#And then just to “Raf”
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funkypeanutbear · 8 months ago
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I go either for Americano or Raf. And add cinnamon depending on the mood.
hi everybody please reblog this and tell me your go-to coffee order right now and if you don't like coffee feel free to include your go-to tea order instead
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mothwingwritings · 4 months ago
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I know a lot of people like to hone in on Sylus' more dominant and teasing side, and while I do love those aspects of him what I really really love is the softer side of Sylus that he only shows to you. ♡
The Sylus that avidly listens to everything you say, drinking you in with with a dopey little grin on his face as you fill him in on everything and anything happening in your life. The Sylus that lets you decorate his chic and mature office with all the plushies you have won together from the claw machine, looking at them fondly as if they were great treasures you have scored. The Sylus that will gladly wear stupid matching kigurumi's with you in public and have fun doing it, reputation be damned. The Sylus who absentmindedly plays with your hair while you are sitting together on the couch watching a movie, sighing in contentment as his long fingers massage your scalp. The Sylus who has memorized all your favorite foods and works hard to come up with new recipes to delight you based of what he already knows you love. The Sylus who's hugs completely engulf you, squeezing and holding you like a lifeline, almost as if he's afraid to let go. The Sylus who stays glued to your side until you fall asleep each night, even though you know his day has hardly begun and he has more important things to be attending to-you always take precedence. The Sylus that wants nothing more than to see you happy and thriving, and will do whatever it takes to make that a reality.
He truly makes me weak. (╥﹏╥)
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0rmtz · 9 months ago
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Slight redesign
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illdragyoudownwithme · 2 months ago
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red
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revasserium · 1 year ago
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promise (to be holy)
rafayel; 1,745 words; fluff, fluff w/out plot, established relationship, kinda?spoilers for raf's lvl 55 affection story, no "y/n", genderless!reader, very suggestive but not actually nsfw
summary: oh, didn't you know? promises are sacred things beneath the ocean...
a/n: @syneilesis thank u for being my lad screaming buddy; this one's for you and for raf the little slut
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The ocean has always been a certain kind of poetry, hasn’t it? You smile to yourself as you blink yourself awake and the world is the size of your sunlit bedroom. Rafayel’s breaths are even, his lashes so dark and long they remind you of a certain kind of midnight — the kind that catches starlight in her hair and has magic in her fingertips.
The kind of midnight that inspires wonder.
“If you really are that enamored with me… I can paint you a portrait. It’ll last longer.”
You blush, even as Rafayel’s eyes flicker open to catch yours, his lips pulled into a teasing, sleep-heavy smile.
“I — I wasn’t staring. I just woke up too and you were blocking my sun.”
You try to turn away, but Rafayel is faster, his arm looping around your middle to pin you to him, his breath warm as it kisses the skin of your bare shoulder. He cocks his head, still blinking the sleep from his eyes.
“Oh? Is that so?” he asks, shifting so that your eyes are level. The morning light paints his outline in liquid gold, and from here, the shade of his eyes makes you think of all the secrets the sea might keep from the sky.
“Mhm,” you nod, licking your lips, and watching with some satisfaction, as his eyes flick down to trace the movement. His skin is warm and his fingers soft as they press into the bend of your waist to pull you closer.
“Liar,” he says — whispers, before he dips down to graze his lips against yours.
You sigh against him, grinning as you curl your fingers into his hair and tug. The way he gasps makes a certain, unnamable hunger surge within you, pushing you forward till you’re pressing him back into the bed, your thighs on either side of his hips.
“Y-you — ngh —” Rafayel hisses as he tips his head back, his teeth digging into his bottom lip, his fingers inadvertently into your skin. You cock your head — and perhaps it’s the tantalizing line of his neck as he leans back, straining beneath you, or perhaps it’s just the morning light, falling like a lover’s caress across the smooth of his skin, the soft wave of his hair as it splays across the pillow — dark against light.
“Now… who’re you calling a liar?” you ask, flattening your palm slowly against his chest, reveling in the way his stomach tenses beneath you, how his breaths seem to quicken as you lean down and down and down.
“Y-you —” he almost musters up a glare as he hisses, “bullying the weak…” he murmurs as he tries to turn away. You twist his face back towards you with a finger beneath his chin and watch as his eyes go wide.
“Oh? You think this is bullying? But… I haven’t even gotten started yet…” you don’t miss the way his pupils dilate, the way his entire body goes rigid and then soft.
“I — you — I’m not accustomed to the ways of you humans! T-to a Lemurian like me… this is — this is —” The words die on his lips as you lean down to skim your lips along the bend of his neck, dropping phantom kisses on the long line of his collarbone, your fingers still holding his head in place.
“Hm?” you hum, grinning as he arches up into your touch, his fingers digging crescent-moon grooves into your hips and thighs, “this is… what, exactly?”
