towards Matt, but ever since he started his treatment, you couldn’t help but find the way he looked with his aligners oddly sexy. The way he laughed or smiled, the way he ran his tongue over his top teeth just to get a feel for them, the way he had a slight lisp any time he spoke; it all made you hyper aware of how attractive Matt really was. You’re not given much time to overthink when Matt clears his throat, grabbing your attention again. “You wanna find out?” He asks you, voice full of faux confidence that you could see right through.

You turn back to face him, eyebrows furrowed slightly. “Find what out?” You ask cluelessly.

“You know…” he starts, confidence fading quickly. “How it feels to kiss.”

Oh, you think. That’s what he meant.

You stare at him for a few moments before silently nodding your head, not trusting your voice enough to speak. You genuinely did want to know what it felt like to kiss somebody with invisalign, if it felt any different, but more than that you wanted to know what it felt like to kiss Matt. You’d thought about it more than you care to admit out loud, or even to yourself.

Matt’s initiating the kiss, turning himself on his side to look down at you from where you still lay next to him, eyes staring up at him patiently. “You sure?” He asks quietly, wanting clarification before he crosses the line you both can’t come back from, and once again you shoot him a small nod, and it’s enough for him to lean down and close the distance, lips pressing gently onto yours.

It’s slow and soft the way his mouth moves against yours and the way his hand comes up to rest on your cheek, like he’s afraid of moving too quickly, afraid of shattering the environment. Matt’s heart is hammering in his chest as you kiss, unable to hide his nervousness when your own hand comes up to rest on his neck, pulse racing under your palm, holding him close to you, letting him know to stay exactly where he was.

The kiss was good, amazing even, but it was too tentative and wasn’t giving you what you were looking for, so when Matt’s lips parted for a split second, you took that as your opportunity to slide your tongue between them and press against his, pulling him into you a little bit harder as you both became more desperate, breaths becoming harsher.

His hand slid from your cheek and moved to the bed next to you, using it to hold himself above you as the kiss deepened, the sounds of your lips parting and reattaching and your staggered breathing filling the otherwise quiet room. In a moment of slowed intensity, you let the nagging voice in your head take control, hand coming around Matt’s face to grip at his jaw to hold him in place. Keeping your mouths pressed together, you ran your tongue slowly over his top row of teeth, feeling the dull plastic that he had described, the sensation sending a trail of goosebumps down your arms. You could hear the small, shocked gasp that Matt sucked in as you licked over his teeth, his eyes cracking open to peer down at you once you pulled away, entranced by how pleased you looked.

You opened your own eyes and smiled bashfully back at him, clearing your throat awkwardly. “I don’t… I don’t think I got a good enough feel,” you tell him, gliding your hand back around to the back of his neck, applying a bit of pressure. “No?” Matt asks sweetly with a slight tilt of his head. “Here, maybe this will help.”

His eyes flutter shut again as he dips back down to connect your lips again, rougher this time as you both become more comfortable with each other. Matt only kisses you for a few seconds before he sucks your bottom lip into his mouth, dragging his teeth along it carefully, eliciting a small moan to slip from your throat. He releases your puffy lip and smirks down at you, tucking his face along your jawline as he starts to place small kisses on your skin until he reaches your neck, teeth gently biting at the warm skin. “Matt,” you whine, trying to press up into him more.

His only response is a small hum against you, his mouth kissing further down your neck until he reaches your collarbone, rounded teeth dragging against your skin as he descended. “You wanna know what they feel like, right?” Matt asks, slightly breathless. You nod, tilting your head down to look at him as he grabs the hem of your shirt and shoves it as high as he can, his movements pausing as he stared down at your chest. “Why are you not wearing a bra?”

Your bottom lip pouts out slightly as you watch him stare down at you, his hands moving to slide up your stomach, fingertips pressing into you like he was savoring every inch of skin he could touch. “I wanted to be comfortable,” you tell him, voice whiny. “Fuck,” is all he says before he leans his head back down and wraps his lips around your nipple, sucking harshly so the skin glides between his teeth, his groan sending a vibration through your chest. You’re instantly moaning, hand coming up to rest on the back of his head, your back arching to press your chest into him further.

