Warnings : Stepcest, Possessive Caleb, Pussy Inspection (again), Fingering, Bimbo/dumb!reader, Manipulative

Thinking about... JJK men feeding you fruit... There's just something so sweet about them peeling it for you and hand feeding you... especially if it's a messy fruit.

Satoru that feeds you grapes with a grin on his face. He has you laying against a bunch of pillows, far too happy about treating you like a monarch. Popping them in one by one. Letting his smile crinkle his features. "They're good, right~?"

Suguru that feeds you an apple, each slice cut for you and popped gently into your mouth. Better yet if you're lying against him and for every single bite he tilts your head up to ease your swallowing. Eyes soft. Tender.

Hiromi that feeds you oranges. Not only are they sliced but the skin has been peeled. The juice leaks down his fingers, pooling in the wrinkles of his palm, but he simply doesn't care. No, he only cares for you and the fact you're eating from his hands.

Kento that feeds you banana slices, freshly cut by him and piles in a bowl. He tilts your jaw so delicately as he pops them into your mouth with a wooden cocktail stick. He's so gentle with it. So soft. So patient.

Sukuna that feeds you strawberries he had foraged. With you planted in his lap, at his mercy, you cannot deny his affection. This kindness. He finds himself enjoying feeding you. A different red staining his fingers.

Just... JJK men feeding you fruit.

self aware!m!rover x fem!reader

For a long time he felt alone, until you came along. The moment he could sense you take control of some of his movements and dialogue, he felt ... at peace. It was a feeling that he had been longing for.

He wasn't alone when he was traveling now, he didn't have to worry about companions that would come and go, and most importantly you would remain a constant during his journey, well, until he felt someone else take control.

He knew this person, your brother, you had complained about frequently when he would get on your nerves.

"Don't change my builds, ok? I just got Rover how I want him."

"You still main rover," your brother sounded surprised and a bit teasing as he moved rover around on the screen, much to Rover's dismay.

"He's my favorite character!"

"And here i thought it was Jiyan," your brother stated as he moved to a group of enemies.

Rover could see and hear your hesitation as your brother pressed down on the attack button.

"Well, Jiyan is pretty cool too," you muttered.

And rover could understand, to be honest, he always felt like he was competing for your attention anytime the general showed up on screen.

But moving on, Rover was starting to get tired of your brother. He didn't have the skills as you did. You were always careful to dodge and make sure a hit never landed on him, but your brother played with reckless abandon to the point that Rover's hp bar only a third full.

"Whatever you say, sis- Ow! The fuck?!"

He dropped the controller as you frowned and picked it up.

"What is it?"

"Your damn controller shocked me!"

Your brother rubbed his hand as he stood up to go "nurse" his hand. But you didn't see anything wrong with it anyway.

You rolled your eyes, "what a baby."

Turning to the screen, you hit the map button to teleport so Rover could be at full health.

Rover was glad you were in control again.

RINTAROU SUNA x gn!reader

c/w: smau, cursing, set in time-skip, suna is lowkey (?) down bad and kinda cringe idk lol, mentions of alcohol, angst (?), bad pick-up line, suna is a loser, sorry if I missed some

a/n: a silly little short idea that came to life through a particular text I received irl and the discord server saying it's high school suna coded (tho I changed it to time-skip suna lol) and I hope you'll enjoy !!

please consider leaving a like, reblog or follow if you enjoyed !! <3

in which rintarou suna got your socials through your friend atsumu..

taglist: @sahrii @dearru @chloiyoomi @angeleilee <3

©kameyyy all rights reserved. please do not repost my work.

⋆. 𐙚 ̊ how they kiss you — love and deepspace

including. zayne, xavier, rafayel, sylus, caleb

genre. fem! reader, making out (quite sexual), body fondling, established relationship

⋆. 𐙚 ̊ zayne

there's always a subtle silence before you happen to feel it— you know? the way zayne watches your lips like he's studying anatomy again— not clinically, silly! but reverently, like he might carve the shape of your mouth into his memory.

so precise, so devout, it borders on madness. soaked in tension and lust— quite obsessive, don't you agree? almost grotesque in how deeply he desired you.

the man leans in, close enough for his breath to ghost over your skin as he abruptly stops, catching himself in the same course of action he tends to take, every damn time.

zayne held himself back like the act of restraint was the only thing keeping him from collapsing into you completely, succumbing to those pretty, warm lips of yours as something deep inside of him broke that night.

he's going deeper before pressing into your lips at last— his psyche, his shadows, the way the hunger on his tongue felt different than anyone else's as he cups your face like he's afraid of shattering it, mouth crashing into yours.

not messy, not wild, instead, devastatingly precise— and every stroke of his warm muscle felt like it's been rehearsed in secret, fantasized about in sinful dreams as his hand slides down your throat, thumb resting on your pulse like he's checking it— not for medical reasons, but for control.

the kiss deepens and sharpens at the edges of each lap and suckle of your bottom lip between his teeth as his body presses you to the nearest surface with a force just edging on subtle bruising— and when your fingers suddenly thread into his hair to taste him more, when you pull him harder into you— he groans low, a sound rattling from somewhere hidden and forbidden, yes, like something sacred within him was being exposed.

and well, in that exposé, zayne finds a terrible, exquisite relief in each slip and slide of your tongues intertwining, bodies stroking each other as though this was the only way he's ever known how to feel alive.

