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kittentoki · 4 months ago

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𝐌𝐈𝐍𝐄, 𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑𝐒 & 𝐄𝐕𝐄𝐑𝐘𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐈𝐍-𝐁𝐄𝐓𝐖𝐄𝐄𝐍.

rafayel’s exhibitions seem to leave a trail of mysterious disappearances in its wake.

content. yandere!fem!reader (or mc) x rafayel. dark content. canon divergence. fluff. 9.3k words. established relationship (you’re married). graphic depictions of murder. don’t act like this irl please. sexual content. unprotected (shower) sex. obsessive behaviour. cursing.

notes. two things in life are undeniably true; rafayel for sure gets hard from seeing your 'devotion’ and he curses in lemurian during sex, send tweet.

Rafayel was cursed. That is, if you were to ask any person within the art community. It was, after all, the most recent rumour to circulate amongst the socialites. Lately, every person that was perceived to have stood an inch too close to him, been a tad too friendly, or even hoarded his attention for a bit too long than one would’ve deemed appropriate, had strangely vanished off the face of the earth.

With no trace left behind, the authorities and the victims’ families were left grasping at straws to figure out what exactly had happened to them. Though, the one common denominator had been the fact that all of them attended an exhibition of Rafayel’s before their disappearance. The turn-out had been affected by this over time, but there were plenty of people left who didn’t believe in such a silly superstition—much to Thomas’s relief.

Rafayel himself didn’t particularly care much about the attendance record of his exhibitions, nor about the event in general, really, even before its dwindling popularity. However, the reason for their fears still felt so silly. In no world could Rafayel find a logical reason for someone to target people who’d tried to lay some of their moves on him; or rather, he couldn’t think of a person who’d do such a thing.

He’s keenly aware of anybody that surrounds him, and he certainly hadn’t taken notice of a stalker, so the possibility of an obsessed fan cutting down the competition seemed deluded. As for other romantic options. . .The only one who’d been granted permission to be in such close proximity to him, ever, and whenever their heart desired, was you. You were the one in his heart, but you were far from the jealous type—even if Rafayel sometimes wished you’d be.

To fear something as ridiculous as being murdered simply for being near him was, therefore, bordering on the edge of stupid.

Or so he thought.

Rafayel’s mind short-circuited at the sight in front of him; His darling, plushie-adoring, kitty-card fanatic, public servant of a wife bent over an individual that lay bleeding out on the cold, concrete ground of an alleyway. You kneeled in front of the man—Rafayel recognised him as the waiter that had been a little too close to him for comfort earlier this evening—and twirled your hunter’s knife between your fingers. A peculiar feeling arose in Rafayel’s chest. One he definitely should not be having at such a sight.

Ah. Who would’ve thought? You do have a jealous side.

Rafayel suppressed a smile.

In hindsight, he thought he must have been blind not to notice it sooner. Recently, you’d started coming home later than usual, and always insisted on quickly rinsing yourself off in the shower since you felt grimy from fighting all those wanderers. A believable excuse, truly, though when he asked your colleagues about the increased amount of assignments lately, they were none the wiser. Wanting to have some faith in you and your relationship, he’d simply chalked it up to coincidence—perhaps you and those five, six, alright seven, colleagues he spoke to weren’t assigned on missions together.

Rafayel did anything to avoid thinking of the, increasingly real, possibility of you being unfaithful to him. He didn’t want to believe it—couldn’t believe it. For, even if you express your love for each other in very different ways, Rafayel is sure that you do love him; confirmation of it came as soon as he finished the thought. And as he watched the waiter cough up blood onto the pavement, he could do little about the butterflies that erupted in his stomach.

The part of him that wished to take in the sight before him for a bit longer was quickly defeated by the bubbling excitement he felt at the discovery, and he watched as your movements seized with his first step forward. With the heels of his dress shoes clicking on the ground, his footsteps were loud in the otherwise silent alley.

“How lucky must I be to have such a devoted bodyguard,” he called out, a familiar lilt to his voice. Slowly, as if you couldn’t believe what you’d heard, you turned your head towards him. Rafayel hid another smile, attempting to remove the smugness off his features upon seeing the way your eyes widened and your jaw clenched. “There are very few people who are that committed to their job nowadays.”

You blinked at him. Once, twice. Rafayel tilted his head to the side, not breaking eye-contact.

“. . .What are you doing here?”

A hint of a smile broke through. “I could ask you the same thing, cutie.”

You scrunched your nose up, huffing. “I asked first,” you mumbled. Cute. Your eyes trailed over his figure as he moved closer to you and your victim, never letting a second pass without having him in your line of sight. Your gaze was focused, analytical, as if trying to gauge what he will do next. “What are you doing here, Rafayel?”

He hummed at your question. Acknowledging it, without answering it. A soft, pity-filled sigh slipped past his lips as he crouched down in front of the waiter, and next to you. “Y’Did a real number on the guy,” he commented. The artist frowned in disgust as he poked the man’s face.

The waiter made a sound that resembled a garble, and a plethora of groans were heard throughout the alley as Rafayel’s quick poke seemed to bring the man back to consciousness. He blinked, and started breathing heavily again, panting, nearly, as he realised he hadn’t passed away, yet. Frantically, the man looked around, and flinched when his eyes fell on you—though, they filled with hope when he saw Rafayel.

As soon as they did, Rafayel heard you scoff.

“Rafayel!” The man shouted, or tried to, with his voice as hoarse as it is. He coughed again, and more blood came up with it. Rafayel scrunched his nose up, and inched backwards to prevent it from getting on his shoes. “Ra—Rafayel! P—Please, you. . .you have to help me, she—!”

