#into knowing that everything does. everything will.

[topicchanger9000]

SCREAMING. CRYING. THROWING UP.

So excited to announce that we've partnered with ‪@webtoon for an adaptation of Dimension 20: Fantasy High!

Coming soon later this year... 🦉🐻

[shotmrmiller]

simon who isn't all that keen on letting anyone in on what he's thinking or feeling, keeps himself guarded at all times but knows how you take your coffee in the morning— two sugar, dash of cream, always hot and he knows that you always need a sweet pastry with it. on your birthday, he respects your wish for no big gifts, no grand celebrations so he leaves a nearly illegible sticky note on your desk, short and to the point, its pale-yellow corner sticking out from under paperwork you owed price weeks ago.

it's incredibly sweet. or rather, it would be, if you knew how he knew these things. you've never discussed any of this with anyone at work, let alone with him.

you only drink the coffee you've brought from home because the sludge they have sitting in the break room is undrinkable, toxic waste, yet even the coffee blend he's gotten right. and then there's the pastry—the flaky, sweet treat you only savor behind closed doors because it's your small, guilty pleasure. (as far as anyone's concerned, pastries aren't your thing.)

and your birthday? you can only hope he read it off your dossier.

[slvttyplum]

“good lovin feel so numb, ride me til i’m bout to cum.”

“fuck, oh fuck, babe… keep bouncing.”

there he was again, choso straining his fucking neck to watch his dick go in and out of you while you kept bouncing steadily.

sweat dripped from his forehead as his hands were on your hips with a soft grip, every so often losing his grip from how sweaty he's become.

his eyes flicked to yours periodically to watch the concentration on your face as you kept going, gripping your hips harder, sending a painful chill throughout your body, almost losing your balance.

choso couldn't help it; you gripped around him nicely, the erotic wet sounds only making him go even crazier. mindlessly bucking his hips, low grunts coming from his chest, drool falling out the side of his mouth, and sweat flying.

muttering to himself while begging you in another breath to go faster, one of his hands slipped up your sides, giving it a rough squeeze.

no matter how hard choso tried to contain himself and be gentle, he just couldn't.

"i'm so sorry, i'm sorry... keep fucking going." grunting those words and slamming into you faster, he wanted to flip you over and slam into you until he was tired, but he liked the way you felt when you were on top—not even just the feeling; he loved everything.

watching how your speed slowed down for a second before speeding back up and watching how you threw your head back in pleasure or even when he rubbed your clit the way your body would jolt.

more, more, more, more, more.

that's all he wanted; even when he got more, more was never enough. even with his hard pink tip twitching with cum leaking out of it, he still found himself moaning and groaning for more stimulation.

his siren-like eyes turned doe-like under the bright light, and his once dry face was dewy; looking at him in this state felt like seeing him for the first time; you didn't know whether to admire how good he looked or fuck him more.

"i need you so fucking bad, just please keep going." his voice in a needy whimper as his thumbs rubbed circles over your soft skin, his chest rising and falling rapidly.

sliding his hands to yours that were placed firmly on his chest and sliding them up to his neck, his eyes still on yours, not daring to break eye contact.

"please." the only word muttered out of his mouth, his eyes glossy and his dick still harder than a rock inside of you leaking, more saliva peeking out the corners of his mouth slowly dripping.

your speed only got faster; his pleading was desperate. it was only right for you to unravel the last knot that formed in your lower stomach.

the pit in your stomach quickly unraveling as your pace got sloppier, your hands on his neck tightening and your head thrown back in pleasure, a silent moan escaping his lips.

his eyes squeeze shut, as he feels you squeeze around him, his whole body unraveling, letting out a sigh of relief as he slowly opens his eyes, looking at you with a weak smile.

his smile tells a hundred words.

[knightoflodis]

I really want my main characters to basically be side characters for your typical world saving heroes. Like. You follow my characters as they are just doing their normal stuff. They do go on adventures but the adventures are a little more contained and not about world ending stuff. And then every now and then they team up with a trio of young “heroes” going on the normal hero’s quest to stop some big bad from conquering/destroying the world. But the main characters miss most of the big crazy fights and just help out sometimes.

normalise giving minor background characters insane, world-changing side quests that no one in the main story ever notices.

[galaxythreads]

i'm thinking about jason vs white streak and a helmet that doesn't cover his entire face, and the absolute missed comedy of the entirety of crime alley thinking that they are getting beaten up by a very old man.

Average crime alley guy: yeah and then he stopped wearing the full face cover and his hair is like white underneath it's so weird--

other guy: wait. like. white? Like. LIke old person white?

Average crime alley guy: oh my god. oh my goooood. he uses a voice modulator to hide that he's approximately 98 years old. mr hood sir do you need help crossing the street?

Jason, 19: ?????????????

jason then realizes the convenience of being able to take off the mask and no one realize it's him because they're looking for someone older than alfred and just goes along with it and tells increasingly made up stories about being young in the 40s while shooting peoples kneecaps out.

[crazy-lazy-elder-sims]

As someone who knows alot about piracy please Pirate the sims 1 and 2 because the new rerelease has denuvo tacked onto it and that mf will kill your computers and drain your wifi

let me explain what denuvo is

in short its "anti cheat" code thats only purpose is to complicate the game code so badly that it makes it near impossible for pirates to reverse engineere the game and pirate it, ofc this is not true and Pirates can crack many versions of denuvo it just takes time

so essentially it does nothing but ruin your computer

how?

This extra slop code is integrated into the code of the game so it runs every single time you launch the game and on top of the code slop that games are made of that make your compute heat up and use up ram denuvo code is running ON TOP, using more ram AND internet, forcing offline games to go fully online When the games previously didnt need an internet connection at all.

It has been proven so many times that it cause issues from longer load times to frame rate drops, denuvo's code slows everything down and almost always performance improves by like 50% after denuvo is removed by developers.

There are games that were completely unplayable like they wouldn't even launch because of denuvo, and the company claims this is not their fault and that people should upgrade their computers so this wont happen.. yeah right

Essentially with the reveal that EA didn't fix anything about the sims 1 and 2 and just released them as is but with denuvo attached they literally sold you code to keep you Connected to their servers and force you to not be able to share anything with anyone and forcing the games to preform 50 times worse than their 25 year old selves...

So please dont buy a program that will kill your computers and ruin your games and allow EA to be permanently Connected on your computer thats posing as the sims 1 and 2!!!!

Please please just pirate these 2 games!

Also even though sims 4 is free also Pirate that shit its not worth paying over 1k dollars in dlcs when hslf od them do not work

Update the denuvo tag on steam was a mistake on EAs part it has been confirmed that they dont have it (proof in the REBLOGS) my point still stands though :

PIRATE EA GAMES PEOPLE its literally the better choice for your poor computers

[beemovieerotica]

something so interesting about this latest episode paired with ben/adam's podcast and tramell tillman's (milchick's) commentary is that tramell said one of the first questions he asked about his character, in the context of this surreal setting that's not-quite-here in the world, was "Does Milchick know that he's black?"

Because shows / stories in this vein (and it's hard to even describe severance as existing alongside ANY other media because of its singularity) - stories about an idealized utopia-that-actually-dystopia and technological transhumanism HAVE to confront the historical reality of eugenics & racism as embedded in notions of the "ideal society." they fundamentally cannot be race-blind without missing out on what I think is an essential social commentary.

and severance has been very carefully building up to this moment and, I anticipate, Milchick defecting and going rogue down the line - because he's been CARRYING the entire department, dealing with the repercussions of an understaffed workplace and singlehandedly keeping everything from falling apart, and as a reward.......he gets pictures of a founding father in blackface. So he can see himself reflected in "greatness."

and so now we understand that, okay, this is a company with an ostensibly "welcoming" diversity philosophy in that they will hire you, but they are so severely detached from humanity and cannot comprehend how you exist in your own body and navigate the world as a person of color. Because this is a White company, this is a company whose entire MO is creating eternal-servants out of existing free people, who never see the fruits of their labor, whose entire life is constructed to profit those who actually get to walk away and raise a family. Absolutely superb.

[corinthianism]

SOMETHIN' STUPID || VIKTOR

pairing: viktor (arcane)/fem!reader additional tags: viktor's pov, viktor is a certified yearner, maybe ooc, unrequited love that's actually requited, no physical descriptions for reader other than having dainty fingers and being shorter than viktor, hopefully correct use of czech pet names, barely proofread synopsis: the ever-brilliant viktor finds himself drowning in feelings for his colleague, so what does he do? bury them, of course.... until he learns that love is not something you can just ignore.

author's note: hello everyone! it's been a long, long while since i've written anything so i thought i would try and see if the ol' writing machine (aka my brain) still works lol. this is more of a blurb than anything so please go easy on me. also trying out something new by writing in present tense (lmk if it flows well!) viktor might be a little ooc but i'm still trying to fully understand him. hopefully my characterization of him in future fics (if any) will be more faithful to the viktor you're all familiar with. anyways, enjoy 2k words of viktor yearning like CRAZY 🫶🏼

Viktor doesn’t know how much more of this he can take. How many more times would your eyes meet from across the room at one of those parties he never really wanted to attend in the first place? How many more times would your fingers brush in the early morning, when he accepts the steaming sweetmilk that you so kindly got for him? How many more times would your laughter intermingle softly late into the night, when exhaustion took over and your writing started to look more like chicken scratch rather than letters?