⋆. 𐙚 ̊ xavier

xavier touches you first— although not to grope, yet to ground himself with his palm on your shaking hip while his other hand brushes against your soft cheek, and that look on him which was revealed next haunted you— like he's seeing a future he doesn’t believe he deserves.

slow, searching, his lips coax across your bottom lip, the tension behind each suckle on it unbearable as he continues to trace yours like he's adamant to make it everlasting. your boyfriend grunted like restraint stretched thin inside his frame, like one more kiss might tip him over the edge into something more, well, feral? ugh, but he holds himself back of course. 

yet just barely.

those kisses you shared weren't just random pecks here and there, they felt like confessions, truly, like a collapse of two loving hearts forming a dance of possession— each movement sharpening to the truth of what this relationship meant to him, all of it rooted in desire and lust, shadowed with emotional gravity and physical intensity of hands squeezing your flesh.

and you felt it, all of it— the tremble in his fingers, the quiet threat of his teeth brushing just behind every soft tug at your lip, as though even the smallest motion could unravel him further.

you arch into him, obediently feeling the low, guttural sound that escaped his throat— a half moan, a sound so faint it could almost be mistaken for a prayer, whispered to no god at all, but to the madness he cannot escape.

your lips stay close at all times, breathing hard against each other with foreheads pressed together, "i don't want to hurt you," his voice, thick with restraint, was taken hostage somewhere between a confession and collapse, yet his hands disobey him at last— sliding beneath your shirt with a quiet desperation, mapping the ridges of your shape like he's meant to be.

truly, if you let him keep going with those addictive kisses, he'll worship you until he forgets where he ends and you begin.

⋆. 𐙚 ̊ rafayel

hands in your hair, rafayel's lips were already open and panting, breath warm and uneven and jaw slacked, well, it's all then and there with no waiting, no warning— just the sudden, dizzying sensation of being devoured by the man you loved.

his tongue was everywhere on you— teasing you, curling and invading your mouth as he moans into your parted lips, pulling your lower lip between his teeth and laughing when you gasp out in slight shock— quite literally, the man loved to push you over the edge, he lived for the sweet, little responses you'd grace him with in return.

from being tangled in your hair to squeezed within your clothes, rafayel slides down further to cup your ass, squeezing the addicting mounds of flesh as you wince into his hold, "ugh, you taste like a bad decision," he smirks, whispering against your mouth, yet already leaning right back in.

before you could even response to him he kisses you harder, deeper, lapping and lapping and lapping his hefty tongue against your own as your hips were grinding against him just enough to make the room spin and your eyes roll back into your skull.

without a doubt, every second with him felt like falling and screaming and shattering all at once— fast at that, disoriented and inevitable when all you needed is for him to imbed you with his scent until there was nothing left of you to claim.

it's there when you realize that rafayel tasted like the sweetest sin that has ever existed, not kissing to seduce, but to ruin— and make sure you’re begging him for it.

for a slight second he pulls away just enough to look at your lips and what he's done to them— and would you look at that? your boyfriend adored the lusting sight of swollen, glistening, needy lips parted and puffed up, "baby, you're gonna be the death of me."

rafayel says it like it's a promise.

⋆. 𐙚 ̊ sylus

you can’t call this a kiss— no, not with the way sylus's mouth drags across yours like he's already lost the war against wanting you.

to call it a claim would be closer though, but even that sounds too civilized. there is nothing civil about the way his tongue parts your lips— wet, scorching, impatient, nothing gentle in the sting of his teeth catching your mouth, just enough to pull breath from your lungs and copper to your tongue.

he tastes it— even better, tastes you— and it makes something violent bloom in his chest as he growls out embarrassingly loud, not like an animal but like a man who's tasted divinity and was furious that he ever lived without it in the past.

his grip on your hips tighten as he drags you against him, feeling you up like shame didn't exist in his vocabulary, in fact, it quite literally didn't.

not a flicker of hesitation, not even the illusion of pause— only the dreadful inevitability of a hunger given form around his tongue, his lips moving with the certainty of something long premeditated, as if his body had been waiting its entire life for permission to devour you.

he doesn’t ask for allowance to be rougher, sylus knows he doesn’t need to.

his mouth licks into yours with a frenzied rhythm, like he’s trying to bury every unspeakable thought inside your throat as every shove, every bitten gasp, every ragged exhale that leaves his body was a hidden confession disguised as a dominating sin.

the man was not delicate. he was not kind. but he was true.

terrifyingly, brutally true.

furthermore, his tongue traces a wet line from your bottom lip, creeping toward your jaw, then dipping lower to your neck— infused with desperation and something dangerously raw.

his teeth find your skin at last— not out of need, no, but out of some dark impulse deep hidden beneath his heart, as if marking you up was the only act left that can prove he existed, that he's here, tethered to a body that's already unraveling.

"you have no fucking idea," he pants, his breath a jagged rhythm against your skin as if the act of inhaling and exhaling was the only thing that kept him secured— each exhalation a tremor, a faint admission of the madness threatening to spill over.

he smirks, "what you’ve done to me."

⋆. 𐙚 ̊ caleb

in the language of a yearning man, caleb doesn't speak— instead the silence clung to him like a second skin, as if words would shatter whatever fragile shell still held him upright.

as an alternative, his hands found your waist as he exhales deeply from his mouth when he feels your body— yet tentative at first, but with a pressure that deepens and sharpens, afterwards he leans in to kiss you.

not in a haste, no, not like a man chasing basic pleasure, but like a man aching with his mouth against yours— slow, burning, unbearably tender.

his lips taste of quiet torment, of years spent repressing the thing now trembling beneath his touch and the longer it goes on, the more unraveled he becomes— now here, his breath falters, his jaw tenses and when his tongue brushes up against your own needy one, it is with such aching slowness that it felt like a sin.

he grips your jaw softly, almost fearfully, as if he cannot believe you're letting him touch you as his other hand slips beneath the waistband of your pants— fingertips skimming over your bare flesh and squeezing at it like he's utterly worshipping you.

more and more, you want more but the kiss breaks open, becoming wet and open-mouthed, desperate and messy and ugh— caleb cannot stop and neither can you, even less when you whine at him all quietly and overstimulated, the kind of sound which made a man fall on his knees.

okay, he should pull away, correct? uh, before you'll both be unable to stop and take it further, you see the truth in that?

well, he doesn’t.

and neither do you.