His mouth felt like velvet around you, tongue working against the hardened nub that was pulled into his mouth, his hand kneading into your breast that wasn’t in his mouth. “Matt,” you whimper again desperately, holding him close while your hips searched for friction from his thigh that he rested between your legs. Matt felt like he was in heaven, face buried in the chest of the woman that he’d craved for so long. He was content just staying like this, sucking on your perfect tits until he died, or until you got sick of him. He could never get sick of this.

“Fuck, your mouth feels so good.” You groaned out. His cock strained against his underwear at your words, feeling lightheaded from the lack of blood rushing to his head. Matt couldn’t believe he was experiencing the honor of having you moan out his name, and he was committed to dragging it out as long as he could.

He pops his lips off of you and drags his tongue over your nipple slowly before he lifts himself up to look down at you. “It’ll feel so much better when I’m eating you out,” he grins, sliding his long, slender fingers down your torso again until they stop at your pants, keeping eye contact with you. You don’t have to be told twice, nodding your head at him to indicate your willingness and he scoots down on the bed and pulls your pants with him, leaving you with your shirt bunched up on your chest and your cute, pink panties covering your already soaked pussy.

“You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to get my hands on you. If I knew all I had to do was wear my invisalign around you I would’ve done it a lot sooner.” Matt’s almost talking to himself while he maneuvers his body between your legs, pushing them apart with his own knees as he settles down, sliding his hands up your thighs greedily. “God, your body is so fucking perfect, wanna worship you so bad. So pretty.”

You’d almost forgotten the origin of this encounter already, having to remind yourself that you were nearly naked in front of your best friend because of his orthodontic treatment, though his words only make you wetter, the mix of his dominance and his praise causing the hair to stand up on your arms. “God, Matt, please don’t be all talk. I need you to make me feel good,” you tell him honestly, pushing yourself up on your elbows to watch as he rubbed and squeezed on your thighs, seemingly entranced by the way your body moved under his touch. It looks like it takes a concerning amount of effort for Matt to pull his eyes away from your core and up to your own, a lazy grin forming on his face. “Okay,” he agrees, shifting his knees down so he can lay below you, spreading your legs farther apart.

One of his hands comes up to push your thong to the side, exposing your drooling center, begging to be devoured by him. “Holy fuck,” Matt groans out, wasting no time as he closed the distance, his eyes fluttering shut as your taste flooded his senses. You immediately dropped back down onto your back as his mouth sucked your clit between his lips enthusiastically, being mindful of how sensitive you were when he pressed forward a little more to allow your skin to come into contact with his covered teeth.

Teeth were never a thing for you before, but watching Matt’s get prettier and prettier and seeing the confidence that came along with his new smile, it did something to you, and that something was the same reason you were grinding your hips up into Matt’s face as he ate you out, tongue running over your clit. “Yes, yes, oh my god,” you babbled loudly, fervently. His pace never faltered, even when he brought his fingers up to your entrance and slipped them inside of you.

He was sloppy with the way that he was eating your pussy, though not in a way that felt unsatisfactory, but in the way that had you unsuspecting of each movement and had your eyes rolling back in your head. Matt’s fingers worked inside you leisurely as his tongue and lips stimulated your swollen clit, bringing you towards your peak faster than anyone had before. “Oh my god, Matt, I’m so close. Please don’t stop,” you beg, hand pressing him down into you as your hips rolled with the movements of his fingers, feeling your thighs start to shake on either side of his head.

Matt hummed against you, ripping a cry from your throat as your orgasm slammed into you, your body trembling with aftershocks as his mouth didn’t let up. “Matt,” you whine, grabbing his forehead and applying a bit of pressure until he pulled off with his own groan of disapproval. He moved his head over to the crease of your thigh, letting his teeth dig into you slightly, the sensation obviously feeling more dull than you’re used to, but you also felt way more into it at the thought of the reason why. He happily sucked a small mark into your skin the best he could with his aligners, pulling away after a few moments to admire it before he turned his attention.

Matt felt like he was kicked in the chest for a second as he laid eyes on you, your red cheeks and tired grin causing his heart to stop momentarily. “I’m, uh.. never taking these out ever again when you’re around, I hope you know that.” He tells you.