He might just go insane.

How was it possible to want someone this much? Maybe he’s experienced something like this before, in tiny amounts, for people he hasn’t thought about in years. Deep down, he knows that even if he added all of those fleeting romances together, it would still only be a fraction of what he feels now. For you.

He can’t pinpoint that exact moment in time when everything changed. There were definitely a few of those moments that stood out more than others, but none of those instances were the catalyst for whatever this is. But they certainly don’t help his case.

A few words of encouragement.

A book recommendation.

A smile— so soft, so intimate, he briefly allows himself to believe that it was meant just for him. Something precious for him to keep, to be his and his alone.

In the dim light of the lab, he finds you asleep on your desk. The humming glow of the hex crystals leaves you blanketed in a gentle blue. He’s heard tales of this before, from when he bothered to listen to such things. It would happen just like this, they said: his heart would beat so fast, it threatened to leave his chest entirely. His skin would burn with something unmistakable, a feeling that left one in a state of simultaneous confusion and clarity.

He feels it all now and he finds it polarizing. It’s too much and not enough. He chases and runs away from it at the same time. A part of him wants it to stop, to go away and leave him forever for the sake of ending this game he’s painfully losing… but a greater part of him hopes that it will grow and grow to the point where maybe you’ll notice and do something about it. His palms get a little sweaty just thinking about making the first move. Symptoms of a lovesick fool.

The soft sound of your breathing quiets the pounding of his heart, prevents the wretched feelings from overflowing and spilling everywhere. Even if it was just for tonight. Tonight, he keeps his lips sealed, fights to keep himself from reaching for you. It would be unbecoming of him.

His eyes land on you again, observing how your head rested on your arms. Understanding hits him then, why you’re so bothered by seeing him stay at the lab so late that he ends up falling asleep. That position couldn’t have been comfortable. Of course, he knew that from experience, but it’s your comfort he’s thinking about right now. He wonders if this is what you felt whenever you woke him up and implored him to go home.

Surely not.

No, he can’t wrap his head around you possibly viewing that act the same way he does. Not when he wants to bottle this moment, wants to capture the preciousness of seeing you like this. It just can’t be the same.

So can you really blame him if when he finally rests a hand on your shoulder to wake you gently, he lets it linger there for just a little longer? An infinitesimal piece of time that he claims for himself. He never thought himself to be the sentimental type, but he cherishes it all: he cherishes the way you blink slowly as you returned to the waking world, and your tired murmur of his name that makes his chest tighten.

It’s just a wisp of a moment, never really tangible enough for him to hold in his hands, but he cherishes it all the same. It’s burned in his memory, in his very being, the same way everything else about you is. Every piece of you that you so generously gifted him.

“You should go home, darling.”

The word slips past his lips before he could even think about it. But he allows himself this one indulgence. He can’t help it. He’s always been a bit greedy.

“What time is it?” you ask.

“Far too late for you to be here,” he answers.

You huff out a breath of a laugh, “That’s rich coming from you.”

He finds himself smiling. How does someone manage to be so endlessly endearing without even trying?

It takes an embarrassing amount of effort for him to pull back his hand from your shoulder. Had you been more awake and had the room been brighter, he might’ve schooled his expression into something more neutral. Something to hide the unbridled adoration in his eyes. He doesn’t do that now. With the shield of darkness to protect him, he lets the mask come off. He lets his affection for you wash over him in waves. It would’ve been liberating, if it wasn’t for the tiny detail that that affection was unrequited.

Still, he says your name with utmost care. “You must go home and rest.”

To his surprise, you listen. You mumble a tired "okay” and gather your belongings, slipping on your coat. “You should go home, too, Vik.”

“I will. Soon. I just need to finish a few things.”

Your face twists into a frown, “No, you’ll do that tomorrow.” Before he can interject, you speak up again, “Just… come with me? It’s late and I don’t want to walk home alone.”

His brain refuses to reconcile with what his eyes see: the trepidation written all over your features, the way you clutch the lapel of your coat just a little tighter. He knows it’s a trap, you just want to get him out of the lab but how could he possibly reject the promise of a few more minutes with you? The chance to pretend, even if it’s just for those precious few minutes, that he was taking you home as someone more than a colleague? More than a friend? Only a fool would say no to you. Or perhaps he was a fool either way. He really must be going insane.

He says yes almost instantly.

It’s cold in Piltover tonight. It makes his bad leg ache more than it already does, and so his strides are a bit more careful. He doesn’t say anything about how you also slow down to match his pace but he appreciates your considerate gesture nonetheless.

The moon hangs in the sky big and bright, making everything around you seem softer. It’s picturesque. Almost romantic. He tries his best not to entertain that thought for much longer. Instead, he focuses on what you say to him so he could ignore the traitorous thoughts his mind conjures up and the way his knees were protesting because of the cold.

Conversation with you is easy— terrifyingly so. It was one of the first things he noticed about you when you first met.

Early on in the process of finding sponsors and securing funding, him and Jayce quickly realized that they needed help. Yes, Jayce is a friend of the Kiramman family. Yes, Viktor is Heimerdinger’s protégé, but they’re academics. At the end of the day, Jayce’s warm personality could only do so much when he was still greatly inexperienced with navigating these more political spaces and for all of his experience and perceptiveness, Viktor knows he’s no good at sweet-talking sponsors, either.

Enter, you.

Caitlyn Kiramman was the one to recommend you, her former tutor. Jayce was quick to back her up, remembering that you were also Academy alumni; a particularly strategic businesswoman. Viktor was hesitant at first, knowing that a third party could complicate things. Hextech was born out of the dream to help people. He worried that bringing business and politics (even though he knew it was necessary) into the mix would warp Hextech into something it wasn’t. Jayce convinced him to take a gamble, and it seemed that the potential of Hextech was enough to bring you back to Piltover from your travels across Runeterra.

It took him a while to warm up to you. You weren’t nobility, but most definitely well-off. Even more so after your years as a business consultant to organizations all over the continent. He respected you, sure, but Viktor had a hard time trusting someone who was so… privileged. How could you possibly understand how important it was that Hextech remained a beacon of hope for the less fortunate? Perhaps it was naive of him to think that way, as much as he hated to admit it.

But true to your reputation, you delivered exactly what they needed. You bridged the gap between Viktor and Jayce’s hopes for Hextech and the support they needed from sponsors, protecting them and their inventions from being taken advantage of.

Suffice to say, you earned his admiration.

Never in a million years would Viktor imagine that you would captivate his entire being, too.

It was daunting. Scary, really. Especially now that he’s beginning to understand the full extent of his affections. Years and years of burying that softness from his youth deep beneath the armor of his intellect— all that hard work diminished by a pretty girl. Gods, he really is just a man. Not even that. With you, he feels like a highschooler with a crush. It’s painful. Downright humiliating. But he wouldn’t trade it for anything. Not when you link your arm around his, laughing at something he said. Was he really that funny? Probably not. He’s just happy to make you laugh.

“You don’t have to be nice about it. Salo is a grade-A asshole,” you grinned. “We both know it. If I have to spend another dinner with him present I might actually stab a fork in my eyes.”

He smiles, “Ah, but that wouldn’t save you from his incessant chatter.”

“I’ll stab the fork into my ears too."

“I might just follow after you,” he hums, “you’ll have to check if it works first, though.”

Your friendship blossomed when your visits to the lab became less for work and more for leisure. You wanted to visit, wanted to learn more about what he and Jayce were working on and why. Everything after that was just dominoes. You, with all your fiery passion and sharp wit, have become a permanent fixture in his life and now? He could hardly imagine life without you in it. You're one of his dearest friends and, much to his dismay, that makes his current predicament even more challenging than it already is.

Before he knew it, the two of you were standing in front of your apartment building— one of the most luxurious in Piltover. He could only imagine how much it cost, though he knew for certain that your penthouse probably barely made a dent in your wealth. He’s gotten somewhat used to your differing lifestyles, but he’s never completely able to not marvel at it. A gust of wind kissed his skin once more as he turned to look at you.

“This is me,” you say, gloved hands in your pocket and your lovely, lovely face framed by your hair and ruby red scarf. He recognizes it as the gift he gave you a year ago now. A spur-of-the-moment purchase on one of the rare occasions he was actually outside Academy grounds. He remembers thinking that the color would look nice on you. He was right. He finds himself holding onto the seconds before he has to go. “Thank you for walking me home, Viktor.”

“Of course,” he nods but the calmness of his voice don’t match the way his eyes bore into yours. “It’s only proper.”

“Proper?”

“Yes. Proper. I am a gentleman, after all.”

His accent comes out thicker, emphasizing the words more than he means to.

“I didn’t take you for someone who cared much about propriety,” you tease.

“Is it because I’m from the undercity?” he deadpans and he relishes in the look of horror on your face that replaces your grin.

“What? No!” you exclaim, smacking his arm when you realize he’s just joking. “You. Are. Impossible.”

A laugh bubbles out of his chest, “Oh, that’s cruel. You would hit a defenseless man? How heartless.”

“Shut up. That cane of yours is a weapon of war. Don’t think I haven’t seen you smack Jayce with it.”

“If I hit him with it, he probably deserved it.”

“Poor Jayce,” you laugh as well. “Remind me not to get on your bad side.”

Viktor smiles.

“I do not think you could even if you tried, lásko."