©2025 anantaru do not repost, copy, translate, modify, claim as your own

baseball player!yuuji based on this post by @prettyboykatsuki !!

How do the LADS men react when they catch you reading smut. 🫣 Part 5

TW: Smut

Part 1 (Xavier)

Part 2 (Caleb)

Part 3 (Sylus)

Part 4 (Zayne)

You were sitting curled up on your couch, having resorted to losing yourself in the pages of romance novels over the last couple of weeks. Rafayel had been away on a work trip, leaving you with an emptiness that you tried to fill with the printed words and the promise of happily ever afters.

The book was just the kind you always liked, romance with some smut. Every time you stumbled across an oral sex scene, your fingers would linger, tracing the words and marking the page with a dog eared corner. It was a habit born out of a desperate need to overwrite the bitter memory of your past lover's words.

You could still hear his voice echoing in your mind, feel the cold sting of his criticism. The first time he had gone down on you, his nose had wrinkled in disgust. "I don't like the smell," he had muttered, pulling away and leaving you craving his touch. The taste, he had said with a grimace, was even worse. Those words had haunted you, making you question your own desire, your own worth.

You sighed softly, your fingers stilling on the page as you lost yourself in thought, remembering the few times Rafayel had tried to worship you with his mouth. Each time, you had pulled him up, stopping him mid motion, a flush of embarrassment painting your cheeks. You could never bring yourself to give him a reason why, too ashamed to admit the truth.

Rafayel had never pushed, always respecting your boundaries even as confusion clouded his eyes. He probably thought you simply didn't enjoy the act, that the idea of his head between your thighs left you cold. If only he knew the truth, that it was the exact opposite. The thought of his tongue exploring your folds, his lips sealing around your aching clit, made your core clench with need.

You shifted on the couch, your body growing warm as arousal began to course through your veins. The book forgotten as your mind drifted to fantasies of Rafayel's mouth on you, his hands gripping your hips as he feasted on your dripping sex. You wanted to fist your hands in his purple hair, wanted to grind your pussy against his face until you found your release.

A soft whimper escaped your lips at the thought, your thighs clenching together as you felt your panties growing damp. You were embarrassed by your own desire, ashamed of how much you craved the feeling of Rafayel's mouth on you.

Unable to focus on the words on the page any longer, you snapped the book shut, the spine creaking softly as you closed it. Rising from the couch, you placed the book on the small wooden table beside the lamp and made your way to the bathroom to shower, footsteps echoing in the empty apartment. Rafayel would be home in a few hours, and already your body was singing with anticipation, your heart fluttering wildly in your chest.

The water ran over your skin, washing away the lingering traces of your desire. But even as the heat soaked into your muscles, you couldn't shake the ache between your thighs, the constant hunger that only Rafayel could satisfy.

You tilted your head back, eyes fluttering closed. You bit your lower lip, a soft moan escaping you as you imagined him carrying you out of the bathroom, your naked body on full display as he brought you to the bedroom. You could almost feel his mouth on your breasts, his tongue swirling around the hardened peaks until you were writhing beneath him, desperate for more.

Suddenly you jumped slightly at the sound of Rafayel's voice, a thrill running down your spine at the realization that he was home. You hadn't expected him to be back so soon, figuring you still had a bit more time before his return.

"Just a moment, I'm finishing up in the shower!" you called out, hoping your voice sounded steadier than you felt. Inside, your heart was racing, your body already responding to the mere sound of his voice.

You quickly finished rinsing the shampoo from your hair, the scent of vanilla and honey filling the steamy air. Turning off the taps, you stepped out of the shower, grabbing a fluffy towel and wrapping it around your body.

Back in your room you picked a simple sundress, the soft fabric falling to just above your knees. It was a dress you knew he liked, one that made his gaze linger on the way it hugged your curves.

Taking a deep breath to steady your nerves, you stepped out of your room, your bare feet sinking into the plush carpet of the hallway. You could hear Rafayel moving around in the living room, the soft clink of glass on glass telling you he was likely pouring himself a drink.

You paused for a moment, gathering your courage before stepping into the living room. Rafayel stood with his back to you, pouring a measure of amber liquid into a tumbler. He was dressed in a button down shirt, the sleeves rolled up to his elbows, and a pair of dark slacks that hugged his sculpted ass.

"Welcome," you said softly, stepping further into the room. "I'm glad you're back early." You couldn't help the way your voice wavered slightly.

The moment Rafayel turned to face you, his striking blue and pink eyes locked onto yours, they immediately darkened with a hunger that made your breath catch in your throat and in an instant, he was across the room, his long strides eating up the distance between you.

He wrapped an arm around your waist, pulling your body flush against his firm chest. His eyes raked over your face, taking in every detail, the flush on your cheeks, the way your lips parted slightly as if in invitation. They drifted lower, lingering on the curve of your neck, the swell of your breasts beneath the thin fabric of your sundress. You could feel the heat of his gaze like a physical caress, your skin tingling in its wake.

"God, I've missed you," he breathed, before lowering his head and capturing your lips in a kiss. It was a kiss filled with all the pent up longing and desire of the time you've spent apart, a kiss that spoke of a hunger that could only be sated by the feel of your body against his.

His lips moved over yours, his tongue delving into the warmth of your mouth to tangle with your own. You could taste the whiskey on his tongue, the smoky flavor mingling with the sweetness of his own unique taste.

