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rin-eko · 9 hours ago

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New Intimacy - Caleb x Reader

Description: First time with Caleb and the morning after

Warnings/Content: some light story spoilers, nsfw themes

WC: 3.4k

Caleb, who goes manic the first time he sees you naked. Not even fully naked, just your breasts peaked with tight nipples, skin so soft but not as soft and vulnerable as your shaky eyes focused on him in the dim light of his high room in Skyhaven. His brain completely short circuits.

The dark curtains are still drawn open, giving way to the glittering city lights outside, the two of you on his bed above it all and in a position you have never been in before.

All of this, the two of you have never done before.

And it’s strange, because he’s seen you in every other way imaginable. He knows every part of you, perhaps better than you know yourself at times. He was there when you were ten and got a wad of bright pink bubblegum stuck in your hair, unable to keep the amusement out of his voice but still carefully and gently untangling it for you, cutting your hair neatly when the task proved impossible.

He was there when you got your first period, speaking to you in calm tones through the bathroom door as you freaked out on the other side. Always ensuring you had enough supplies, that you did nothing but relax while watching movies during those difficult times, his big, warm hands gently massaging your stomach to soothe the cramps away.

He was there when you got drunk for the first time, pressing two fingers deep in your throat to make you gag out the poison into the toilet while holding you up and promising your pale, clammy face that he wouldn’t tell Gran. And then the next day, threatening to tell her if you didn’t do the dishes for him.

He had been there for you through quite literally everything. Growing up, you had followed him everywhere like a little duckling. Even as adults, your closeness showed in the way you only had to briefly make a gesture, or just open your mouth and Caleb was already answering you, knowing what you wanted or what you were going to say. Your closeness shows in the cadence of your voice, your speech, so similar to Caleb’s. All the slang you’ve adopted was from years of hearing it from him and naturally integrating it into your own manner of speaking without even realising it.

But he doesn’t know this part of you. He has never seen you like this, with sticky, dewy strings of arousal between the junction of your soft thighs. With small gasps and moans escaping your kiss-swollen lips, hands that were hesitant at first gripping him in ways you never had before, in places you never had before.

You’re no better than him. Not for the first time, you have to reconcile with yourself that Caleb is no longer the teasing boy from your childhood, but a full-grown man. And he’s so big… everywhere. Your eyes dip low between your bodies before quickly shooting back up… a small, sharp inhale… You demurely look to the side.

He’s so… big down there. Thick and long, even his balls heavy and swollen with semen. Beneath his navel is a short, dark trail of hair that reaches low.

And you aren’t a girl anymore. He’s thought of this moment so many times, played it in his head over and over but now he feels a brief flash of anxiety. Your most private place… while it certainly appears he’s gotten you wet enough, it’s so small…

Will he even fit?

He’s deeply researched sex and knows the anatomy of the female body but you struggled to take even his fingers…

But then a small snort somewhere between indignation, impatience and false bravado erupts in a way that is so typically you.

“Caleb, just hurry up!” you whine. “Don’t tell me you’re scared you’re gonna blow in two seconds? Well I have heard guys struggle during their first time so I won’t blame you, hehe…”

But then, when he really pushes inside you, tears immediately spring on your lower lash line. His entire body shudders, at the warmth, at your cuteness.

“Baby…” he holds the top of your head and soothes you with kisses on your lips and cheeks, fingers reaching down to circle your clitoris. You gasp into his mouth.

So big… he’s stretching you completely, going so deep his coarse pubic hair presses flush to your own.

You feel suffocated and liberated all at once. Blood rushes to your ears in rolling waves timed with his heavy thrusts.

Everything you both had been imagining for so long and now you really are split apart on him. This person who you have known your whole life. Who taught you everything you know. What love is. How deep and twisted and also beautiful it can be.

So is it screwed up or only right that you also teach each other how your bodies should come together now that you’re adults, free to do as you please? Or rather, uncaring to restrain yourselves anymore.