He freezes and so do you. The laughter—the music—that you shared for the briefest of moments was thoroughly snuffed out, leaving you both in a silence that threatens to swallow him whole. He didn’t mean to do that. He didn’t mean to speak so gently, but there is not a part of Viktor that could withhold this sincerity from you. Specks of the truth, of the confession he’s barely managed to wrangle into submission and lock away somewhere dark and unreachable.

He pulls back on instinct. He’s shown too much, said too much. You don’t move. He is petrified.

Your eyes widen and he sees his reflection in them, staring back at him. This is it, he thinks. He’s crossed the line and he’ll have to deal with the crushing blow of your rejection.

You manage to compose yourself and what you say next is… well, unexpected. Your tone is light, clearing the air and allowing him to breathe again.

“Do you say that to every woman or am I a special case? I’d hate to be part of a roster.”

He’s taken aback, but he feels a weight lifted off his shoulders. You are a miracle in his eyes. Washing away his worries with a kind smile and a few choice words. He laughs again and this time, he doesn’t stop himself from speaking the truth. It’s now or never.

“Surely you know by now that you are singular,” he whispers, his accent a pleasant drawl in your ears. He takes a step forward. It is gravity that pulls him in, not the Earth’s, but yours. A force that he can’t help but be drawn to. Not that he would ever dare to resist it now that his fear has shrunk down to something a little less debilitating.

His face is inches from yours. You don’t move. He gets a little braver.

“I do not appreciate your implication that I would pay attention to anyone else,” his voice is low, honest. “As if anyone could compare to you. As if you don’t hold my very being in the palm of your hand. Miláčku, I adore you. Don’t you know that?”

There is a hint of pleading in his tone, begging you to understand the full scope of his feelings from those few words so that he wouldn’t unravel before you, a bundle of nerves and petals the same shade as your scarf.

“Say something. Please,” his fear rears its ugly head once more. “Say the word and we’ll pretend this never happened. I will remain your colleague and nothing more. A friend, if you would allow it.”

“What if I don’t want that?” you ask, your own voice a little shaky with uncertainty. Maybe it was also fear. That, he’s not quite sure.

Viktor doesn’t fully trust what he’s hearing, thinks it to be a figment of his deluded imagination, but his heart is screaming at him now to push forward.

“What is it you want, lásko? Tell me and it shall be yours.”

You're almost breathless when you finally respond, “You. I want you."

The world stills. Time itself screeches to a halt. There is only you and him, together in this moment that he knows will be woven into the threads of his soul. He has never known euphoria quite like this. He can’t name it yet, doesn’t know if this is love. He can only hope that it will be.

When he looks into your eyes again, he does not see his own terrified reflection. He just sees you. And the sheer intensity of your gaze that rivals his own. Have you always looked at him that way? Was he just too blind to see it?

“Do you mean that?” he finds himself asking. He has to— has to make sure that this is real.

You smile again, dainty fingers intertwining with his. It is a gentle smile, a hopeful smile that answers his question before you even open your mouth.

“I do,” your voice is so gentle and yet it squeezes his heart. “I’m yours, Viktor, if you’ll have me.”

He brings your knuckles to his lips, places a reverent kiss on them like you’ve given him the world. In a way, that’s exactly what you did. Maybe his lips were always meant to be on your skin, worshipping you like the goddess you are. It feels too natural for it to mean anything else.

And for the first time in a long time, he allows himself to hope.

“I would love nothing more.”

[teyrnacousland]

I keep thinking about the tragedy of not just the Dellamortes we know and love, but all the others too. Caterina's five children and the six other grandchildren. I think it's implied that Lucanis' parents were killed first, right? House Velardo sent Lucanis' mother's ring back to Caterina to demand she surrender, and when she didn't they started the war that took the rest of Caterina's children too. Did Caterina's children support her risking their lives, and their own children's lives, in her bid for power? Did they have to watch their siblings fall off one by one, with those remaining mourning each sibling while knowing the message of this murder was that they, and their families, could be next? Or did Caterina (and Illario and Lucanis) just wake up one day as the only survivors? Did any of her children ever ask her to stop, or try to run away? Where were Illario and Lucanis when their families died? How did they end up as the only two survivors? How old were they? Old enough to understand what was happening, or not? Which is worse? There are no good answers to any of these questions and I am now miserable.

[keferon]

Very curious about your Spellbound AU but particularly mimic Jazz.

We know he automatically mimics the voices of people’s loved ones, but does he have any other mimicry abilities like changing his appearance or throwing his voice?

He can change his appearance too yes>:D

The catch is - he can’t do that to the point where he could be considered a full copy. He can change yes, but there will always be this uncanny feeling that something isn’t quite right. He can change himself enough for you to confuse him with other bot in the dark. You know how some animals mimic other animals? Like the caterpillar that looks like a snake but only at the first glance? And the longer you look the more obvious the difference gets? Like that.

He would also sound just like someone you love but he won’t be able to magically know the right words or intonations. So you would hear your friend or lover but there will be something wrong with the way they talk. This is why most of the mimics use cry for help to lure their prey. You don’t have time to analyse everything when you’re scared of losing your loved one.

Also lemme just. Lemme just put this here for a second. This sketch isn’t properly colored but yk. So you can see the aesthetic 🙃

[unpeeled-human]

How does one achieve this "twitter meme that stays around for a month and then people forget about it but the simplistic style makes it very easily to modify to create new jokes and/or versions which is why it becomes pretty popular for the time being" art style?

i have an . issue with explaining my creative processes, because at this point its such muscle memory/stuff i've learnt from osmosis/tutorial videos that it's just a mire of little tips and art-styles ive absorbed over the years .so i will do my best to explain

the best thing anyone can do for their art is to practice conceptualizing objects in a 3d space. even if its the simplest doodle , if you know what's gonna be "drawn over" everything else, it gets really easy to lay stuff out.

other than that. you really just have to let go . you have to let that hand look wonky. let those eyes be crossed. let that face be droopy and sillly. its about capturing the FEELING of the text not the physicality of the situation. then you can apply any feeling

[rafescvntyclubgf]

𝓕𝓮𝓫𝓻𝓾𝓻𝓪𝓯𝓮𝔂

​🇹​​🇭​​🇪​ ​🇵​​🇪​​🇳​​🇦​​🇹​​🇱​​🇾​ ​🇧​​🇴​​🇽​

𝙻𝚘𝚘𝚜𝚎𝚕𝚢 𝙸𝚗𝚜𝚙𝚒𝚛𝚎𝚍 𝚋𝚢 𝙲𝚑𝚊𝚕𝚕𝚎𝚗𝚐𝚎𝚛𝚜

𝐇𝐨𝐜𝐤𝐞𝐲!𝐑𝐚𝐟𝐞 𝐱 𝐇𝐨𝐜𝐤𝐞𝐲!𝐉𝐉 𝐱 𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

+18 𝓜𝓲𝓷𝓸𝓻 𝓓𝓝𝓘

𝙵𝚛𝚒𝚎𝚗𝚍𝚜 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚝𝚎𝚊𝚖𝚖𝚊𝚝𝚎𝚜 𝚁𝚊𝚏𝚎 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝙹𝙹 𝚋𝚎𝚌𝚘𝚖𝚎 𝚎𝚗𝚝𝚛𝚊𝚗𝚌𝚎𝚍 𝚋𝚢 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚜𝚊𝚖𝚎 𝚏𝚒𝚐𝚞𝚛𝚎 𝚜𝚔𝚊𝚝𝚎𝚛, 𝚜𝚙𝚊𝚛𝚔𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚊 𝚑𝚎𝚊𝚝𝚎𝚍 𝚌𝚘𝚖𝚙𝚎𝚝𝚒𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚜𝚙𝚒𝚛𝚊𝚕𝚜 𝚘𝚞𝚝 𝚘𝚏 𝚌𝚘𝚗𝚝𝚛𝚘𝚕.

cw | smut, swearing, pet names, jealousy, possessiveness, unprotected p in v, choking, fingering, squirting, fighting, mentions of blood, oral (male receiving simultaneously), threesome (<- rafe and jj don't kiss - sorry 💋), anal, spanking shower sex, name-calling

𝓼𝓹𝓸𝓲𝓵𝓮𝓻: 𝓽𝓱𝓲𝓼 𝓲𝓼 𝓯𝓮𝓫𝓾𝓻𝓪𝓯𝓮𝔂 𝓼𝓸 𝓲𝓽 𝓲𝓼 𝓶𝓸𝓻𝓮 𝓡𝓪𝓯𝓮-𝓬𝓮𝓷𝓽𝓮𝓻𝓮𝓭 💕🩷

𝕸𝖆𝖘𝖙𝖊𝖗𝖑𝖎𝖘𝖙

The air at the rink was crisp, carrying the faint scent of ice and sweat. Rafe stands on the opposite side of the boards, his helmet hanging loose from the blade of his hockey stick. His eyes stay locked on the beautiful figure gliding effortlessly across the rink.

You move gracefully, shifting like water, making everything else disappear. You leap and bend, turning like a top—fiercely athletic, leaving him in awe.

He couldn’t look away, not even if he wanted to.

The sound of your blades carve into the ice, rhythmically, unlike his own. It wasn’t just your skill that had him in a daze. It was your sheer focus, the ease with which you did the effortful, effortlessly. It was how you smiled when you landed a jump he couldn’t even begin to compute.