The waiter reached a hand out for him. A few seconds later, a knife was stabbed through the palm of it.

“None of you have any manners,” you said, chastising him. With narrowed eyes, you looked down upon him as he cradled his palm close to his chest while screaming bloody murder. “Who do you think you are to address him so casually?”

Rafayel’s heart skipped a beat.

It seemed you had taken the time to remember one of his latest pet-peeves; strangers being overly comfortable with him and forgoing all honorifics. In all honesty, Rafayel knew he rambled quite a lot about seemingly everything, so he hadn’t expected you to remember it. Such a considerate wife, he has.

Wails continued to sound through the darkness of the night, and you swiftly grabbed the source of them by the collar and slammed his head into the pavement to make them stop. It was effective. You and Rafayel sat in silence shortly after. He looked at you, a certain sense of glee dancing in his eyes, while you did everything you could to avoid his gaze. Was it wrong to think you had never looked more beautiful to him?

Even though your hair was a bit ruffled, and your fingertips were stained a dark red, and even though there were tiny specks of blood decorating your face—Rafayel fell for you even more.

“So,” he spoke up, and watched as you stiffened. He rested his elbow on one of his thighs, and placed his chin on his hand; glancing at the corpse laying at both of your feet. “What do you usually do with them?”

You turned towards him again. Scarily slowly, just like before. Your eyebrows furrowed, but you didn’t answer him immediately. Every thought you had was reflected in your eyes, visible to Rafayel, and only to Rafayel for the mere fact that he knew you best. You sought to deflect, but quickly gave up on that. Then, you thought about denying, which seemed even sillier. Confused, you decided on staying quiet a little longer.

His lack of reaction was strange. It threw you off. When you finally met his gaze, Rafayel’s restraint broke and a small smile started to form. Without much effort, he could see the gears in your head starting to turn at an even faster speed as they desperately tried making sense of the situation.

“Well?” He goaded. One of his fingers poked your side, but you didn’t squirm away and giggle like you would usually. It helped bring you back to him, mentally, though, and you cracked a tiny smile.

Taking a deep breath, you shifted on your feet. The crouching position you were in was starting to get uncomfortable. “I toss them in the ocean,” you confessed, looking at him. “They’re offerings.”

His eyebrows raised. “Offerings? To whom?”

“The Sea God.”

Rafayel’s eyes darkened. His breath hitched in his throat, and suddenly all he could think of, all he could feel, was you, you and your devotion to him that was so much stronger than he’d initially thought it to be. His hand cupped your cheek; his thumb caressed it, not caring about the blood that clung to your skin. You gazed into each other’s eyes for a few seconds, and then a few more, until Rafayel let out a shaky sigh and released his hold on you.

He cleared his throat.

“Dibs on the head,” he called out, and finally got up from crouching. You blinked at his sudden departure, entirely dumbfounded as you watched him bent over the body and take a firm grasp of its head. He tilted his own head to the side again when he noticed your lack of movement. “C’mon, it’s not gonna walk itself to the sea, you know? Not anymore.”

“I. . .” You started, but it appeared that your sentence would forever remain unfinished. With a sigh, you interrupted yourself, and with a quick shake of your head, you went and lifted the lower part of the body. Together, you carried the corpse out of the alley, engulfed in the shadows of the night and hidden by it from any prying eyes. You grunted, and Rafayel looked at you. “My car’s over there. We can. . .”

“Gotcha,” he said. Wanting to lessen your apprehension, Rafayel cut in before you could finish your sentence. He knew what needed to be done, anyway.

No further words were exchanged as you walked towards your car. He still kept a watchful eye out for any potential witnesses, but was relieved to find the streets of Linkon entirely deserted. That would certainly make this entire debacle less of a hassle. Once arrived, you wasted little time in opening the trunk. Rafayel raised an eyebrow in surprise.

“Came prepared?” He asked. There were a variety of things in there; a plastic sheet—no doubt so the blood wouldn’t stain—gloves, two clean knives, some cable ties, tape. It made him wonder how often you’d done this. Were there any people he didn’t know of?

You sniffed, and cleared your throat. “What are you? A cop?”

Before he smiled, Rafayel bit his lip. He looked at you from head to toe. “Aren’t you?”

Your tongue poked the inside of your cheek. Amid the tiny sliver of annoyance, he slowly saw a hint of amusement fighting its way onto your face.

“You’re driving,” you said, and threw him the keys. He caught them with practiced ease, having little time to protest. Rafayel laughed softly. Right before taking your seat, you paused to look at him. “And I’m a public servant. Not a cop. You know this.”

He does. Still, Rafayel laughed again. The door to the passenger side closed, and he finally deemed it time to get in the car himself. As he hoisted himself into the driver’s seat, he glanced at you for a few seconds with a small, adoring glint in his eye. It wasn’t long before you caught him, and he took it as a sign that it was time to start driving. To the beach. Ah, the amount of things you’ve done together on a beach. It seemed that, as of today, disposing of a body will now be added to that list.

A few minutes into the drive, Rafayel first felt your eyes on him. Your face still carried faint traces of anxiety, visible to him even if he only glanced your way every now and then. Without a doubt, your mind must still be going at a hundred miles an hour; trying its best to decipher him, trying to gauge whether he truly wasn’t affected by this in the slightest—whether he truly wasn’t disturbed at all. Oh, on the contrary.

Rafayel felt elated.

After staring at him for a little while longer, you finally spoke. It was a question he could have expected to receive, as you’ve never shied away from asking the hard-hitting ones. Seeing you return to your usual antics was a good sign.