His hand slid from your chin to the back of your neck, tilting your head to deepen the kiss. The other hand on your waist tightened, pressing your soft curves against the hard planes of his body until you could feel every inch of him, from his sculpted chest to the growing bulge in his pants. He kissed you until you were breathless, until your head was spinning and your knees felt weak. He kissed you until you were clinging to him, your fingers fisting in the fabric of his shirt as if anchoring yourself against the storm of sensation he was unleashing.

"We can't... not right now, cutie," he said, his tone laced with regret . "Finish getting ready. I'm taking you back to my house, I have something I want to show you."

You nodded, your body still tingling from Rafayel's intense kiss and touch. With a soft sigh, you stepped back and made your way to your room to finish getting ready. As you walked away, you could feel his eyes on you, trailing over your curves, lingering on the sway of your hips as you moved. 

In your room, you quickly finished what you had started, brushing out your damp hair until it fell in soft waves around your shoulders. You slipped on a pair of cute, strappy sandals that showed off the delicate arches of your feet and painted nails. A quick swipe of mascara, a dab of gloss on your lips, and you were ready.

You took a deep breath before stepping back out into the living room, finding Rafayel exactly where you had left him, seated on the couch, one long leg crossed over the other as he sipped his drink.

Your eyes widened slightly as you noticed the book was no longer on the side table where you had left it, but instead resting on the couch cushion next to Rafayel. A wave of embarrassment washed over you a deep blush spreading across your face

You hoped with every fiber of your being that Rafayel hadn't flipped through the pages, hadn't seen the dog eared corners marking the scenes you found particularly...stimulating. The thought of him reading them, perhaps even catching a glimpse of the words describing the intimate acts you secretly longed to experience with him, made your core clench and your heart race.

Trying to play it cool, you casually made your way over to the couch, stopping a respectable distance away from where Rafayel was seated. "Ready to go?" you asked.

"I'm more than ready," Rafayel murmured, his voice smooth like velvet. In one fluid motion, he downed the last of his drink, the glass clinking softly as he set it back down on the table. Rising to his feet, he towered over you, his tall body casting a shadow that made you feel small and feminine in comparison.

Without warning, he leaned in, capturing your lips in a teasing kiss. It was a mere brush of his mouth against yours and before you could even react, he was pulling away, his hand slipping down to the small of your back as he guided you out of the apartment.

🐡🐡🐡🐡🐡🐡🐡🐡🐡🐡🐡🐡🐡

As you stepped through the doorway of Rafayel's house, suddenly finding yourself swept up into his arms, you let out a surprised gasp that quickly turned into a fit of giggles. "Rafayel!" you squealed, instinctively looping your arms around his neck to steady yourself. "Put me down! I can walk just fine on my own."

Despite your protests, you couldn't help but feel a thrill of excitement course through you at being held so effortlessly in Rafayel's muscular arms. He carried you bridal style, your dress riding up slightly to reveal a peek of your smooth, bare thighs. 

Rafayel grinned at your laughter, his eyes crinkling at the corners in a way that made your heart flutter. "But I want to carry you," he insisted playfully, giving you a little squeeze as he held you close to his chest. "Buuuuuut, don't ever expect me to give you a piggyback ride, it will only make me look like a sea turtle" he teased, making you laugh even harder.

As Rafayel carried you into the living room, your laughter faded, replaced by a sudden gasp of surprise as you took in the romantic scene before you. The table was set for a fancy dinner, complete with a crisp white tablecloth, gleaming china, and a vase of fresh roses as a centerpiece.

But what caught your eye and made your cheeks flush a deep, telling pink was the painting hung on the wall behind the table. It was a stunning portrait of yourself, captured in a moment of unguarded joy and laughter. Your eyes sparkled, your lips were curved in a radiant smile, and your hair danced around your face as if caught in a soft breeze. The painting was breathtaking, his skills evident in every brushstroke.

"Rafayel..." you breathed, a mix of emotions clogging your throat. "When did you... how did you...?" You were at a loss for words, deeply touched that he had not only thought to create such a romantic setting for your dinner but had also painted your portrait and displayed it so prominently in his home.

Your heart raced as you met Rafayel's gaze, seeing the love and adoration shining in his eyes. Tears pricked at the corners of your eyes, and you blinked rapidly to keep them at bay. "It's... it's wonderful," you managed to say, your voice thick with emotion. "Thank you, Rafayel. 

"Puh-lease, you deserve much more than this" He said as he carried you closer to the table, letting you take in the romantic scene. "But I wanted to start by showing you, in my own way, how much you mean to me"

He set you down gently on your feet, keeping his arms around your waist as he looked into your eyes. The portrait loomed behind him, the painted version of you smiling down at the two of you, a silent witness to this intimate moment.

"Please, have a seat," he said softly, pulling the chair out for you like a true gentleman.

As you settled into the plush seat, he pushed the chair in, his hands coming to rest lightly on your shoulders. Leaning down, he pressed a tender kiss to the top of your head before stepping around to take his own seat across from you.

As you both savored the delicious meal, Rafayel talked about his trip, painting a vivid picture of the places he'd seen and the people he'd met. He spoke of the beautiful landscapes, the fascinating art he'd admired, and the new techniques he'd learned, all while his eyes never left yours.

As the plates were cleaned and the wine glasses drained, Rafayel set down his napkin and rose from his seat. "It's time for dessert," he announced with a playful grin, turning to head towards the kitchen.

As he walked back to the table, he stumbled slightly, his hands both occupied with holding two small, beautifully decorated cakes.

Instinctively, you jumped up to help, not wanting him to struggle alone. "Let me help you," you offered, hurrying over to where he stood, trying to regain his balance. As you approached, Rafayel lost his grip on one of the cakes, watching in horror as it tumbled to the floor with a soft thud.