You’re laughing at his comment, but you couldn’t help but hope he was telling the truth. “As long as we get to do this again, that’s fine.”

a/n: nice and short! sorry if it’s boring it’s not my favorite thing I e ever written but invisalign matt is my origin story.

taglist

@liiixsturniolos @madelinesturn @ifwdominicfike @sophand4n4 @chris-hallelujah @sophsturns @rafesapprentice @045696 @scorpioosworld @byhrxb @vickytaa @taelovesmattsturniolo @secret-sturniolo @theboredknightcat-blog @slvtf0rchr1s @gabri3la-sturns @delilahsturniolo @starstrucktyrantinfluencer @vanillsstuff @sturnlsstuff @imjusthereforthesturniolosmut @mattsbrat @mattsfavoritestar @dominicfikeenthusiast @certified-sturniolo @mattsside @sofiaaguilaxx @idrk2292 @dylansfavwife @sturnl0ve @sturnioloangelxoxo @sofia-is-a-sturniolo-triplet-fan @milasturniolo @mattsdillion @birkinbratsworld @aria003 @poppingmypussy4chris @annsx03 @ouchywow @pasteldreams @sweetshuga @pip4444chris @chriss-slut @yourebeautifulqueen @watercolorskyy @courta13 @craftycrafter26 @meg4-matt44 @ariestrxsh

[whytheylosttheirminds]

happy birthday, baby (part one: birthday girl)

(boyfriend!rafe x girlfriend!reader two-shot)

summary it's your first birthday as rafe's girlfriend, and he's desperate to show you just how special you are to him...

content fluff! smut! 18+ minors do not interact!

(part two)

-----------------ꪆৎ‎---------------------

“It’s too much, Rafe!”

The pile of presents in front of you is outrageous. Bows and bags and big, meticulously wrapped packages.

“Never too much for my girl,” he stands back, beaming as he watches you take in the display with your mouth agape.

“I don’t even know which one to open first,” you muse.

“Any of ‘em. Just not,” he steps forward and plucks one bag from the pile, “this one. This one’s for last.”

You eye him suspiciously as he sets the bag on the kitchen counter, out of reach. 

“What surprises do you have planned, Cameron?”

“If I told you,” he smiles, stepping behind you and wrapping his arms around your torso, “then they wouldn’t be surprises. Now pick a present or we’re gonna be here all day.”

“Excuse me, I will not be rushed on my birthday,” you say defiantly.

“Not rushing you,” he drops a kiss on your shoulder, “just got a lot of shit planned for ya, I don’t want to waste any time,” he clarifies.

“There’s more?” You turn in his grasp, eyes wide.

He’d already woken you up with breakfast in bed, and an adorably off-key, groggy voiced rendition of ‘Happy Birthday.’ His bedroom was full of flowers and balloons, including two big pink ones displaying your new age. After you ate the fluffiest pancakes you’d ever had in your life, he slipped a heavy diamond necklace around your neck, kissing your shoulders as he clasped it. Giving him a million thank you kisses, you told him you loved your present, and he chuckled, leading you to the kitchen to the mountain of additional presents you’re now ogling.

“So much more. I’ve got a whole day planned for you, so let’s get to it,” he said with a quick tap on your ass, making you giggle.

“Okay, okay! I want…that one,” you point to the largest package in the back of the pile, “‘cause it’s big.”

“Huh, where have I heard that before?” He pretends to think, a smug smirk pulling at the corner of his lips.

You roll your eyes, shoving him back by his shoulder and scoffing, “you’re on another one today, I swear.”

“Just excited to celebrate you,” he grins, placing a quick kiss on your cheek before pulling the biggest present out of the pile.

You sit in one of his dining chairs, opening present after present, each one delighting you more than the last. Flashy and expensive; a new bag, two pairs of shoes that have been on your wishlist forever, jewelry until you’re dripping in diamonds and precious gems. Sweet and sentimental; a printed album of all your instagram posts since the two of you got together almost a year ago, a gold ring engraved with a handwritten message, a crystal picture frame with a shot of the two of you on his boat at sunset. 

You wonder if it’s possible for your heart to actually burst from affection.

When only one present remains, you eye the counter quizzically, waiting for him to bring you the little bag he had set aside. Rafe just makes himself busy picking up the discarded ribbons and wrapping paper, a little blush on his face as he focuses on the chore.

“Rafe…” you try to get his attention.

“Yeah?” He leans down to pick up a bow that had fallen under the table, when he stands, you step in front of him, grabbing the trash from his hands and setting it to the side. 

“I want my last present please,” you smile, hands cupped in front of you expectantly.

He scratches the top of his buzzed head, taking a deep breath, “why don’t we wait? I booked you a spa appointment so you should probably get ready…”

“Rafe,” you cross your arms over your chest, “why are you being all squirmy?”

