#rafayel drabble

[umamaki]

Rafayel who really likes to be marked as yours.

Rafayel who leaves the house with a red kiss mark on his cheek every single day. What's more, if one gets close enough, (a privilege that only you have) it becomes clearer to the observer that even his lips are slightly stained a lipstick shade of red, and slightly the scent of cherries.

Rafayel who absolutely refuses to leave the house unless you give him his kiss goodbye. He simply can't help it, a non-negotiable. He'll pout, he'll sulk, he'll make it your problem if he makes the journey all the way to the front door without you following for his goodbye kiss.

He especially loves the days where you have makeup on, not because you look less beautiful without it, but because of how your lipstick lingers on everything your lips touch. The rim of his favorite mug, the head of your toothbrush that sits next to his, the backs of each of his finished paintings, his cheek, the collar of his white blouse. It's proof of your presence. It is the most intimate detail to him, the trace of your love.

Your hand was whacked away the first time you had tried to wipe your lipstick off his cheek. He had said something about not messing up the art. He has sported his now signature lipstick stain ever since. Never in the same place, and not always as prominent as other times.

He goes to each of his art exhibitions this way. And just as he intends for it, everyone notices. No one brings it up to him, but they notice, and they wonder. They wonder who is so lucky to send him off with a kiss each day, and have him show it off with so much pride.

Then one day you walk in and it all clicks. By the middle of the exhibition, the showroom has filled up and Rafayel had already begun talking to his patrons. The energy shifts with your presence, Rafayel's especially, with the way he immediately turns to you with lit up eyes. The crowd instantaneously knows that you're behind the kiss marks on Rafayel's cheek.

"There you are, Cutie," the audience becomes ignored as Rafayel gravitates to you like a lost puppy, spinning and kissing you as if it were second nature. He pulls away with another dark stain on his cheek. "Ah, ah, don't wipe it yet, let them see." Such a possessive lemurian.

[mwphisto]

I’m not worth it - Rafayel

Rafayel is genuinely appalled when you tell him that he could find a partner so much more worthy of his love. Not only is he appalled that those words left your lips, he’s utterly appalled that you said them with 100% sincerity.

Better than you? Better than the woman he waited 800 years for? Better than the woman he gave up his entire world for? Better than the woman who owns his heart? Seriously? Do you even hear yourself when you talk?

The anger that flashes across Rafayel’s face has you shrinking back, heart pounding because you realize you are in a world of trouble for saying such a thing. Not just because of the fear, but because he is responding so fiercely to your self deprecating proclamation.

“What?” It’s nothing short of a hiss, a look of genuine disgust on his face. Not at you, but at the heinous idea you dared to utter. “I said I—“ but he cuts you off, a noise of pure anger leaving the artist’s lips.

“I heard you the first time, and I most definitely do not want to hear those words again.”

Then, he’s moving towards you, lithe hands coming up to cup your heated cheeks. The intensity in his gaze urging you to break eye contact but you don’t dare to. “Who do I have to kill?” And you blink, unsure of how to proceed.

“Who do I need to kill?” Again, leaving you lost. “WHO put those god awful thoughts in your pretty little head, cutie? WHO do I need to kill for ever making you doubt your worth of my love and affection.”

And your throat is drying up, because if you give him the honest answer he’d have to kill— “m-me.”

“You?” Rafayel is holding you a little tighter, heart thumping in agony that the creature who could conjure up such evil ideas was none other than yourself.

“What have I done to make you feel like this?” Because clearly he’s done something wrong along the way. Was he too bratty? Too dramatic? Did he make one too many sarcastic comments? Did he act some sort of way that made you question his feelings? He’s spiraling.

“You did nothing! God no, Raf. You’ve done nothing it’s just… me I guess. Self conscious. I-imposter syndrome even! Just… got too lost in my own head and…”

You’re spiraling too, and he can see it just as you picked up on the way he began to lose it. And you still have the audacity to think he wouldn’t burn the world for you? To be able to pick up so easily on his derailing train of thought.

“My love, my entire heart…” he’s coming down, coaching himself mentally to take deep breathes because nothing will get solved if he loses it like he usually does. “… I would destroy the entire world if it meant keeping you happy.”

“I would do whatever you asked me too with no hesitation. You mean everything to me, more than everything. Why would you ever deem yourself unworthy of my love?”

Tears leaked down your cheeks now, not because of your own insecurities but because of how fiercely he was loving you. The way he always had, maybe that was part of the reason you had begun to feel so unsure.

“I think I just…” you sniffle, leaning into Rafayel’s touch as he thumbed away the tears on your cheeks. “…I guess I got so overwhelmed with your love. That… part of me felt undeserving. You’re so handsome, talented, you have a kind soul even though you try to hide it. I’m just… me.”

“Exactly. You’re just you. Perfect in every way. So beautiful, so strong, brave, equally as talented.” His eyes search yours before continuing. “You’re equal amounts of loving and sweet. You put up with my antics like nobody else, you have time for me when nobody ever has.”

“I may not be the easiest lover. I may be dramatic, I may carry my own emotional baggage that I struggle to open up about. But there is one thing I am certain about, one thing I will proudly proclaim with my whole heart. And it’s the fact that I love you more than anything. More than my art, more than my career, more than Lemuira.”

You’re crying hard now, hands holding his wrists. The warmth seeping into his skin as your tears leak down and collect on his palms. He hasn’t let go of your face, he doesn’t think he’ll be able to either. “Please, cutie. My love, my heart, my beautiful girl… the next time you’re feeling like this. Tell me before it becomes unbearable.”

You can only manage a nod, hiccuping as he tugs you close to place kisses all over your face. “I would lay down my life and die for you, so don’t you ever think that you are unworthy of my love. You’re perfect for me, the only woman I could ever want. I waited 800 years for you to return to me, and now that you have, I’m never letting go.”

[slimepuparibaba]

sometimes you ask yourself if rafayel hates you for what you did to him in the past

for one, if he hates you for forgetting that promise and abandoning him

and two, for betraying him as the sea god's most loyal follower.

you ask yourself and will sometimes lead yourself to believe deep down, rafayel resents you more than anything. that his love is nothing more than a facade, which you're fine with—it's your punishment, isn't it? to feel the same betrayal he felt?

so when rafayel hears this, you know what he says?

if there was ever a part of him that hated you, he found that part of him... and killed him.

and using the blood on his hands, he painted a portrait of you to remind that part of him of your ever present beauty and uniqueness, to remind him of why the person 'rafayel' even is who he is

rafayel will find that part of him and kill him over and over again no matter how many times he appears

because that part of him may have been louder in the past, but he's no longer needed

rafayel could never, ever hate you

never doubt that

because as long as you love him, and understand he loves you in return, he will never have any regrets

and that resentment from a past time will never be needed again

please never doubt his love. it hurts him more than any past betrayal he's ever felt. his love is sincere, and after hearing this, he'll probably try his hardest to make it more clear. the last thing he wants is for you to think this is a one-sided love or to think he resents you, he never could, in fact he was so elated you loved him back and that you accept him for his lemurian roots. please. you're his anchor, you allow him to sleep at night. you give this man so much peace, and i never want you to think he would hate you or hold a grudge against you for too long.

[lotusapple-xia]

The Ocean Mourns You

✰ summary: Rafayel's beloved bride is gone and he couldn't save her ✰ pairing: Rafayel x reader ✰ content: angst, no comfort, sea god rafayel, fem reader ✰ w/c: 403 ✰ notes: Rafayel sea god of lemuria omg. when watching the trailer, at first i was horny but then i cried and then i kept seeing angsty stuff so heres this angsty drabble of mc dying 💔👍, peep the quotes from canon

🪷Likes, comments and reblogs are always appreciated!

“Stay. Stay with me…please.”

Warm tears dripped from his dark eyes. The ocean swelled in sorrow beneath him as the sun beat down on his bare shoulders. Rafayel begged for you to hold on, to not let go. The limp weight of your body weighed heavily in his arms. The blood from the stab wound that he was forced to commit flooded into the water. It spread in a pool around Rafayel’s waist, staining his skin and scales. As if he needs another reminder of how he failed his beloved bride. The sound of the knife piercing your delicate flesh with his own hands is sure to mock him in his nightmares.

