#l&ds rafayel

[jinwoosbabyboo]

Hi!! can i request the Lads men reaction to mc asking for reparations for the start of bhm?? Since it’s a running joke in the community i’d love to see how’d it play out with them 😭😭

Happy Black History Month! 🤎

Texting the LADS men asking for reparations. This one is specifically for the black community. I love all of my followers, lurkers and readers, but don't forget I'm black before anything else. ‼️THIS IS A JOKE‼️ Do not get in my inbox or my messages w/ racist comments, rude comments or death threats.

[loverindeepspace]

Glub glub glub 🐠

[classfiedyapper]

LADS MEN SEEING YOU IN TRADITIONAL WEAR FOR THE FIRST TIME (Desi Version Pt.1)

(Content under the cut cause I am gonna ramble first😭)

SFW, fluff, mildly suggestive I think?

AN: guys!!!! I am crying the reaction for my last head cannon post was very overwhelming I was expecting like 5 notes and maybe 2 re blogs but damn you guys showed me so much love so I felt like it was my responsibility to pay back for such kindness, so here it is.

Also asks are open for those who want to request something, it doesn't have to be Desi centric anything you want, xx.

Ps. The outfits described are inspired by the ones I have owned lol. (Sorry got in too depth of the details you can skip thats)

Ps. Part two will be out in two days max.

Xavier

It wasn't everyday you choose to dress up in your traditional wear, not because it wasn't something you wanted it was only because there weren't that many occasions.

So, when one of you closes cousin got hitched you knew you were going to go all out, because hey! What is a Desi event, if not a better version of Met Gala.

Xavier was quite excited to see you too mostly because you would not stop buzzing about the saree you had ordered from the boutique , every time you two met since the day you ordered it, you couldn't keep your mouth shut, you chose not to show him anything or tell him the color since you wanted to see a raw reaction.

The day arrived quickly you waited for Xavier to arrive at the venue since you had went to the brides home and got ready there and went with her to the venue, as much as Xavier wanted to go with you as he felt a but awkward, he understood that right now you needed to be with your girl.

One of your other cousin escort him inside the venue as he was now also a cherished member of the family and it wasn't long when Xavier's eyes, that somehow were a little too good at spotting you no matter the crowd, fell on you and he held his breath, completely and utterly stunned.

There you stand in all your glory with a shimmering rose-gold saree that draped gracefully around you. The blouse, fitted and elegant, had delicate embroidery along the sleeves and the saree’s border was adorned with intricate silver embellishments, glinting softly like scattered stars. It hugged your frame, flowing down to the floor in smooth, silky folds. Bangles jingled on your wrists, and a golden pendant rested against collarbone beautiful and henna design on your hand and the hair up do decorated with with white flowers, completing the timeless, ethereal look. Xavier's heart was thumping loud, he gave you a once over. You looked nothing less like royalty. Some he would willingly bow his head in front of and be honored.

"Xavier!" You called out rushing towards him, or well trying too, and pulled him in an embrace and his arms wrap around you almost dropping the gift he had brought with him, catching a few look from the aunties but you did not care one bit, you had been separated far too long. "Xavier I was waiting- uh Xavier?" You pulled away from the hug to look at him only to be met with his piercing sapphire gaze "why would you deprive me of such look, my star." he almost sound offended at the fact you never graced his eyes with such astounding beauty before.

Regardless of his accusations you chuckled "are you trying to say that I look pretty?" You say your head tilted.

Xavier shakes his head with a sigh "pretty is such small word, I don't think that's how I will describe it" he says, he reaches out touch the the strand of hair that you meticulously left into curls, they wrap around his finger and Xavier leans down to kiss it since he couldn't kiss your face like he wanted, worried he might ruin the makeup. Mind full of the fact you must have spend good chunk of time and effort to perfect it for the event.

"Then how would you describe it" you poke, there was no way you would let him go, after all you wanted to look pretty for him too.

Xavier's loving gaze intensified into something more lust full "how about I show you instead my little star" he says looking down at your neck line, shamelessly peeking at cleavage and spoke "is there a room-ow" he was cut off, you pinched his arm with a flustered face "Xavier! The event haven't even started and you are trying to ruin my look" you whisper yell at him and he only smirked. "What can I say my little star, the way you look right now I will not be keeping my hands of you" Xavier declares as if it was the most obvious thing in the world and you roll your eyes "as if you ever keep your hands off me" you say and he just shrugged "I will touch what is right fully mine, you can not stop me" he says kissing the crown of your head, he could feel the pout forming on your lips. " can't you compliment me normally for once, xavy?"

His lips quirked up in smile, his hand finally moved from your waist, now holding your hand as he brings it up to his face placing gentle kiss on the knuckle, peeking at his name on your wrist, that made him much more smug "you look gorgeous my love" he kisses the fingers "graceful" another kiss, this time on the wrist right by his name "elegant and-" he takes deep breath before continuing "breathtaking"

A blush crept up your cheek and you giggled, now satisfied and you opened up your mouth to say something when one aunty who was turning green with envy, decided to interrupt "oh you two, the the function is about start move along" she scolds, Xavier turns to her his face contorted in annoyance, he looks back at you and you shook your head the turn to the lady "we will be right there, let's go Xavier!" With one last look you both left the woman alone.

And for the rest of the night Xavier followed you around holding your anchal, making sure no one bothers you in any sort of way.

Zayne

Black on black is zaynes favorite combination for most of the occasions, and even now after you had infiltrated his wardrobe and his life, he still had lots of outfit in that color code. It was your first time wearing something like this since ever since you came here to linkon it was hard to find traditional wear, zayne had it custom made it for you by a well known boutique owner, and you thought it was time to finally wear it and show it to him.

So, for tonight's hospital banquet you decided to follow that, you figured that's what he will show up in black on black again so might as well match together like the power couple you are.

So you picked out the brand new qameez suit, knowing zayne he would be nagging you in the next 5 minutes since that's when they had planned to leave the house. You picked up the pace, completing the light gold eye makeup with prominent eyeliner, stepping back you examined yourself from head to toe, feeling pretty confident in your look.

It was a simple yet stylish black outfit, consisting of a long, straight-cut qameez with subtle sequin embroidery scattered across the fabric, the shimmers under the warm light. The qameez had a round neckline and sheer, full-length sleeves with delicate patterns that added a soft texture to the otherwise plain design. Underneath, it had a matching black shalwar falling just above the ankles.

A lightweight black dupatta, its edges adorned with embroidered motifs that mirrored the design on her qameez. A small, round white clutch with a beaded pattern, which stood out against the dark tones of the attire. You add matching jhumkas.

Just then your Mr.husband called out "we are late darling" making you roll your eyes out "five more minutes!" Calling back and leaned over the counter and begin to apply a deep shade of red that looked confident and classy kind of sexy with over all look.

Zayne walked in cleaning his glasses, putting them on with practiced ease "Dear we were suppose to-" his words were caught in his throats as he looks at you "oh.." He unconsciously steps towards you while you were still applying the red lipstick adding a little bit of a gloss on top if it, your eyes moved up to look at him through the reflection "hmm?" Before going right back to task at hand, lightly smacking your lips making sure nothing was out of line.

Zayne clears his throat "nothing, its just....I was aware you'd be looking beautiful in this attire but I what I did not expect you to look this...ravishing" he breaths out. In an instant could feel swarm of butterflies creating havoc in your tummy "mhm? Ravishing? Dr. Zayne this is a modest outfit I was suppose to look modest and classy" you couldn't help but laugh at the iron as you turn to face only to meet his smoldering gaze that you were still somehow not used and got easily flustered.