"Oh, damn it," he cursed under his breath, his brow furrowing in frustration. But before he could bend down to clean up the mess, you were already on your knees, carefully gathering the pieces and setting them aside.

"Hand me that napkin..."

Suddenly you felt Rafayel's hands slip under your armpits. Before you could react, he was lifting you effortlessly to your feet, his fingers splaying across your back.

Startled, you let out a soft gasp as Rafayel began to walk you backwards to the table, his eyes darkening with a hunger that made your skin prickle.

With a gentle push of his hand, he swept the empty plates and cutlery aside, clearing a space on the table in front of where he stood. Your heart raced as you realized his intention, a blush spreading across your cheeks at the thought of what he had in mind. "Rafayel," you whispered, surprise and anticipation coloring your voice. But any further protests were silenced as he sat you on the edge of the table.

He stepped between your legs, his hands coming to rest on your thighs, his fingers gently squeezing the soft flesh. There was a small, enigmatic smile playing at the corners of his mouth.

"I have a different kind of dessert in mind," His hands slid slowly up your thighs, pushing the fabric of your sundress higher and higher until the cool air kissed the bare skin beneath. "And trust me, cutie... Im going to love every single bite."

Rafayel sat back down in his chair, his eyes never leaving yours as he slowly spread your legs apart, revealing more of your smooth skin.

As he leaned in closer, his face was hovering inches from your knee when you suddenly clenched your thighs together.

Rafayel paused, his hands still in between your thighs as he tilted his head to the side, his expression a mix of curiosity "Wait," he said softly, "How is it that you have no problem reading such...delicious filthy things in your books, but when I want to make them a reality for you, you suddenly get all shy?"

He leaned back slightly, his thumbs gently rubbing circles on the sensitive skin of your inner thighs as he studied your face, trying to understand the contradiction in your behavior. 

You took a deep, shaky breath, your cheeks burning with a fierce blush as you tried to find the right words. The truth hung heavily on your tongue, but you knew you could no longer hide from Rafayel, not when he was looking at you like that.

"Rafayel, I... I don't taste good down there," you admitted quietly, your voice barely above a whisper. Embarrassed, you turned your face away from him, unable to meet his gaze as you confessed your insecurity. "I'm sorry, I just... I don't want you to think that I'm not appreciative of what you want to do. It's just..."

Before you could finish your confession, Rafayel's deep, rumbling voice cut through the air, "How do you know that?" he asked, his thumbs pausing their gentle circles on your thighs as he waited for your answer.

You hesitated for a moment, not wanting to bring up an ex-boyfriend while in the midst of this intimate moment with Rafayel. But seeing no alternative, you took a deep breath and replied softly, "A guy I was seeing before you... he told me that."

Rafayel let out a soft laugh at your words "Oh, so it was one of those boys, huh?" he mused, a playful smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth.

At the sound of his laughter, you found yourself turning back to face him, your curiosity piqued. As your gaze met his, you were struck by the sudden intensity of his eyes, they blazed with a mix of amusement, affection, and a hint of something else.

Rafayel's hand slid slowly up your thigh, his fingertips leaving a trail of goosebumps in their wake. His eyes darkened with desire as he leaned in closer, his voice dropping to a husky whisper. "You know, y/n ," he murmured "I want to do absolutely filthy things to you, especially to this cute little cunt of yours."

As he spoke those dirty words, his hand reached the hem of your dress, his fingers dipping beneath the fabric to brush against the damp lace of your panties. He could feel the heat emanating from your core, could sense the way your body responded to his touch, even through the thin barrier of your underwear.

"But only if you let me," Rafayel purred, as he gazed deeply into your eyes. At the same time, he gently tugged your panties to the side and sank a single finger inside you, feeling your walls clench around the sudden intrusion. He groaned softly at the sensation, his eyes fluttering closed for a brief moment as he savored the feeling of your heat around his finger.

"And if you like what I'm about to do..." Rafayel said, his finger slowly pumping in and out of your tight cunt, "I won't be able to stop at just once. I'll need to taste you again and again until you are dripping down my chin.

He slowly pulled his glistening finger from your pussy, a low groan escaping his lips as he took in the sight of your arousal coating it and without a word, he brought his hand up to your mouth, his gaze locked onto yours.

"Open your mouth cutie ," he commanded softly, the tip of his finger brushing against your lower lip, smearing your arousal there. "Taste yourself on me. Taste how sweet and delicious you are."

You hesitated for a moment, your cheeks burning with embarrassment at the thought of tasting your own arousal. But the hunger in his eyes was impossible to ignore, his intense gaze daring you to comply with his command.

With a shaky breath, you parted your lips, allowing his finger to slip into your mouth. The moment it touched your tongue, you could taste the evidence of your desire, the faintly sweet and slightly musky flavor exploding across your taste buds. It was a new and intense experience, one that sent a shiver of excitement down your spine as you swirled your tongue around his finger.

Unable to hold back any longer, Rafayel acted on his primal instincts and in one swift motion, he bunched up the hem of your dress and brought the fabric to your lips, his eyes never leaving yours. "Here, hold this for me," his voice was thick with lust. "Bite down on it."

You reluctantly clamped your teeth onto the fabric, the action exposed your covered cunt to his hungry eyes, the damp lace clinging to you like a second skin.

He grabbed your hips, his strong hands gripping you possessively as he gently pulled you to the edge of the table. You gasped softly as he suddenly bent your right leg, exposing you even further to his greedy eyes. A shiver ran through you when he leaned in, his breath ghosting over the sensitive skin of your inner thigh.

He didn't dive in immediately, teasing you with a trail of soft kisses. His lips suckled at the delicate skin near your knee, his tongue darting out to taste you, to leave a path of fire in its wake. Slowly, torturously, he worked his way up your thigh, inching closer and closer to your center.