“Our bond…it cannot end this way! I won’t allow it!” Rafayel cried out, his heart aches like the ocean’s pressure is crushing his soul.

“I love you Rafayel…” The light from your eyes fades faster and faster. Rafayel is distraught. Pleading for you to keep living, desperate promises of healing you fall on your deaf ears as your heartbeat stops. He stops. The only sounds he can he are his own heavy breathing and the waves crashing against each other. His beloved bride. Is gone? She’s gone.

“No! No no no!” The Sea God mournfully sobbed. Pressing your cooling body to his own, Rafayel tries to envelop you in his embrace one last time but the lack of movement and life within your mortal body only serves to remind him how he failed you. What kind of god is he if he cannot keep his love alive? He presses his face into your neck, if only to breathe you in again while his hands caress your hair.

He gets a few seconds of you in his embrace before your physical body withers. Your body turns to dust and fades away. Nothing is left of you. Rafayel weeps. His tears drip down his face, turning into opalescent pearls as they fall into the ocean by the dozen. He stays where you left him. Even as the sun rises and falls, even as the ocean’s tides move from high to low, Rafayel stays stuck in place. Any remnants of pink, gone. The signature Lemurian colour for happiness is drained from his body. His hair is tainted a dark blue. His scales shimmer a glossy blue, the pink sheen lost.

The Sea God waits for a long, long time, yet you never appear again.

[illumivier]

gentle, classical music sounded from the record player, filling rafayel’s studio as he worked on his latest piece. you were curled up on the sofa, nose deep in a book and unbeknownst to the fact that your lover was in fact painting a portrait of you. his brush delicately filled in your rounded shoulders, your messy hair that you refused to style today, that adorable look of concentration on your face that was so dear to him.

he was halfway done when he set his paintbrush down and examined his progress. his iridescent eyes darted from you to his canvas and back and it dawned on him that no matter how much he tried, he just could not translate how he saw you into his painting. you were almost too beautiful for him to paint.

he breathed out a dramatic sigh, catching your attention away from your book. your eyes lifted up to find his, watching as he climbed off his ladder.

“something wrong?” you pondered.

“you’re just such a cutie, cutie.” rafayel sighed again, his bare feet padding across the floorboards.

“and that’s a problem?” you raised an eyebrow at him.

he stopped in front of you, pressing a hand against the backrest of the couch so he was slightly hovering over you.

“make an ugly face for me.” he said bluntly.

knowing better than to question rafayel’s antics, you scrunched your face up into the ugliest face you could muster up.

“nope, still too cute.” rafayel complained, using his free hand to squeeze your cheek.

[syncaleb]

-> head empty just jealous professor rafayel corrupting his student. <3

“that’s it, just like that. stay quiet, and let me take care of you.” his thrusts are slow, but deep. cockhead probing and nuzzling against your cervix. “you look so cute crying for me~” you can’t help it. your poor cunt is stretched out of her limit, and rafayel has been toying with you like you’re his personal slave. ironical — because he displays devotion in it’s most twisted sense. only to use your body as he pleases.

you don’t mind it though, professor rafayel has always been kind, and nurturing, even when he’s fucking you so senseless & dumb your brain is leaking from your guts in the form of arousal. “orgasm three, are we ready?” rafayel, oh professor rafayel…

“please—“ your moans are tired and broken, but he is relentless. you know better than to make him jealous now. why did you have to be so cocky? kissing a classmate on the cheek when he asked you out for a date? consequences are to be dealt with darling…

“didn’t you want to learn more? didn’t you want to take extra study lessons from that pathetic classmate of youre?” rafayel whispers gravelly against the shell of your ear. you shudder, weeping softly. the pleasure is driving you nuts. burning & aching overstimulation imprinting rafayel in your memory.

“m’ sorry.” you break out in a sob. pinned against the wall for what feels like an hour, rafayel’s cock relentlessly pumping your aching cunt full of him. sometimes he feels lazy & lets your entire weight drop on his cock, impaling your cunt completely. then whines of pain mingled with suffocating pleasure is all he needs.

“what for?” he teases, booping your nose. his fingers languidly rubbing circles on your swollen, overstimulated & sensitive bundle of nerves.

“rafayel—“ you choke out, head leaned back, walls spasming again. you will orgasm in no time. and you have no control over it.

“if you want to cum darling then tell me, what. are you sorry for?” rafayel’s voice lowers a few octaves and you feel yourself melting into the delicious submission of it all. “mmgh~ m’ sorry for makin’ you jealous, professor.” you whine softly, pawing at his chest like a cat, not wanting to be touched. you feel like your entire body, your nerves — everything is on fire. like rafayel’s evol has consumed you whole.

“then cum for me.” he commands, and your body works her charm immediately. its as if you were born to be fucked by rafayel, to be loved by rafayel, to be ruined by rafayel.

holding your battered body close to his chest princess-style; rafayel’s entire demeanor changes. “that’s it little angel. oh my god you were so perfect for me you know? i thought i should tell you that you have special rafayel spoiling coupons for the entire week.” he kisses your forehead, hands tenderly wiping at the sheen of sweat off your face, kissing your tears away.

professor rafayel is rich, and you wonder how… and why… an artist like him is a professor… maybe the next time he would tell you about his strange career choice. anything to be close to you.

[the-case-book-of-fanfiction]

Kiss and Tell 'Em, Cutie

Ship: Rafayel x MC/reader

Summary: Jealousy is a vicious whip—especially when you're dating an artist. Yet you have some ideas to make sure his admirers get the message. He...is...yours.

Word Count: 6,879 words

Warnings: sexual content (18+, mdni), Rafayel calls reader "cutie", jealous reader, Thomas appearance, Talia appearance, Tara mention, Rafayel is once again obsessed with reader's perfume, Rafayel calls reader "sweet girl", Thomas is a nosy fucker but also a proud dad, can also be found on AO3

18+ Warnings: semi-public sex, fingering, handjob, vaginal sex, sex against a wall, bathroom sex, mirror sex, unprotected sex (please do not do this), Rafayel is a bit of a sub but also a switch, implied that reader jerks Rafayel off while he drives (please do not do this either)

Notes: For his birthday, here is a Rafayel fic! (Fitting that this is my first L&DS fic to get posted; I'm a Raf & Sylus girlie at heart.) I've seen a few other concepts similar to this that inspired me to make a fic out of it. Not actually birthday themed, though!

☟ Continue below the fold ☟

Clothes were strewn about the bedroom, the man throwing them invisible in his closet. You perched on the edge of the bed, dismissing every option he suggested with barely a second thought.

Rafayel emerged from the depths of his walk-in closet, a frown on his face. As much as he hated these exhibitions, whining and begging you not to make him go, he couldn't recall a time you'd been this reluctant to give him a yes about his suit options—especially not when tonight's exhibition was "massively important."

"Cutie? You alright?"

You looked up from the outfit you'd been staring at on the floor, a suit in a lovely blue shade that he'd worn to the opera with you what felt like ages ago. "Hmm? Oh—yeah, I'm fine," you lied, trying to sit up straighter and bring a smile to your face. It felt more like a grimace.

Rafayel's face fell into a concerned pout. "I know you better than that," he chastised gently. He sat next to you on the bed, clothing forgotten. "What's wrong?"

You shrugged. You rubbed your arm awkwardly, unwilling to spit out the reason for your glum mood.

"Talk to me," Rafayel said, taking your hand. He brought your wrist to his mouth and kissed it.

He had a way of breaking down your walls, staring at you with those big, loving eyes. You sighed. "It's stupid," you mumbled.

Rafayel grinned at you. "Stupider then my antics?" he asked. You were reminded of him sitting in a hospital bed for an injury he didn't have, griping at you.

You shrugged again. "I...guess not," you said. "It's— Well, it's more embarrassing than..."

Rafayel flopped into your lap. "More embarrassing than me?" he gasped, a delicate hand to his chest.

You laughed. "No, that's not what I was going to say," you said, pulling his hand into yours. He smiled softly at you when you laced your fingers together.

You took a second to get your thoughts together, trying to come up with a way to make yourself sound less, well, jealous. But when the problem is jealousy...