“Have you killed before?”

His answer was immediate. “Of course I have.”

Confessing his darkest secret didn’t feel like that big of a deal anymore. In the past, Rafayel thought of you finding out as one of the worst things that could happen to him. Funny how things can change.

You didn’t make a sound after that. Merely staring at him from the passenger seat, blinking every now and then as your mind struggled to comprehend all of the information thrown at it. However, Rafayel wasn’t one to allow uncomfortable silences to appear with you, which mostly stemmed from the fact that he never wanted you to feel uncomfortable when he was near.

“I didn’t have such an obvious pattern, though,” he teased, shooting you a quick glance. The smugness was radiating off of him, and you scoffed. It sounded like music to his ears. “Bit of a rookie mistake.”

Glancing at him, and throwing in the world’s cutest-scariest glare, you shifted in your seat. You grumbled something under your breath, but Rafayel couldn’t quite make out what. “Turn left here,” you said eventually, nodding towards the next cross-road. “It’ll bring you to a cliff.”

He did as he was told. It was hard to stay focused on the road in front of him, especially so with you huffing and puffing all cutely next to him. He’d gaze at you all night if you let him. Well, there was always later. Just as he’d turned back to look at the road, you murmured a sly remark.

“It wasn’t that obvious.”

Rafayel suppressed another smile. “Meh, it was preeetty obvious,” he responded, and watched as you acted offended once again. You, too, hid a smile, though. He was lucky enough to catch it in time. “There’s no need to worry, though, cutie. I’m flattered.”

Something changed within your eyes when he said that. You looked at him, really looked at him. His nonchalance when sitting behind the wheel, the calm exterior he was carrying, the calm interior he was feeling. And then, you laughed—or scoffed—he couldn’t really tell. It sounded like a mixture of the two, giving birth to a sound of disbelief.

“You’re insane,” you concluded.

This time, he let himself smile. “And you aren’t?” He asked, and thoroughly enjoyed seeing the slight fluster on your face when he shot you a quick wink. “Need I remind you whose murder victim is in the trunk?”

You tried your very hardest not to smile, he could see it in the way your tongue poked the inside of your cheek. “Alright, alright, Mr. Rafayel,” you said. “You’ve made your point.”

And all of the sudden, the air felt light again. It shouldn’t be, especially not considering the current situation, but it was—and Rafayel couldn’t get enough of the feeling. He had seen another side of you, and you knew about that other side of him; still, it felt like little had changed. If anything, he felt even closer to you. What more could he need to be on cloud nine?

“Dibs on the head,” you called out quickly, words slightly strung together as you rushed to get them out. Rafayel opened his mouth, pretending to be appalled at your hasty proclamation. He parked the car in one of the many free spots; it was easy, the entire row was empty. Slowly, he turned to face you, looking as if he couldn’t believe what he’d heard. You grinned a bit sheepishly. “The feet were a pain to carry.”

He narrowed his eyes. “This isn’t even my kill. Why should I get the short end of the stick?”

Your smile turned cheeky. “Because you love me,” you said. It wasn’t a question, more so a statement. A truthful one. “Please?”

“Fiiiine,” Rafayel sighed. He acted as if it were one of begrudging relent, but in all honesty, he’d already decided to indulge you the second you smiled at him. “Oh, the things I do for love.”

Though, with the way you did a short celebration, triumph decorating your face, fists pumping, he couldn’t find it in himself to regret his decision one bit.

As a true gentleman, Rafayel helped you out of the car shortly after. Together, with much more ease than the first time you’d carried the body together—practice really does make perfect—you lifted the corpse towards the very edge of the cliff. Your eyes locked for a second. He glanced between you and the ocean beneath you two, the wild waves hitting the bottom of the cliff. Rafayel waited, and it didn’t take long for the body to land in the deep waters after your nod of confirmation finally came.

A silence hung in the air between you as the corpse floated away, washed away further and further from the shore and towards the Deep Sea. It would never resurface again; Rafayel would make sure of it. He tore his eyes away from the ocean first, which was unusual, as he was normally the one to gaze a little longer at the place he once called home, but he did so regardless—to look at the one he now called home. He huffed, the thought he used to carry now seemed so ridiculous.

“I thought you were cheating on me,” he confessed.

Immediately, you looked at him, the sea long-forgotten. “I could never.”

He smiled. It was so small, any person that wasn’t you wouldn’t even notice the way the corners of his mouth were slightly curled upwards. “I know,” he said, and paused. “It didn’t even feel right. The thought of it, I mean. I just couldn’t comprehend it, but you were acting sooo sketchy, really it’s a miracle you haven’t been cau—Ouch! Hey, hey, hey, I’m not one of your vic—Hey!”

Rafayel laughed. Truly laughed, all while taking the playful hits to his chest. The corners of his eyes crinkled, and a dimple on his right cheek appeared. “Alright, enough, enough,” he said, still chuckling, and grabbed your wrist when you went in for another swipe at him.

You giggled, and if Rafayel had to choose between hearing another siren’s singing, something that has been deemed the most beautiful melody in the world, or your blissful laughter—he would forever choose the latter. With a lovesick smile on his face, he tugged on your wrist and gently guided you towards him. You bumped into his chest, eyes twinkling in the moonlight as your laughter dialled down into a careful smile upon eye-contact with him. For a few seconds, you merely allowed yourselves to get lost in the other’s embrace, relishing in their closeness; and not just on a physical level.

“I’m sorry,” you said, breaking the silence. “For making you feel that way. It was never my intention.”