“I don’t know, I just don’t know if you’ll like it, I don’t want you to think…anything.”

You had no idea what he meant by ‘think anything,’ but this whole you not liking something he took the time to pick out for you business was just nonsense. 

Wrapping your arms around his neck, you stood up on your tiptoes to place a soft, steady kiss on his lips. 

“Well I do know. I’m gonna love it, because you got it for me, and I love you,” you ease his worry.

You had told each other you loved each other for the first time a little over a month ago, but it still feels like fireworks everytime one of you says it. Nothing in life is sweeter than the sound of his quick, reassuring “love ya” before hanging up the phone, or his whispered, emotional “I love you so much,” when he’s buried inside you late at night.

“I love you too,” he grins.

“Good,” you place one more kiss on his lips, “then I would like my last present now, please.”

“Yes ma’am,” he smirks, walking you toward the kitchen, kissing you all the way as he backs you up step by step.

By the time you reach the kitchen island, you’ve almost forgotten about the striped gift bag waiting for you there, distracted by his lips and the cute little smooches they’re making against your mouth with each step.

He reaches back for the bag without pulling away, holding it behind his back as he ducks down for one last peck before swinging it forward and presenting it to you.

“We can take it back if you don’t li-” you silence him with a finger to his lips.

“Shhh, it’s my last present of the day, let me enjoy this,” you request.

He nods solemnly, waiting until you were looking away, too distracted by the tissue paper in the bag to see the smirk growing on his lips as he thought about his actual last present for you. A rush of nerves shoot through him as he pictures the little black velvet pouch sitting in his nightstand drawer. 

Obeying your request, he bites his tongue as you pull out the rest of the tissue paper. When you finally see what’s sitting in the bag, a slow, delighted smile spreads across your face. You don’t pull the gift out, just bite your lip as you blink up at him through your lashes. His cheeks are adorably pink. 

He’s never bought you lingerie before. He’s seen you in plenty of it, though. Hell, he cleared a whole drawer for you like a month after you started dating, telling you to take as much space as you needed as long as he was the only one who got to see you in it. But the thought of him actually going into the store and asking the sales lady for exactly what he wanted to see you in, surely pulling out his black card and telling her the price tag was not an issue, made your belly tighten with lust.

“Ah I see,” you smirk, “it’s a present for me and for you.”

He nods with a lick of his lips, “you gonna try it on for me?”

You lead him to the chair you were sitting in to open presents, guiding him to sit and placing one more kiss on his cheek before excitedly padding to the bedroom to get changed. He watches you go with his tongue pressed into his cheek, readying himself, wondering how the fuck someone like him got lucky enough to be with someone like you.

Rafe had picked out the cutest little set for you. Matching floral bra and panties, sheer and constructed with hardly any fabric at all, a matching garter belt and thigh high sheer stockings. You gasp when you see the price tag, understanding now why the fabric feels so nice and the stitching is so intricate. 

You take your time pulling it on, both to be gentle with the expensive pieces and to tease the man waiting for you in the other room. The thought of him squirming in that chair wondering what the hell was taking so long makes you giggle.

“The fuck are you laughing about in there?” He calls out impatiently from the other room. “You’re killin’ me!” 

You laugh hard at that, head falling back in delight as you clip the last strap of the garter into place. You add a pair of kitten heels to tie it all together and run your fingers through your hair, one quick look in the mirror to appreciate yourself before stepping slowly from the room.

“Sorry to make you wait, baby,” you tilt your head apologetically and step towards him tauntingly. 

Rafe just smiles and looks to the ceiling, shaking his head slowly in disbelief.

“What?” You ask as you approach, hands finding his and bringing them to rest on either side of your waist.

His thumbs trace circles into your skin, “just don’t know how I got so fuckin’ lucky. Must’ve done something right in a past life.”

Your skin goes hot at his words, and the way his eyes are skimming over your body like you’re the eighth wonder of the world.

“Nah, I think you just did a lot of things right in this life,” you pull his arms so he’ll rise to his feet.

Rafe lifts his arm with his hand still holding yours, spinning you with his pointer finger like a ballerina, memorizing every inch of you as you twirl for him.

“No man could possibly be good enough to deserve you, baby,” he responds, his large, rough hands running over your bare hips, guiding you to hop up and wrap your legs around his waist. “I’m just the luckiest guy in the world.”