He groans, long and low. He was prepared to never have this. He would have waited or restrained himself forever if he had to, but now… he doesn’t know if he could go back to the way things were before. Without this warm, wet heat within you and surrounding you in something you aren’t even sure you can describe simply as sex.

…

Caleb’s home doesn’t allow for a lot of sunlight but perhaps the sun has decided to mimic your mood because you wake to find soft, pale yellow rays casting streaks of light through his window, warming the room in patches.

Your eyes blink a few times to adjust to the light, and in response to your awake state, the man holding you tightly from behind releases a shuddering exhale. You moan, mind still in a groggy place somewhere between dreams and reality, but you hold his forearm wrapped around your waist, stroking lazily.

You both bathe in the silence for a while, somehow both happy yet nervous. You, because you’re worried he’ll go back to acting like a friend or brother in an effort to put some distance between you and protect you. After all, there were things he knew that you simply didn’t. Or perhaps he’d be walking on eggshells, afraid of messing up the newfound intimacy the two of you had discovered last night.

Him, because he worried you’d regret it. And if that was so, he wasn’t sure how to deal with that pain. If he’d be able to tuck it away and carry on confidently as usual.

You take the initiative to turn around in his embrace, chests flush against each other. His hand strokes your tailbone in small motions. Quiet. Then,

“Last night-”

“I think-”

You both pause, and then smile softly. You tuck your head to rest your forehead to his throat, tracing his bicep idly. “You first,” your voice is shy and adorable.

He inhales deeply. “I just… I just wanted to say that last night was more than I ever imagined…” he exhales in that full-chested way you love. “God, baby, it was amazing, I don’t know what to say.”

Your entire chest melts. Saliva pools in your mouth. Something tightens from your lower belly to the place between your legs.

You swallow and look up to meet his dark purple gaze. “Me… For me, too.”

“Yeah?”

You hum because anything else you say might just come out as a wanton moan.

A part of Caleb can’t believe it had actually happened after so long imagining it in the deepest, most shameful parts of his mind. But you really are beside him, your smooth, bare skin pressed to him, your hair messy with the evidence of last night, your neck littered with his love bites just like his back is with your nail scratches. He loves it.

So, so much.

He strokes the back of his finger down those love bites now, admiring his work. “Ah,” he starts sheepishly. “Ya may need to cover these up when you go out.” But you both know he doesn’t really want you to. Go out, or cover up the hickies, that is.

And as much as you complain, you don’t really mind. You like everything from him, whether it be reassurance or teasing, because you know there is nothing about yourself that could ever change his heart even fractionally.

So comforting.

You aren’t sure how to describe the night. Whether it was rough or deep or loving or painful or maybe all of it meshing together in one storm of sweat and yearning and flesh and immeasurable deep love exploding after being hidden away for so many years, just like the old time capsule you and Caleb had buried when you were kids.

You, subconsciously, living in ignorance, having long accepted him as a brother figure in your childhood. And him, always knowing, but never able to do anything about it. For fear of others, for fear of losing you, of no longer being able to protect you.

Whatever it was, it had been a long time coming.

After so long holding back, this gorgeous, talented, sought-after man is yours in every way. Even if you’ve always had him, even if words like ‘girlfriend’ or ‘partner’ or ‘soulmate’ shouldn’t matter and can’t possibly describe the depth of your bond, it still sends a shiver of delight up your spine. You definitely want that. Will greedily snatch those titles up and keep it to yourself for eternity, just as you wished to when he would have you play his pretend girlfriend all those years ago.

His huge hand reaches down and covers the whole of your most intimate area. “Your pussy sore?” His finger dips down just to very lightly brush the top of his middle finger against your entrance before coming back to rest on your pubic bone. And you wonder if you’ll ever get used to him speaking about such intimate parts of yourself in that voice you’ve adored for so long, the voice that has guided you your whole life, slightly rough with morning sleep. The same voice that used to tell you ‘Pipsqueak, breakfast is ready!’ every morning and ‘Sweet dreams, little one’ every night.