“Holy shit…”

“I know, right?” Rafe responds, JJ’s words hitting him like a slap. He blinks his blue eyes a few times, his head snapping to the left. His teammate stands next to him, his chin resting lazily on the butt of his stick, staring at the same figure skater with addled eyes. Rafe exhales, realizing he’s been holding his breath. He drags his hand through his hair, taking a deep breath. “Fuck, man. She’s somethin’ else, huh?”

JJ doesn’t respond, too consumed with watching you. Your body turns into a triple toe loop in the air, executing it flawlessly. Rafe looks back at you, feeling a strange mix of admiration and the sting of something else as he catches onto JJ’s mutual desire for you.

“No way she goes here–” JJ mumbles dreamily.

“Nah, I haven’t seen her around campus,” Rafe replies, his voice a little tighter now. He follows your movements on the ice, eyes scanning the sheet, knowing you’d be stepping off any second—his pulse quickens, hands clammy inside his gloves.

The door swings open beside them; a few of their teammates spill onto the ice before you can even get off. They lose you in the crowd, looking around big bodies as they move toward the door themselves.

When the boys fan out of the ice, the skater is gone. Rafe’s eyes scan the arena, catching JJ's search as well, making him more frantic. “Who are you lookin’ for, bud?” Rafe snips, making JJ scoff in disgust.

“Nobody,” JJ answers, letting his lips curl in a smirk.

“You’re such a bitch, dude,” Rafe cracks disgustedly, shoving JJ against the boards.

“I’m a bitch…” He points his gloved hand at his chest, cocking an eyebrow at Rafe. “Comin’ from you, that means shit,” Maybank laughs as he shakes his head.

“The fuck does that mean?” He asks as he slashes him tauntingly with his stick, making JJ throw a punch, nailing Rafe’s arm.

“You know exactly what that means–” JJ's voice trails off as he watches you round the arch of the rink, walking toward the two of them, skimming through your phone. You look up, smiling at the two of them.

Rafe opens his mouth to speak, but the words get lost somewhere between his brain and tongue. JJ steps forward, tripping slightly on his own skate blade, muttering a rushed, “Uh, hey,” before Rafe can get a word in.

“Hi,” you giggle and tilt your head slightly in amusement, looking up at the two men in passing.

Rafe clears his throat, forcing himself to recover, catching your attention. You look over your shoulder, meeting his eyes again. “That was… Umm. What you were doing out there was amazing,” he praises.

“Yeah, seriously,” JJ adds a little louder, not to be outdone. “Olympic level, shit. You’re probably the best skater I’ve ever seen.”

“Yeah,” Rafe’s eyes narrow on JJ before returning to you. “I couldn’t do that if I tried.”

Your cheeks warm up at their sweet words. You turn toward them, taking a step closer, making them both blush. “Thank you–” You drag out the word, hoping they’ll fill in the blank with their names.

The names come out in a jumbled mess as the two boys speak over the top of each other. JJ slaps Rafe in the gut with his glove annoyedly, his eyes still locked on yours.

“Rafe Cameron,” Rafe repeats himself with a smile.

“I’m JJ,” he jumps in. “JJ Maybank. And you are?”

You introduce yourself, the sound of your name leaving your lips seemingly making the burly boys swoon. Rafe’s pulse quickens as he watches you smile up at his teammate. “Do you skate here often?” Rafe asks.

“No,” you shake your head and smile, “I go to Harvard… They didn’t have any ice time–”

“Harvard?” JJ questions.

“Mhmm… Just borrowing your ice—”

“You busy tomorrow, sweetheart,” Rafe cuts in, catching you off guard. JJ’s lips tightened, brows furrowing as he looked over at his teammate, frustrated with the forwardness he wished he had at that moment. “We have a game if you want to come. I can put some tickets aside for you.”

“Your game?”

“Yeah,” they both say simultaneously, causing them both to roll their eyes in frustration with each other.

“It’d be awesome to have you there,” JJ smiles as he turns back on the charm.

Their coach's whistle rips through the area, tenseing them both. “Cameron; Maybank. Ice, now!”

“I’ll think about it,” you smile as you adjust your bag on your shoulder, still smitten despite their awkward delivery. You walk away from the two, your figure skating skirt teasing them with each step. The two boys stand back in a daze, watching you until you fall out of sight.

⊹ 💌 ⁺ ˳ ✿ . ♥️ ࿐ 𝒷𝒶𝒸𝓀 𝒶𝓉 𝓉𝒽𝑒 ��𝓅𝒶𝓇𝓉𝓂𝑒𝓃𝓉

“So,” JJ asks, breaking the silence as he tosses a tennis ball lazily, catching it in his hand as he feigns nonchalance. “What’s the move here?”

Rafe flicks his wrist, stickhandling the ball on the carpet as he does the same. Rafe chuckles and shakes his head before looking over at JJ. “You mean my move, yeah?”

JJ snorts in annoyance. “Didn’t say that. Fix your fuckin’ ears, bud.”

“Why is this complicated, huh? I walked out of the locker room first. I saw her first–”

“By a second,” JJ mumbles.

“And?” Rafe asks as his annoyance builds, his stick blade snapping against the puck a little harder.

“Calm the fuck down, Cameron,” JJ taunts as he throws the tennis ball across the room, whizzing by Rafe’s head, making him flinch before hitting the wall, bouncing back to him.

The boys fall silent, focusing on their distractions in hand, trying to mind-read what the other is thinking.

Rafe drops his stick, plopping down on the couch across from JJ when he sees him take out his phone, doing the same himself— he watches as JJ scrolls aimlessly, with a suspiciously focused expression.

Rafe studies your feed–a mix of professional skating shots, pictures at your university, and sexy shots with your friends from your nights out in Boston. He couldn’t stop— each new photo made you seem perfect.

“You’re stalkin’ her profile, you dog,” JJ mumbles, his eyes still locked on his phone.

“Nah…”

“Nah…” JJ mimics Rafe’s tone, his eyes shooting to him and then back to his phone. “Don’t even try to lie. You got that stupid fuckin’ little look on your face.”

“Fine. Maybe. But you can’t tell me you’re not doin’ the exact same thing.”

JJ shrugs, challenging Rafe with his glare. “At least I own it.”

They sit in silence for another moment, the tension building between them until one breaks again. “She didn’t accept my friend request…” Rafe mutters, his voice just above a whisper.

“Same.”

“Maybe she doesn’t know it’s me–”

JJ cackles and grabs the bill of his hat, pulling it over his face in exhaustion with Rafe. “How many Rafes do you know, man?” JJ sneers before letting out a sleepy yawn. “Stupid fucking bitch ass kook ass name,” JJ grumbles just above a whisper.

“You good?” Rafe laughs.

“Never better, Rafe.”

Rafe rolls his eyes in annoyance, continuing to flip through your account. “We don’t even know if she’s comin’...”

“True… You DM her?”

“No,” Rafe says firmly, shooting JJ a side-eye. “Did you?”

“Nope,” JJ’s reply comes out quick and unreadable.

“You’re lyin’,” Rafe scoffs.

“You’re projecting.”

“Big word for you, Maybank,” Rafe chuckles cruelly.

And the truth is, they’re both dying to text you. They knew it was risky—that it would come off as desperate at the very least… as if they weren’t.

Rafe taps his thumbs against the edges of his phone, nerves rising. Fuck it, he thinks as he opens Messenger anyways, shooting his shot.

Rafe: hey its rafe. Just wanted to say it was really nice meeting you earlier. I’m just wondering if you give lessons? Askin for a friend.

He hits send before he can think about it anymore, throwing his head back in instant regret, wishing he would have said something else.

Across the room, JJ’s doing the same thing.

Hey, it’s JJ. I hope you’re havin a great night. I don’t think we mentioned it but the game starts at 8 tomorrow if you're still thinking about it. Hope you can make it

Both boys sit back in their respective spots, trying to act casual. “So,” JJ hums after a moment, turning his head to watch TV, “what are you workin’ on over there?”

Rafe throws his hand behind his head, lounging a little more into the couch. “Doin’ the discussion board for English–”

“Fuckkk,” JJ groans as he picks up his phone, doing the same. ‘Same’, meaning triple-checking to see if you responded to his message or not.

His eyes widened on the screen as he sees the announcement for one new message.

⊹ 💌 ⁺ ˳ ✿ . ♥️ ࿐ 𝓀𝑒𝓁𝓁𝑒𝓎 𝓇𝒾𝓃𝓀

The buzz of the game is electric–a sea of maroon and gold–all packed in the bleachers. The student section’s alive with fans, but Rafe only has eyes for one person. You were there, just like you said you’d be, casually dressed in a sweater and jeans, and he swears he’s never seen anyone more beautiful.

Rafe skates onto the ice for warm-ups, forcing himself to focus, but it’s useless. His eyes drift from the game to you. You smile at him, making his heart skip a beat.

“Goddamn, dude,” JJ snaps as the boys nearly collide, his tone teasing but laced with venom nonetheless. “Watch where you're goin’, huh?”

“Please…” Rafe huffs.

“Woah… Look who’s here,” JJ smiles, pointing at her playfully like it was some kind of personal victory.

Rafe’s grip on his stick tightens. He glances toward you again, catching the way you giggle and smile at your friend, hoping you’re saying something about him.

When Rafe turns back to JJ, he sees the same thing mirrored in his teammate’s face. The boys stand there for a moment, the sounds of pucks hitting the boards and teammates shouting fades into the background.