Rafayel makes a broken, keening noise at the back of his throat as you pull away, a fox-fire smile twisting your lips. You blink down at him, feigning innocence.
“Didn’t you say you were going to tell me all about Lemurian traditions? Why not start now?”
His eyes narrow as he forces himself to look away from you. You can almost feel the heat radiating off him in waves, burning from the tips of his ears all the way to the roots of his hair.
“I — you —” his lashes flutter and you can’t help your own laughter as it bubbles from you.
“C’mon, let’s get up — didn’t you want to go to the paint shop today — oh!”
You make to pull away, swinging your legs off him, but the world tilts as a pair of hands pull you back, and a moment later, you’re being pressed into an ocean of tangled sheets and pillows, Rafayel’s face hovering above yours, his expression caught between annoyance and ill-concealed desire.
“You shouldn’t start something you can’t finish,” he cocks his head, lips drawn into a delightful pout as you try to tug your hand away. He huffs as he pins you down harder, the redness in his cheeks deepening even as he leans in.
“Who said I was starting anything?” you ask, batting your lashes up at him even as he scoffs.
“Words aren’t the only way to make promises, y’know,” he says, and you feel his grip on you loosen. But there’s a tantalizing lilt to his voice that holds you in place, a dark, faraway look in his eyes as he leans back slightly, his gaze grazing down the shape of you, splayed out beneath him.
“Yeah? Then… what’s another way of making a promise?” you ask, propping yourself up on your elbows as he shifts back to allow you more space. You shift and the pair of you find yourself sitting face to face, the sheets rumpled around you like a white-sand beach, the remnants of the night before scattered in the folds like footsteps in the sand.
He looks at you before his eyes cast downwards. Your fingertips itch toward him and you reach out, brushing aside a stray strand of hair. Quick as a flicker, he catches your hand, pressing his cheek to your palm, eyes falling shut as he sighs.
“There’s… lots of ways to make a promise…” he says, murmuring it against your skin as he turns his face to press a kiss to the delicate skin of your wrist. You shiver as heat chases up your arm, tingling through your body as you swallow.
You sit there, frozen, as he leans in, slow and slow and slow — till you can feel the heat of his breath on your lips.
“You see… words are a little harder when you’re underwater, so sometimes we make promises by touching palms —” he turns his hand around yours till your fingers lace, “sometimes… we brush cheeks…” he grins as he leans in further, his cheek brushing by yours.
“And sometimes…” he pulls back ever so slightly, till you feel your own breath catch in your chest. His voice is deep and warm and soft and sweet — tugging you in as the moon on the tide, and you can’t help but wonder at the mysterious forces that might’ve pulled you towards one another in the beginning.
Chance, or perhaps something much less nebulous — like gravity.
Your lips meet like magnets clicking into place, and it’s far from the first time you’ve kissed but somehow here, in the morning light, with the windows of the bedroom thrown open to welcome the sea, the salt hanging solid and heavy in the air, it feels like the first time. You can taste the smile on Rafayel’s lips, can feel the eager way he presses in, tongue sweeping across your lips as you gasp open for him. You feel the weight of his body as he pulls you in, pushes you down, and the gentle give and take of it all somehow rings out against the slow shushing of the rising tides.
When he finally pulls away, both of you are breathless. You wonder, briefly, dazedly, if he might’ve been able to go on kissing like that forever. Do Lemurians even need to breathe? What might it be like to kiss like that and never feel the burning ache of oxygen in your lungs? It’s a dizzying thought, and you let yourself linger on it for a second more before Rafayel’s laughter breaks your train of thought.
“What? Was it so good that you’ve gone into shock?”
You blink, shaking your head as you feel heat wash up into your cheeks.
“No! I — I was just wondering… what does a kiss promise, exactly?”
And at this, Rafayel’s cheeks darken again, but he sighs and lowers himself onto the bed next to you, a finger trailing idly along the bend of your ear.
“Well…” he says, “it depends on the kind of kiss.”
You yelp, swatting at him with a pillow as your stomach flips inside you at the implications. His laughter is bright and pure and sweet, but as you both settle down again, he shrugs, pulling you closer to nuzzle his nose against yours.
“But mostly… a kiss just promises that there’ll be another kiss.”
You smile, leaning up to graze your lips against his, “Like that?”
He lets out a soft groan before pulling you in, his lips parting yours, slow and sensuous.
“Yeah… just like that.”
“And so… if you kiss once then…” you press a finger to his lips to stop him from leaning down again, “you’ve gotta keep on kissing? Forever?”
Rafayel grins, tugging away your hand, “That’s not going to be a problem, is it?”
You purse your lips, humming as you feign contemplation. Rafayel scoffs and makes to move away again, but you pull him back, laughing.
“You can’t leave yet! We’ve got a promise to keep, remember?” and with that, you kiss him, and he softens. As he always does.