Rafayel shrugged. “S’okay,” he mumbled, and caressed your cheek. He frowned, noticing the specks of blood that now lay underneath his thumb; dirtying your soft skin. “Trust me, you more than made up for it.”

You huffed, a little flustered still at his discovery. Your cheek felt hot under his touch, which was an indication of your sheepishness. Rafayel wouldn’t have immediately guessed it otherwise. Your sigh in relief captured his attention, slightly popping the peaceful little bubble you two had created together at the cliffside. Quietly, while he was still busy caressing your cheek (and assessing the other spots you’d managed to get blood on), you decided to take the opportunity and ask him what you’d been thinking of since the drive over.

“Who did you kill?”

Rafayel paused for a moment. He wet his lips, thinking about his answer. “. . .Dunno,” he said eventually. It was the truth. “I don’t remember their names. Some of them, I never learned.”

He felt your reach for his hand. Looking down, he smiled as he watched you intertwine them; your smaller hand wrapped around his larger one, and you started playing with his fingers. Cute, again.

“And, why? Why did you. . .”

“The world is filled with bad people,” he said, purposefully keeping his answer a little vague. Your eyebrows furrowed at him, mind hard at work trying to decipher his words. “Some of them try their hand at hurting the ones I hold dear, others think they have the right to stick their nose where it doesn’t belong.”

Rafayel caught the exact moment his words had been figured out. Your features softened, and a small, loving smile took place on your lips. “I see,” you said, clearing your throat. Though you did your best at hiding the flattery you felt, it still didn’t escape his keen eye. Certainly not when he’d been feeling the exact same way all evening.

The only two that Rafayel had killed for; you, and Lemuria. You, and his home. However, the longer he looked at you, the more the line between you and the word ‘home’ started to blur. Rafayel sighed. What a night. His movements seized—his thumb no longer caressing your cheek—instead he moved it so he was cupping your chin. Little by little, he guided you towards him, watching with a fond smile as your eyes fluttered shut, before leaning down and pressing a sweet, lingering kiss to your lips.

That familiar flame that always appeared when you’d allow him to kiss you showed itself again, a fire in him that was so different from the one he’d make himself, so very different from his Evol. Though, it was the one he greatly preferred. Rafayel let out a soft groan against your lips, the sound travelling from his mouth to yours, it seemed, considering you echoed it right back at him. He had to put an end to this, or he’d be taking you right here, on this cliff.

He was panting when he pulled back, as were you. A string of spit connected the two of you, and Rafayel gave you another chaste kiss to get rid of it. You nuzzled your nose against his in response, and it made him smile; brightly, boyishly, and incredibly mischievously. He looked at you again, utterly enamoured.

“Alright,” he cleared his throat. Looking you up and down, he stole another peck in-between his smiles. “Let’s get you home, you insane cutie.”

Rafayel’s reaction, or rather lack thereof, had been a surprise. Not an unwelcome one, no, certainly not, but a surprise nonetheless.

Admittedly, your heart had gotten stuck in your throat upon noticing his arrival in the alleyway, and within seconds, your mind conjured up every possible doomsday-scenario. Fleeting images of your wedding bands laying discarded on the kitchen isle, of your hand being held by his own to force the signing of divorce papers, and of flashing lights as the police came to take you away after Rafayel proclaimed his wife to be a psychopath came rushing in immediately.

Luckily, they stayed just that—Fleeting.

Your ring finger was still, and forever will be, adorned by a personally, hand-carved gemstone that was entirely too big for it. It stayed where it belonged, as did Rafayel’s own ring. The word divorce hadn’t been so much as mentioned, let alone been given serious thought. And the police. . .the police were still left grasping at straws, aimlessly chasing leads that will bring them nowhere.

As for your husband, he was rather touchy. More so than usual. The kiss shared at the cliffside was the suspected denominator, as he started sneaking in lingering touches wherever he could reach after that; a featherlight brush over your thighs as he fastened your seatbelt, a subtle kiss to your cheek as he pulled away from you, and the firm clasp on your hand as soon as you’d gotten out of the car.

Rafayel seemed restless. Again. It’d been a good while since he acted this way, with the most recent occasion being a few years ago in the desert of Aridum. The mere memory of it brought back a familiar ache deep within you. Clearing your throat, you removed yourself from his side upon entering the studio. You shook your head, as if that would make the impure thoughts suddenly disappear.

“I, uhm, I’m going to take a quick shower,” you said. The dried blood clung to your skin, it felt sticky, and gross, and you couldn’t wait to wash it off.

Rafayel hummed, feigning interest in the envelopes that lay on the hallway table. More invitations, no doubt. You sincerely doubted he’d attend any of the exhibitions, but (as of today) it turned out he had a knack for surprising you, so, who knew?

Unable to tear your eyes away immediately, you allowed yourself a moment to admire your husband; his fair complexion, those pretty purple locks that you, at first, believed to be dyed, his delicate features that made you want to kiss him all over, and most of all, the twisted mind that hid behind his angelic exterior. One that perfectly mirrored yours.

You smiled. Oh, how lucky you are.

Looking away from him proved to be a very conscious effort, one that required all your willpower, but one that was carried out nonetheless as your awareness of the filth lathered across your body continued to grow by the second. You needed it off you, now. With that thought, you finally left Rafayel in the entryway and rushed into the main bathroom.

Once inside, your hand hovered over the door handle; over its lock, specifically. After doing this so often, locking the door behind you had become customary—something akin to a reflex. Only on nights like these, did you instantly lock the bathroom to bar Rafayel from entering. Him seeing the blood wash down the drain was a recurrent fear of yours, after all. However, this time things were different.

This time, there was no need to lock the door.