He steps closer only couple feet away from you, your back pressed on the counter. "I know I am well aware, however, its not the dress my love" he holds your chin making you look up at him l, his eyes on your redden lip "its you who is ravishing" he says as he smirks, his pointy canine on display.

And just like that something in you short circuited, stuttering incoherently you tried to shoo him off saying you needed to find your heels, but he remain firm. "I got you something" he says in his breathy tone opening the jacket of his coat and fishing out two pair of gajrays, that he wordlessly puts on you and you had the biggest smile on your face that was until you noticed he was wearing grey and brown suit instead. Zayne notices your brows knit together and he knew what was coming, you going on a rampage "zaynie, I thought you were going to wear black you always wear black all the time and so I wore black too I told you I was gonna wear the black attire you got, and so you should have gotten the hint to wear black too instead you wear grey and fricken brown I mean we were suppose to look like power couple tonight mmf-" he cuts you off, a finger pressed on the plush of your lips "no need to be fussy I'll go change for you, begum" and just like that you were melted, making his smirk bigger, tsk its too damn easy now for him. You nod and he removes his finger, red stain of your lips on his finger that he licks off making you blush harder "okay okay go now" you says pushing him out not wanting to look at his smug face because damn it this man had you eating out of his palm at times.

And you know what? You wouldn't have it any other way.

Rafayel

Rafayel had been screaming-crying-throwing up, begging on the floor, for you to wear a lehnga for him. He had saw you once scrolling through your Pinterest looking at pretty lehnga and was hit with tremendous force of inspiration. Rafayel had painted you, a lot, like way over the normal amount should be. In many ways and using different color hues and settings, they were all so stunning, you loved them all so much and honestly it was such and ego boost every time he showed his painting of you, but he always complained about not being able to capture your true beauty. That was until he saw you looking at the Pinterest and realized he hadn't seen you in your traditional wear ever, let alone paint you in it, and right after that day he had been on your case to wear it for you.

Its not that you didnt want to wear it was just that you couldn't find one. When you made the mistake of telling him that you found him on the phone with none other then The Zainab Chotani. You knew you had to intervene. You told him you will find a dress on your own but it was too late he had placed the order one of the elites of south Asian fashion because of course his darling couldn't have anything less then that.

"Cutieeeee how much longerrrr?" Rafayel whines from outside the locked room, you had strictly told him not to enter or he will be getting his ass kicked, as protest rafayel had camped outside, sitting by the door, waiting.

Once you were ready you took a deep breath and leave the room. She made her way to the studio and sees him sitting on the stool with a big canvas in front of him, he was sulking ofcourse.

"Just a little longer this stupid fricken teeka, is NOT fixing" you reply to him, it was taking long yes because your beloved lemurian had ordered you a Bridal lehnga. you could here shuffling outside followed by loud knocking "then open the door and let me in I'll help" the impatient artist says but you you wouldn't let him nuh uh. "Rafayel I am almost done please just go to the studio I'll be there damn!" You exasperated "fine...always so mean to me" he mumbles and steps back going back to the studio.

You wore a stunning sky-blue bridal lehenga, intricately embroidered with shimmering silver and gold threadwork. When you twirl the lehenga flared gracefully like gentle waves of the sea, detailed patterns across the skirt, which caught the light with every movement. The fitted blouse was equally adorned with embellishments, a modest neckline and long sleeves that added an elegant touch.

"Rafayel....I am here" she says and he turns too look at you excitement brimming his eyes but that soon turned into awe.

Draped over one shoulder was a rich maroon velvet shawl, contrasting beautifully with the cool blue tones of her outfit. The shawl was bordered with elaborate gold embroidery and scalloped edges, giving it a regal finish. Another lighter blue dupatta, matching the lehenga, was delicately placed over her head.

Her jewelry was traditional and elaborate, a maang tikka rested on her forehead, a teardrop-shaped pendant. She wore a choker necklace layered with cascading strands of pearls a visible ode to his lemurian heritage, adding depth and luxury to her look. Her hands were adorned with intricate henna designs, enhancing the overall bridal look.

And rafayel....well poor guy had fallen from his stool, he had tried to get up very quickly and tripped. "Raffy!" You tried to approach him but he was on his feet already moving towards you "I am fine I am okay, its just you....wow" he breaths his hand reaching out barely touch her face, an artist admiring a masterpiece, scared to ruin it. "You like it?" You ask holding his hand leaning onto his touch. "I love it" he replies in a reverent tone.

Rafayel holds both of your hands kissing each of them, the action making you blush a crimson shade, turning your face away "don't" he warns "let me admire you" he says as you turn back to him. Rafayel drops to his knees feeling like thats how he should be, where he should be. "Maybe I should just marry you now, its been too.damn.long" he says vulnerability lacing his voice.

The thought made you giddy and you pinch his cheek "well i am in a bridal lehnga, let's just do it" you says and he smirks getting up from his spot and aiming straight to get his coat "let me find my shoes and we are done" he says making you giggle "you know I am joking you silly fish" you follow him and soft sound of your Bengals echoes. Rafayel turns to you and pout "tsk now that's just mean, but whatever you say cutie, just know I will not be waiting long" he says and make you roll your eyes at him again until you see him going over his canvas and removing it

"I am, its just this canvas isn't big enough to capture what I have in mind" rafayel smirks.

"Wait weren't you going to paint me?"

And this is basically the story behind his mural of you in the living room, you with your lehnga all spread out and him on with his head on your lap.

[cherimoyatea]

My ovaries: 💥

[himbodruid]

Definitely having some Rafayel brainrot lately

Working on another for him~

[hananoami]

ᯓᡣ𐭩 ⌞ 𝑰𝓷𝓽𝓮𝓻𝓽𝓲𝓭𝓪𝓵 𝒁𝓸𝓷𝓮 ⌝

⊹ ࣪ ˖ Illusio with RAFAYEL dressed in [Enveloping] ⊹₊ ⋆

requested by: anonymous hunter

HAVE A REQUEST?

Want to see your love interest of choice wear a specific outfit in a kindled memory, but don't have them in your collection? I'm currently open to taking ILLUSIO REQUESTS until 02/28!

✧ ILLUSIO MASTERLIST ˚ 𝜗𝜚˚⋆｡☆ REQUEST STATUS ✧ ✧ MEMORY + OUTFITS CATALOG ˚ 𝜗𝜚˚⋆｡☆ REQUEST ? ✧

[majimajidayoo]

Sir, let me in the cage

I cant with them 😭 they can bite, chain, gag me however they want HAHAHAH 🥵

The perks of bigger screens is you can see EVERYTHING 🥹🫦 must recommend using bigger screen girlies if you can

[puckpuckvt]

Okay so right before Sylus was released I had a dream about all the Li's being dragons and MC being their like dragon wife and having their babies. Xavier was an all white light dragon, Rafayel was a iridescent sea serpent wyrm and Zayne was a black ice dragon. It was awesome. But its so crazy that I had that dream and Sylus' myths came out and he's a goddamn dragon. Now I feel like I have to write a dragon AU with all the Li's and they're all gonna be different dragons.

[redbluepurple123]

Asking the L&DS men to help you hide a body as a joke…

and it backfires

I’m new here and I’m just trying to make funnies. This game has been my personality for 4 months…

[callixpene]

L&DS Future Lifetime Series - PART 2: FOURTH CONVERGENCE

Note: Starting from Part 2, some or all of the Love Interest's perspectives will be meshed together.