“We’ve got a game to play, Maybank. Focus on that, yeah?”

“Sure, Cameron. You first, huh?” JJ chirps as he passes the puck to Rafe a little harder than usual.

Rafe glares at him, but their coach’s whistle slices through the air before he can retort.

They skate to their positions, consciously trying not to look at you. The first puck drops, both boys know one thing: the competition on the ice isn't the only battle tonight.

The situation took its toll on both; Rafe's focus was broken each time he caught a glimpse of you; meanwhile, JJ’s game was nothing short of reckless in an attempt to impress you. Until it finally paid off, JJ gave the Eagles a 1-0 lead 54 seconds into the third period with a power-play goal, scoring on his own rebound.

The student section erupts with cheers. Rafe glances at the stands, watching you cheer, banging your gloves against the glass, following JJ as he celebrates with his team, feeling a flare of jealousy burn in his chest.

After that, Rafe played like a man possessed: sharp passes, clean footwork, calculated shots until he scored a goal of his own. Of course, the celebration happened against the boards right in front of the student section— Rafe riding that high until the last possible second.

During the third period, everything came to a head. The teams were playing more aggressively, post-whistle trash talk started to become a little more targeted.

Rafe and JJ’s chemistry, usually the glue holding the team together, began to crack. Missed passes, botched plays, and a growing animosity between them became impossible to ignore.

“Rafe! JJ! Pull it together!” The coach screams from the bench, red-faced and furious.

The rival team starts to notice, too.

One of their forwards, leaning on his stick during faceoff, smirks, “What’s the matter, boys? Trouble in paradise?”

Rafe’s mitts tighten around his stick, his blood boiling at the comment and the fact that he let it get this bad.

“Fuck off—”

“Saw you two bitchin’ at each other. What, you fighting over her?” He nods toward the stands. “Pretty little thing.”

The puck drops, and the action starts again, Rafe quickly scoring on a power-play goal from the slot, adding another point to the board.

Before he can celebrate, he gets shoved from the back, sending both teams into a frenzy. Rafe drops his gloves first, lunging at the forward, his fist connecting with his jaw. JJ was right there with him, shoving a rival defenseman to the ice, yelling something incoherent as the refs blow their whistles, trying to pry the teams apart.

The defensemen shoves JJ, sending him back, knocking Rafe in the process. “The fuck are you doing?” Rafe shouts at JJ.

“Me? What are you doing?” JJ fires back, getting in Rafe’s face. “You’ve been skating like shit all night!”

“You’re the one showboating, bitch!” Rafe shoves JJ back; Maybank uses the contact to send the two of them to the ice. The crowd gasps, and the opposing team watches on in confusion as the coach loses his shit from the bench until the two get ripped apart.

“You’re embarrassing yourself,” JJ hisses, jerking his arm free from Rafe's grip.

“I’m embarrassing myself? You hit me first!”

“I TRIPPED,” JJ snaps.

“Un-fuckin-likely,” Rafe spits as the two boys get thrown into the penalty box.

They sit there in silence, glaring at each other before one of the boys from the other team skates by, tapping on the glass with a smirk.

“Yo, what’s her name, boys?”

Rafe bites down on the finger of his glove, pulling it off, giving him the finger as he skates back to the center line.

“This is all your fuckin’ fault,” Rafe mutters, his voice low but sharp as he leans forward, resting his elbows on his knees.

“My fault?” JJ shoots back, kicking out his skates as he crosses his arms over his chest. “Not my fault you can't find the fuckin’ goal, Rafe”

Rafe snorts and laughs. “Oh? You hogged the fuckin’ puck every chance you got just to show off for her.”

JJ laughs bitterly. “At least I have somethin’ to show off. Got two goals, bitch. You got one.”

“I got two, too, you dumb fuck. Is you’re head that far up your ass?”

JJ laughs wickedly, letting his head fall against the glass. “You’re easily forgettable, man. My bad-”

“Check your fuckin’ ego, bitch. We can go round two in here.” Rafe’s stomach drops, JJ’s quickly doing the same. “Wha-What the fuck?” Rafe stammers. “She’s leaving?”

JJ lets out a frustrated sigh. “Yup. And it’s on you, asshole…” He mumbles as the ref skates over, opening the door.

“Me? Maybe if you hadn’t been such a jealous prick—”

“You’re the one who couldn’t handle a little competition!” JJ snarls, cutting Rafe short as they step back onto the ice. Rafe pokes out his stick, tripping JJ slightly as he skates back toward the bench. “Do that again. I fuckin’ dare you,” JJ hisses.

“Calm down,” the ref warns as he skates between them, cutting the tension for a moment.

“I’m going after her,” JJ mumbles as he crashes down on the bench.

Rafe raises an eyebrow. “Good luck with that. You don’t even know where she lives.”

JJ looks across the way, smiling to himself. “Actually, I do.”

“What?”

“She gave me her address last night,” JJ answers smugly, elbowing Rafe tauntingly.

“Well, joke’s on you, pussy. She gave it to me, too,” Rafe smiles that same devilish smile, elbowing him back a little harder making JJ hiss out a sharp breath.

“Game on, Cameron.”

⊹ 💌 ⁺ ˳ ✿ . ♥️ ࿐

“Hopefully, that beaters faster than your skatin’, bitch!” Rafe scoffs as he shoves open the arena door.

“Says the guy who gets lost in a fuckin’ parking lot. Good luck finding her place first, dumb fuck,” JJ fires back before pushing past Rafe, sprinting to his Bronco.

“Fuck,” Rafe huffs, not prepared for a foot race, his dress shoes pounding against the asphalt as he closes the gap between him and his Audi.

Rafe slams his car door shut, adrenaline coursing through his veins as he peels out of the parking lot. It’s a short drive, only a few blocks, but it feels like forever. His ringed fingers twist around the leather steering wheel, anger rising with every red light he hits.

He pulls into the parking lot, muscles tightening as he hears JJ’s SUV screech to a stop; he doesn't even need to look back to know the race isn’t over. Rafe charges to the front door, tearing it open before running to the elevator, rapidly pushing his finger against the up button.

“Ohhh fuck you,” JJ groans as the elevator shuts just before he can reach it, settling for running up the stairwell instead. The elevator crawls upward. Rafe pulls the door the rest of the way open impatiently before sprinting down the hall, watching as JJ barrels toward him in the other direction.

“You’ve gotta be fuckin’ kiddin’ me!” Rafe growls, his voice low and lethal.

“Out of my way,” JJ snaps, shoving Rafe’s shoulder as he reaches the door.

“Oh, hell fuckin’ no,” Rafe shoots back, grabbing JJ by the arm.

The shoving turned into grappling, the boys wrestling to the floor. “I was here first!” Rafe grunts, trying to pin JJ against the ground.

“Like hell you were!” JJ barks, shoving the bigger boy off him.

The noise echoes through the hallway—shoes scraping, muffled swears, and the occasional thud, so chaotic you hear it from the other end of the door.

Both boys freeze mid-struggle, their hands still gripping each other’s suit jackets when you open the door. They turn to you, seeing you standing there wide-eyed, dressed in a satin robe, stunned and silent.

“Uh…” JJ starts, but his voice cracks as he struggles to his feet.

“We–Umm. We just…” Rafe stammers, releasing JJ as he stands up, combing his messy hair back as JJ fixes his tie.

You lean against the doorframe, crossing your arms over your chest, lips twitching as you fight back a smile. “That was fast,” you say, your voice light and teasing. “You both smell like hockey, you know?”

Their cheeks flush in embarrassment. Rafe hangs his head and nods as JJ looks away–the boys trying their best to collect themselves.

Rafe lifts his head, his pretty blue eyes resting on yours, replaying your words before his face lights up. “You… were waiting?” Rafe asks, his words still breathless from the struggle.

You nod, tilting your head slightly. “Yeah. I figured you’d both get here eventually. Though I wasn’t expecting this.” You giggle, gesturing to their sweat-soaked bodies and disheveled game-day suits.

JJ scratches the back of his neck, glancing at Rafe before looking back at you. “We just… We both just want to–”

“Talk,” Rafe adds, quickly cutting JJ off.

“Talk?” You ask as you quirk an eyebrow. “You just wanted to talk to me?”

Rafe and JJ exchange a look, suddenly at a loss for words. You sigh, stepping back to open the door wider. “Let’s talk then...”

The door closes behind them; Rafe and JJ shuffle in awkwardly. Your space is cozy–warm lighting, a comfy couch, and the faint scent of a vanilla candle wafting through the air.

“So,” you ask as you sit down on the couch. Your robe falls open slightly, showing off your upper thigh, the top swooping low, giving them just a tease of cleavage. Rafe’s eyes fall to a lusty haze, JJ’s lashes fluttering as he swallows thickly. “What’s going on, boys,” you ask through a half-laugh. “What was that about?” You gesture toward the hallway.

“It’s because of you,” JJ says bluntly, though his tone softened. “We both… like you.”

“Both of you?” You ask with a smile.

“I mean… You were talking to us both,” JJ sulks under his breath. “‘Course we do—”

“Look,” Rafe says, “I think we both got carried away. But the thing is… I’ve never met anyone like you.”

JJ nods in agreement. “Same. You’re incredible. I just didn’t expect him to get in the way,” JJ gestures toward Rafe, letting his annoyance bleed through.