You blinked, still looking at the door handle. Your thoughts ran rampant, almost too fast for even you to keep up with. Your grasp tightened and loosened on the handle, on its lock, tightened, loosened, tightened, loosened, in an endless loop, until you finally decided to push it down and open the door again. It’s hinge made a soft clicking sound, and then the door was left ajar.

Not locked. Not closed but unlocked. Ajar. Something you’d only ever dreamt of doing on a night like this.

The implications of it sent a shiver down your spine, and a subtle excitement started to brew in your stomach. Setting up the bait was always easy, as Rafayel was more than eager to hook himself to anything that even remotely involved you. Though, for tonight, you wondered if it would work its magic like always—if you’d still be able to reel in your prized catch.

Only time would tell.

You exhaled, and walked towards the mirror. Leaning your palms onto the sink, you took a moment to gather yourself and comprehend what exactly had just happened. The waiter, Rafayel, the strange yet surprisingly effective bonding moment of disposing of a body together, the kiss he’d given you on top of that cliff—that kiss, you would never come to understand, you thought, as you scrunched up your nose once you finally laid eyes on your appearance.

It wasn’t that your frazzled state came as a surprise. They were all sights you’d seen before. Yourself covered in someone’s blood, with a murderous glint in your eyes and your hair a tousled mess. No, what surprised you was Rafayel’s willingness to kiss you despite you resembling something that had crawled out of a sewer. What a darling, truly.

The thought of your husband made you smile again. With a silly, lovesick little grin you undressed yourself, and finally sought some much needed reprieve under the soothing, hot stream of the shower. In an instant, all the tension in your muscles disappeared and you breathed a sigh of relief. Slowly, over time, the water underneath your feet started to turn a soft red as the blood came off your skin and washed down the drain. It made you feel much cleaner, even before touching a single bar of soap.

When bringing your hands down and away from your face, your breath hitched in your throat as you suddenly felt a pair of hands settle on your waist. It worked, you thought immediately. Your heart stuttered in excitement, and the familiar flutter of butterflies appeared in your stomach as Rafayel pressed a soft, lingering kiss against your temple. You sighed in relief. It still worked. Your murderous escapades hadn’t deterred him one bit.

His fingers gently collected your hair in their grasp, gathering all the strands before he kissed your (now blood-less) check. “Let me wash your hair,” he whispered, his breath feeling hot on your ear.

“Mhm,” you hummed softly.

He was here. He was here, and he was warm, and gentle, and loving, and that mere fact of the matter sent a thrill up your spine. Rafayel truly didn’t seem to care. If you were a little bolder, you’d dare to say he even enjoyed the revelation he had tonight. Though, it was best not to jump to conclusions. Being flattered was still a far cry from enjoying it. However, it was much better than your initial scenario. A win is a win.

You let out a relieved sigh. Rafayel’s fingers in your hair, massaging your scalp, and carefully rinsing out the shampoo, a gesture so simple, yet it never failed to soothe your fraying nerves. It almost felt like you ascended to Heaven when your darling Lemurian started humming a soft tune. His song echoed through the ever-damp bathroom, the lullaby carried from one of your ears to the other and back again. You’d never understood the appeal of sirens, not until you met your own.

“You always sound so beautiful,” you mumbled in awe. With your eyes closed, your other senses sharpened and you could feel and hear him chuckle against the shell of your ear again.

Rafayel kissed your temple once more. “So I’ve been told,” he said, a teasing lilt to his voice. Teasing, because the only person he ever willingly sang for, and therefore told him such, was right in front of him. You huffed, lips curling up into a smile. “Hair’s all done, my love.”

Your heart skipped a beat. It truly wasn’t fair how easily he could do that to you; Just by uttering a nickname. My love. It wasn’t something he called you on a daily basis. With good reason, as it was usually loaded with meaning, with passion—only uttered on the days where Rafayel felt the all-consuming need to intertwine the essence of his very soul with yours so you two may never part, to crawl underneath your skin and live out his days happily in the confinement of your ribcage if it meant an eternity of being close to you.

You hadn’t expected to hear it today.

Your expression told him as much. With widened eyes, and a hitch in your breathing, you spun around in his arms, frantically searching for his gaze. Rafayel was already looking at you. His eyes carried a swirl of emotion you hadn’t seen in there before, not at the same time. They were warm, and adoring, and happy, and at ease, as if something inside him finally found the missing piece he’d been searching for; they held all that, and more, with bouts of possessiveness shining through, and the piercing glint of them felt as if he was staring straight into the very depths of your soul—as if he was, perhaps for the first time ever, truly seeing you.

All of you. The good, the bad, the ugly, and the darkness you’d tried so hard to hide.

. . .And yet, he never looked away.

You blinked, and so did he. Rafayel brought one hand up to cup your cheek, tilting your face upwards while his other one made sure to firmly situate itself around your waist. He pressed your flush against him, chest to chest, and you released a shaky breath as you felt the hardness of him against your stomach. The longing for him intensified, and your legs started to weaken as you felt bits of his pre-cum staining your wet skin. You wanted him, and it seemed that, even after all of this, he, too still desperately craved you.

“My dearest,” he spoke up again. He kept his gentle hold on your cheek, making it so you couldn’t look away from him even if you tried. That was of no problem to you, as you never felt the desire to do so, anyway. You hummed, eyes briefly fluttering shut in bliss as you felt his other hand caressing your back so very lovingly. “May I…”

“Please,” you choked out. It sounded depraved, and under any other circumstances you might have felt the urge to be embarrassed.