It was the same last night. You were sure your whole face was red when he had started groaning as he thrusted. Uncontrollable, delicious, deep moans causing tingles throughout your whole body all the way down to your curled toes. Grunting in exertion as he slightly shifted your positions to penetrate even deeper. You had never heard him like that. Had never thought there was a part of him you didn’t know. Even as an adult, you were inexperienced, so he was your first. And when you asked if you were his, too, he chuckled a little, a lovely rumbling sound from the depths of his chest and kissed your forehead affectionately.

“Of course, my only.”

You wanted to unravel this new side of him for the rest of your life.

But a small memory makes a crack in a barrier of your mind, emerging like a seed sprouting from the ground. You squint, trying to catch the thought.

“Actually… I think I’ve heard you moan like last night before… You were in your childhood bedroom…”

The pained, embarrassed way in which he groans and slings an arm over his eyes, laying on his back now, is your answer.

You tease him. “Wow, I guess you were really horny as a teenager. You actually spent a lot of time in you room with the door locked. Your showers were suspiciously long, too, now that I think about it… And you always used to tell me I took so long getting ready but you were actually the culprit who made Gran’s water bill shoot up!”

He peeks out from his arm, one eye glaring at you. “Fuck’s sake, you’re such a brat. Can you blame me? Going through puberty while living in the same house as you was hell. Sometimes I thought I was going to rub myself raw. I must have made more noise than I thought because one day you came innocently knocking on my bedroom door, asking if I was injured of all things.”

You giggle and let it settle in your chest that he really had felt the same way as you for as long as you have. While you always felt it deep down, having the feelings liberated and out in the open is a wonderful feeling you’ll have to get used to.

You stroke his bare chest, just below his collarbones, aware of your naked lower bodies touching and twining beneath the covers. Neither of you are used to touching each other like this and it shows in the light dusting of red on his cheekbones before he also reaches to stroke one arm up and down your bare waist in a soothing and casual manner. You can feel he wants to say something, and after another moment’s hesitation, he speaks up, voice purposefully light to try and disguise how curious he really is.

“You… never did it to the thought of me?”

Your immediate pause, accompanied by flushed cheeks, are his answer. You bury your face in his sternum, collapsing in a heap of humiliation. He chuckles. “Glad I wasn’t the only one, baby.” His head tilts slightly in thought. “Hmm… now I kind of want to see that, though.” He grins cheekily when you lightly slap his chest, satisfied with your reaction to his teasing.

You both quiet down again, enjoying being with each other like this. He strokes up and down your abdomen comfortingly and you count the freckles on his body until you’re forced to halt when his hand makes its way down… down… to your sex once more. He touches the neatly trimmed hair there and rubs it. He hums in thought.

“When you’re shaving, or trimming, here next time, let me do it.”

“Why?”

“Why not? I always used to shave the back of your legs while you sat on the edge of the bathtub. There were parts you couldn’t reach and you’d always cut yourself.”

“Believe it or not, I’ve grown up. I’ve learned how to do it safely.”

“Still,” he presses a hot kiss to your throat. “Let me.”

You don’t object because you’re sure you’ll end up liking the unique ways he dotes on you anyway, but when his fingers, long and thick, nailbeds neat and clean and cut short, travel lower to spread your lips, a small moan escapes you. Cool air touches your clit before his finger presses it lightly.

You’re breathing hard. “Caleb… what… are you… doing… ungh…”

Last night, he stayed down there for ages, memorising you. Your taste, your smell. And now, he seems just as fascinated with that secret part of you, rubbing you lightly in case you’re sore.

“I love this,” he says quietly. He gets underneath you, so your back is laying on his chest, your full weight on him. Your legs are spread wide over his, face next to his on the pillow, neck arching up when he circles your clit more firmly, hairline sticky and perspiring. Your arm naturally winds its way around the back of his neck while his other holds your waist, heated gaze full of smoke drinking you in completely. His dogtag, the same one that was hanging between you last night before he moved it out of the way to rest between his prominent shoulder blades, tinkles by your ear. You feel the cool metal against the side of your face just as one long finger enters you carefully.