MASTERLIST for Part 1 is here(In case you haven't read it): ALL LIs - PART 1: WE MEET AGAIN

The previous part to this fic is here: XAVIER & SYLUS POV - PART 2: THIRD CONVERGENCE

The next part to this fic is here: ALL LIs POV: FIFTH CONVERGENCE

RAFAYEL, ZAYNE & CALEB - PART 2: FOURTH CONVERGENCE

Rafayel X OC. Zayne X OC. Caleb X OC.

Set in Future Timeline. All Love Interests have no memories of their past lives. All of the MCs(5 Sisters) all have memories of their past lives. Very persistent LIs. Avoidant MCs. Love at first sight. Soulmates.

Genre: Fluff, Some Angst

"Care to tell me why you lot are causing a ruckus in my lobby?"

Steven Kingsley's expression was the perfect picture of indifference, one wouldn't be able to tell what he was about to do next.

Rafayel stood in the center of Mr. Kingsley's inordinate office, feeling somewhat agitated.

Beside him, were the two men who had reprimanded him earlier for being 'troublesome' towards the receptionist.

One of them had jet black hair, green eyes, and he was wearing a simple long-sleeved black button up with dark pants.

The other one had brown hair, purple eyes(somewhat similar to his own, but Rafayel concluded his irises were still far superior to his) and he was dressed in a simple corporate suit, as if he were here for some job interview.

Clearly, these two have no fashion sense whatsoever, he thought. Rafayel wouldn't be caught dead in either of those outfits.

"If none of you are going to speak up, I'm going to have to tell my security to drag you all out of the premises, then I'll have your faces plastered on the gates and tell the keepers not to let any one of you enter this place again."

Mr. Kingsley held his palm up when he detected that the three of them were about to start rambling their reasons out in unison. "One at a time, please." He said in an exasperated tone.

"Fine then, I'll go first." Rafayel said, before the others got a chance to speak.

"My name is Rafayel, Sir. I'm a painter with my own art studio, Mo Art Studio, perhaps you've heard of it, it's located at Whitesand Bay. I'm here to see your daughter, Nerissa. She was at my Art Exhibition earlier, and in her haste, she dropped her handbag." Rafayel lifted the handbag to show Mr. Kingsley that he was telling the truth. "I wanted to return it to her myself, because.... because...I didn't trust anyone else to do it. You know....with her credit cards and IDs here and all! Pretty important and confidential stuff! Oh, and I also kind of wanted to personally thank her for attending my Exhibition. That's the reason I'm here."

Rafayel was silently praying that Mr. Kingsley would buy his lame excuse to see his daughter unannounced like this. Beads of sweat were forming on his brow when Mr. Kingsley's expression did not shift one bit.

Beside him, the black haired man pinched the top of his nose bridge and shook his head slightly, as if in disapproval.

The brown haired man on the other hand, discreetly covered his mouth and looked as if he were suppressing a small laugh.

These Goddamn jerks!

Rafayel shot them both with a ticked off look.

"Mr. Rafayel. From Mo Art Studio. I know who you are. My daughter, Nerissa has been a very big fan of you and your work for years now." Mr. Kingsley replied.

Rafayel immediately turned to face him upon hearing this. "She has?"

"Yes. In fact, all of her spaces at our home are furnished with some of your paintings."

"But...but if she was a fan of my work, if she was a fan of me, why did she seem so...so uncomfortable with me?" Rafayel asked no one in particular. He felt his chest ache as he recalled how she practically shoved him, to get away from him.

Mr. Kingsley sighed. "You see....All of my daughters have been through things no one should have ever gone through, especially as children. It took many, many, years to heal their hidden wounds, one by one. Unfortunately, there are some wounds, that will leave deep scars, forever. It is only with time, that one will find the strength to face those that have caused those wounds in the first place." He said, as his gaze lingered on each one of them.

Rafayel and the brown haired man both faced him bearing the same expression - deep concern and frantic questioning.

What had happened to the sisters?

To Nerissa?

"Jasmine told me." Zayne said, and they all turned to face him. "About what happened to them."

*****

"I also know who you are: Dr. Zayne, a renowed cardiac surgeon from Akso Hospital. Because of your immense expertise in cardiothoracic surgery, and your exceptional reputation as a doctor, I personally chose you as Jasmine's new primary care physician. I wanted to ensure she had the best doctor looking after her." He paused. "How much...did he tell you exactly?"

"She said that when she and her sisters were children, they were all experimented on, and five fragments of an Aether core had each been imbedded in their hearts."

"Experimented?!"

"Who the hell would do such a thing?!"

Caleb and the other man, Rafayel, exclaimed aloud, clearly taken aback with this crucial bit of information, about the women they so dearly cared about.

Zayne continued: "Jasmine said you had all the fragments removed, then you had them all destroyed. I fully understand why you had done so. Those cores will bring nothing but trouble."

"Is that all she told you?"

"Yes Sir." Zayne nodded. "She told me, because it seems that the core's implantation in her heart when she was young was likely the reason why she'd been experiencing substantial chest pain for days."

"Dr. Zayne." Mr. Kingsley said. "Please make sure Jasmine gets better. What she didn't tell you was, the fragment implanted within her in particular was the largest amongst all the ones imbedded within all my daughters. I often worry, because she is the only one who has continued experiencing these symptoms long after the fragments have been removed. Please make sure you heal her." Mr. Kingsley replied in a somber tone, but there was a subtle stress in the way he enunciated the word 'heal' as he said that to Zayne.

Zayne nodded his head in response. "As her primary care physician, I will ensure that she will always be at the best of health, as long as she is in my care." And in future, as her lover, he would always ensure that he would take care of her to the best of his ability, so she will never fall ill again, or fall into despair, again.

"So why come here all of a sudden Dr. Zayne? I was informed that her next checkup with you was a week from now."

Zayne's gaze turned towards the bouquet of jasmines he brought with him, it lay atop the marble accent table where he had placed it. Then, he faced Mr. Kingsley, his expression as determined as ever. "I've come to see your daughter, personally, bouquet in hand, on a day where I am currently not clocked in as her doctor." He paused, then bowed fully at Mr. Kingsley. "Surely Sir, you already understand what my intentions are."

Mr. Kingsley was silent for a moment, as if he were assessing the situation. Then, he simply uttered:

"I see."

Then, as Zayne fixed his stance, Mr. Kingsley's gaze shifted towards Caleb.

"Now you. What do you have to say for yourself, pilot?"

*****

"Sir." Caleb started. "I was here for the interview, to be one of your engineers. I will wait for the notification of when the new schedule will be."

Sure, he was in front of Mr. Kingsley right now, but there were entirely different matters being discussed at hand at the moment.

He will have to force his whole being to wait another couple of weeks, in his estimation, for the interview schedule. And he could bear it, he thought, so long as he could still see Lilian by befriending her, so could still be around her at the very least.

His initial plans would have to take a backseat for now, as the first step(getting the job as an Aerospace Engineer)already proved to be quite the bottleneck. He was willing to wait for any length of time, as long as it guaranteed that Lilian will be by his side at the very end of it all.

"Interview? No, you might have misunderstood. There was no interview to be had with you." Mr. Kingsley replied to him.

Caleb's heart dropped to its stomach.

NO. No. He can't have been mistaken. This can't be, his plans-

"With your credentials, top of the class of the Aerospace Academy, as well as all the recommendations from your instructors and praises I've heard from the higher ups at the DAA, I've already decided to give you the position. You will be working directly under me, by the way. I expect great things from you."

Caleb's horror immediately dissolved.

Now, he was absolutely ecstatic.