However, it was all Rafayel needed to hear. His lips were on yours before your mind could catch up. They were soft, and familiar, and tasted vaguely of the sweet cotton candy the two of you had snagged on the way home from the art exhibition earlier today. It was a stark contrast to the way he was kissing you; as the kiss was bruising, deep and passionate as if the air in the room could only be given to him through the reprieve of your mouth on his—as if you were the oxygen he breathed. It felt as if he were stealing the air in your lungs and transporting it to his own, as you got more and more out of breath by the second.

“M—hm,” you grunted, as an attempt to catch your breath without having to pull back too much. He felt so incredibly good, and parting from him seemed far worse than succumbing to the lack of air in your lungs.

As always happened whenever Rafayel kissed you, you suddenly became keenly aware of his very being; of the very palpable presence of him, even with your eyes closed, you identified the soft flutter of his lashes against your cheeks, the texture of his skin underneath your fingers, the pressure of his lips against yours, and the roaming of his hands from your waist down to the back of your thighs.

He was here. He was real. And he was yours.

Rafayel pulled back first, the moment so brief that it didn’t even give him the time to gloat about the fact that you desperately chased after him, and gave both of you no more than a second to breath before connecting you two again; deeper this time, as he nudged your mouth open and swiftly slid his tongue inside.

The moan you let out was involuntary, as was the short squeak that slipped out as Rafayel suddenly grabbed the back of your thighs and lifted you off the ground. Your protests got stifled by him deepening the kiss, and he greedily swallowed the mixture of groans and hisses you let out as you felt the cold tiles of the shower wall against your skin. Any complaint you had melted away like snow underneath the sun, completely distracted by the searing onslaught of his lips. And still, you wanted him to be even closer.

Your hands reached up to his hair, and tangled in the wet strands. The gentleness you usually reserved for him was briefly forgotten as you tugged on his locks with a little too much force, the need for him overpowering you. Rafayel let out a groan, and adjusted your legs around his waist. With them firmly wrapped around him, your bodies fully pressed together, you could finally feel him in its entirety.

His heavy, needy cock brushed against your sticky folds, and your breath hitched in your throat as you felt it smear some warm pre-cum against the underside of your ass. When he pulled back from the kiss, Rafayel’s cheeks donned a fiery red colour, his quick pants brushed against your lips, and just as you were about to plead with him to get a move on—he suddenly brought his fingers to your mouth.

Rafayel waited. His digits rested against your lips, waiting for you to open your mouth and welcome them in there like you had done many times before; waiting for you to suck on them, to get them nice and wet before he used them to spread you open and get you ready for him. You didn’t have the heart to tell him that the two of you were underneath the shower and that they, therefore, were already wet.

Though, on a night such as tonight, you didn’t crave his fingers. You craved him.

With a shake of your head, you pushed his fingers away.

It surprised him, clearly, as he tilted his head to the side. “No?” He asked, an eyebrow raised. An amused smirk settled on his lips, and he playfully tapped your lips with his index finger. “You sure?”

“Very,” you said, nearly immediately, and used your hold on his shoulders to pull him tighter against you. It startled him a bit, as he had to adjust his hold on you. You granted him little time to gather his bearings, and grinded your cunt onto the base of his cock. Rafayel stifled a groan, tensing up at the feeling and squeezing the fat of your ass as a reflex. “Your fingers won’t be enough this time. I want you. I want you now, Rafayel.”

In any other circumstances, he’d make you work for it. He would choose to tease you a bit here, throw in a taunt there—this time, however, the neediness you felt was shared.

“Fuck, okay,” he breathed, sighing, as if that would make him catch his breath any faster. “Yeah, okay, c’mere, princess.”

He stole another moan from you with the bruising kiss he pressed against your lips, and another one as he kissed you again, and again, and again, until he pulled back again to rest his forehead against yours. One of his hands trailed downwards, in-between your bodies, and wrapped around his hard cock, its normally soft-ish pink tip now an angry shade of red. He stroked himself a couple of times, and let out a low moan as your hand accompanied his and started moving in sync with him.

Each pump of his cock was joined by another profanity, and when you were confident he’d muttered all the curse words underneath the sun, you lined him up with your entrance—only for him to switch to Lemurian and continue his array of colourful words. Rafayel was forming a knack for surprising you, it seemed.

“Please, just. . .” You trail off, biting down on your lower lip as you felt his tip slowly, painfully slowly, start to breach your entrance. You attempted to guide yourself forward, to feel every part of him within you sooner, but he didn’t allow you to; his firm hold on you prevented you from moving even so much as an inch. “Let me have you, please.”

“You have me,” Rafayel said, tearing his gaze away from where the two of you were slowly becoming one so he could look into your eyes. His lips found yours again, as they have many times this night, and he greedily lapped up every sound you let out as he finally drove himself into you fully. Spit, kisses, soft moans, and high-pitched whimpers got exchanged between the two of you as Rafayel bottomed out inside you. “You got that? You have me. All of me.”

“All of you,” you echoed.

The pink and blue hues in his eyes started swirling together, creating an imagery that once again made you aware of the otherworldly beauty your dear husband possessed—which was a given, of course, as he truly was from another world. You sighed in bliss, and Rafayel started moving at last once he deemed enough time to have passed for you to adjust to him; since you always had to, no matter how often you’d taken him already. The stretch had become familiar, yes, but in no way had it seized to exist.

“All of me,” he confirmed, and started to set a proper pace.

It wasn’t rough, or hard, or fast, but god, was it deep—as if he were pouring a fragment of his very essence into you with each thrust. Pulling out all the way, just to fuck himself in even deeper; over and over and over again. He made sure to savour every little feeling, to feel each and every ridge of your inner walls, and allowing you to feel every vein on his lengthy cock. And even though you’d had sex with Rafayel plenty of times before, somehow this felt as if it were the firs time all over again.