Rafayel remained content in your lap, happily nuzzling your joined hands. The soft kiss he pressed to the back of your hand dragged you out of your contemplation and you blurted out: "I don't like the women that come to your exhibitions."

He raised his eyebrows at you and you flushed. You backtracked, trying to explain it better.

"Well, it's not that— What I mean is that I don't like the way they...fawn over you," you said, the words coming out bitter. You didn't notice the smile twitching on Rafayel's lips, even as he tried to fight it. "They act like they're coming to see your art, but they're just there to giggle over you! And I'm not being jealous, I just think they shouldn't be pretending they like your work when they clearly don't give a shit and they don't know a single thing about art!" You paused briefly, then huffed and threw yourself backward on the bed. Rafayel made a sound of displeasure at being displaced from your lap. "Alright, fine, I am jealous. They don't even know you, they don't really care about you or your work, but they prance around trying to get your attention because you're cute and famous and taken but they don't care about that part!"

You sat back up in a ridiculously over-exaggerated "prim and proper" pose, pretending to hold a glass of champagne. Your threw your voice up an octave and mimicked, "Oh, Mr. Rafayel! Mr. Rafayel! Please tell us so much about the kind of paint you used, Mr. Rafayel, we definitely want to know more and aren't just trying to get in your pants! And with your girlfriend right next to you, too!"

Rafayel laughed, unable to hide his chuckle behind his hand. You glared at him. "What?! That's what they all sound like!" You crossed your arms over your chest as you fell back onto the bed. Rafayel got comfortable next to you, propping his head up on his hand. "And they don't ever stop, even after you introduce me. Or, worse, when Thomas steps in and introduces me because some—some—some hussy is taking things too far!"

When it had become clear you had run out of words (for the moment), Rafayel draped his free arm over your middle and tugged you closer to him. "I never thought I'd see you get this worked up over something like this," he noted.

You sighed. "I normally wouldn't, I mean...I trust you, Raf, this isn't about you. It's about these girls treating our relationship like it's nothing when you... When you mean the world to me."

"Cutie," Rafayel murmured, voice tender. He kissed your cheek once, then twice. He nuzzled into you and, for a moment, the two of you basked in each other's warmth, eyes closed, oblivious to the rest of the world.

Eventually, Rafayel began poking your cheek until you opened your eyes. You glared lightly at him, only to receive a pout that made you fix your face.

"We could always not go tonight," he said, in the same husky tone he usually started this debate with. He glanced at you out of the corner of his eye and you knew he was ready to pull out all the stops to convince you.

You were tempted to just let him win. But the last time you'd caved so easily, Thomas had chewed your ears out as well as Rafayel's—for over two hours.

"Nuh uh," you said, shaking your head. "I promised Thomas we'd be there, and I'm not getting yelled at again for 'letting my personal feelings get in the way of a great artist's work!'"

Rafayel giggled—a true giggle that made your heart warm. "He would have been even angrier if he knew what we were really doing that night," he teased, his fingers toying surreptitiously with the waist of your pants.

Heat coiled in your belly. Your eyes met Rafayel's; his gaze was darker, alluring like the sea before a hurricane hit. "All the more reason for us to go tonight," you forced yourself to say. He groaned, his arm flopping dramatically back onto the bed. You rolled your eyes, "He'll call and call and call until we answer, and if we don't answer, he's gonna show up at the door to drag you to the exhibition himself." You rolled over and cupped his cheek; he leaned into the touch. "Raf, tonight's important. You have critics coming and an interview set up. You have to be there, it's not one of the nights you can get away with skiving off."

After a moment, you felt the bed dip as Rafayel rolled off of it. He went back to his closet and started digging through it again. "Fine, fine," he sighed. "But if we're going, we have to match tonight." He pulled a large box off of a shelf and brought it over to you. You could see the name of an expensive dress brand he liked to spoil you with printed on the box's side.

"Raf, what...?"

He held it out to you. "I was waiting for a special occasion to give this to you," he said, a tad shy, his hand rubbing the back of his neck. "But I have a suit that matches it, so..."

You pulled the box into your lap and tugged at the ribbon binding it together until it fell away. You shimmied the lid off and unfolded the paper hiding the dress from your view. You lifted it out of the box and gasped.

The dress was a deep claret red, embroidered with flame lilies. The short bell sleeves were made from claret chiffon, delicate and flowy. You slipped the fabric of the dress between your fingers; it moved like water and shimmered under the light.

"Rafayel," you breathed. "Oh, Raf, it's beautiful, thank you!" You dropped the dress onto the bed, carefully, and threw your arms around Rafayel's neck. He laughed, holding you tightly around the waist.

"We can match tonight," he said softly, "and I'll keep you on my arm. Tonight, everyone will know I am yours."

I am yours. Something about the way he said it had butterflies flapping around in your heart. You pulled back to stare at him, wanting to ask...but you weren't even sure what you wanted to ask him.

You didn't protest as Rafayel turned back to the closet. He pulled. out a shirt that matched your new dress. "What do you think, cutie?"

You thumbed over the shirt. It was made from the same material as your dress. "I like it," you said. You nudged him toward his mirror. "Put it on!"

The two of you helped each other dress. Rafayel laced up the back of your dress and adjusted your sleeves so they lay nicely on your shoulders; you helped him button up the shirt and looped the fancy tie around his throat.

You sat side by side at his vanity, adding your final touches. You matched your jewelry and your makeup; Rafayel was happy to help you clip your necklace on. Once it was secure, he leaned down and pressed a soft kiss on the side of your neck, just below your ear. For several long moments, you admired each other in the mirror. Then you got back to applying your makeup, using a darker shade for your lip that would complement the dress.

Looking at the pale expanse of Rafayel's neck, you suddenly had an idea.

You applied a fresh layer of the lipstick. "Come here, love," you murmured, beckoning him closer. He obeyed, letting you tug him down. He smiled when he realized what you were doing and did not stop you as you adjusted his collar and moved his shirt to the side.

Your lips touched Rafayel's skin. You kissed his neck a little harder than necessary, ensuring it would leave a lipstick stain.

The mark left behind when you pulled away was perfect, complete with a movie-style sound of a kiss. It was a dark, easily noticed imprint of your lips, only partially covered when his collar was flipped up.

A soft, almost shocked gasp left Rafayel's lips—you wouldn't have even heard it if his mouth hadn't been right next to your ear. A louder sound, closer to a moan, slipped out of his mouth when you pressed a second, softer kiss closer to his collarbone, leaving a mark for only your eyes to see when you pulled his shirt off later.

"There," you murmured. You covered it with a light tapping of setting powder. "Now they'll know just how mine you are."

"Silly girl," Rafayel whispered. "They'd know just from how I look at you."

He leaned in and stole a kiss, his hand sliding down your body. He slipped it between your knees, trying to part your legs, when you pulled away. You reapplied your lipstick and slipped the tube into your clutch, along with your perfume and your mascara.

Rafayel stared at you with a dazed, almost lost expression. You smiled at him. "Come on, Raf, we'll be late if we don't leave now," you said, feigning ignorance to how turned on he was.

You took his hand as the two of you left the bedroom, headed for his car and the exhibition, a perfect kiss on your boyfriend's neck.

~❊~

People milled about the art gallery, a low hum of conversation in the air. They pointed out small details, leaned as close as they could to paintings before a guard told them to back away, marveled at the cost of each piece.

You and Rafayel stood next to Thomas in a well-lit corner of the room, your hand resting in Rafayel's crooked elbow. A steady flow of conversation between yourselves and admirers of Rafayel's art kept you alert and awake, some part of you always keen to be his bodyguard. But when there was a lull between conversationalists, you rested your head briefly on Rafayel's shoulder; every time, he bent down to kiss the crown of your head.

The difference between this exhibition and the others was astounding. You took gleeful pride in the number of times peoples' eyes dipped to Rafayel's neck, then to you, made the connection, and blushed, averting their eyes quickly.

"Mr. Rafayel!" A woman's voice cut over the din. Rafayel perked up, searching for the voice. You caught a glimpse of his Auntie Talia standing by one of his pieces—one he'd made about Lemuria.