"Rafayel..." you whimpered around the fabric stuffed in your mouth, your hips writhing with anticipation. 

Rafayel continued sucking dark hickeys into the soft skin of your inner thigh, marking you as his. Each one sent jolts of electricity zipping through your nervous system, making you squirm and gasp.

Just as you squeezed your eyes shut, unable to bear the intensity of the sensations, Rafayel lifted his head and a breathy moan escaped your lips as you felt the ghost of his breath skating across your cunt. Instinctively, you tried to clamp your thighs together, but Rafayel was too quick, his hands gripped your knees, holding them firmly apart as he gazed at your glistening folds, barely concealed by the damp lace of your panties. "Don't hide from me, my cute miss bodyguard, I want to see all of you, taste all of you."

He leaned in closer, his nose brushing against the damp fabric as he inhaled deeply, taking in your intoxicating scent. "Fuck, you smell divine," he groaned.

You felt Rafayel hook his fingers into the waistband of your panties, the damp lace clinging to your sensitive flesh. With a sharp tug, he yanked them down your legs, the scrap of fabric sliding over your skin and baring your dripping pussy to his hungry gaze.

"Look at you," Rafayel growled "So fucking wet and ready for me. I've barely touched you and you're already dripping."

Instead of immediately giving in to the urge to devour you whole, Rafayel paused. He trailed his fingers lightly through your folds, feeling the hot, silky evidence of your arousal coating his digits. Slowly, teasingly, he circled your entrance with the pad of his thumb, applying a delicious pressure that made your walls clench and flutter eagerly.

You let out a soft whimper, your body aching for more of his touch. Rafayel looked up at you "Patience my petite artiste," he murmured as the rough pad of his thumb pressed against the swollen nub, sending sparks of pleasure shooting through your core. At the same time, he slipped two long, thick fingers deep inside you, curling them just so to brush against that special spot that made you see stars.

You gasped and writhed beneath his touch, your body overwhelmed with the intense sensations. An arm flung over your eyes as you surrendered to the feeling, your breath coming in sharp, quick pants. Soft mewls and whimpers escaping as Rafayel worked you over with skilled fingers. Drool was beginning to soak the fabric you had been biting down on.

You could feel the heat of his breath puffing against your dripping folds, could sense how close his handsome face was to your core. The knowledge that he wasn't repulsed, that he wanted to taste you, to consume you, only heightened your arousal. Your juices flowed freely, coating his fingers and dripping down onto the table beneath you.

As you felt your climax building, your body tensing and coiling like a spring ready to snap, Rafayel changed his tactic. Just as you were on the edge of ecstasy, he dragged his tongue along your slit. The sensation was electric, sending pleasure shooting up your spine.

He started at your entrance, his tongue delving between your folds, lapping up the slick arousal that coated them. He groaned at the taste of you, the sound vibrating against your sensitive flesh and pushing you even closer.

You cried out, your voice echoing through the room as Rafayel's lips closed around your clit. Your hands gripped the edge of the table, knuckles turning white as you clung to it for dear life. The fabric you had been biting down on fell from your lips, leaving Rafayel under the skirt of your dress.

"Oh god—" you gasped, your words dissolving into a strangled moan as he sucked even harder on your clit, his tongue flicking against the sensitive bud.

Your hips jerked and bucked, trying to grind against his face, desperate for more of that exquisite friction. The feeling of his lips wrapped around your clit, suckling and teasing the sensitive bundle of nerves, combined with the thrust of his fingers pumping in and out of you was pure, unadulterated ecstasy.

"Oh fuck—" you panted, pulling your dress back, hands tangling in his hair as you held him against you, not wanting him to stop. Your walls clenched and fluttered around his fingers, growing tighter and tighter as your climax rapidly approached.

Rafayel!" you screamed, your voice breaking as the first waves of your orgasm crashed over you. Your body shuddered, juices gushing from your spasming cunt to flood his mouth and chin. Your hands gripped his hair harder, simultaneously pulling him closer and pushing him away as you rode out the crest of your climax.

A final moan tore from your throat as the last waves of ecstasy washed over you, leaving you feeling boneless. When your eyes fluttered open, you found Rafayel looking at you, his face glistening with your juices. He wore a smug, satisfied smirk as he took in the sight of you, wrecked by the force of your orgasm.

"Well?" he asked before he licked his lips, savoring your taste. 

Suddenly, tears began to stream down your cheeks, your emotions running high from the intense experience. Rafayel's expression immediately shifted to one of concern as he took in your sudden distress. He gently removed his fingers from your core and brushed the tears from your face with his thumb, his brow furrowed in worry.

"Cutie, what's wrong?" he asked softly, his voice laced with concern. "Did I hurt you somehow? I'm so sorry if I did..."

He trailed off as he noticed the way your shoulders shook with silent sobs, confusion etched across his face. Just then, a small hiccup escaped your lips, followed by a choked laugh.

"I can't believe I've been missing out on this all this time. Why did I wait so long to let you do that?"

Rafayel blinked in surprise at your words, then let out a deep, rumbling laugh. He shook his head, a wide grin spreading across his face. "Oh, cutie," he chuckled, his thumb brushing away another stray tear. "Don't worry, I'll make sure you never have to go without again."