In a way, it was. For the first time, you made love while truly knowing every single inch of the other’s inner workings—while really knowing the other. Leaving that door ajar hadn’t just opened the bathroom door. It left space for a deeper connection to form, for a vulnerability to show that both of you had kept so well-hidden before.

The fear of losing the other.

Whether it was to other people, or to (seemingly) unknown dangers didn’t matter. That fear had driven you both to show exactly how far either of you would go to make sure it would never come to fruition.

Rafayel’s pretty moans graced your ears and pulled you out of your daydream, guiding you back to the present with him and making you aware of the steam that’d started to form in the bathroom. You nearly couldn’t see a thing, only able to make out Rafayel—which was all that you needed to, truly.

“F—Fuck, you feel so good, I. . .” He panted. Another plethora of Lemurian rambles slipped past his lips, and under different circumstances you’d try your hand at understanding it; with your limited but ever-growing knowledge of the language. “Fuck, I—I love you.”

“I love you,” you told him, making sure to push as much of your love for him into those three words. You wanted him to feel it, rather than just hear it. He gave a particularly nasty thrust at that, one that caused his tip to bump into rather sensitive spot of yours. You whined, and dug your nails into his shoulder blades to steady yourself. “So much, yeah? F—fuck, I love you so much, Rafayel.”

He groaned at the feeling of your nails digging into his back. “So much,” he repeated your words. Almost like a mantra. “So much, so much, so much, ah—!” Rafayel rambled, each case followed closely by another rut into your tight heat.

Overcome by pleasure, you nearly missed the way his bond mark started to glow a faint red. Nearly, of course, being the keyword. Your heart immediately fluttered at the sight; At the eternal reminder of his belonging to you. A shaky hand of yours found its way to his collarbone, engulfing the mark as a surge of possessiveness coursed through you.

“All of you,” you mumbled again. You could feel Rafayel’s heartbeat underneath your palm, directly underneath the mark. It was erratic, and it skipped a beat when he gave a harsh thrust upon noticing your hand on his chest. “A—All mine.”

Rafayel placed one of his hands on yours, while the other helped keep you upright. “All, ah, all yours, my love,” he stammered, and you could tell that he started to near his end by the way his grip on your hand started to falter.

But, your darling husband was a romantic down to his very bones, and would rarely allow himself to indulge in the wicked sin of cumming first. It was something he saved for those lust-filled nights where you were in control, with him entirely at your mercy—but, as it was, tonight was not one of those nights. And so, Rafayel slowed down his pace to prolong his release. While his speed went down, the intensity of his thrusts stayed the same. Deep, hard strokes hit into that same, familiar spot within you that only his cock has ever been able to reach.

The hand that had been tenderly wrapped around yours dropped down in-between your legs, seeking out your clit to intensify the euphoria coursing through your veins. Each rub, flick and pinch against it was calculated, given in such a way that Rafayel knew would make you keen under his touch. With him being so intimately familiar with every inch of your body, it didn’t take him particularly long to drive you further towards the edge; and he greedily drank up every one of your moans, even when they’d started to pick up in pitch.

“I’m. . .Raf, I—!” You gasped against his mouth, but he silenced you almost immediately by pressing a firm kiss against your lips.

“I know,” he said, panting against you. Another kiss was given to you, and another, and another, and you squealed as he started picking up the pace again. “I know.”

Because of course he does. There wasn’t a person out there who knew you better than him, nor was there anybody else who knew him better than you.

“Don’t stop, please,” You said. Your voice didn’t make it further than a breathy whisper, with you being nearly out of breath. Both your hands cupped his face and you held him as close to you as possible. “I love you so much.”

Rafayel let out a strangled whine at that. Your walls clenched around him, and your fingers tangled from his nape up into the hairs at the base of his neck. Once there, the soft tugs you gave on them sent a shiver down his spine—and a sharp whimper left him the second you came around him and tugged harshly on the purple-ish strands.

“Ah,” he hissed, the muscles in his body tensing as he felt the way your walls sucked him in with an amount of greed he’d never seen before. “Fu—Love you, l—love you, so. . .ah, f—fuck!”

There was little he could do except for tumble right over the edge alongside you.

Your blissful melody sounded through the bathroom, moans weaving together to create the most beautiful song while the two of you got lost in each other. Rafayel’s hand faltered against your clit, biding you some reprieve to come down from your own high, as he let himself go and filled you up as much as he could.

Long, thick ropes of his cum seeped into you, nearly straight into your womb as Rafayel’s tip sat snug against your cervix. Some of his seed started dripping down your leg as he came, and came, and came, and unloaded every drop of his most intense orgasm to date into you. It almost felt never-ending, but nothing truly is—so when he finally did finish, he was out of breath, a little disoriented and nearly entirely flushed red. His chest was heaving upwards rapidly, and he let out a deep sigh as he rested his forehead against yours.

Neither of you had any air left to give. Still, you sought out the other for a kiss.

It was no longer as charged as before, though. It was soft, and loving, and so delicate; as if both of you were afraid of hurting the other if you were to be too harsh. Rafayel nudged his nose against your own, an action that made you giggle.

It was the only movement between you two for a good while, both of you choosing to relish in the other’s closeness for just a little longer. When it was time to finally pull away from you, Rafayel (begrudgingly) made the first move to.