Rafayel quickly excused himself from the conversation with his current guests and extricated his arm from yours. You nodded as he whispered, "I'll be back soon." He kissed your cheek, lingering a moment, and a woman who had been blatantly ignoring your mark on his neck to keep flirting with him turned a very deep shade of red.

For a few more minutes, she and her companion—her sister, you guessed—spoke stiltedly to Thomas about Rafayel's art, Thomas doing most of the talking to fill in their silences. Eventually, the two women shuffled away awkwardly.

Peaceful silence fell over you and Thomas. After a moment, he cleared his throat and gestured toward Rafayel with his chin. "So."

You barely kept back a sigh. "Yes, Thomas?"

"You left your mark on him, I see," he said, barely able to restrain the mirth in his tone. "For the whole world to see?"

Your eyes picked Rafayel out in the crowd as he spoke animatedly to his aunt. You smiled; even at a distance, your mark was visible on his throat.

"Yes," you said, a tad smug. "Yes, I did. Problem?"

He shook his head after a moment. "No," he said, though his tone was a tad too light.

You rolled your eyes, pulling your perfume out from your clutch. "Spit it out, Thomas. 'It's unprofessional!' 'You're risking his reputation and yours!' 'The media will have a field day!' Did I get it right?" You reapplied your perfume to your wrists and your neck, dabbing at it to spread it more. You slipped it back into your clutch, turning your attention back to Thomas.

He laughed. "No, although I suppose that's all true. We're just...going to have to work a lot harder to sell his paintings without a bunch of smitten women to sell them to."

You scoffed. "There will still be smitten women—except now they know they haven't got a chance. Who knows, maybe more women will be buying his paintings, desperate to have a piece of the great Rafayel."

Thomas fixed you with a teasing look. "You have the piece they all want."

It took a moment for it to register. You gasped softly and lightly thwacked Thomas' arm. "You had better be talking about his heart, Thomas."

He chuckled. "I am not."

You slapped Thomas' arm again, your cheeks burning.

"What are you two playing at?" Rafayel's voice interrupted. I turned to face him, pleased that he was back and mortified that he had chosen now to return. It increased when you saw Talia at Rafayel's side.

Though a laugh, Thomas started, "Your—"

"Nothing," you said, quickly cutting him off. "Auntie Talia!"

"Hello, my dear!" she said, smiling as she hugged you. "How have you been?"

As you caught up with Talia, filling her in on the most recent trip you and Rafayel had taken, showing her pictures of Tara's new cat, and listening to her tell you vaguely embarrassing stories about Rafayel, the man himself practically clung to you. He returned your hand to his arm and leaned into you.

Rafayel's breath hitched all of a sudden. He took a deep breath and exhaled shakily; you realized he'd caught scent of your perfume. Your stomach flipped at the memory of the last time he'd taken special interest in your perfume...

But he remained relatively calm. He slipped his arm around your waist and kept you tucked against his side, his eyes fixed on you. He ignored the people trying to engage him in conversation.

Thomas, upon noticing this, caught their attention and explained quietly that Mr. Rafayel was taking care of important business. Anyone with eyes, however, would know his attention was solely on you.

And you couldn't deny that it made you absolutely giddy.

A young woman—the girl who'd thrown herself at Rafayel at the last exhibition, and who'd been the breaking point in your jealousy, you realized with a start—pushed her way into the conversation. Thomas' attempts to steer the conversation away from Rafayel's personal life and back to art failed repeatedly. This time, she had no qualms about revealing she knew nothing about art, choosing instead to pry.

"Mr. Rafayel," the woman crooned, "I'd love to know more about your artistic process."

Rafayel's eyes narrowed quickly. "My artistic process? What about it?" His voice was flat. Talia raised a brow.

"Well," she said, wrapping her hand suggestively around her champagne flute, "where do you get your ideas from? What in your life inspires you?" She took a sip, subtly licking the rim of the glass. You felt your eye twitch.

"Each individual painting's inspiration is explained on its plaque," Rafayel drawled dismissively. She continued to stare at him, lips fixed in a pout. His fingers tightened on your hip and he brought you even closer to him. "But if you must know, much of my work is inspired by this lovely girl right here." He pressed a soft but lingering kiss to your jaw, one that caught yourself, Talia, and Thomas off guard. "I owe so much to my love."

Laying it on thick, you thought, but all thoughts were wiped from your brain when Rafayel turned your face to him with his fingers on your chin. He kissed you softly, shifting his position to make the lipstick on his neck visible. Possessive, yet obedient. You tried not to make it obvious you were pressing your thighs together at the thought.

The woman's expression dropped for a half a second. She brought her smile back quickly and all but sneered, "Well, isn't that cute." Now it was her eye that twitched as she looked at you, her voice shrill.

You smiled up at Rafayel, barely containing a giggle. You put your hand on his chest. "Oh, he's being modest," you purred. "Rafayel's the genius."

"I am not," he said, and you got the sense it was meant for you as much as it was the young woman. "Half of the paintings hanging in this room wouldn't be here if it weren't for you."

You cast her a quick glance, feeling your cheeks flush at the warmth in his eyes. "You know how men are when they're in love," you said, playing the part of an awkward girlfriend in public. Secretly, however, a thrill had gone up your spine. The things I'll do to you when we get home...

Rafayel squeezed your hip. Out of the corner of your eye, you saw Talia smile.

Thomas cleared his throat. "Is there a particular painting you'd like to ask Mr. Rafayel about?" he asked, his gaze flicking between the woman and the pair of you. It appeared he'd figured out what was going on. "I'm sure it's all too easy to generalize when asked such a broad question." He chuckled awkwardly.

She cast Thomas a withering glance. "I'm fine, thank you." She turned on her heel and stalked off.

A moment of silence fell. You leaned into Rafayel, practically melting into his arms.

"Well," Thomas said after a moment, "she seemed lovely." He glanced at the kiss on Rafayel's throat. "I'm beginning to understand your possessive streak."

Talia laughed. She rested a gentle hand on your arm. "Don't you worry, dear. He only has eyes for you."

"Oh, I know," you assured her, your gaze on Rafayel. You were sure you looked like you wanted to eat him alive—and he knew it, judging from the redness of his ears.

Quiet swept over the whole room as two people entered: a man and a woman, both dressed for business, both with notepads. A cameraman followed. You recognized them as renowned art critics. They'd given Rafayel trouble in the past, praising his art but denouncing him for a lackadaisical attitude.

You felt him nip at the junction of your shoulder and your neck while you were distracted. Now what would they think about this...? You didn't want to find out in the morning paper.

Thomas' intake of breath was audible. He adjusted his suit jacket nervously. "They're here," he said quietly to Rafayel, who was barely paying attention. Even so, the tension in your little group heightened.

"Hmm?" he asked, slowly dragging his mouth and eyes away from you.

Talia glanced toward the reporters. Her eyes darkened and you trusted she knew their reputation with her nephew. "I'll let you take care of your official business," she said to Rafayel. "I've kept you for too long as it is." She extracted a promise out of the two of you to attend her next performance, then disappeared into the crowd.

Thomas turned on his heel, facing Rafayel immediately. As if on instinct, he started adjusting his lapels. "Alright. This is incredibly important, Rafayel, you know that as well as I do. It's a miracle they agreed to do another review for you, and we can't give them anything negative at all to report on— Rafayel, are you even listening?"

You glanced up at your boyfriend. His eyes were a little glazed and were once again locked on you. You recognized that look.

You cupped his cheek. "Raf, sweetie, the critics—"

He leaned into your touch, nose pressed to your wrist. There was a pleading look in his eyes when he looked up at you through his lashes.

"Rafayel?" Thomas questioned.

You glanced back at him. Over his shoulder, the critics were approaching.

Rafayel tugged on your arm. A mischievous glint had entered his eye. You gaped at him. "Now?" you whispered. He nodded. You stared at him for a second.

"When was the last time we had a little fun?" he whispered to you. He glanced at the approaching critics. "They can wait a few seconds for their star artist to...freshen up, can't they?"

Some part of you knew this was a bad idea. The rest of you was too easily swayed by that sweet, tempting tone in Rafayel's voice. You caved far quicker than you would have liked to admit.

"Thomas," you said over your shoulder, "tell them Rafayel will be right with them. I'm just... I'm gonna go give him a pep talk, okay? Freshen him up a little."