He definitely was God's favorite, he thought, at this moment in time.

"Thank you so much Mr. Kingsley!" This time, he was the one who bowed fully, in gratitude. "I swear I will never let you down!"

"Also," Mr. Kingsley said, as Caleb stood upright, "I thank you, for bringing my youngest, Lilian, back home safely. That daughter of mine, she's very delicate. I worry about her a lot as well."

Caleb's heart fluttered and his face flushed at the mere thought of his Lilian.

"Well.....is that all you're going to say, boy?"

Caleb was confused. "I...I beg your pardon Sir?"

Mr. Kingsley strode towards them.

"That one" Mr. Kingsley said as he pointed to Rafayel. "Is here to see my daughter, Nerissa. Then that one." This time, he pointed at Zayne. "Is here to see my daughter, Jasmine." Then, for the first time during this entire exchange they had, Mr. Kingsley smiled slightly. "And judging by the obvious lovelorn expression your face shifted into the moment I said my youngest's name, clearly it seems you've come here, for Lilian."

Caleb gulped.

Oh, he certainly hit the nail on the coffin.

Mr. Kingsley crossed his arms in front of them all. "Three admirers, pining for each of my daughters. It's rather difficult being a father isn't it?" He asked no one in particular. " I'll tell you boys what, head back to the lobby and talk to the two men you all saw came down with me earlier over there."

The blond man, and the one with the white hair, Caleb recalled.

"I gave both of them a challenge. And now, you three will have to go through the exact same thing. Hopefully, at least one of them will bother to let you know what you need to do. The clock is ticking after all." Then, Mr. Kingsley smirked. "Because I am not telling you all more than that."

FOURTH CONVERGENCE IS OUT😁🫶

Please stay tuned for the last of Part 2, Fifth Convergence. Hopefully in this one, all 5 LIs' perspectives will fit🙏

Thank you so much to everyone reading this series❤️

I hope you're all enjoying it🥹

Tell your thoughts in the comments what you think of this series so far.

It will be highly appreciated💜🩵🩷❤️🧡

[scorpyuu]

✨ Nightly rendezvous ✨

Before 🍎 comes home.

Which one is your favourite?

[valetoria]

ུᩧ LADS TWITTER LINKS !

৻ꪆ instructions. before clicking, you must be logged into your acc and have twitter open in order for these links to function .

XAVIER. ꒱‎

lazy humping. ⋆ grinding yourself on him. ⋆ missionary w your legs closed. ⋆ freakydeaky. ⋆ thigh fucking. ⋆ kissing & eaing you out. ⋆ to your satisfaction. ⋆ backshots. ⋆ exhibitionism.

SYLUS. ꒱‎

taking it w no complaints. ⋆ handsy when handling you. ⋆ size kink. ⋆ using your throat to his liking. ⋆ backshots. ⋆ cute girl treatment. ⋆ chained & ruined. ⋆ had to add this in.

ZAYNE. ꒱‎

riding him in the bathtub. ⋆ tease me, baby. ⋆ clit rubs. ⋆ lingerie fucking. ⋆ late night heat. ⋆ in the shower. ⋆ undressing & stripping you down. ⋆ blowjob in cute bunny ears.

RAFAYEL. ꒱‎

stay still. ⋆ kitchen counter. ⋆ backshots & the plushies witnessing. ⋆ fucking you into the mattress. ⋆ fingering selection. ⋆ stretching your holes out for fun. ⋆ a wins a win.

[classfiedyapper]

LADS MEN WITH DESI GIRL HCs.

Alright ladies its my first time making any post on my own on Tumblr, its 3 in the morning and I am on my leuteal phase so, yeah, the grammar in this sucks cuz if you haven't guessed it already, English isn't my first language, also this isn't proof read either. I just had my phone and messy ADHD brain filled with ideas. Anyways, THIS IS FOR MY DESI GIRLS AROUND THE WORLD. Seriously tho I made this because every time I read any headcanon it was hard to relate with most of the things, so I took matter into my own hand with encouragement from @syluskiwifeyyy so enjoy my Desi babies.(under the cut)

Xavier:

This boy is enthralled by you, its not just the golden tan of your skin that gets him, its those deep dark eye and luscious thick hair too.

Xavier is a foodie I can totally see him loving the Desi meal you both cook together (well you cook and he stands their holding your utensils for you, maybe pass the spices, will pout after handing the wrong one)

I see him as being a gol Gappay fan boy

Xavier will sit quietly and hear you talk about your people.

Also about the shenanigans of your relatives.

If you show him any nakhre, he will be confused at first but do his best to make you happy and fulfill your demands (and you will melt in an instant because...look at him!)

He strikes me as the guy to deeply appreciate the culture, and will actively try to learn more about it.

He will also be the kind that your parents will approve off, sweet kind caring, with government job and oh so innocent looking (but only we know the real deal hehe)

Xavier is also respecting of religion so if it comes down to it he will wait till marriage (tho I bet all boys will since they are respectful, and understanding and oh so very patient, So i won't be adding this point in the rest).

Xavier will partake in all your traditional festivities, and since your parents love him he will be there following you while holding your anchal (catch him glaring at the relatives who did you wrong lol).

Huge fan of saree's, will get you beautiful waist chains to wear over them with his initial on them (because of course he will).

Will give you nothing less then queen treatment because a that is what you deserve.

Will wakeup early just to see the the morning sun make your skin glow.

Xavier will sweep you of your feet so fast your own parents will push you towards the marriage, not to let a gem like him slip

Xavier loves when you put henna on your hand. He finds it so alluring.

I can see him holding your hand and lovingly trace the pretty patterns on it and then kiss the palm. And when he sees his name artistically hidden in the design, he.will.melt.

All blushy and giggly like the love sick fool he is.

"So does that mean we are now together forever my little star"

Rafayel.

Now this man will love the way you will dress, the vibrant colors and intricate designs of your clothing that sets you apart from the others.

He love LOVES that you wear your culture with pride.

Will buy you the fanciest of Bengals and most expensive jhumkas.

Will paint you in them, especially in the golden hours.

Sharara is his favorite because it makes you look like a princess in his eyes.

May or may not use your duppata to wear as his own (he wants to match with you come on)

Like Xavier will also hear you ramble about your relatives, but will not be quiet about it nu huh.

He WILL have a thing or two to say to them if they meet him ( but one glare from you and he is sat)

You parents do like him, yes, but most of the time they are like ???? While interacting with him.

Oh and if you show him nakhre, he will show YOU nakhre. (But you will win the contest ofcourseeee)

Rafayel not only respect culture he cherishes it. I see him integrating few things into his daily lives.

Also he will draw the most beautiful henna design on your hand, not just on occasions but anytime he feel like it, or you ask for it. (might do it on your whole body you never know)

He will share some of his lemurian culture with you too

And you both will end creating a mix of the two and make personal family tradition that will be followed with ages to come.

I feel like once you get to the point of marriage, Rafayel will make it such a beautiful and soulful day. He will be pulling all stops to make the dreamiest wedding come true, after all you are his beloved bride *sigh*

Zayne.

Congratulations you are your parent's second favorite now.

And you will be marrying him.

If zayne is not every Desi parents dream son-in-law idk what he is. (Tall, handsome and DOCTOR)

Now for zayne he loves you, so much. Everything about you is enticing to him. But damn it girl why are you getting dizzy every time you stand up.

Best believe he is going to take Care of your anemic ass.

Will ask for kheer whenever you feel like spoiling him and ask him what he wants you to cook for him.

Zayne is a shalwar qameez enthusiast I don't make the rules.