Since eid is coming soon:

Here's the LADS during eid :3

Sylus: he's preparing really good, nice clothes, sadaqa is out, the kids are getting a HEFTY amount of money. I'm sure he'll be oversitimulated mid day, sneaking you with him to the bathroom just so he can have a moment of peace, my baby :<

Xavier: he's preparing for a disaster in the toilet, he takes all offers of foods or sweets, which often can cause trouble un the digestive track. And considering he won't be doing much activity beside walking or swimming, he's having a good day and terrible night spent in the bathroom

Rafayel: all kids love him as usual, he's giving them good money, he's eating alot of sweets, the whole family is swarming him if he's a newlywed into the family. Probably getting way too overstimulated until you take him to the beach and then he's back to energetic uncle with the kids :D

Zayne: he looks like he's okay, he's not. He's stressing out the day before and during preparation, every detail has to be perfect from food to how he's dressed. When it's finally time to visit someone/ they're visiting, he gets to relax for a bit and eat some sweets finishing the whole tray

Caleb: a more energetic and lovely version of the ramadan edition, the kids climbing tree, swimming floaty, the perfect uncle. He's definitely having trouble with all food or sweets offered to him but he can't decline out of politeness :<

This was very messy, fasting has its effect on me

Your relationship with Sukuna was on its last legs. You tried to make things work, but he was as difficult as it could get, and mean. After a particularly terrible fight, the two of you made up, and you began to hope again. Later that night, his friends called, inviting him to the club. You told him you weren’t comfortable with it. He agreed to stay, even tucking you into bed.

But once you fell asleep, he snuck out.

Things went downhill from there.

Sukuna and his friends drank heavily, and soon he was caught up in the chaos—laughing, dancing, and losing control. While you slept, his friends began posting videos online: Sukuna receiving a lap dance, drunk and kissing another girl, clearly high and out of his mind.

When you woke up, you reached over to find his side of the bed cold and empty. You thought he had left early for work. But then your phone started blowing up with messages from friends and strangers alike. Your heart pounded as you unlocked it and opened Instagram, only to see the posts.

One after another, each post felt like a knife to your chest—Sukuna smiling lazily, his hands on another woman, his lips brushing hers. You could see the flashing lights, hear the blaring music, and feel the sting of betrayal in every picture and clip. Your fingers trembled, and your vision blurred with tears as you watched in disbelief.

The room felt like it was spinning. You tried to steady yourself, but the weight of it all was crushing. How could he do this to you, especially after you had been so open, so vulnerable about your feelings? After he had promised to stay?

You had told him, in the heat of making up, that this was his last chance. You were clear: if he messed up again, you were packing your things and going back to the States. He had looked you in the eyes and promised. And yet, he still went and did this.

Meanwhile, Sukuna was still sleeping, his head pounding and the room spinning. He didn’t remember a damned thing the night before. He remembered sneaking out, thinking he’d make it back before sunrise, slip back into bed, and act like nothing happened. You were just being too dramatic, he thought. You’d told him how you didn’t like his friends, that they hated you and were trying to break the two of you up. He’d laughed it off as paranoia. Crazy talk.

He vaguely remembered drinking a shot—just one—and after that, things got hazy. He didn’t believe for a second that his friends would spike his drink.

No, they’d never do that… right?

But now, as he blinked his eyes open, he realized something was very wrong. Next to him was a woman he didn’t recognize, definitely not you. The sunlight was streaming through the window, and panic shot through his body like a jolt of electricity. His heart raced as he sat up, the events of the night before still a foggy blur.

“Oh, shit,” he muttered under his breath, his mind starting to piece together the fragments. You two had just made up—how could he have been so reckless?

Sukuna fumbled for his phone, his hands shaking. The screen lit up, showing the time: 12:46. His heart sank even further. He really had messed up this time. The battery was about to die, a thin red line warning him he had little time left. He glanced around, trying to make sense of the unfamiliar room.

What confused him most was that he was still in his clothes from the night before. A small relief—at least he hadn’t slept with the woman next to him. But that didn’t matter much, did it? He was still in bed with another woman, a stranger, and that alone was enough to shatter whatever trust you had left in him.

His head throbbed with a dull, pounding pain, a mix of alcohol and regret. He desperately needed water, but his feet felt glued to the floor. As he forced himself to sit up, the room seemed to spin around him. He rubbed his temples, trying to shake off the fog of the hangover, but his mind remained a jumbled mess.

He checked his phone again, scrolling through the flood of messages, but your name wasn’t among them. No missed calls, no texts, no messages. Just silence.

It took you two hours to get yourself to function properly. When something traumatic happened, you had this tendency to just shut down. No crying, no shouting—just silence. You couldn’t even talk right now. You sat on the edge of the bed, staring blankly at the wall, your mind numb. The pain was so immense that it felt like nothing at all, a hollow void where your heart should be.

Slowly, you got up, moving like you were underwater, every step heavy and disjointed. You made your way to the bedroom closet and grabbed a suitcase, your hands moving on autopilot. You began packing everything you owned in this place, methodically folding clothes, stacking books, gathering small, personal items that had once made this space feel like home. Now, every object felt like a weight dragging you down.

You didn’t remember much from those moments, only flashes of despair and confusion. Your mind was clouded, a fog of grief settling over you. All you knew was that you wanted to disappear, to somehow escape the unbearable ache in your chest.

How could this happen? Why? The questions repeated in your mind, over and over, like a broken record. Were you not enough? Was he cheating this whole time?

Your thoughts spiraled into a dark place, each one more suffocating than the last. The silence of the room pressed in around you, amplifying every doubt, every fear. You felt lost in a sea of uncertainty, desperately searching for something to hold onto, but finding nothing but emptiness.

You paused for a moment, standing still in the middle of the room, clutching a shirt to your chest. You wanted to scream, to cry, to do anything, but no sound came out. All that filled you was a deep, aching void that left you feeling more alone than ever before.

Just as you finished packing, the door opened, but you didn't flinch. Your fingers continued scrolling through your phone, searching for flight tickets. You didn’t care where it would take you—anywhere but here.