“Fuck off,” Rafe mumbles. “We both know who saw her first—”

“You two are impossible,” you giggle. “I mean, I knew you were competitive, but this?” You wrinkle your nose teasingly. “Did I mention you both stink?”

Rafe winced. “Sorry about that, sweetheart.”

JJ looks at you sheepishly. “Yeah… sorry, pretty.”

“Mhmm…” You hum. “And you,” you whisper as you stand up from the couch, walking over to Rafe, watching as his breath catches in his chest. You run your thumb along your tongue before smudging the little bit of blood off his gashed cheek. “You're bleeding. Did you know that?”

He shakes his head ‘no’ and bites his lip, looking down at you with a smile. “Here’s the thing,” you say, your voice quiet as you lean closer. “I didn’t want to pick between you.” You keep your eyes set on Rafe’s as you reach over, grabbing JJ by his suit jacket and pulling him closer.

The boys blink, their heads tilting slightly as their brain plays catch up with the words leaving your lips. “What?” They mumble in unison.

“I like both of you,” you whisper. “I don’t think I could choose. At least… not right now. Are you gonna make me?” You tease.

“N-No—” JJ stammers

“No. Fuck no,” Rafe pushes out the reply JJ’s too flustered to get out himself.

“—But you two just wanted to talk, huh?” You flirter as your fingers toy with the satin bow at your waist, tugging at it.

“Absolutely not,” JJ blurts. His jaw falls slack as the delicate material falls to a puddle at your feet. Rafe and JJ exchange glances, their expressions a mix of shock and disbelief. “Holy shit, you're serious…” JJ’s voice comes out needy and hoarse.

Rafe let out a slow breath, his mind racing as his eyes fall down your body.

You take Rafe by surprise, pressing your lips against his. As soon as you do, he’s fighting off his suit jacket between messy kisses, the two of you working on the buttons of his dress shirt.

Rafe smiles against your lips as his shirt falls to the floor, quickly pulling you closer, pushing his skin on yours.

You reach over, grabbing JJ by his tie, pushing Rafe back slightly, and just as you turn, JJ’s mouth finds yours. Your fingers scratch into JJ’s damp hair, tugging him closer as he tilts his head, letting his tongue slip inside your mouth as Rafe works on his pants.

Rafe pulls down his boxers and hooks his arm around your waist, pulling you off JJ’s lips and back onto his. His tongue dips in your mouth before sucking off yours. Rafe slows down slightly, letting the rough pad of his finger circle your nipple, making you whimper against his lips.

JJ steps closer, his hard cock brushing against your thigh; his lips find your neck, sucking down harshly as your tongue swirls with Rafe’s.

“Shower... Now,” you mumble as you pull away from Rafe, pressing a kiss against JJ’s lips next.

“Yeah, Princess?” JJ asks, but before he can snatch you away, Rafe takes you into his big arms, picking you up off your feet.

“Start the shower, Maybank,” Rafe hums smugly against your lips as he gets you to himself for a minute. JJ scoffs, rolling his eyes before heading toward the open bathroom door. You scratch your nails into Rafe’s hair as he deepens the kiss, rolling your body into him, feeling your wetness transfer to his hot skin as JJ turns on the shower.

“Hurry the fuck up, man,” JJ mutters as Rafe saunters over, taking his time with you. “Set her down,” JJ snips as the two of you pass through the threshold into the bathroom, making Rafe chuckle darkly–heat already swirling around, the sounds of water pouring out the head and panting breaths filling the small room from your kiss.

Rafe pulls back, looking at you half-lidded, the pupils of his blue eyes blown with lust as he mumbles a simple. “No,” to JJ with a look on his face lets you know he means it.

You lean in, brushing your soft lips against his. “This isn’t gonna work if you don’t share,” you whisper.

“Do I have to,” Rafe hums.

“Yes, you fuckin’ have to,” JJ answers for you, his brows pinched together in disgust.

“I’m listenin’ to you. I'm not listenin’ to him,” Rafe replies as he steps with you into your walk-in shower.

“Share,” you chuckle breathily. Rafe sucks his teeth and rolls his eyes, setting you down on the cool tile floor.

You shiver from the chill as you adjust to the temperature; Rafe and JJ’s hands are all over you fast. They alternate between kissing your lips and kissing your neck, handing you back and forth as your hands run down their broad chests, dipping into the divots of their cut abs.

You pull away from their lips, reaching over for the soap. The boys do the same, their slick hands gliding over your curves with ease–toying with your tits, squeezing your ass, teasing your inner thighs, both too hesitant to play with your pussy just yet.

That all changes when your fingers wrap around her cocks, pulling to the tip, making low moans rumble in their throats. Their hands quickly bump into each other, fumbling to get to your pussy first. Rafe smiles against your lips as he takes the win, circling your clit. You gasp against his lip as JJ slaps your ass.

“Co’mere,” JJ hums, beckoning you off Rafe’s lips and onto his. JJ’s hand sneaks between your ass checks, the tip of his finger rubbing over the tight rim of your ass as Rafe stuffs two long fingers in your pussy. Rafe rolls his thumb on your clit, curling his fingers in your soaked pussy.

Your thighs start to tremble uncontrollably, breathing a little quicker as Rafe’s skilled fingers work on you.

Your moan bounces off the wall as Rafe pushes a third finger inside you, quickly sending you over the edge. Your body flutters around his thick digits as you come undone.

He slips his fingers out of your slick cunt, bringing them to his lips before sucking them clean.

“Holy shit,” JJ mumbles in disbelief as his pretty blue eyes follow you to your knees. Rafe looks down at you as well, breathing heavily, his muscular chest heaving with every deep breath.

“Is this okay?” You ask as you look up at them through wet lashes, your fingers ghosting up the bottom of their dicks to the tip just like you did before, this time just inches from your lips, making them both take a step closer in anticipation.

“Is this okay?” Rafe laughs as he repeats your words, his long, thick cock throbbing in your hand.

“Mhmm,” you whisper as you lean closer to him, letting your tongue flick up his fat tip, catching a bead of precum before it can get washed away.

“Fucking perfect, princess,” he mumbles as his lips part, mimicking your own. He belts his large fist in your hair, pulling you closer. You wrap your lips around his tip, making his muscles flex as you take more and more. “Good fuckin’ girl,” Rafe praises as you gag on as much as much of him as you can get.

You bob a few times back and forth on his length as your other hand palms JJ’s balls, rolling them in your slight hand.

You push away, turning your head toward JJ, before wrapping your lips around him. Your hand continues to stroke Rafe’s cock, drawing out deep moans from them both. You curve your tongue around the bottom of JJ’s dick, tracing to the tip before swirling around his crown, making him clutch the tile wall for support.

Rafe grabs your wet hair, pulling you back to him, thrusting into your mouth, causing tears to spring in your eyes, the water from the shower quickly carrying them away as JJ fucks your fist with the same vigor.

Their moans and breathing get louder and heavier, the two men moving closer until you're practically bouncing between the two of them: stroking, sucking, swirling, kissing, until they’re both mumbling orders telling you to open wide.

You lay out your pretty pink tongue–ropes of pearly white cum quickly panting your face and tongue as they finish in succession; one after the other.

The boys breathe heavily, heads thrown back to the ceiling as the water washes away the rest of the mess on your face, you, swallowing the rest.

“Goddamn,” JJ groans in satisfaction as he helps you to your feet, quickly pulling you into a tender kiss. Rafe fingers lace in yours, tugging you to him for the same.

“What do you want from us, baby?” Rafe asks.

His tongue slides against yours as his large hand traces between your thighs, cupping your pussy in his big hand, making you whimper against his soft lips.

“Fuck, Rafe…”

“You make such pretty sounds, princess,” he whispers as JJ cuts off the water.

“I want both of you,” you smile against his lips.

“Yeah… I can feel that,” Rafe chuckles deeply, feeling the silky wetness of your arousal on his fingers. “What do you want, pretty?”

“Yeah, princess,” JJ murmurs as he walks behind you, finding the sweet spot on your neck as his large hands grab your hips. You giggle breathily as the two boys sandwich you together; the heat of their big bodies keeping you warm. “How do you want us?”

“Just like this…” You whisper against Rafe’s lip as you arch your back slightly, pressing your ass into JJ’s hard cock.

“Yeah?” Rafe asks with an airly rasp, speaking to you like he’s living in a dream. “You want me to cum in your pussy?”

“Mhmm–” You mumble. “I want you to cum in my pussy. And you,” you whisper as you reach your hand back, hooking around the JJ’s neck, kissing him over your shoulder. “I want you to fill my ass—”

“—Holy fuckin’ shit,” JJ mumbles under his breath, riding the same high as Rafe.

“Corner of the bed; I’m gonna ride Rafe. And you’re gonna take care of me. Think you can do that, baby?” You ask JJ as your lips brush against his.

“I can do whatever you want, princess,” JJ mumbles as he pulls you into his arms this time, lifting you off your feet.

The three of you move into the bedroom; Rafe reaches for you fast, doing exactly what he’s told.

You straddle his lap, grinding your slick cunt against him as you kiss him deeply.

You jump and squeak as JJ’s large hand cracks down on your ass again, spanking your bare skin hard enough to leave behind a stinging heat that has you aching to be filled.

JJ rubs his large hand over it, soothing the pain as you circle your hips on top of Rafe, driving him insane.