You moan, unabashed, and hide your face in the crook of his neck, leaving everything to him as tension once again simmers and boils over.

…

The two of you spend the rest of the morning making love. Tenderly, closely, desperately. Your foreheads tightly press against each other, your legs tucked up, one hand around his neck while the other rests on his back as he moves between your thighs.

His gravelly voice keeps speaking to you,

“Are you sore? Is it okay? I love you, love you, love you… ah, I don’t know how to say what I feel for you…” he whispers and breathes into your mouth, face flushed and perspiring. He licks across your teeth, still raring to go even when you’re a satisfied, but very tired, slump on the bed.

He kisses and licks your closed lips, the drool at the corner of your mouth, the redness beneath your eyes. Like an animal licking and soothing its kindred, he can’t stop touching you. The sun moves through the sky but neither of you ever want to stop caressing and petting each other now that you finally fully belong to one another. It’s a level of pleasure, physical and emotional, unlike any other.

…

After spending too much time in bed and deciding neither of you wants to leave the house today, Caleb kisses your forehead and gets up from the bed, saying something about getting breakfast started even though it’s late in the day.

“You tired me out last night, pipsqueak, I’m starving.”

You watch his strong body move fluidly. As he searches for something to wear, he stretches his neck from side to side, the sound of two cracks seeming to satisfy his muscles.

He finds a pair of sweatpants and pulls them over his firm butt, remaining shirtless. He grins over his shoulder when he catches you staring and drooling at him.

He stretches his words, “Orrrrrrr, do you want some more of me?”

You grab a pillow and throw it at his face, but it stops short just before him and slumps to the ground. He laughs his way out of the room, the carefree, happy sound making your heart pulse quickly.

You take your time getting out of bed, finding a comfortable shirt of Caleb’s to throw on before sliding a pair of underwear- that you recognise as yours but have no idea why Caleb has it tucked in his draw- up your legs.

You meet him in the kitchen, admiring his muscular back before he turns from the stove to place a steaming plate of breakfast on the counter, catching your gaze.

“Just in time, pipsqueak. Order up.”

As he stands in front of the sink, dealing with pans and utensils, you brave coming up behind him and cuddling into his bare back, wanting one more moment of skinship before sitting to devour the food.

He freezes momentarily before his shoulder relax. He touches your hands around his waist that are resting over his stomach.

“Hm? What’s up?”

“Caleb, you know…”

“Hm?” he glances over his shoulder curiously. Rather than playful, your tone is more quiet and serious.

You take a small breath and whisper into the place between his shoulder blades.

“You are the only one for me, in any way, ever.”

He tenses.

Something you hadn’t expected from you dependable, strong and self-assured ex-adoptive brother, who was literally good at everything he did, was that he needed reassurance and was often unsure of the standing of your relationship. Of the way you regarded him.

He had always been trying to protect you, but not push too much, always trying to hold you without giving into his true desires. Always scrambling to learn everything so you’d only come to him for anything you needed.

For so many years, he had to make sure to maintain that delicate balance while you remained blissfully unaware of his internal struggles.

“That’s what you are to me,” you continue to whisper.

He turns against the counter and you go on your tiptoes to softly kiss his lips, speaking lightly against them.

“Everything. A brother, a friend, a guardian, a life partner.” He took on all the duties of these roles. Always unquestionably, always without complaint, always happily, even possessively, so you could always rely on him. So you would always know he’d be right there waiting if you turned to look. And even if you didn’t, still, he would do everything to make you happy.

Even after he had left, when he had returned and you had slowly become a part of each other’s lives again, you found yourself so easily slipping back into that role of having Caleb take care of you.

But now, you wanted to take care of him, too.

The person who you had both loved and hated, but always wanted with a desperation that made your entire body ache, your gravitational point.