You kiss him, too overwhelmed by the way he’s looking at you and holding you up to say anything in response. No one has ever made you feel so special, so wanted. He’d kneel down and kiss your feet if you asked him to. But that’s not what you want right now.

“Need you, Rafe,” you mumble against his lips, legs squeezing him tighter, hands splayed on the back of his head like you’re trying to permanently seal his mouth to yours, “please.”

“You don’t gotta beg, angel,” he coos, “I’ll give you anything you want.”

“Cause it’s my birthday?” You tease.

“No. I’ll give you anything you want every day of your fucking life,” he swears, “you deserve the world.”

But you don’t want the world, you just want him.

“Fuck, Rafe,” you sigh, lowering your core over his growing hardness, playfulness gone and replaced by frenzied need.

In response, he shifts to hold you up with one arm, using the other to sweep aggressively at the counter and knock all its contents to the floor chaotically. You love him wild like this, complete disregard for the dishes and various items he’s just sent flying across the kitchen, too drunk on you to even attempt making it to the bedroom. 

He drops you onto the counter, not too hard to hurt, but just hard enough to make your tits bounce and a little “hmph!” to rise from your chest. You’re pulling him to you in seconds, nails clawing at his shoulders and the back of his head as his lips devour yours. He slots his hips between your knees, forcing your legs to fall open for him.

“Gonna make you feel so good, birthday girl,” he promises, chest hovering over you powerfully, lowering you slowly until you’re laying down on the counter, your legs dangling off the edge. 

He kisses down the column of your throat, nipping and nibbling all the way as he hooks his fingers to slip under the straps of the garter belt, pulling until the clasps break away from the top of your stockings with a snap!

You gasp, “you’re gonna break my present!”

“I’ll buy you a new one,” he shakes his head, bent in half to lower his mouth down your body, sucking purple splotches into the sensitive skin of your stomach, claiming you with every mark.

When he’s satisfied with his artwork, he lifts himself up, piercing blue eyes consuming you with an adoration you’ve never experienced before. You writhe a little under his hungry gaze, and his eyes wander to the panties he gifted you, corners of his mouth perking in a grin. His hand snakes up your thigh and he sweeps his thumb over your covered slit without warning, making you gasp and arch off the cold counter.

“Looks like you already made a mess of your present anyway,” his eyes twinkle with mischief as he spreads your wetness through the fabric.

“Can’t help it,” you whine under the pressure, “you always make me so fucking wet.”

He’s desperate to taste you, lowering to his knees and dragging your panties down with him. Gripping your hips, he pulls you to the edge of the counter, closer to his mouth. He nips at the sensitive skin of your inner thighs, the sting outweighed by the pleasure. 

You arch toward him, desperate to feel his mouth on you, but his fingers find you first. He spreads you, groaning a strained ‘fuckkkk’ at the sight. He gathers your slick onto his fingers so slowly, so deliberately, it’s driving you insane. 

Finally, finally, he lowers his mouth and licks, ever so gently, up your center. You’re on fire, the cold marble counter below you doing little to cool your spiked body temperature. 

Between deliberate licks he whispers praises, his tongue and voice taking turns worshiping you.

“Do you know I belong to you?” He confesses, his other hand gripping the edge of the counter so hard it almost cracks. “Do you understand that you fucking own me?”

“You talk so pretty, baby,” you moan, losing your grasp on language as he sends lightning bolts of pleasure shooting through your body, “love that mouth.”

“It’s yours,” he promises, finally lapping at your clit with a pointed tongue, “it’s all yours, everything I’ve got.”

“Just want you!” you cry out when he pulls the sensitive bud into his mouth and sucks hard.

“You have me, ‘m not going anywhere,” he says after releasing your clit with a pop. His middle finger, already soaked from you, dips into your entrance slowly. “You’re my everything, forever.”

Rafe continues to wrap you in soliloquies of praise as his other hand kneads the skin of your stomach reverently, like a potter molding his clay.

It’s these promises that make your head spin, drowning in the tapestry he weaves with his words until all you can think, all you know, is that you love him. When a second finger enters you and his mouth finds the spot he knows so well, everything in the world fades. The only thing that means anything is this man and the way he makes you feel.

His fingers twist and twirl inside you while his mouth works your clit. You’re beside yourself, feeling your release creep closer and closer with each flick of his tongue. You grab the edge of the counter top for purchase, but it’s not enough. Your hands paw at his head, wishing there was something more to ground you. 