Its elegant, its classy, its comfy, hell he wears the men one whenever he can.

Especially with floral print and/or embroidery.

Will handle your nakhre like a pro, the fire is extinguished before it could even burn.

And he does it like its an honor for him, his sweet gentle smile and those loving eyes.

Yep zayne loves that he is the one...maintaining you (ykwim)

Brings you gajray almost everyday after work. He loves to see you wear them.

Zayne is the kind of guy will encourage you to embrace your feminity.(is thats what you want of course)

Loves your long hair, no matter the type but he seems like wavy hair kinda guy.

Will put flowers in your braids, jasmine specifically.

Zayne will also be the kind to listen and only speaking when you specially ask him too, he is a rock. The most reliable guy to have with you.

During family events he will socialize to show he is willing to be the part of, not just the family but the whole damn village (cuz you know we Desi have bi as fuck families.)

Zayne will come home to see you doing your thing weather it be work or reading or cleaning he just comes behind you and hug. "It was long day with out you meri Jan" (siiwskjsoshs).

Also also also after you are married he is the type to call you "begum" (I am throwing myself off a cliff aisisisiwow)

Sylus

Someone posted something along the lines that you will make this guy go back to his dragon roots the moment he sees you in a shiny lehnga and gold jewelry

Don't be surprised if you find yourself in a cave being hoarded away by him lol.

But no seriously he loves that you like gold or wear gold because now he has a reason to spoil you with the most expensive accessories money could buy

Now sylus is also a Saree guy but will also appreciate a lehnga too, specially when you do the twirl in them.

"Its for the culture darling" he says "the girls in Desi culture wear gold ear rings straight out of the womb" you have no idea who told him that, he just knows.

Loves it when you show him nakhre, cuz now he has a reason to spoil you rotten.

Your snobby relatives just don't exist any more lmao (jk jk...or am I?)

Sylus is also a foodie so whenever you make something for him he would be over the moon delighted, and will compliment with every bite.

This happens every single time no matter how long you two have been together.

Sylus will go above and beyond for traditional festivals. Will be doing the most honestly.

No you do not need that many pathakay, this isn't some kind turf war damn it sy.

Oh yeah your parents love him too he is so charming, suave and successful fruit seller. (They don't care where the money is coming from their daughter is now rich!)

Also out of all the guys I can only see him being a fan of cricket honestly so if you like that then you two will be having a blast watching it together.

Will stop you from throwing the TV when your team looses lol.

Sylus will always be there for not just you but your entire family, your Lil sibling got in trouble with the wrong crowd, Luke and Kieran are there to kick their ass.

Everyone's favorite damad jee.

And boy oh boy when you get to the wedding stage, yeah, this man is putting ambani to shame, mhm mhm.

Sylus will indulge in everything you ever wanted to do, will do everything your parents never let you do. He will heal that inner child of tours without even knowing.

Caleb

Cooking dates, cooking dates COOKING DATES AAAAARGH.

doesn't matter if you hate cooking, you will be sitting their like the pretty girl you are as he works around the kitchen cooking up the most banging chicken Tika biryani and all you have to do is keep your pretty brown eyes on him.

Caleb is a pilot of course your parents Love him duh.

Caleb is very possessive man so yes you will be accompanied by him where ever you are going. He just might the your duppata with his watch on purpose.

Caleb is more on the side of indo-western. He Loves you in Kurti and jeans and outfits like that but damn it you look good in everything how is he suppose to choose.

"Now we are stuck together for good pips"

Teases you about your nakhre, but will be bending over backwards to keep you happy.

Oh and you are only allowed to show him those nakhre, do it in front of any other male specie and he will be huffing and puffing and all up and over you.

"Pips let me do it for you, tell me what is it that you want?"

You two are getting Desi street food all the time even if he complains his cooking is better he will do it for you.

Caleb will occasionally snitch on you to your parents behind your back tho, but not to get you in trouble but to make sure his parents will trust him more to take care of you (hey in this house we like our men a little crazy)

What can I say he is just looking out for you.

You and Caleb will always be fighting for your lives during ludo and you will flip the board cause why is winning again and again, its YOUR game for fucks sake.

But if you want to short circuit his brain just put those pretty tanned legs of your on display, even tiny bit. He is gone. Caleb exe has stopped working.

When he confesses to you he does it in the mist sharukh khan way possible (ifykyk)

Is pretty sappy and romantic. On your anniversary he will learn and okay the song "suraj huwa Madham" on his guitar (ajwhwusjs)

Every time you bicker he makes it up with gajray as well.

[lilaccmilk]

ok but think about….men who get carried away when they kiss you. their breathing gets heavier, grip gets harder, and suddenly they cannot let go of your lips.

Pulling you back into them if you even think about pulling away. Air? Who is she? They kiss you like you’re the last breath of air on earth, kissing you like they’ve been drowning forever, and you’re the first gasp of air breaking through their lungs—a desperate, consuming need.

Their hands roaming over your body, keeping you in place, keeping you agonizingly close. You know that it will bruise, but you don’t mind. How can you when they’re kissing you with such fervor? You try and make some distance, but all you get is a warning nip in your lower lip. But oh, when their hands reach your face, they hold you so tenderly, like you’re a dream they’re afraid to let slip away.

And when it gets too much—their teeth pulling your lips, chasing after you in a guttural groan, you try to pull away. To just breathe, even if it’s for a second. But as soon as you do that they dive back in, pulling you flush against them, almost whimpering, mindless babbles.

“no no, no. pretty you don’t get to do that, don’t go away. come back here. i’m so, so fucking lucky to have you. so sweet, you’re so sweet for me.”

And then they finally pull away, a saccharine string of saliva connecting your lips to theirs. It’s honestly filthy, but all you can think about is breathing, and you’re breathing them in, their scent clouding your senses. Their forehead resting against yours and then they smile. They smile as if they haven’t completely mushed your thoughts.

“I love you, pretty girl.”

──────────────────

Narrow the gap between you and me Our breath briefly touches, true up Faster in this sweet space- Taste // Lee Know, Felix, Hyunjin

Yuji Itadori, Yuta Okkotsu, Satoru Gojo, Rafayel & Sylus (L&DS), Ken Sato + your favs!

also: merman boyfriend (because duh.)

[poisonf0rest]

Intertidal Zone

♱⋅── rafayel x reader

♱⋅── about: Nightly Rendezvous card, but now we finally understand why rafayel was so desperate when he came back to the hotel room.

♱⋅── word count: 6.7k

♱⋅── warnings: mdni, smut, porn with some plot, the belt scene, slight exhibisionism, fem! masterbation, sooo much kissing, slight oral fixation, Lemurian mating bond, needy raf

art credit to @/khouxy on instagram

You swear Rafayel is doing this on purpose. 

The first time it happens is right after your flight, the two of you only just managing to check into your hotel and change for dinner.

It's a fancy restaurant overlooking the vast desert, and the outdoor patio offered a clear view to gorgeous sunset. Furious spirals of orange and vermillion cast their light across the sand, making it appear to glow as winds kick up waves of golden dust along the horizon.

It’s beautiful, almost as much so as the man across you, who is still staring longingly into the distance as though committing every color to memory. As if repainting it entirely in his mind. 

Not hues of warmth, but those of the deep sea. Blues and purples and colors so dark they’d only come to life in the night. 

“How’s your drawing?” 

Rafayel sighs at your voice, tossing his pen across the dinner table with a huff before leaning back against the sofa. A stack of crumpled sketches litter your table among half-finished plates of food. He insisted on traveling here to relax, and yet he seems to be doing everything but. 