#love and deepspace #caleb love and deepspace #caleb x reader #rins.works

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rin-eko · 19 hours ago

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Sylus, who doesn't just call you kitten from the start, but also treats you like one. He can't help it. Not when you remind him exactly of a fierce, scraggly stray kitten, hissing and arching its back at him whenever he comes close.

After coming to understand how uncomfortable you felt around him, he decided to adopt a different approach to getting close with you. A less forceful approach- a plan you didn't realise was implemented even when you were finally pliant and comfortable around him like a relaxed fat cat.

He had to coax you, silently and gently encourage you to put away your claws and start trusting him.

When you were at the base and basically sticking to the opposite side of the room as him as if you were glued there, sometimes he'd pretend to be deeply curious about something in front of him, such as a book or artefact, and pretend to pour over it as he clicked his tongue softly.

As expected, and just like a cat, the sound would catch your attention, and when you realised he wasn't making the sound to gain your attention but just casually clicking his tongue because he was interested in something else, you would slowly approach with a little furrow in your brow. He tried not to laugh as you took slow steps around the edge of the room to come closer, you yourself pretending to be interested in other books and things to seem as if you just casually ended up near him, meanwhile you had been eyeing him from the corner of your eye the whole time, little interest in anything else.

Treats. You hadn't though deeply about why Sylus' pantries were stocked with your favourite snacks. After a few visits to his home, you would naturally make your way to the kitchen to grab your favourite treats without a care in the world, happily munching them like a stray cat that had been lured over by temptation.

At the base, you would also be able to find your favourite toys (the cool guns in his armoury) and your favourite games, such as kitty cards. The blankets and pillows in the guest room you stayed in were all made of your favourite soft material, so expensive it felt like sleeping on a cloud. Sylus even tried spraying his cologne in certain areas of the house so you would become accustomed to his scent.

When in his home, Sylus would make sure to give you plenty of alone time while still ensuring you were aware of his presence, so as not to intimidate you but also to make sure you knew he was around if you wanted to approach him.

And you did, sometimes peeping over his shoulder like a curious cat to see what he was doing. Or sitting on the kitchen counter watching him as he cooked. The distance slowly closed before you even realised it. But he knew, and he was torn between smugness and the happy trilling in his heart.

You remained blissfully ignorant as the comforts around you grew. You naturally relaxed into your surroundings and his presence, not even noticing Sylus had planned it this way from the start.

Even now, he watches you- in your own small home this time- lounging on a fluffy, pink bean bag situated in a spot of the living area that catches the sun's soft glows through the window, and can't help but liken you to a cat. Especially when the sun moves through the sky and your eyes crack open, an unhappy frown creasing the top of your nose because you are now in a shady spot and even with a blanket covering you that will just not do.

He watches you stretch languidly, yawning, before dragging the bean bag to a new patch of sun and once again settling on it, falling into a comfortable nap once more.

He's come from the kitchen, and he approaches you to place a warm cup of tea beside you quietly. One of your eyes peek open to take him in.

"Sylussss," you whine sleepily, rolling onto your back. He squats in front of you and rubs the top of your head.

"Mm?"

You don't say anything else, just falling back into slumber, but he smiles and continues to pat your head. It's something he does often, and he wonders if you even realise that you've come to always expect these head pats, bouncing up to him when you're proud of something you've done and want his praise, waiting for his warm hand to tell you you did well.

Or when the two of you are just relaxing together, sometimes he'll scratch beneath your chin and you'll preen, lips twisting up in contentment and enjoyment, eyes falling shut as you lean toward him for more.

Of course, if you became aware of the fact he was treating you like a cat, you would start pretending to not like these small affections, so Sylus keeps quiet with his teasing.

Although, he thinks of how cute you'd be, turning away with a pout after discovering he had been treating you like a pet. He could almost see an imaginary tail flicking irritably. Maybe you'd even hiss.

He chuckled quietly. Truly like a kitten.