You push Rafe to his back, the man quickly grabbing your wrist, taking your fingers in his mouth, biting and sucking as JJ bends you over slightly, thumbing over your taunt hole just like before, running a line of spit down on your body.

You reach between your thighs, clutching Rafe’s thick cock in your fist, stroking as your lips meet his.

JJ taps his swollen tip against your ass before gliding his dick through your soaked slit, using your slick as lube.

You trace Rafe’s velvety tip around your drooling hole as Rafe looks between your legs, eyes dazed as your pussy swallows him whole. “So fucking wet,” he moans through panting breaths, your eyes fluttering shut as you take him all.

Your nails sink into Rafe’s muscular chest, breasts moving with you as you bounce on his cock. Rafe bites his bottom lip between his teeth, trying his best to keep his eyes on you, fighting to keep them from rolling back.

“God, you feel so fucking good,” Rafe mumbles–his voice fucked-out and hoarse–muscular body glistening from the shower still. He raises his hand, pressing it against your stomach, feeling himself work in and out before letting his hand fall lower.

You gasp and moan as his thumb finds your clit, rolling on top as JJ pushes his girthy tip into your tight hole.

“Sh-Shit,” you whimper, feeling your eyes glass with tears at the burn and the stretch, the men pushing your body to the limit.

Rafe wraps his hand around your throat, pulling you down to his lips as JJ spits on what’s left of his cock before gliding the rest of the way in as Rafe swallows your moans and cries.

Your body trembles in Rafe’s arms as you adjust to two men, filling you fully. “You okay, princess?” Rafe asks softly against your lips.

“Mhmm… So fucking good, baby,” you hum, feeling him smile against your lips.

“You like me better,” he breathes, his voice barely heard over your panting breaths and JJ’s. “Don’t you, pretty?”

“Are you gonna tell on me?” You whisper.

“Maybe,” he smiles as he grabs hold of your hips, lifting you slightly before fucking up into your pussy nice and slow.

“You wouldn’t dare,” you mouth as you look down at him. He shrugs teasingly, looking at the space between you, watching the way your wet pussy drips down his rock-hard shaft, running down his balls onto the mattress below.

“Mine,” he mouths back smugly, making you smile; JJ’s none the wiser.

JJ starts to stroke nice and slow, too, wrapping his hands around your body, taking two fistfuls of tits.

The two boys start to move in and out, hitting all the right spots, your pleasure so strong you feel like you could pass out.

Rafe drives his heels into the floor, throwing his hips up into you again and again, the angle making your toes curl, your hands reaching up to grasp JJ’s wrists for support.

“So fuckin’ tight,” JJ mumbles, warm against your neck. He snaps his hips. His toned body clapping against your ass with each stroke, making your vision blur.

The sounds of your pleasure fill the room as they keep a brutal pace, sending you closer and closer to the edge.

Your eyes slam shut; body unable to take much more. Rafe grabs your wrists, forcing your hands onto his chest again. He reaches up, gripping your cheeks with a single hand, making your heavy eyes lift open on his.

“I know you’re gonna cum, baby. So am I. Cum with me,” he mutters as their movements get messier and rougher.

“Fuck,” you scream as your body gives way, pussy gushing and pulsing around Rafe’s throbbing length, your climax pulls the boys with it, the two cumming hard, filling both holes to the brim.

You tumble down on the bed, falling into Rafe’s arms as JJ clutches your hips tightly, pushing himself as deep as he can go.

Rafe turns your cheek, lifting your lips to his for a gentle kiss, the two of you breathe heavily together as the three of you come down from your highs.

Rafe smiles in satisfaction, burying himself in your neck, lips brushing against the shell of your ear.

“You’re mine, princess.”

⊹ 💌 ⁺ ˳ ✿ . ♥️ ࿐

tags: @rafesthroatbaby | @marleymarleymarleymarley | @chelzaa | @rafesheaven | @nemesyaaa | @starkeysbabygirl | @littlelamy | @cameronsprincess | @lottalove4evelyn | @yasmin-oviedo | @vanessa-rafesgirl | @watchmerora | @rafeslovergirly | @buckybarnessweetheart | @anamiad00msday | @namelesslosers | @cades-outsider | @romaescapes | @starkeysprincess | @lish-0 | @oxpogues4lifexo | @unrealmirrorball | @lilithblackkk | @sleepiibunniiii | @gri959 | @rafesgiirl | @daryldixon83 | @akobx | @hyperfixationgirl | @lhhlver | @rrafeswhore | @slut-4-gojo | @blair-bears-blog | @loveesiren | @rafescorpsebride | @rafegf-real | @alphabetically-deranged | @ariana2saucyy | @rafestoothbrush | @hauntedfawnn | @laniirackssss | @wtfdudesblog | @sabrina-carpenter-stan-account | @jkrafe | @alejstarkey | @rafe-cameronswife | @rafedaddy01 | @st8rkey

dividers | @animatedglittergraphics-n-more

[itscamile222]

HOW SHIFTING WORKS- scientifically based thesis

“we´are infinite beings destined to explore the infinite universe”

NOTE: i´m not a scientist nor a physicist. This essay is based on self interpretation of information and things i´ve learned about consciousness, quantum physics, nature of reality, etc.

We´re four dimensional beings, meaning we´re composed of both physical and non physical (intangible) things. We have three layers: body, psyche (alias consciousness) and soul. Our bodies are just the envelope, the vehicle our consciousness occupies in order to live a human experience. Accordingly, our true self is not our body, but the consciousness that occupies it. Having that in mind, we´re able to move to the next point.

Everything — and this is scientifically proven — is made of energy. Vibrating energy makes matter, and consequently both matter and energy have frequencies. Every single thing has a different frequency: objects, sounds, emotions, etc. Therefore, reality as a whole, with all of its elements combined, vibrates at its own frequency.

Thanks to quantum physics, we know particles of energy can be in different states and multiple places at the same time in superposition when there isn't a conscious observer. While being observed, energy/particles behave differently, being perceived at one state and place. This experiment shows the same particle can and does exist in many states/places at once, but we´re only able to perceive one state/place at a time.

ENERGY → MATTER → REALITY

We can only perceive one reality (state of energy/matter as a whole) at a time for the reason the human experience we're living limits us to do so. Although, like energy is coexisting in many places/states at once, and we know for certain that energy composes matter, which makes the (physical) reality, we can affirm there are many other realities besides this one, but we´re not able neither to perceive nor interact with them.

ENERGY → MATTER → REALITY

“ ↳ MATTER → REALITY

“ ↳ MATTER → REALITY

“ ↳ MATTER → REALITY

“ ↳ MATTER → REALITY

+∞

PINK: what we percieve

BLUE: what coexists but we don’t perceive

Summing things up, there are many other realities coexisting in the very same space as this one, but each reality exists in different frequencies, so realities never interact with each other. That said, we are able to introduce the main character: shifting.

Shifting doesn't happen in your consciousness, shifting happens with — and thanks to— your consciousness. Your body is trapped in this reality because it's part of this reality, for the reason bodies are physical things that can only exist in one state. Your consciousness, on the other hand, contrary to your body, can shift because it's not something physical, it's not made of matter. Consciousness doesn't belong to any reality, it just experiences them. Consciousness cannot die, so when your body faces death, your consciousness continues existing in other realities. This can explain both reincarnation and heaven, since your consciousness shifts to a reality that fits what you expect/believe you´ll experience after death.

With shifting, we´re doing the same but intentionally, choosing the reality we want to experience,with the difference our Cr body is still alive, so we can come back.

By shifting, we´re changing the frequency of our consciousness — which is the same as our Cr— to match the frequency of the reality we want to become aware of. You have to shift your inner world in order to shift the outer physical world (the 4d and the 3d).

[girl-lostconnection]

I just wanna say I love your fruit bat!reader and I just had to think about the boys further misunderstanding when reader maybe has a darker aesthetic, but reader doesn't get at all the connection cause like yeah black's just a neat colour, oh I guess vampires are cool. Wait me? *Mouthful of orange or something* me no fruits all the way? I don't know what you mean.

On one side it would be incredibly funny as misunderstanding but the devil is whispering in my ear so let’s walk the other way.

Imagine Reader freshly selected to join the team, nervous about meeting new people who they read EVERYTHING on, just to be ready.

And no one is hostile, right? They are friendly, almost too friendly, which grates on your nerves a little but you know, maybe you are thinking too much about it?

Works up until the first joke about the vampires, huge wolf operator (you find out later that his call sign is Ghost).

“Know why people don’t like workin’ with vampire bats?”, the question catches you off guard, your eyes snapping to the man’s eyes and you tilt your head to the side. You don’t know him yet, you aren’t sure how much of a reaction is allowed in this circumstance.

“‘Cause they are pain in the neck”, he announces, his brown eyes boring a hole into you, his tail wagging like he is waiting for you to start laughing.

You don’t. You stare right back at him, fingers flexing so the sharp points of your claws dig into your palm and you manage a smile that feels a little too forced.

Big wolf in front of you apparently sees it as well, because you can see the way his jaw flexes under the mask.

So for some reason he decides to give it another go. (Only months later you will find out that Simon was desperately scrambling for all the bat x vampire puns he remembered, thinking that the first one sounded a little too abrasive)

“What drink does bat order at the bar?”, he asks, his left ear giving in a small twitch that catches your eye. He sure is big for the wolf, most of their family you met in the past were tall and lean but this guy is built like a bloody tank.