You love his buzzcut, you had an appointment in your shared calendar each month for him to dutifully sit on a stool in the bathroom while you redid it with the electric clippers, but in this moment you wish for the first time that he’d grow it out. You tuck the thought away for later.

He loves the way you’re clawing at his scalp, and clenching around his fingers, knowing you’re close like he knows everything about you. He grabs one of your hands, offering his to you so you can squeeze as hard as you need to, loving the pain as he pushes you to the edge.

You cry out his name when you come, nearly breaking the bones in his fingers. He doesn’t stop until the very last wave of ecstasy rolls through you, his body hovering over yours as he soothes you through the cool down.

“You have no idea what you mean to me,” he whispers into your collarbone, following the vulnerable words with a shaky kiss.

“I think I have some idea,” your palm glides over his scalp, where you were just leaving scratches, inspecting to make sure you hadn’t done too much damage. “Because of how much you mean to me.”

He just shakes his head, his buzzed hair tickling your chin.

You both rise from the counter, Rafe straightening your lingerie set and taking in his gift to you one more time. He stands between your legs, fists on the counter as he leans forward on flexed arms.

“How am I supposed to top this?” You wonder aloud, hands smoothing over his shoulders and your head tilting in that adorable way he’s obsessed with.

“What do you mean?” He puzzles.

“When your birthday comes around,” you explain, “you’ve set the bar so high.”

Rafe smiles, but it doesn’t meet his eyes. His gaze wanders from you as he pulls back slightly.

“You don’t have to do anything,” he shakes his head.

“Are you joking? And miss the chance to celebrate you?” 

“We- I don’t really do birthdays,” he says, and before you can pry any further he adds, “plus yours isn’t even close to over yet.”

Rafe lifts you effortlessly from the counter, making you yelp in surprise. You rest your head on his shoulder as he carries you to the bedroom, thinking obsessively about the way he accidentally said ‘we.’

Your heart breaks picturing younger Rafe, no birthday candles to blow out on his big day, no crowd of friends and family singing to him, no one to make him understand how special and worth celebrating he is. 

No, that just wouldn’t do. You start planning the second he falls asleep that night, determined to make his next birthday the best he’s ever had.

-----------------ꪆৎ‎---------------------

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[sweetshuga]

Keep it on ✰ MS

───~𓆩♡𓆪~───

fwb!matt! Your friend (with benefits) bought a new pair of glasses, a sight for sore eyes—and an even sorer aftermath.

Warnings! Smut!, obscene descriptions!, petname (pretty), p in v, unprotected sex (don't do this irl, this is just fiction, protect yourselves hoes<3), friends with benefits, size kink (kinda), dunno what more,

wc. 1.1k

note. English is not my first language! [Prologue]

You and Matt had decided on this weird arrangement after accidentally hooking up at a mutual friend’s party, both having drunk a little too much and zero fucks to give—you stumbled into a spare bedroom and woke up entangled in each other’s arms.

The compatibility was so good that the arrangement seemed logical. No strings attached, just feeling the bliss and having a friend to talk to that you knew wouldn’t judge you; almost too good to be true.

He was addictive.

Today was like any other day; with you knocking on his front door, ready to have the "much–needed" relief. As soon as Matt opened the door, you felt your breath hitch, he looked like a vision, the hair, the stubble, the clothes, the glasses– wait the glasses?

You blinked and stood there entranced, making Matt let out a small chuckle of amusement, "you gon’ stand there all day pretty?" You snapped out of your thoughts at his words, suddenly very nervous and fidgety, "yeah– no, uh... pardon my intrusion," your words came out more like a mumble as you slipped in through the door, your nervousness evident.

You cleared your throat and looked around briefly, "Nick and Chris aren’t home?" You asked, trying to distract yourself.

"Yeah, they were talking about going somewhere today, I’ve been alone all day, it’s a good thing you came, I was getting bored out of my mind," he chuckled as he saw the small fidgeting you were doing with the hem of your shirt, "you nervous or sum’?" Your eyes widened briefly, "whaaat? Me nervous? M’never nervous around you," you downplayed, laughing, but the slight quiver in your voice gave you away.

Matt chuckled again, "right, definitely not nervous, not at all," he said with playful sarcasm.