“If a few lines count as a drawing, then wonderfully.” Sassy as ever.

He sighs again, but this one sounds more pained, and you notice the red tinge highlighting his ears and neck as he leans against your shoulder. 

“You still don’t feel good?” You ask, voice hushed as you place a kiss against his temple, the skin burning beneath your lips. Raising a hand, Rafayel immediately nuzzles into your palm as you pull his chin up towards you, feeling the rising temperature along his cheek and forehead. “We can head back if you’d like. Take a bath, or shower?” 

You hoped the together was implicit by now.

But Rafayel only nods, placing a chaste kiss against your exposed shoulder. “What about the sunset? I saw you admiring it, and squandering a beautiful view is unacceptable for an artist. It’s one of the greatest offenses.”

Rafayel’s breath is minty and dry against your ear, and when you turn to look at him, his face is doused in the fiery hues of the sunset, each one casting deep purple shadows that only make his features all the sharper, half his face veiled in darkness. 

Some days you wish you were an artist as well, if only to capture moments like this—to show Rafayel just how gorgeous he was. 

Perhaps it’s only natural for a god. After all, no mortal could ever need beauty so violently arresting, so worthy of worship. 

You’re leaning in despite yourself. 

Rafayel meets you halfway, one hand on your waist as the other traces your jaw and bottom lip. But as soon as you feel the brush of his lips across yours, he pulls away. 

You open your eyes in confusion. Rafayel’s never denied you before. 

When you look at him in question, he only gives you a tired smile and pulls you to your feet with a chaste kiss on your cheek. “Sorry. I’ll feel better as long as I’m close to you like this.”

The second time it happens is when the hotel reception mixes up your and Rafayel’s rooms, leaving you to deliver some sort of formal invitation to him. 

But the letter is soon forgotten; you can’t be bothered thinking about it, not when Rafayel still looks so absent.

He’s right next to you, knees brushing yours as you sit side by side on the couch, and yet he seems to be miles away, gazing out the window as the dunes shift and rise like waves under the moonlight.  

"I used to really enjoy scenic spots before," Rafayel says, voice barely rising above the hum of the heater. "Catching sights of subtle things that might be easily overlooked used to feel like enough. More satisfying than finishing a painting, even."

A laugh. Dry, humorless. 

His fingers grazed the edge of his glass, tracing the condensation absentmindedly. A droplet trails down his wrist. "But now, sometimes, I forget why I even decided to travel in the first place.” 

You watch him, waiting. He doesn’t meet your gaze.

"I think," Rafayel continues, "somewhere along the way, I stopped just... noticing things. And I started needing them. Like the world wasn’t worth looking at unless I could turn it into something. Capture it, hold it in my hands, and call it mine." He shakes his head, a shadow of a smile crossing his lips. "It’s not a very generous way to live, is it?"

"You don’t need to be generous with everything," you say carefully. "Some things are just... for you to enjoy."

"Enjoy," he repeats, like the word doesn’t quite fit in his mouth. A pout. "It doesn’t feel like enjoyment anymore. It feels more like... hunger.” 

Like he’s always fucking starving.

Rafayel finally turns to look at you, eyes eclipsed in the dark. Nearly dilated black. 

“Sometimes I’m afraid that if I feed it, it’ll only grow worse.”

You turn to face him on the couch, sliding your leg between his thighs before perching yourself on Rafayel’s lap. It’s not lost on you how his heartbeat picks up, chest rising and falling rapidly as each shallow breath hits your lips. Perhaps it’s cruel, but you can’t help but touch him again, fingers tracing his full lips, up his jaw, fluttering against his eyelashes and into his hair.

“You think hunger gets worse when you feed it?" You finally ask, voice quiet, slow, daring to push back. "Doesn't it stop when you're full?"

Rafayel’s mouth quirks, a sharp, fleeting twist of a smile. "Not always. Sometimes it makes you realize just how much more you want. Or how much more you could take."

You frown. “You’re not demanding anything. Not from the world, not from me."

"Maybe not yet. But, if one day, I become someone who only takes… If I were like that, would you leave me?"

The confession hangs for a moment, the truth of it hidden. Something about the way his shoulders tense under your touch— like he's bracing for something, but it hasn’t yet arrived. A phantom pain from centuries ago, and a pain to come for a thousand years more. 

“Silly fishie, I’d never leave you.” 

Rafayel smiles in a way you know all too well, lopsided and teasing and empty.

“Thank you…” he hums, finally pulling you closer as his lips skim alongside the curve of your neck. “for accepting me the way I am.”

His breaths come out in desperate huffs against your skin, and he inhales sharply, freezing, before finally placing a kiss against the crook of your neck. And then another, and another. 

“You’re just anxious,” you whisper, sucking a mark into Rafayel’s neck as he moans so sweetly against your ear. “I can help you relax.”

You wiggle your hips to better balance yourself on his lap and Rafayel looks almost near tears, one hand forcing you still while the other grabs your wrist, trailing kisses from your fingertips back up to your neck.

More. You need more. Rushing, your hands fly up into his hair, about to tug Rafayel to lay down on the couch when a crack echoes behind you. 

The glass lays shattered against the floor. 

Panting, Rafayel stares at the spilled water for a long moment before pulling away. You feel his erection digging into your thigh, the warmth of his fever spiking yet again as his skin burns against yours, yet he still refuses. 

“As you said, I’m anxious…” Still panting, Rafayel picks you up, gently lifting you up as he stands from the couch. “Or, more like restless. In every sense of the word.” 

The need in his eyes almost makes your knees buckle. He looks at you like you’re the only thing he could ever crave, like a bite would both be salvation and leave him hungry forever. 

“But see, now I can’t stand the idea of letting you go again, and you don’t want me to either.” He sets you down just a little farther than necessary, but his hands don’t leave your waist, trembling, waiting. “What should we do?”

“Rafayel…” You want him. You want him so badly it hurts. 

“Fuck.” 

You nearly jump at that. Rafayel curses again, his head falling onto your shoulder as his breath hitches. “I can feel your concern. That and…” another convulsion, his body burning up. “Fuck. You have to leave.”

You don’t even have time to retort before you’re pushed out of his hotel room, and the door slams shut behind you. 

By the third time, you know something is wrong. 

It’s not that you and Rafayel haven’t kissed yet. Hell, you’ve had sex before. The last time was quite literally on the night before you were supposed to leave for this trip. Obviously, Rafayel suggested that you stay at his place for the night—insisting he was closer to the airport and getting an Uber would be quicker this way—and one thing led to another, as is what happens nearly every time Rafayel and you are left alone for too long. 

But now it’s been nearly a week and Rafayel has barely touched you, let alone picked up on your not-so-subtle clues. 

So yes, it's safe to say you’ve become rather pent up. 

You’ve fallen asleep in the off-roader the two of you rented out for the day, bobbing up and down the dunes like waves flecked white not with seafoam but snow. There’s a chill as you drift off, but your dreams are anything but, plagued with memories of Rafayel. 

His hands, deft and talented with a brush, are even more so when teasing your skin, knowing exactly how to trace delicate circles against your thighs before roughly curling into your cunt. His tongue, every smartass comment and teasing grin now silenced as he licks and sucks against your clit. His body, the warmth of it, bearing down on you with every thrust, or perhaps writhing beneath you as you take him again and again and again— 

It’s the cold that wakes you up. 

Your eyes flutter open, first noticing the dim light of the hotel parking lot, and second, the burning desire still aching between your legs. 

“Rafayel?”