He glanced at Rafayel, uncertain. "Is that why he's like this? Nerves?"

"Something like that," you muttered under your breath. You grabbed Rafayel's hand and dragged him into the hallway. Rafayel was more than happy to follow you, a spark in his eye. You found a bathroom, shoved the door open, checked that the stalls were empty, and locked it behind you.

You turned to Rafayel. "Are you sure this is a good idea?" You squealed a second later as he gathered you in his arms and pushed up against the wall. He nuzzled into your neck, groaning at the smell of the perfume there.

Rafayel nipped again at the spot he'd been sucking on when the critics arrived. You let out a soft moan. Good idea or not, he had you hook, line, and sinker.

He came up for air, stared at you a second, and then crashed his lips into yours. "Need you," he moaned into your mouth. His tongue prodded at the seam of your lips. "Please."

You wrapped your arms around his neck. "You have me," you promised him. "But the critics..."

Rafayel pulled away long enough to make eye contact. "I'll be quick," he promised. Then a lopsided smirk appeared on his face and he added, "Ish."

You laughed. "Come on," you breathed, already pulling your dress up to your waist. "Take me how you want."

He groaned at the sight of you, slipping his fingers into your panties, pushing them to the side. He found your clit and pressed down on it. He locked eyes on you as he began rubbing it the way you liked best. You moaned, throwing your head back. Rafayel moved quickly to cushion your head with his other hand, protecting it from the tile wall.

"Careful," he breathed. "Don't hurt yourself, cutie."

You bucked your hips. "C'mon, please," you whimpered. "Need your fingers, Raf."

He laughed. "You don't even want me to warm you up?"

You gripped his wrist and moved his hand lower. The two of you gasped in unison as his fingers came into contact with the wetness pooled in your entrance.

"Fuck, sweet girl," Rafayel cooed. "Is this from earlier? Did showing off to that girl that I'm yours get you excited?"

Your hand slipped down his body. You rubbed over the bulge in his black pants. "Got you excited, too, baby."

Rafayel whined, leaning into your touch. He moaned softly as you squeezed him. "Cutie," he whispered, nuzzling against you. He looked down, watching as he pushed his fingers into you.

You took them easily, blushing at the wet squelch you made. He quirked his fingers inside you, searching for the spongey place that made you moan. When he found it, your legs tried to clamp shut.

Rafayel sandwiched himself between them. "Ah, ah, ah," he chastised. He brought his thumb to your clit, rubbing circles over it while he plunged his fingers in and out of you. "Don't push me away, cutie."

He's remarkably controlled for a man whose face is as red as a tomato... you thought.

Whining, you leaned into his arm, his hand still between your head and the wall. You kissed his wrist. "Can I touch you? Please?"

He nodded frantically.

You fumbled with the zipper of his pants, then his buttons. You shoved his pants down low enough on his hips that you could pull his cock out of his boxers. He whimpered; gone was the control you had just been admiring.

He was already leaking, milky pre-cum dribbling down his length. His tip was flushed a deep, needy shade of pink. He twitched under your admiring gaze.

"Pretty," you murmured, admiring him for a moment. You trailed a finger up the underside of his cock, eliciting a full-body shiver. His fingers faltered for only a second inside you before he resumed stroking your walls. "So damn pretty, Raf, you always are."

You spit into your hand. He gasped aloud as you wrapped your hand around him. Slowly, you moved in your hand in time with his fingers. The schlick sound of your hand on his cock, moving easily with spit and pre-cum, filled the bathroom, joining the squelching of your pussy.

Rafayel's little gasps spurred you on, encouraging to move your hand faster against his length. He whined, biting his bottom lip. He squeezed his eyes shut for a moment, his chest hitching, his cock jumping in your hand.

"Sweet girl," he groaned. "Sl-slow down, or I'm gonna cum already." He looked up at you, his eyes dark. "And I really wanna fuck you."

Trembling slightly as your own pleasure built up, you hooked one of your legs around his waist. "So fuck me, then," you whispered. "We can take our time later."

"That's my girl," he murmured. He pulled his fingers out of your pussy and lifted them to his mouth, sucking off your wetness, moaning at the taste of you. He pulled your panties off and let them dangle from the ankle already hooked behind his lower back. He slipped his arm underneath you, helping you jump up onto him. You wrapped your other leg around him as well.

Hand still wrapped around his cock, you lined him up with your entrance. He paused and pressed a soft, asking kiss to your forehead. You nodded and he gently pushed in.

You were whining as his tip slipped into you, the barest resistance from your walls. He paused.

"You okay?" he breathed.

"Yeah, yeah, I'm fine," you promised. "Keep going, sweetie." You let out a breath, looking down as he pushed further in, moving slowly. You pulled your hand away from his cock just as he reached down to rub your clit, helping you take him.

You let out a loud moan. "Baby," you whispered. "Oh, Raf, fuck." Your voice echoed in the empty bathroom.

Rafayel bottomed out and let out a soft breath. He held you, one arm supporting your ass and the other wrapped around your back. You draped your arms over his shoulders, one hand playing with the hair at the nape of his neck.

"Can I move?" he whispered.

You nodded. "Yes, baby," you murmured. You kissed him hard, then softly again. "Want it."

Rafayel's hips started slowly, carefully. He moaned, head falling against your shoulder. "Sweet girl," he whimpered. "You're so tight today..." You whined and clung to him, gasping as his head hit the right spot. He grinned against your skin. "Is that the spot, cutie?"

You whimpered. "Y-yes," you gasped out, head falling back again.

Rafayel stumbled forward until your back met the wall, bracing you there and adjusting to thrust harder and faster into you. "Feel good?"

You answered him with a messy kiss. His next thrust hit just right and you gasped against his mouth. Rafayel's tongue swiped against yours in the next second.

You relaxed all but your legs, keeping him close to you. His rapid thrusts had you trembling harder, legs shaking around him. You buried your head in his neck, opposite the kiss mark to keep it intact, and muffled your moans with his collar.

"Mark me," he begged. "Please, cutie, mark me as yours."

Some part of you was still aware that he had a professional engagement once you were done. So you pushed his shirt down and sucked a hickey into his collarbone, where you could hide it, that matched the other you'd left earlier.

Rafayel moaned embarrassingly loudly. He was panting now, even as his hips kept up a steady pace, your walls fluttering around him.

"Are you close, sweet girl?" he purred. "Gonna cum for me?"

"Yes," you whined. "Fuck, Raf, I'm so—"

The door handle jiggled.

You and Rafayel froze, heads whipping toward the sound. Panic filled you until you remembered you'd locked the door. Even so, the two of you stayed absolutely still, eyes locked on each other, until the person on the other side of the door gave up.

Several moments passed before Rafayel started to move again, returning to the slow pace he'd begun with. You tapped his arm quickly. When he looked at you, eyes wide, you whispered, "Faster."

Rafayel giggled. "Then you gotta keep quiet, okay?" You nodded. "Good girl," he breathed. A second later, he giggled as you tightened up around his cock, growing wetter at the praise.

The two of you continued, panting and whimpering quietly, muffling each other's noises with kisses. Rafayel's thrusts grew sloppier as he grew closer. The knot in your stomach tightened.

"Close again," you murmured against his lips.

"Forgive me," he whispered in response, leaving you frowning—until he pulled out of you, effectively squashing your orgasm. You spluttered in confusion, even as your interest grew at the sight of him shoving his pants and boxers further down, his cock in his hand.

Quickly, Rafayel pulled you away from the wall and bent you over the sink. You were faced with the appetizing view of Rafayel behind you, lust in his gaze—and in his hands. He flipped your dress up over your back, exposing your ass. You grinned at him in the mirror; he wiped it off your face as he spread your legs and pushed back into your pussy.

Moaning softly, Rafayel folded himself over you, holding onto your waist as he began thrusting into you.

"Oh, fuck, cutie," he whimpered. God, you loved when he sounded wrecked like that—and you hadn't even needed to do anything to get him there. "Feels so damn good like this."

You found yourself mesmerized with the view of your bodies moving together in the mirror, your hips moving to meet his every thrust. As for Rafayel, he had buried his face in your back, jaw clenched to hide his whines.