“I think…” he says, a little breathless as the pair of you sink back into the sheets, “we’ve got a bit more than one promise… but I think we can start with this one…” and he leans in to capture your lips in his, fingers drifting to the skin of your waist. And as the dawning day watches from beyond the window, the ocean shushes itself against a stretch of forgotten beach, water through sand like tangling lovers’ fingers, reaching and holding, pushing and pulling.
And for lovers like that, there will always be promises to keep, and keep, and keep.
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pls come talk to me about love and deepspace oh m ygod
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starmocha · 1 month ago
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"Thank god for men and their bigass fucking veiny hands and long fingers." — your local girlie with a hand fetish 💖
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comfytickles · 2 months ago
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GRUMPY OLD MAN TICKLES!!
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Click for better quality!
He needs to smile more frfr,, and with the help of his favourite no less.
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angelfishcake · 4 months ago
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little itty bitty art dump if you don't mind for @floofyfungi 's miracle series
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hogans-heroes · 2 years ago
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In case anyone tried to whitewash your Battle of Britain lately. I present receipts of the countless Jamaican, Haitian, Indian, and Māori fighter and bomber crews in the RAF. Fully integrated.
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bibliophilesince2003 · 3 months ago
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Transformers
Ok, don't ask me why, but...
Optimus dances like they did in the 50s. Classy and simple. He doesn't dance unless he knows (or thinks) no one is watching. I would like to believe, though, that he wouldn't mind dancing in front of Elita.
Imagine, in Transformers Prime...
*Miko blasts music at full volume; Bumblebee is the first to jump in and rock some epic dance moves*
*Optimus observes from a distance, then excuses himself*
*Ratchet rolls his eyes and gets back to work*
*Ultra Magnus watches in confusion*
*Arcee, Bulkhead, Jack, Raf, and Smokescreen (a terrible dancer, but he does his best) join Miko and Bumblebee*
Later, the group goes out to scout; Ratchet and Optimus hang back. Ratchet is weary from working and tells Optimus that he needs to take a quick break. He leaves the base. Optimus considers the speakers a minute. He surveys the base and double checks the cameras. Finally, he gets the speakers to work, but it switches to a different album Miko rarely plays, as she prefers rock over older music. 50s music comes on. Optimus nods his head and taps his feet. Again, he surveys the base. Then, he starts dancing the way they did in the 50s. Well, the way humans do. He's good at it. He smiles a little bit.
Meanwhile, the others get back to the base. Jack hears the music playing and throws his hand out to stop Miko before she can sprint into the room. Arcee cocks her head and wordlessly tells the others to be quiet. Ratchet peers around the corner and stares in shock. Eventually, they all stare in shock. They whisper to each other.
Smokescreen: Our leader is more impressive than we thought.
Miko: I am never deleting that album.
Not wanting to embarrass Optimus, they hang back and wait until the music stops, then casually enter. Optimus awkwardly stands to the side. The others get back to work, and Optimus gradually relaxes and asks them whether they saw anything out of the ordinary. They shake their head and converse for a bit. Miko turns the speakers on, and 50s music comes back on.
Miko: Huh. I forgot I had this album.
Optimus: It is good to extend your knowledge on a variety of... musical tastes.
Miko: You know, Optimus, if you ever did dance, I think this would fit you well.
Optimus: Hm.
Still, he smiles. The others have to hide their smiles.
Not only that, but Peter Cullen probably grew up with this kind of music.
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coldarena · 9 months ago
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mota uniform studies + a very good boy
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friedri-ce · 2 months ago
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can u tell ur angel fellows i said haiiiii.... all extra i's included
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they also say hi... well most of them!!
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orion-archives · 9 months ago
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Some panel sketches from a TFP comic I'm working on that I find funny and wanted to share
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transingthoseformers · 17 days ago
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Crack idea: After TFP there still are Shenanigans going on earth that the kids want to take on involving leftover Cybertronian artifacts/Cons/etc. They end up finding a brooding Megatron and Miko is bullying him back to base because come on you gotta do Something with your life now old man!
Fowler is NOT keen on having him around. The GOVERNMENT is aware of his crimes after all.
Miko: Ah, but this isn't Megatron! It's his twin brother, Galvatron!
Fowler: . . . [Throws hands up]
SDFSFSFA I KNEW HE EXILED HIMSELF BUT IT'D BE HILARIOUS IF HE EXILED HIMSELF *BACK* TO EARTH
That had to be such a moment when they first round him after he came back
This could be so funny😭😭😭
Fowler is right
twin brother Galvatron gsdggsgs
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armin-supremacy · 22 days ago
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so we all collectively agree
abysswalker is the hottest rafayel companion, right?
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starmocha · 2 months ago
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The Sylus lore I need is understanding his obsession with crows.
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