A shuffle makes you turn, and you find said man still seated in the driver’s seat, unbuckled as he sits with his head resting on his hand. 

“Yes, cutie?” Rafayel’s tone is teasing, but the way he stares down at you feels like anything but. The hunger is back. 

Sitting up, you clear your throat. “How long have I been asleep? Why didn’t you wake me up?”

“You seemed like you were having such a nice dream, I didn’t want to disturb you.” 

You inhale sharply. Glaring, you try and see if he’s teasing again or being serious, but Rafayel doesn’t let you read him for long, already leaning over the middle console. 

He places his lips gently on your temple, brushing over the skin, and then moves down to your cheek, his breath warm against your neck. He whispers your name, so softly you almost think it was a trick of your imagination.

Your mind goes blank when he kisses your jaw, a small noise escaping the back of your throat as you feel his hair tickle your skin.

"Raf," you mumble under your breath, but you know he hears it because he exhales sharply against you.

Rafayel trails a series of kisses up your neck, "I know, I know. I'm sorry, cutie." His body temperature is rising again, and the air in the van feels dangerously thin as he sways in your grasp. "I'm trying."

The hunger is back, all-consuming and hot as you genuinely fear you might burn up. A wave of dizziness washes over you, and you finally cup Rafayel's jaw, leading him towards your lips.

Yet again, he stops you halfway.

“Do you want to go back to your room first?”

At first you think he’s suggesting moving there before continuing, but you know better at this point. 

“You’re not coming with me?” 

Rafayel pulls out the invitation from before, waving it between the two of you as if all this was the letter’s fault. “I still have to attend my friend’s salon thing.”

“But you’re still burning up! Forget this, I can’t let you go out to who knows where when you’re still acting strange. Maybe we can see a doctor—”

“Cutie…”

“—No, no. Or maybe I can come with you.”

Rafayel says your name this time. Firmer. Cutting off your rambling as he places his forehead against yours. 

“Do you want me to turn into a sea creature that’s beached on the sand after the ocean recedes? Leaving me to suffocate when I come out of the water?” 

You don’t quite know how to respond to that, feeling his desperation in every word even as you struggle to make sense of it.

Rafayel continues, pulling away from you again. “Don’t you trust me? How about we make a promise?”

“What kind of promise?”

A smile. “I promise… I’ll be okay without you tonight.”

There’s no joke, no hidden meaning, just Rafayel who so violently hopes that this promise will hold true. 

So you relent. “Okay, just take care of yourself.”

Finally, Rafayel opens the car door, letting the desert night winds sweep in with a biting chill as he leans back against the driver’s seat. He lets out an almost inaudible sigh. “You can head back. I’ll be back before you know it.”

Rafayel promised he’d be okay without you tonight, but you don’t think the opposite could hold true. 

Not when the dizziness Rafayel caused remained. Not when you still feel the phantom touch of his lips and hands all over your body, burning you up, leaving you cold and empty and aching. 

You’ve been burning for the better part of a week now.  

Something stuck between a laugh and a cry of pure frustration leaves you as you fall onto the bed, staring up at the ceiling. “This is pathetic.”

Even the damned sheets smell like Rafayel, pillows deeply laced with his shampoo and the smell of his cologne—amber, yuzu, and something salty like the ocean—surrounding you as though this were his hotel room and not yours.

Desert nights were cold, but even the room's chill could do nothing to quell your desire, arms shaking with it as you quickly stripped yourself of your shirt and bra. The room spins as you stumble around, leaving your clothes on the floor, another delirious whimper seizing you as you sprawl against the silk sheets. 

You need him. 

Fuck, you need him, and you hate him for leaving you while the growing ache between your thighs threatens to swallow you whole.

The sheets are deliciously cool against your flushed skin, and you turn your head to rest your cheek in the cool embrace of the pillow. But it only needs a second to heat from your desire. 

And then the room is all too hot once again. 

Kicking off your pants, your hand snakes down your bare torso, leaving half-hearted squeezes to your breasts and hips, failing to replicate the touch Rafayel already has you addicted to. The memory only makes you more frustrated. 

A hand slips beneath your soaked underwear, and fuck, you’re dripping enough to ease your fingers in already. You force yourself to slow down, rubbing slow circles around your entrance, the mere friction enough to have your hips bucking up against nothing. 

Inhaling sharply, you slide a finger into your weeping cunt, a moan pushing from your lungs as you do. Not enough. It’s not enough.

You force yourself to draw each movement out, the curl of your wrist accompanied by your muffled cries and the slick, obscene sounds echoing alongside your ragged breath. Withdrawing your finger nearly to the fingertip, two plunge back in this time, and your back arches off the bed with violent tremors as you imagine it was Rafayel's hand instead.

How he’d tease you in the early mornings to wake you up, how he’d take special care of every sensitive spot on your body, how he’d draw his fingers along your clit just the way that will make you come undone.

And as your fingers find that sensitive bundle of nerves, the way you cry his name into the empty room is no different.

Your head is spinning, falling, your thighs shake, and it's not long before you're gasping out, "Rafayel, please.”

Still not enough. Every rough thrust of your fingers brings you higher and higher, but without the pressure of Rafayel's chest pressed to yours, or his hot breath ghosting across your ear, his voice, his lips, his touch—

Without him.

A sob rips from your throat, your hips bucking uselessly against the air as you fuck yourself harder, deeper. But your fingers are only so long, and your free hand, fisting the sheets, is unable to make up the difference. "No, no please," a whine, and your free hand rushes to circle your clit, the other picking up pace.

You're close, so close, sobbing his name when the dizziness from the car returns tenfold, overtaking your body in waves as your eyes roll back. "Please, ah! Rafayel, m’cumming-"

The world goes silent as pleasure surges through you, muscles convulsing, a choked, garbled sound escaping as you come. Collapsing back against the sheets, you struggle to catch your breath, the stickiness of both the heat and your orgasm coating your thighs. 

There’s another tug, a violent pull against your chest, but the dizziness remains. 

You know you should change the sheets or at least move them aside, but you can’t manage to do either as you rush to shower before Rafayel returns from his friend’s exhibition. 

It’s only when you stumble into the bathroom that you notice it. 

Shit. This is Rafayel’s room. 

You must be trying to kill him.

Surely, this is the gods' cruelest trial—a final test of his resolve—to see if he’d bow once more, forsaking divinity and succumbing to the temptation of you.

Because it’s been barely an hour, and Rafayel has already resigned himself from the party, passing blank smiles and empty compliments as he quietly counts down the minutes until he can return to the hotel, when suddenly he feels it.

The tug of your bond flashes through his body as his dick aches.

Rafayel freezes mid-sentence, the polite smile he'd been wearing slipping from his face. The conversation at the bar around him, something about chiaroscuro in the artist’s latest piece, become muffled static as the chains tighten, digging into his heart. 

It’s unmistakable now. The rhythm, the rising intensity, the waves of pleasure that don’t belong to him but still manage to spark delirious heat up his veins.

Rafayel’s breaths quicken, body temperature rising as his Evol flickers out of his control. He glances around the room, feigning interest in the conversation, the glittering glasses of champagne, the faint hum of the crowd. It doesn’t work. The only thing he can focus on is you.

He should leave. Go outside, breathe in the night air, and let the tether between you both loosen, just to regain control. Just to prove to himself it’s not too late.

But the bond tightens, as invasive as it is intoxicating, demanding Rafayel’s attention like a leash coiled around his neck. It’s not gentle. It’s not kind. It’s primal, every nerve in his body pulled taut like you’re screaming his name over and over into the depths of his soul. 