"That's it, baby," you cooed. "Oh, holy shit... Rafayel, baby, you're gonna make me cum!"

His arms tightened around you. "Go ahead, sweet girl, please. Please, let me have it. Cum on my cock, please, please."

"Needy boy," you teased, though you were hardly in a position to judge. You shuddered, legs shaking, knees weakening as pleasure crested through you.

Rafayel's hand slipped further down, slapping away the fabric of your dress. His trembling fingers found your clit and began to rub in sensual circles. Your pussy clenched around him and you whined.

"Cum for me," he begged. "Fuck, please, please—cum for me!"

It crested like a wave through you, pleasure building to a peak but not quite going over the edge just yet. You moaned, trying in vain to quiet yourself.

Rafayel gasped in your ear. "Oh, fuck, cutie! Cutie, I'm— I'm cumming, oh shit, I'm—" He devolved into a moan, nearly sobbing as he came. Sticky warmth filled your pussy.

"Raf!" you cried out, his cum filling you, triggering your own release. You gasped, legs shaking violently. Your ears were ringing. "Fuck, fuck, fuck! Oh, shit, baby... Oh..."

Panting, Rafayel slumped against you, his hips pumping into you a few more times. Had you been anywhere else, you were certain he would have just kept going.

Your hand found his. You laced your fingers together as you breathed, trying to recover your senses. You looked over your shoulder. "You..." Words caught in your dry throat. "You okay?"

Rafayel lifted his head and locked eyes with you in the mirror. "I'm great," he breathed. He gave you a lopsided green. "How do you feel?"

"Fantastic," you replied, matching his smile. After a moment, during which you cleared your throat and caught your breath, you added, "We should...get back."

He nodded, sighing heavily. He pulled out slowly. Both of you groaned as his cum dripped out of you and onto the floor.

"Let me clean you up," he said softly. He pulled up his boxers and pants before he grabbed a paper towel. He wet it and squeezed the excess water from it. He dabbed it gently between your legs, cleaning the slick and cum and sweat off you.

Rafayel tossed the towel and pulled your panties back up your legs. He helped you fix your dress, straightening it out. In return, you readjusted his shirt, careful to cover the hickeys you'd left on him, wiping up the lipstick marks on his neck and face. You did, however, leave the stain you'd given him for the evening.

The two of you were quiet as you cleaned up and washed your hands, basking in the bliss of each other. You could already tell you were going to be pleasantly sore for the rest of the evening.

In the mirror, the two of you tidied your hair and faces. Rafayel crouched to wipe the mess from the floor. You reapplied lipstick and mascara and, by the end of it, you had to peer closely to realize anything had happened at all.

Rafayel offered you his hand. "Ready, cutie?"

You took his head. "Are you?"

He sighed. "You and Thomas," he teased, "thinking I can't handle the press."

You raised your eyebrow. "Should I quote their last article to you?" He huffed. You squeezed his hand. "Just...pay attention. Answer their questions. Be humorous but not rude, alright?"

"I," he said, affronted, a hand to his chest, "have been reliably told that I am not rude—I am sassy!"

You giggled. "Oh, hush," you said, kissing his cheek. "I trust you with this, Raf, I do. It's going to be just fine."

His face softened. "Thank you," he said, voice fond. He gave you one last kiss on the cheek as you rounded the corner, stepping back into the exhibition.

Eyes turned toward the two of you immediately and you tried your best not to look like you'd had a quickie in the bathroom. You smiled serenely at people who made eye contact with you, giving Rafayel's hand a squeeze.

Thomas was still entertaining the critics. Thankfully, the three of them were laughing as you joined them, Rafayel dropping seamlessly into the conversation with a clever comment about his art, bouncing off of what Thomas was saying, that appeared to make them forget that they should ask where he'd been.

As chivalrous as you'd ever seen him, Rafayel guided the two critics away from you and Thomas, starting them through the exhibition's planned loop to view his art.

For several moments, you and Thomas were silent as you watched Rafayel. You had the sudden feeling that you must look like proud parents.

"I don't know how you do it," Thomas said at last.

"Do what?"

"Get him to cooperate, to put it bluntly," he said. "I've worked him for years, and I've never seen him so willing to...mingle."

You hummed in agreement, then realized that Thomas was watching you out of the corner of his eye, waiting. It dawned on you that he was hoping for an actual answer.

You hoped you weren't blushing.

When it became clear you weren't answering, Thomas cleared his throat and went back to watching Rafayel, now at a different painting, laughing with the critics. Then he cleared his throat again.

"That was, ah...quite a long pep talk you two had."

Oh, you were certainly blushing now.

Catching sight of Thomas' sly side smile did you no favors for your burning cheeks. You looked the opposite direction of him, biting your lip.

Thomas laughed behind his hand. "Oh, really? Forget the kiss mark, fucking in a public bathroom is the real risk to his reputation!" Yet he didn't seem all that surprised by it. "At least I hope you went to a bathroom and not a hallway..."

"It was a bathroom!" you said quickly, no longer caring that you were incriminating yourself, just mortified at the idea at being caught with your dress around your hips in the gallery's halls. Then you shrugged. "I locked the door, don't worry. We might be stupid but we're not that stupid."

He tilted his head, debating. "You know, stupid isn't the word I would go for."

"Oh, no? Dumb? Reckless? Idiotic?" you offered.

He rolled his eyes. "Horny," he corrected, voice low.

You glanced over at your Lemurian, several other instances flickering through you mind: water sloshing in a bathtub, rolling around in paint together, your surprise visit to his hotel room for a previous exhibition, the first time he'd shown you his tail, and the night in the desert. And that was just the beginning.

Looking back at Thomas, you said, "I don't think you know your artist that well. You'd...be surprised."

Thomas coughed. He clenched his jaw so hard you thought you heard a tooth crack. His eyes drifted over the art on display. "So when he said you were his inspiration..."

You were nodding before he could finish his thought. As his voice trailed off, you took in his suddenly bloodless cheeks with a laugh. "Don't look so shocked, Thomas. He's not lying about the other inspirations for his paintings—those are just...secondary."

"Oh, God."

~❊~

"So!" Rafayel was incredibly cheery as the pair of you left the gallery, headed toward his car. Your joined hands swung between you. "Is Thomas going to kill us?"

You laughed. "Well, I don't think so. Are your critics going to turn you into a public scandal?"

He beamed. "Not this time! They were enchanted by me. Besides, it wasn't really a scandal last time, Thomas is dramatic." You fought the urge to roll your eyes. "They caught me in a bad mood last time. But this time, I had you." He squeezed your hand, then brought it up to his lips, kissing it softly.

You leaned into him, resting your head on his shoulder. "I love you," you said quietly, adjusting so you could see his face.

Rafayel's eyes glittered in the darkness. "I love you, too, beloved."

He held your door open for you before getting in himself. The radio was playing a soft, quiet love song you would have liked to dance with him to, if you had been anywhere but the car.

The roads were quiet and empty, illuminated by streetlamps. You reached over and placed your hand on Rafayel's thigh. He smiled, glancing at you.

"Does somebody want something?" he asked, only half-teasing.

"Drive faster," you purred, looking him up and down. When he raised a brow, you elaborated, "I have a laundry list of things I'd like to do to you."

Rafayel's cheeks flared pink, but his foot pressed down on the gas and your hand slowly creeped higher up his leg.

You made it home ten minutes earlier than you should have.

☞ ❊ ☜

[Image Caption: I do not give permission to repost, translate, or publish my work on any other site or app by anyone except myself. I do not give permission for my work to be fed into AI (for audio, art, or writing).]

Love and Deepspace // Rafayel

Taglist: {comment and let me know if you'd like to be added to the L&DS/Rafayel taglist!}

[therinaes]

thinking about lemurian sea god rafayel — the man who can't be moved — who remained still at sea for hours after his beloved bride disappeared into fragments right in front of his eyes, by his very hands. the passing of time was barely noticeable, if not for the movements of the shadow casted by the sea god unto the sea.

rafayel who, even after 800 years, remains still.

still waiting for his beloved bride.

but at least now, he isn't waiting for someone who perished and became one with the sea to come back.

at least now, he is waiting for someone who lives and breathes life wherever she goes. for his beloved whose heart he knows finally beats for him again.