You couldn’t help a chuckle at his teasing words, even if it was at your expense. "You’re wearing glasses." You stated the obvious. "Yeah, does it look weird?" He asked, grinning while fixing his glasses, "no, not weird," you clarified, "it’s just that I’ve never seen you in glasses before, but I have to say, ’s not a bad look on you," smiling as you gave him a teasing nudge on his arm.

Matt smiled back at you, and took your hand, already leading you to his room. "Well, since my brothers aren’t home, might as well use it to our advantage, no?" You let out a small laugh, "yeah, not like we don’t use any moment of solitude to our advantage," you said as you let yourself practically get dragged into his room.

𓆩♡𓆪

After making out and having a slow sensual foreplay, you had become a needy mess. Your insides craved to be filled by him—the glasses perched on his nose didn’t help your ache, only worsened it. Wrapping your legs around his waist, you pulled him closer, eliciting a hum of approval from Matt. He broke the kiss, leaning forward to get a condom out of the bedside drawer.

"Hold on pretty, lemme put on-" you stopped his hands from ripping the condom, "do it raw today, I wanna feel you." A soft groan left his lips as he threw the condom somewhere on the bed, "you’re gonna kill me someday, woman," he breathed out, lining himself at your entrance, prodding but not pushing inside. You bit the side of your bottom lip, rolling your hips as you tried to push him in yourself.

"Matt... c’mon." You whined in frustration, the ache too much to ignore– or go along with his teasing. "Mm... you want this big dick in you huh? Want me to stretch you— split you open with it?" His voice was strained, letting you know that he was just as affected as you were.

"Please Matt, yeah... Please, I need you so bad... c’mon," you pleaded, your voice laced with desperation and pure need. Your hands trailed down his chest towards his stomach, his muscles tensing under your fingertips as shuddering breaths left his lips. "You’re so pretty when you beg like that," he praised, making you look at him with pleading eyes, silently conveying your need.

"Please, Matt— I need it, I need you," he leaned down, his lips brushing against yours. "I know pretty, I know," he murmured against your lips before claiming it in a searing kiss, slowly pushing his thick length in, stretching you deliciously. A soft moan of pure, unadulterated, relief and pleasure fell from your lips. Matt pulled back until only the tip of his dick was inside before slamming his hips flush against yours, bottoming out as he groaned into the crook of your neck.

The sudden feeling of being filled to the brim made your back arch, sharp moans exited through the "O" shape etched on your lips. Your hands clutched desperately at the bedsheets, trying to ground yourself from the intense pleasure as he pounded into you. He snaked one arm under the arch of your back, holding you tightly as his other hand held your hip—with bruising strength.

The subtle hint of pain caused your pleasure to double.

𓆩♡𓆪

Matt groaned in annoyance as his glasses kept slipping down his nose – due to the sweat-slicked skin – his hand on your hip reached for his glasses but you held his forearm, stopping any further movement. Matt’s pace faltered as he looked down at you, confused, "yeah? What’s up pretty? You okay? Am I being too rough-" You chuckled breathlessly at his concerns, "no, no, don’t worry, you’re not being too rough, I just..." You paused.

"You just?" He repeated, panting softly, slowly rolling his hips against yours. A breathy moan fell from your lips, "well, just keep it on alright... you uh... you look good in it, the glasses I mean." You said, still breathless, mumbling an add on, "delicious even," a slow smirk made its way onto his lips, now understanding why you were acting so flustered and fidgety earlier today.

Matt wiped the sweat that had been making his glasses slide, chuckling as he leaned down to your ear, his lips brushing against the shell of it. "Oh I’m gonna keep it on alright, the whole night even, m’gonna fuck this pretty little pussy so good—ruin you for anyone else," he whispered – a promise – before continuing his pounding, each one making your body rise up the bed.

Your tits bounced with each slam as he held you tightly, not letting you escape the intensity of it all. All you could do was cling to him and scream his name as he took what he wanted—what you wanted. Your nails dug into his back, making him hiss and shut his eyes in slight pain and pleasure, his pace never faltering.

The ecstasy etched on his features, the glasses, the stubble, the hair, the earrings, the chain— a sight for sore eyes indeed– and an even sorer aftermath.

𓆩♡𓆪

wc. 1,146

Isa's notes. Yeah... Another smut? I'm so awkward when it comes to writing something like this 🫠 Also, something longer? Gee, I know, but the topic is too good not to write a longer fic to.

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© sweetshuga