#love and deepspace #sylus love and deepspace #sylus x reader #rins.works

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rin-eko · 1 month ago

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Tiny Scales ~ Rafayel x Reader

He’s never been more in love with, or more grateful to you, who is his soulmate. You, who has brought the future of Lemuria into the world.

Content: softness, pregnancy, childbirth in the ocean, non-canon mermaid depictions and biology

WC: 1.6k

Rafayel knows the due date is near. Knows that soon the oceans will be bustling and the waves will spread in welcome to the new heir of the seas.

He can see it. Sense it. He can practically taste it. In the same way he can sense turbulence amongst the choppy waters of the deep sea and taste the salt in the air.

And of course, it is also made obvious in your actions. You don’t notice all the changes happening within you and your subconscious, but he does, and he’s never felt more tender, more protective.

He sees how you want to be alone more often, just like a Lemurian female, often finding you nestled in the corner of your plush, shared bed, fast asleep and cradling your belly for long hours of the day.

Or sitting just at the edge of the private beach outside your home, right where the water meets the sand, knees tucked to your chest as you let the waves kiss your feet and wet your hem, something within you viscerally needing the ocean close in the same way he does.

He sees your enamoured exasperation when you rub your round belly that’s grown heavy and uncomfortable to carry. Notices how in some moments you crave him in ways you can’t help or explain, wrapping your arms tightly around him from behind, nuzzling your face into his back, wanting to crawl beneath his skin so much you’ll huff a sound of helpless frustration, quickly unbuttoning his shirt so you can press your face to his bare skin. His chest, his shoulder blades, his neck.

Throughout your entire pregnancy, you and Rafayel rarely leave the house. Before the small life had begun to grow inside you, you had thought you and Rafayel couldn’t possibly be any closer. You knew everything about each other, did everything together, your lives entwined so completely you could understand each other without words, could feel each other even when apart.

But during your pregnancy, when the two of you literally spent every minute of each day with each other within the safe bubble of your home, your relationship had once again transformed, morphing into something so deep, so infinite and everlasting you couldn’t tell where you ended and he began, where or even if there was any separation of your lives anymore. You felt the air he breathed passing through your lungs, could feel the surrounding world through him and the little one nurtured within you.

As for Rafayel, you had never seen him more relaxed. He had forgone cutting his hair, instead letting it grow, the soft purple ends sweeping down his delicate, pale neck and grazing his shoulders. More often than not he forewent shoes and shirts, and almost always denied invitations or interviews from the world outside your bubble.

He devoted all his time to you and the child safely tucked in your womb, painting countless images of your pregnancy. You sleeping on the couch, one hand on your belly, your hair a mess around you. You standing in the soft morning light of the kitchen. You on the beach, wearing a thin nightgown and facing the silvery moon which casted mesmerising reflections along the inky water. The two of you lazed in bed during those months, rising when your bodies willed, lulling back into a deep slumber in the same way the tides ebbed and flowed.

Ten months. A little longer than a regular human pregnancy. Different from a regular Lemurian pregnancy, too. You weren’t laying eggs. The baby was alive within you, little movements tickling Rafayel’s nose when he spoke to your belly in the dim light of the midnight moon, the soothing sound of waves crashing outside.

“I can’t wait to meet you, my little love,” he would speak quietly in his ancient native language, pink lips softly forming beautiful words. He pressed his lips to your bare stomach and you stroked through his velvety hair in response, your thumb rubbing lightly just below his ear where small pearlescent half-circles could be seen. As your hormones changed and strengthened throughout the pregnancy, his instincts had responded keenly, and oftentimes his scales would erupt on subtle parts of his body before he could help it. You loved kissing those smooth patches, licking them, nuzzling them. You wondered if your child would have them, too. If they would take after their father’s kind or yours. Not that it mattered, the love you both felt for the child could surely sink through your skin and reach them, wrapping them safely.

And when Rafayel wakes after a little more than ten months to find the space beside him in bed empty and cold, he somehow knows.