Sukuna stepped inside, his expression a mix of confusion and panic. You didn’t look up. Your face remained calm, almost eerily so, as if you were in a trance. You kept scrolling, your focus entirely on the screen, like it was the only thing anchoring you to reality.

“Where are you going?” he asked, his voice tight with panic. But you said nothing.

Your face was expressionless, your eyes fixed on your phone. He moved closer, desperate now. “Please,” he continued, “can’t we just… talk?”

Finally, you paused, letting out a slow, controlled breath. But you didn’t look at him. Your silence was deafening, more unnerving than any yelling or screaming could have been.

He swallowed hard, sensing the change, feeling the weight of your silence pressing down on him. “I… I didn’t mean for this to happen,” he tried again. "I don’t even remember what happened. I think I was drugged or something..." His voice grew softer, almost pleading now.

You continued to tap the screen, the sound of your fingers the only noise in the room. You found a flight and pressed "book," moving methodically, as if this was just another task on a list. Your calmness was unnerving, like the quiet before a storm.

“Y/N… please,” Sukuna whispered, taking another step forward, but your detachment made him falter.

You finally glanced up at him, your expression unreadable, your voice steady and calm. “I'm leaving,” you said quietly, as if stating a simple fact.

He blinked, stunned by the flatness of your tone. There was no anger, no emotion—just a cold, stark finality. “But… we can work this out,” he stammered, “right?”

You looked back at your phone, as if he were no longer even there. You were done listening, done hoping, done believing. His words were just noise now, meaningless in the face of everything he had broken.

Sukuna was a big man, another reason you had fallen in love with him. Being with him had made you feel so safe, so happy. But when you reached for your suitcase, he finally broke.

He snatched it out of your hand. "No, no, you're not leaving me," he insisted, his voice frantic. "Look, please just listen. I know I lied to you and snuck out, but I swear I would never cheat on you."

You stood still, watching him, his large frame towering over you, his eyes wide with fear and desperation. But your heart felt like ice. You could see the panic in his eyes, hear the tremor in his voice, but it didn’t matter. Not anymore.

His hands gripped the suitcase so tightly that his knuckles turned white. "Please," he begged again, "just… don’t go."

For a moment, you almost felt something—a flicker of the love you used to feel. But it was gone as quickly as it came. “Let go,” your voice is calm and steady.

“No, look, I would do anything,” he blurted out, his voice rising with desperation. “Okay, I see now why you don’t like my friends. I’ll cut them out. I won’t ever talk to another girl again. Just… anything. Tell me what to do, and I’ll do it. Please.”

He was a mess, still hungover, his head pounding, his hands trembling. His breath came in ragged gasps as he struggled to keep it together, his eyes glistening with unshed tears. He looked so close to breaking down completely.

Why did he make this mistake? Why did he let himself slip up so badly? You had given him a chance, and he had blown it in mere hours. The realization seemed to dawn on him, his face twisting with guilt and regret. His shoulders sagged, and his voice broke. "I don’t want to lose you,” he whispered, his tone raw with fear.

But it didn’t matter anymore. Whatever he was offering now felt hollow, too little, too late. Your heart felt heavy, but your mind was made up.

"Let go," you repeated, firmer this time, your eyes locking onto his.

Sukuna's hand fell away from the suitcase as if it weighed a ton, his breath hitching. He wanted to fight, to argue, but the defeat in your eyes left him lost. “I’m so sorry,” he mumbled, his voice almost inaudible, choking on his own words.

But all you did was nod, a small, almost imperceptible nod, and turn toward the door.

He stood there, his whole world crumbling, as you walked away.

◟♡ ˒ ʾʾ athlete!sukuna has a thing for your lips.

you don’t even get a chance to secure your cherry-flavored lip balm before a strong, calloused hand plucks it right from your grasp without warning.

“hey!” you protest, turning to face sukuna, who grins like he’s just won something. he twirls the tiny tube between his fingers, clearly entertained, his gym bag slung casually over his shoulder. dressed in his practice jersey, he’s all sweat and arrogance, the scent of exertion clinging to him.

“what’s this?" he muses, turning the tiny tube over in his fingers. “cherry-flavored? figures. you always taste just as sweet as you act, sunshine.”

heat creeps up your neck, caught off guard by the nickname. he’s never called you “sunshine” before. “cut it out. just give it back already.”

“nah.” he grins, applying the balm like he hasn’t just committed a crime. your entire soul leaves your body. “you did not just—”

“mm,” he muses, tilting his head as he smacks his lips thoughtfully. “not bad, but i have a feeling it tastes even sweeter from the source.”

before you can protest, sukuna traps you against the lockers, his presence overwhelming—fresh sweat, burning heat, and stolen cherry. he tilts your chin up effortlessly, a knowing smirk tugging at his lips.

“only one way to know if i got the full effect.”

his lips press against yours—slow at first, then hungrier, stealing the cherry right off your mouth. when he finally leans back, you barely remember why you wanted your lip balm back in the first place.

with a cocky smirk, sukuna steps back and tosses the lip balm into his bag, watching it land smoothly beneath his spare jersey.

slinging the bag over his shoulder, he grins. “guess you’ll have to work for it.”

“unbelievable,” you mutter, glaring up at him. “absolutely insufferable.”

“and you love me.” he grins, tossing your stolen lip balm in the air before disappearing onto the court, leaving you utterly flustered and questioning all your life choices.

––

unaware of the stares he was getting, sukuna strutted onto the court—meanwhile, his teammates were trying to figure out why he suddenly had glossy, cherry-kissed lips, as if he wants to look kissable.

( kiss me instead ᐢ ̥_ ̫ _ ̥ᐢ )

I ALWAYS KNEW CALEB'S KISS WOULD BE OUT OF THIS WORLD