[sylusdarling]

Home sweet home

Drabble

Rafayel x reader

Your boyfriend opened the door to your apartment and toed off his shoes at the door.

“Hey love.” You greeted as you sat on the couch, phone in your hand. You looked up at Rafayel, he looked tired. He let out a sigh as he ran his hand through his violet locks.

Walking over to you, he had a pout on his lips. Suddenly, he dove onto the couch and face planted into your lap.

‘Oof! Raf, a little warning next time.”

Rafayel groaned as he rubbed his face in your lap.

“What’s wrong you big baby?” You ran your fingers through his hair and scratched his scalp as he laid on you. You were able to see him physically relax at your touch. You heard him mumble and you felt his warm breath on your legs.

You let out a soft giggle, “Love I can’t hear you when you’re face down in my lap.”

He groaned loudly.

“Turn over, then I could hear you.”

He spun around dramatically, once again plopping his head onto your lap. This time he was looking up at you with a pout as you continued to pet his head. “So, what’s wrong?”

“I’m experiencing art block. I want to paint but absolutely nothing is speaking to me right now.”

Your hand settled on his cheek, your thumb moved up and down to sooth him. He placed his hand on top of yours.

“My poor dear. Is there anything I can do to help you?”

“Ugh, I don’t know.” The painter whined.

You sat in silence for a moment as you thunk. “How about this weekend we go out and do a bunch of stuff. We can go to some cafes in the area, go for a walk on the beach, go to an amusement park or anything else you want to do. Maybe that’ll get your creative juices flowing, hm?”

Rafayels dull expression suddenly became a lot brighter. “How’d I get so lucky with the best girlfriend?”

He reached his hand up to softly grab your face. He brought you down to his level in order to place a peck on your lips. You pulled away with a giggle.

“You are lucky aren’t you? Now, get up love. It’s time to cook some dinner.”

He jumped up, “Oh can we have pasta?” He looked at you with doe eyes and batted his eyelashes at you.

“Fine, but you’re helping me.”

Reaching out, you grabbed his hand and pulled him off of the couch with a smile.

Off to the kitchen you both went, hand in hand with each other.

[umamaki]

loving rafayel looks a little like this.

sand hidden beneath hotel sheets, sunrises over the east coast, running through campus sprinklers, skinny dipping at midnight, accidentally getting a little too high, cold plunges, cute animal videos—"this is so us," voice memos, counting arcade tokens, chipped nail polish, white bedsheets, using outdated slang, the smell of hair dye, knuckle cracking, mismatched socks, a well-traveled sketchbook, finding eye-colored rocks, silent agreements, lipstick stains, lego flowers, anatomy sketches, buttoning up his shirt, humming your favorite tune, tight hugs for anxiety, faded polaroids, folktales to fall asleep, learning a forgotten language, drunk karaoke, water damaged paperbacks, four hands playing on a single piano, the summer solstice, straw wrapper rings, airport hugs, sleeping with the windows open, showering together—washing each other's hair, warm hands and cold feet, cloud gazing, the weekend farmer's market, stretching canvases, slow days, parasols and designer sunglasses, braided friendship bracelets, moving the fridge magnets, dressing up for candlelit restaurants, at-home haircuts, breathing exercises, snorkeling masks, conspiracy theories, stolen kisses, legs tangled on the couch, borrowed textbooks, jumping over beach waves, an old deck of cards, whispered confessions and exclamations of love, and memorizing the sound of footsteps—of keys unlocking the front door.

loving rafayel comes naturally, something you've both practiced in another life. it's intimately familiar—full of old habits. and at the heart of it all, it belongs to the two of you entirely.

[mwphisto]

Rafayel's version of aftercare is taking a bath together... where he just ends up fucking you again.

He can't help it. Not after carrying you to the bathroom. Not after wiping you clean and peppering your face with kisses. And definitely not after he sinks into the steaming water with your back flush to his chest. Reminding him of how soft you are in his hands.

The same hands that start to wander, sliding down your stomach, rubbing at your sore thighs, until eventually sinking back between the heat between your legs. Lithe fingers sliding over your puffy folds before slipping between. You're still wet, a slippery mix of your cum and his coating his fingers even below the water.

"Just relax, I'll take care of you, my little pearl."

Your legs are falling open below the water, body melting into his embrace as you focus on the varying feelings engulfing you.

Rafayel takes his time with you, fingers gliding around your spent cunt while whispering sweet nothings in your ear.

Slowly, he circles your entrance again, slipping two fingers deep and groaning at the feeling of his cum still residing inside of you. It was filthy, so filthy. He couldn’t help it.

The heel of his palm rubs against your sensitive clit, a feeble cry leaving your lips as your hands shoot beneath the water and circle around his wrist. “R-raf!” But he doesn’t stop, doesn’t even slow down a fraction. All of your squirming only fueling his movements.

“So cute. You’re so responsive for me, what a good girl.”

Hours. He’ll keep you in that damn tub for hours.

[slimepuparibaba]

hi hear me out again

having half-lemurian twins with rafayel

one is a boy, one is a girl, very adorable, this one goes over the early stages of it all (the pregnancy and shortly after the delivery basically, so newborn)

the one thing i know for certain is that rafayel will immediately drop everything and go on art hiatus (as a public artist, this man will still do art for personal stuff) and start contacting as many lemurians as possible (man wants to do this right, he cannot mess this up, you need to be safe, the babies need to be safe)

he will treat you with utmost care, watch out for your needs, make sure you know you are loved and that you're beautiful and that he is with you every step of the way. he will make sure that you feel encouraged, will tell you how amazing you're doing, carrying the babies. he will cook, he will clean, he will do anything you ask of him so long as you request it (he loves you so much btw)

his bigger paintings are now on pause and instead he is now brainrotting over what the babies would look like, what their tails might look like, and thats really all he's sketching in his free time. he's genuinely so excited to meet them, he will talk to your tummy every now and then.

"hey my little pearls, how are you? are you treating mommy okay? make sure to let her get some sleep, don't kick her too much!"

he loves you so much, I am telling you he is so in love with you, and you have this glow around you as you're carrying the babies, he will want to hold your stomach and he will cuddle you (ONLY IF YOU WANT HIM TO I CANNOT STRESS THIS ENOUGH IF YOU DO NOT WANT HIM TO HE WILL OBEY—)

he actually cleaned up the studio (he doesn't want you to fall and get hurt, his chaos is now reserved for his own space that he set aside that you can't enter), he has so many books and online articles on parenting (he is anxious af and worries about being a good dad), and he is also... VERY HYPERAWARE THAT YOU ARE A HUMAN

HE IS MORE STRESSED BECAUSE YOUR TWINS ARE HALF-LEMURIAN AND HE IS PANICKING

ultimately the way most lemurian births work is THEY HAVE TO BE IN THE WATER. BUT YOU ARE A HUMAN. AND IT SCARES HIM, BECAUSE HE DOESN'T WANT ANY COMPLICATIONS

he wants nothing tearing, he doesn't want you hurt, but the lemurian midwives are like "hey, your babies come out with the tails, they need to be in the water for this to work"

ultimately both of you are trusting the lemurian midwives for this and they are very helpful every step of the way, rafayel is also very keen on asking questions just to ensure you and the babies are safe

by the time the birth happens, you're in a small pool of water that's now deemed the nursing pool. when the babies come out, they're so tiny and their tails are super soft and fleshy, their scales haven't grown in yet and need time to really set in

they're sort of wading in the water and rafayel is advised to get in the nursing pool with you so the babies familiarize themselves with a lemurian parent and also their human parent (they need to form an attachment quickly to both of you), so rafayel is in his lemurian form, and boy is he about to cry

your babies are so small. he's in awe at how tiny they are, how precious the two little lives you've been carrying in your stomach could possibly be. their hands are smaller than his fingers, their tails are soft and they're so small.

but most importantly, you did so well. and he's thanking you over and over again for trusting him, for giving birth to wonderful miracles, for letting him be a dad and for being their mom, he's just so thankful because this is a future he's wanted for so long and he never expected to have it with you

as the twins grow up, they'll be situated mainly in the nursing pool but need to be under strict supervision, so expect rafayel to be the one sleeping in there in lemurian form for most hours of the day (he knows you get cold and need a break from the water)