He pulled out of you slowly, and you nearly let out a whine at the emptiness that washed over you because of it. All that you were left with was his release partially inside you, with the rest of it clinging to the inside of your thighs. Rafayel huffed in amusement, a small entertained smirk curling at the end of his lips as he watched your reaction. Finding it cute, he pressed a sweet kiss to your cheekbone before carefully putting you back onto the ground.

“Careful,” he chirped, noticing how you struggled to remain upright with your shaky legs. One of his hands quickly rested on your waist to steady you, and his smirk widened.

You tried to scoff in annoyance, but failed miserably due to the smile that crept up your face. “Yeah, yeah,” you mumbled instead, watching as Rafayel’s usual bravado gradually made its return; the intensity of the moment you shared slowly fading away.

Though, despite that, you still felt impossibly closer to him.

Rafayel looked at you. His head tilted to the side, and a few of his fingers gently brushed over your collarbone to wipe away a few of the droplets of water laying on your skin. A futile effort, really, as more and more fell on you anyway considering you were still underneath the hot shower.

“Let me wash your body, too,” he said. “Please?”

With all that had happened, you nearly forgot that you’d gotten into the shower to clean yourself. And so, you gave Rafayel a quick nod and watched as he happily reached for the vanilla and caramel-scented soaps and shower gels before getting to work.

He touched your body with the utmost care. Every inch of you got caressed in a way that not just left your skin clean, but also left your heart full. After each part was done, Rafayel pressed a kiss to an area there—from your arms, to your shoulder blades, to your nape, to your lower legs, and to your stomach and thighs. Nevermind that he had to kneel in front of you to reach certain points, he did it without a fuss.

It was clear to you then. Rafayel loved you. Absolutely every part of you was thoroughly adored and revered by the man in front of you.

You felt like the luckiest person in the world.

And then, as if it were simply like any other night, the two of you fell into your familiar routine. With you dressing yourself into one of his shirts, and him only putting on a black pair of boxers, and with the two of you goofing off in front of the bathroom mirror while brushing your teeth. Rafayel dried your hair like he did on every other night and then tucked the two of you into bed, making sure that the covers were snugly wrapped around your bodies.

You sighed, head laying on his chest. The starry sky was entirely visible, with little to no clouds in the way of them, and Rafayel’s sunroof allowing you a perfect view of them.

What a day.

Rafayel held you in his arms. You felt as if that was were you always belonged. Basking in his presence, admiring the stars above you while he gently traced silly patterns on your back (seriously, you thought you’d identified a fish, a butterfly and a squirrel). Though, despite the increasing amount of peacefulness that settled upon you—there was one thing still bothering you.

“How did you know where I was?”

“Hm?” Rafayel hummed, pausing his tracing. It seemed his mind buffered a bit, as it took him a few seconds before he answered. “Oh, there’s a tracker on your car.”

It’s as if you asked him what he’d had for dinner; the airiness in his voice something he’d usually only reserve for the most mundane questions.

“You—!” You stuttered, a little bewildered at the ease with which he made his confession. Though, in hindsight, you shouldn’t have been. It wasn’t the first time. “First it was my suitcase, now it’s my car. . .How many trackers do you have?”

It was meant as a joke.

“Seven, but one of them got destroyed when you decided to walk through a heavy downpour without an umbrella, so, six are left,” Rafayel answered anyway.

You blinked, and he tapped the tip of your nose with a small smile. “You’re insane,” you concluded.

Rafayel tilted his head to the side, with an eyebrow raised. “You kill people who stand too close to me,” he said matter-of-factly.

Heat rose to your cheeks. “I—you—you make me sound so deranged,” you grumbled, attempting to defend yourself at least a little. The warmth on your cheeks spread out to the tips of your ears when you felt Rafayel laugh; it was a knowing laugh, a chuckle that called your bluff. “I’m not! I swear, I’m not entirely unreasonable. Of course, you can speak to other people. Some of them, though. . .”

“Yes?”

He was enjoying this way too much. Too much cheerfulness was in his voice to be considered normal. You didn’t know whether to be relived or find the nearest rock to crawl under out of embarrassment, because, yeah, it did sound a little unhinged. You gently hit him in the chest, as if that would get rid of the smug smile forming on his lips.

“They’re just so rude,” you mumbled, scrunching up your nose. Rafayel hummed in agreement, sensing some truth in your words. “Other than being overly familiar with you, they also bat their eyelashes, touch your arm, playfully hit your chest. . .´

“Like you just did?”

“Yes, exactly, like I just did—your wife,” you said, making sure to put a great emphasis on the very last word of your sentence. Rafayel’s smile grew in size. “And it just seems like they don’t care for that fact at all. Even after I arrive, or even after they see your ring, they don’t seem to be deterred at all.”

Rafayel hummed. He grabbed your hand, intertwining it with his own. “And that bothers you?”

“Immensely,” you said, eyebrows furrowed at the mere thought of it. You glanced at your husband, your previous disdain-filled look making way for a questioning one. “I mean, you’re mine, aren’t you?”

He smiled. Your seeking of reassurance was adorable, and Rafayel would gladly give it to you every single time. With his arms wrapped tightly around you, he held you against his chest and rested his chin on top of your head after pressing a light kiss to your crown. His way of confirming that, yes, he definitely was.

“My crazy wife,” he mumbled, sighing happily. Your inability to deny his statement left you feeling a little sheepish. “Oh, how I adore my crazy wife.”

A crazy wife, and her equally crazy husband.

You snuggled closer to Rafayel, a peaceful smile on your lips.

Yes, the two of you sure make quite the pair.

#ˋˏ ❃ — mimi reblogs 😳 ˎˊ #nsfw !#read !!!!#rafayel x reader

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