He doesn’t bother checking for you in the house, walking straight to the beach outside where the sky is a light purple still glittered with stars. He stops at the top of the sand, the breeze whispering through his hair as he stares at the back of the figure swaying waist-high in the currents. Your body, your instincts, perhaps heightened by the Lemurian DNA inside you, have told you that this is the place and this is the time.

Rafayel is shirtless, the light material of his loose white pants sticking to his ankles as he walks into the water, to his calves, his thighs, his hips, right behind you. The waves welcome him in their embrace, acknowledging their god, and soon, the heir to them.

His arms wrap around you from behind and his eyes glow a bright blue-purple, everything within him vibrating as his mate lets out a small moan and leans back against him.

“Beloved, are you in pain?” he speaks right by your ear. His thumb strokes your swollen belly over your thin white dress. The gentle ocean swells pass by the two of you.

You make a small sound that says you are and hold the large hand resting on your stomach tighter, trying to concentrate on the first sliver of the sun’s light casting a tiny glow of yellow on the horizon ahead.

Your neck turns to nuzzle the size of your face against his bare chest, moaning lightly. He ducks his head down. You’re panting a little. “Raf… Rafayel… If this baby takes after you, I will be so happy.”

He kisses your temple, smells your hair and the ocean. “My love, you and this baby are my entire world.” There is nothing more important. Nothing more precious.

And as the first rays of sunlight warm the sand and cause the sea to glimmer like a thousand jewels, a little princess is born. Rafayel holds you throughout, letting you squeeze his hand as tightly as you need, cupping water in his palm to cool your sweating hairline. He rubs your dry lips and silently commands the waves to embrace you carefully, comfortably.

One last whimper and push from you and he feels your taut body sag back against his chest. Throughout the process, silvery-blue scales have emerged on his skin, below his eyes, at the column of his throat, along his forearms and ribs. Whenever he sees you in pain, and also, from his own excitement. And now, he sees a flicker of the same colour quickly splash the surface of the water before sinking a little beneath.

Still holding you securely with one strong arm, the other darts beneath the water, scooping something small and soft and smooth up in the other arm.

You’re both breathless as you stare at the amazing, beautiful creature. So small, with scales a shade lighter than Rafayel’s. So small that its head can fit on Rafayel’s palm. It looks half asleep and droopy, with little saliva bubbles gurgling from its mouth.

And the tiniest, cutest little mermaid tail you have ever seen, the end wrapped lightly around Rafayel’s forearms, the fluke of the tail wriggling slightly.

As if by pure instinct, Rafayel’s own tail stretches out, scales fluttering up his sides, gills emerging by his ears. He brings the baby to your chest for you to hold and you cradle her warmly as Rafayel carries you both deeper so his tail can comfortably stretch out without touching the sand below. He keeps you both afloat like that for a long while, the both of you just staring in awe at your daughter. Every perfect inch of her. You feel no pain, only completely and wholly connected to the sky and the sea and your little family.

The tiny thing blinks dazedly, eyes opening a little and you inhale sharply. A happy sob chokes from your throat.

“Darling,” you coo, reaching to stroke one soft cheek with the back of a finger, infinite gentleness and adoration swelling within you. Her eyes are purple like your beloved’s. A brilliant mixture of the rising sun pink and blues you only find in the depths of the ocean where old Lemurian statues still stand.

“Will she be able to change when she’s so little?” you breathe the question to Rafayel, dipping to kiss the tip of her nose.

“Mmm,” he cradles you and nuzzles the back of your neck. “If she spends long enough outside the water it will happen automatically. She will learn to control it as she grows.”

You imagine Rafayel as a child, learning the same thing, a stark contrast to the strong Lemurian holding you now, the large tail swaying in the water beneath you.

Rafayel’s chest feels so open and so full. He’s never been more in love with, or more grateful to you, who is his soulmate. You, who has brought the future of Lemuria into the world.

#love and deepspace #love and deepspace rafayel #rafayel x reader #rins.works

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