I cannot stress this enough, rafayel is such an eager father to these little babies and he will do everything in his power to make sure they grow up healthy and happy (he doesn't want them to grow up the way he did after witnessing lemurian tragedy), he wants them to know how loved they are, how beautiful this world is, and also he wants to make sure that you know how loved you are too

he'll always gush about how cute the babies are and how they look just like you but how their mommy is the prettiest of them all, he'll check up on you for breaks while you're nursing them in the pool and offer to switch in. you're a team, a dynamic duo, and the babies being born will never change that

ok that ends my brainrot session (I have others for the rest of the boys and their children, they're at different stages of life tho and Xavier adopts actually so he's like the most different whoops lmk if you want those too ig?)

also yes he did lay lemurian eggs in you THAT IS NOT THE POINT OF THIS POST, THAT IS TO BE DISCUSSED IN ANOTHER ONE, WE WILL DISCUSS ANATOMY AT ANOTHER TIME

[leeny-leens]

03:03 am

Rafayel x f!Reader

CW: loss, death

Rafayel never disliked nighttime as much as he did now. When the clock struck three minutes past 3 am, his heart ached and the walls around him seemed to cave in. He still remembered-of course he did, he always remembered everything you forgot- how his front door had rung at precisely three in the morning.

How he'd answered it at one past three.

How Captain Jenna stood awkwardly with a grinm expression at his door step, trying to gently give him the news.

How his eyes landed on his phone screen three minutes past when the words "I'm sorry, she didn't make it and died on spot" left her mouth.

Mechanically, he'd closed the door in her face and padded to the couch before collapsing on it, ears ringing from sheer disbelief. He unlocked his phone, tapping on your chat together by instinct and read the last exchange you'd had just hours prior.

You: Okay gtg, I'll visit after my mission!

Rafayel: Dun be stupid and make sure to come back to me

You: Always my fishie <3

The tears blurred his vision, yet he didn't notice, not when he kept focusing on the promise you made and broken the same night.

Here he was again, all alone without you with yet another broken promise you couldn't keep, with another thing you'd ruined for him because you couldn't return.

Perhaps Rafayel was simply meant to always be left by the one he loved the most.

[villainbait]

Unexpected Inspiration

Pairing: Rafayel x reader Rating: E | Explicit | 18+  Tags: stalking, flirting, obsessive behavior, obsession, fantasizing, fantasy bondage, implied non-con Summary: Even though you’re not her, it would be all too easy and Rafayel plans to take full advantage of the situation. However, you don't play along quite like he planned. Word Count: 700~

A/N: I saw someone posting headcanons about rafayel stalking MC and it gave me an idea. This is just sort of me studying his psyche in a different way that's a bit darker. Hope you enjoy and thank you for reading. ♥

“I know, I know.” Rafayel whines, his lower lip jutting out even though the person on the other end of the line couldn’t see it. “I said I know, alright? I’ll stay away from her until the time is right like I promised. Don’t be such a killjoy.” 

He was standing outside the art shop, debating whether or not he wanted to paint. Everything had seemed so dull lately after seeing her on campus and he was desperate for anything to catch his eye. In fact, he had replayed the glimpse of her so much he was starting to hallucinate as he watched you hurry towards him before turning sharply and entering into the shop. Fate had never been that kind, but today she was cruel.

“Gotta go.” He hangs up the phone abruptly and follows you into the art shop, brushing his bangs from his eyes with a practiced gesture.

You weren’t her and a pang of disappointment shot through his gut. Yet, you looked so much like her that the two of you could've been sisters in this lifetime. As he followed you around the modest paint shop, he realizes that it has been hard for him to stay away from her and you…well, you came along at the perfect time. 

It was all too easy. 

You were looking at canvas options when he approached and asked what it was you wanted to paint. He could tell you thought he was attractive, but that was to be expected and he was unimpressed by your compliments. Though you shrugged off his casual touch, surely you were just shy. He made you laugh and could tell you were enjoying the unexpected interruption. 

However, after some flirting and fun banter he thought you’d be an easy mark.

But you just left. 

That bothered him. That irked him. He was put out by your soft rejection and easy dismissal. 

So he followed you, intending to soothe his injured pride, but something in the way you interacted with this cold, insipid world stopped him. He watched as you knelt to gently touch the petal of a flower growing in one of the many planters along the street, half-expecting you to pluck it. When you merely appreciated its violet beauty with the soft stroke of your finger before moving on, Rafayel hung back and found himself curious about a human for the first time in a long time. 

Rafayel was curious about you.

Rafayel dogs your steps over the next week and hits the jackpot, finding that you live in a quaint but cozy condo by the sea. He finds his thoughts dipping into dangerous territory, but he can’t seem to stop. In those brief moments he heard your voice over the last week, he couldn’t stop from imagining how you would sound writhing in pleasure underneath him. Would your cries be just as sweet? 

He slides his thumb idly across his lower lip just thinking about how you’d taste. How would you sound begging, desperate for release that he would continue to deny you? The mere thought of seeing you cry because of him made him more aroused than he’d been in at least a century. He knew you’d look so pretty all sprawled out and clinging to him, reduced to a needy mess that couldn’t even remember her name. 

The thought of you being tied up and helpless almost undid him as he leaned against the lamp post adjacent to your building entrance. Rafayel wondered what hues your pretty skin would turn once he unraveled you. Would your skin look mottled, an echoing pattern reminiscent of the foamy sea or would you simply flush a darker vermilion hue? How brilliantly those colors might translate to a canvas once he was done using your body as one. 

Feeling inspired, Rafayel continues to wait outside of your building, casually soaking in the waning sunlight and waiting to catch glimpses of you inside your apartment. For a while, he admires the way you set up your canvas on the balcony, preparing your paints with practiced ease before you finally sit down to stare out at the sea. 

He couldn’t clearly make out your expression from where he stood on the street, but the very fact you seemed to long for the same sea as he did made him want you with a sudden aching desperation. Rafayel had to have you. His mind made up, he saunters across the street, whistling a soft tune. 

There was no other way for this to end now. 

[muah2005]

LETS MAKE A DRAGON SYLUS MC AND SEA GOD RAFAYEL SUPPORT GROUP HAPPEN PEOPLE! 🗣️

I’ve seen a recent trend on instagram where some lads artists draw dragon Sylus mc and sea god Rafayel sitting together traumatized, AND I think we need to see a support group forming here.

Every Saturday these two depressed divas arrive together in someone’s basement, ciagarette in hand, sunglasses to hide the eye bags and puffy eyes, extremely nonchalant about everything, until another member of the support group says something that strikes a cord and they both just crumble. After that group therapy session they would get an ice matcha together and sit in the patio overlooking the sunset across the ocean. Similar to the place they first met - a cliff beside the ocean, tears streaming down MC’s face while Rafayel observes her from the ocean - her uncanny similarity to his dead lover but most importantly the pain in her eyes mirroring his own. The redish hues reminding MC of her beloved dragon’s eyes and those damn flowers she collects like a maniac and the ocean reminding Rafayel of all the memories he shared with his mc and his tear pearls he fills several jars with, same ones she once found beautiful. In solitude they would sit for hours finding comfort in knowing at least they weren’t alone. I don’t think they would ever find romantic love in each other, but they would deeply care for each other and become long time companions (even housemates?). They eventually pick themselves up, lending the other a helping hand here and there, finding a purpose in their life that keeps them going another day.

All while wearing their beautiful outfits, cause your lover may have died but your sense of fashion doesn’t have to. They would adopt a cat (non-negotiable) 🐱

Can you tell I just finished Rafayel’s new lore…

[syluslvrgirl]

rafayel closes his eyes as the warmth of your body has now been replaced with the icy waves of the ocean. the cold clashes against his hands, seeping through to his bones and etching itself into the crevices of his breaking heart.

what once was so close within his grasp has disappeared without a trace and he is left with nothing to remind him of you.

nothing except for the cruel image of you, his fated lover, piercing the blade further into yourself. thus piercing into him an everlasting ache that he must carry until the day he breathes his final breath.