“What?”, you ask, heart beating a little harder than you’d like it, anxiety coiling in your gut.

“A Bloody Mary”, wolf hums out, his ear giving in another twitch and corners of your mouth curl upwards. Cute.

Wolf’s tail starts to wag again, eyes satisfied as he walks off and you follow him to see your new space and unpack.

Isn’t so bad for the first meeting, right?

But in hindsight every interaction from then on felt…somehow forced. Recurring about blood and meat and fucking Halloween. Remarks about wearing too much black or the way Soap once chuckled at the silver chain with a beautiful red cross. Not a religious symbol but simply an accessory you liked.

It all was piling up so quickly you decided to just…stay on the outside. Maybe that would be better. Maybe they were trying to tell you that they didn’t want a bat and didn’t like bats.

That they didn’t like you.

It takes time to undo and the process is slow — you are a tough nut to crack, but they don’t try to crack you. Just…make amends, yeah?

Your relationship with Simon makes a cycle when he peels you oranges, eyes soft as you devour pieces of peaches.

“Do you know what’s a vegetarian vampire bat’s favourite fruit, luv?”, he hums out, placing a peeled orange in your bowl, something in his tone making you feel fuzzy.

“What is it?”, his tail is wagging and god the way he looks at you makes something tender in your chest ache, you mouth voluntarily falling open when he pushes a piece of peach in it, eyes crinkling.

“A neck-tarine”, Simon murmurs, his tail wagging harder when you laugh after a beat, juices from fruit dripping down your chin.

You shake your head at him in faux disbelief and he grins, popping a slice of orange in his mouth.

“Can do it all night”

You roll your eyes and instinctively smack his hand away when he tries to steal your bowl.

“That’s what I’m afraid of”

[paranoiddreams]

prev⟺next

Another odd thing about being Ryomen Sukuna’s girlfriend? His tendency to…stalk you. And not even in a purposeful way; he himself doesn’t even realize it.

Often while you’re both out together, he feels the need to always have a hand on you—whether it be on your waist, your lower back, or even encasing your own in his; he will always be touching you. But when he can’t, he looks like an actual Joe Goldberg ass stalker.

Going to get something on the other side of the store? He’s following a few feet behind you, dodging your gaze when you look over your shoulder. Want to get your nails done with some friends? Okay. Sukuna’s just gonna wait outside in his car, looking through the windows of the salon.

He mainly does this in public because he knows you like to feel a sense of independence every now and then. Also, so you don’t get hurt since he knows what kind of men are out there everywhere.

Let’s be honest, he was one of those men before he met you.

But when you’re both at home, it’s a bit of a different story:

You could be walking around the house, minding your own business, and then you suddenly just see the huge monster of a man your boyfriend is, looking at you from around a corner. Most often although, he’ll just walk up behind you and stare at you ominously for no reason.

Sometimes, you start to think he’s mad at you. His red eyes look a shade darker, and his chest rises rapidly, almost as if he were a predator stalking its prey.

But in reality, he’s thinking of all kinds of things in his head as he observes you. And this man thinks he’s being slick about it too…he hasn’t even considered the fact that this behavior could put you off at times. Because how is he supposed to just not look at you when you’re free for him to look at 24/7? Dirty thoughts, random thoughts, domestic thoughts, even thoughts of being the father to your children run his mind; all while he just stares you down like his next meal.

“Uh…Kuna? You good?”

He just grumbles, not even bothering to give a verbal explanation. Why would he? He does everything he wants to anyways.

Well, except for when it comes to you; you could walk him like a dog, even if he’s almost two times your height and weight. But that’s a topic for another time.

[gloomwitchwrites]

How about some silliness.....reader/you is superrr drunk from a night out with friends or high from anesthesia and the guys are trying to take care of them and we are all like "get your hands off me or my husband will kick you ass!" Or "omg you're so hot are you single??"...and they are just dying laughing like "I am your husband!"

I just watched one too many tik toks of this 😂🤣

Oh, I love this. I don't think I've actually seen these videos before (at least on TT) but I do know what you're talking about. Maybe I've seen it more in other media? Like movies and television? Anyway, I understand what you're asking for, so I hope you enjoy what I've cooked up!

For the masterlist and how to submit your own request, click HERE

Task Force 141 x Female Reader

Content & Warnings (MDNI): swearing, established relationship, fluff, mild alcohol use, shenanigans due to drunkenness & anesthesia

Word Count: 800

ao3 // main masterlist // imagines & what if masterlist

John Price

John stands beside you on the passenger side of the car. The car door is open, and all you need to do is slide inside. Instead, you’re arguing with him, insisting that you can get in yourself, and that you don’t need help.

“You just had surgery,” chides John.

“Minor surgery,” you correct.

“It’s still surgery.” John sighs, and then places his hand on your back. “Let me help you.”

“Hands off, sir. You’re not my husband.”

John does not move his hand. “I don’t remember us getting a divorce, love.”

You wave him off and John snorts. “He’ll kick your ass,” you insist. “Punch you right in the nose.”

John’s stern demeanor cracks, dissolving into a wide smile and a soft chuckle. He shakes his head in disbelief. “I’m your bloody husband. You’re stuck with me. Forever.”

“I’m serious,” you say. Turning, you attempt to jab him in the chest with your finger. Everything tilts, and you only hit air.

John sighs, exasperated. “Get in the car, love.”

“No,” you groan, pushing at his chest. You surrender to him, allowing John to help you into the front passenger seat.

“I hope you remember this after the drugs wear off.”

John "Soap" MacTavish

You’ve been out with your friends all evening, and you have no idea what times it is. It’s dark, and you didn’t leave until the bar closed, forcing you to make an exit. Someone called for a car, and you all piled in, dropping each of off one by one.

As you enter the dark bedroom, you kick off your shoes, slightly stumbling to turn on the bedside light. You turn it on, and immediately wince. Vision swimming, you rub at your eyes, and then notice the massive lump in your bed.

“Turn off the bloody light, will you?” mumbles Johnny.

A devious plan forms in your head.

You climb onto the bed, crawling toward him. Noticing, Johnny turns toward you, eyes dreary with sleep.

“What?” he asks just before you flop your entire body onto him.

“Hi,” you whisper.

“Hi,” he deadpans.

You wiggle over him, pressing the tip of your nose against his. “You seeing anyone, handsome?”

Johnny arches an eyebrow. “Did you hit your head or something? I am your husband.”

“Lucky me.”

Johnny blows raspberries. With one good shove, he flips you onto your back on your side of the bed.

“Go to bed. You’re drunk.”

Simon "Ghost" Riley

Your liquor-addled brain tells you to do it.

Across the bar is danger, the kind you want to play with—to sink your teeth into. Why resist temptation when it’s clear that the masked man across the bar can’t seem to take his eyes off you? Every time you glance in his direction, his gaze is focused and intense, daring you to approach him.

Which is exactly what you do.

He follows your every step, even if there is a slight sway in the way you walk. As you approach, he leans back in his chair, legs widening as if in welcome. It’s easy to reach out, to place your hand on his shoulder, to straddle his thighs, and stare into his eyes.

“You’ve been staring at me all night,” you slur. “Plan on going home with anyone?”

“I am,” the masked man replies.

“And who might that be?”

“My wife.”

You turn in his lap, looking around at all the other patrons in the bar. “Don’t see her.”

“Course you don’t,” he chuckles. “Because she’s sitting in my lap.”

You blink. “Is she?”

“You’re my wife,” he whispers.

“I am…aren’t I?”

He shakes his head. “I’m cutting you off.”

Kyle "Gaz" Garrick

The alcohol is an enabler. You shouldn’t have had as many drinks as you did, but this is a party, and you’re not the one driving.

Why not have a bit of fun?

“Hi.”

Kyle arches an eyebrow. “Hi,” he replies, drawing out the greeting in slight confusion.

You cozy up next to him, shoulder brushing against shoulder.

“So,” you begin, head tilting toward him like you’re about to whisper all your secrets. “I’m going to be a bit bold…”

“Go on.”

“But I think you’re cute. Wanted to know if you’re seeing anyone.”

Kyle’s single raised eyebrow becomes two. There’s a long pause, so long that you notice the absence of conversation.

Kyle’s confusion cracks, becoming a wide smile, followed by his adorable, familiar laughter. “You’re taking the piss, love.”

“I’m not joking.”

He laughs harder, clutching his chest like he can’t breathe.

“I’m your husband,” he manages to say between wheezing breaths.

“I know,” you reply. “Just checking to make sure you’re still loyal.”

He waves his hand in the air before him. “You’ve had enough. Give me that.” He plucks your beverage right out of your hands.

“Excuse me,” you protest, but Kyle is already downing it.

taglist:

@glitterypirateduck @km-ffluv @tiredmetalenthusiast @miaraei @cherryofdeath

@fern-reads @tulipsun-flower @miss-mistinguett @ninman82 @eternallyvenus

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@lulurubberduckie @leed-bbg @yawning-grave81 @azkza @nishim

@voids-universe @iloveslasher @talooolaaloolla @sadlonelybagel @haven-1307

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@sammysinger04 @kylies-love-letter @dakotakazansky @suhmie @kadeeesworld

@keiva1000 @jackrabbitem @arrozyfrijoles23 @lovely-ateez @waves-against-a-cliff

@ash-tarte @marispunk @gingergirl06 @certainlygay @greeniegreengreen