It’s not fair.

No god can deny the prayer of a worshipper.

Your pleasure becomes his, and when Rafayel closes his eyes, he swears he can feel your phantom hands on him, dick already heavy and throbbing, leaking through his expensive trousers.

Are you in bed, thighs trembling as you grind against your own palm? Or maybe the shower, steam curling around you as you chase release? Or worse—are you riding something of his? His shirt? His pillow? Is this vengeance a cruel punishment meant to shatter what little resolve he has left? 

Shit. He’s hard.

“Hey man, what’s wrong? You good?” 

The slam of a glass brings him back. Gods, he hates these rich socialites. 

The champagne glass Rafayel was holding is now covered in cracks, blood trickling down his ring finger. He’s unraveling, composure fracturing with every pulse of your pleasure surging in and out as violently as a full moon’s tide. 

Rafayel looks up, smiling. “Stress. And apparently a very needy pet.”

The man laughs at what he assumed was a joke, but Rafayel sees his hesitation, the type animals give when they pick up rustling in the bush. Fear. 

Rafayel’s grin only widens, all teeth. “I should probably go check on her. Wonderful party,” he adds, lifting his glass in a half-hearted toast before setting it down with a sharp clink.

As he steps outside, the desert air does nothing to soothe him. If anything, the dryness makes it worse as the pull becomes sharper, like you’re reaching for him, your need coiling tighter around his chest.

A growl, almost feral, rumbles low in his throat as he staggers down the cobblestone streets. He doesn’t need directions. He doesn’t even need to think. His body moves instinctively, guided by the bond, by you. 

Rafayel swears he can feel you all across his body, your heartbeat picking up as you get closer, the smell of your skin and arousal, the cries of his name that only become more and more desperate as you fail to bring yourself over the edge without him. 

You’re begging for him in a way his bond mistakes for worship, because Rafayel’s body feels like it’s burning. Like blood spilled on his altar, an offering of yourself to your god, your husband.

The thought that you might be doing so unintentionally only drives him further into madness.

But, beneath the frustration, there’s something else. A glimmer of something Rafayel hates to name but knows all too well: relief.

Because as much as he might deny it, Rafayel could never leave you. And now that you’ve reciprocated, now that you’ve begged for him oh so sweetly, he would gladly submit to his bond and become chained to you once again, forever at your mercy, unable to escape the inevitability of his fate.

He doesn’t even knock when he reaches the hotel room door. It swings open under the force of his hand, and the sight of you standing there—wide-eyed, startled, only in a bath towel—hits him like a blow to the chest.

There's a soft click as Rafayel locks the door. A hurried shuffle of shoes as he all but stumbles toward you, closing the distance between you in one hurried, unstoppable motion. A startled gasp as he grabs your face in his hands.

It's the last breath you take.

An arm wraps around your waist, blocked by only a flimsy hotel towel as Rafayel violently spins you around. Your surprise is swallowed by his lips as you’re pinned against the window, the chill of the desert snow, frosted against the glass, a harsh contrast to the burn of his touch. His hand pins yours at the wrist as he stares down at your fingers.

“Rafayel? What are you doing here?” 

The question barely gets out, not before he rushes forward to claim you in a kiss, if it was even that. A desperate, consuming need overtakes him, Rafayel pushing you back so insistently that your head hits the window with a thud, pain immediately distracted as his clothed knee grinds up between your bare thighs. 

Holy fuck, just a towel. Right.

You try to push him back, one hand pressing against his chest as the other flies back to tighten the towel. “Wait–”

Rafayel kisses you again. And again. And again. 

You can feel the cloth slipping.

But Rafayel makes it very hard to care. His hand traces your throat, your heartbeat, then drags you closer by your hips as he thrusts forward in time, still caging you against the window. He’s relentless, every kiss only broken with a ragged breath or gasp as though he’s given up on breathing entirely, content to consume you instead, his tongue sweeping against your lip before it coaxes yours to meet it halfway, licking and sucking into your mouth.

It’s obscene, animalistic, and you swear that there has to be something wrong with you because the dizziness is back, and this time it’s enough to make your knees buckle, the two of you blindly stumbling across the hotel room.

So you bite him. 

“Why–” Breathe. Remember how to breathe. “Why are you here?”

Rafayel almost looks offended, thumbing his bitten lip before licking away the smudge of blood with a lopsided smile. 

Fuck, he’s hard. You feel the heat of his cock jolt against your thigh, pressing into you as he surges forward again, kissing you as his hands squeeze and cup your waist, lifting you up.

"Why?" Rafayel laughs, roughly grinding up against you, your legs wrapping instinctively around his hips. "This is my room, remember? You’re the one who decided to come in here." He growls the last part, licking, biting, sucking at your throat. 

“Or was that intentional?”

The look in his eyes is feral. 

There’s no hesitation left, no half-riddled questions, no sweet praises, no semblance of your devoted lover. Just hunger. He’s rushing, pushing forward even with nowhere to go, almost in revenge. In punishment. Your teeth click together, foreheads bumping, unable to talk because when you try to open your mouth his tongue only slides in deeper. 

The wet sounds echo against your ears alongside your racing heartbeat, only causing you to grind harder, rougher, before Rafayel ungracefully drops you onto the bed. 

Your body bounces on the mattress, but it gives you a moment, and you scramble to cover Rafayel’s lips with your palm before he can begin devouring you again. 

“What I meant was, shouldn’t you still be at that art salon?”

He all but collapses into your touch. Lips parted, he grabs your wrist, tongue darting out as he licks up your middle and ring fingers, moaning against your skin. 

“I tried. I tried going, leaving.” He's panting, breathing in your scent before biting your palm. “But you called me back, you cruel, selfish human. And now I’ll never leave again.”

Your words come out between moans, unable to look away. “I called? I didn’t do—” You’re cut off as Rafayel licks up your skin, sucking lightly at your fingertips as his eyes, half-lidded and blown out stare down into yours. 

Oh.

A hot flush of embarrassment seizes you and Rafayel must sense it because his eyes flutter closed. His hips snap forward, grinding his erection into the side of the bed, and he lets out a low whine.

Gods, the taste of your cum lingers in Rafayel’s mouth. Every dry swallow, every inhale, every damn breath tastes like you, and it makes him want to submit to every horrid urge and simply consume until—

“You don't think I know? Don't think I can’t tell?” Rafayel goes back to kissing your wrist, needing something more, something stronger. His hand ventures to the edge of your towel. ”Can feel everything you do, no matter how far away I go. Gods, I feel it, feel everything, and it drives me insane. Need you so bad, need to hear you, feel you, taste you..."

A shudder runs up Rafayel’s spine at the mere thought, and he can't stop himself anymore, leaning down to suck your fingers into his mouth, tongue curling around the digits, saliva coating your fingertips. He rips the towel from your body.

"Say you need me too," He’s begging, sinking down to your knees. "Say you need me just as badly. I–ah fuck—I can smell how much you want me."

Throwing the towel to the floor, Rafayel runs his hands down your chest, rougher, long fingers cupping and massaging your breasts as his mouth trails wet kisses down your stomach, his tongue dragging against the smooth skin, a clear goal in mind as he settles between your thighs, looking up at you as though you were a thing worthy of worship. His Goddess. 

He’d offer himself to your alter time and time again. So long as he was the only one who got to bleed for you. 

“Yes.” You’re already soaked, the sight of Rafayel panting between your thighs enough to have you babbling, ”Yes, Rafayel. I needed you so, so badly all week. Couldn’t help m’self, please.”

He freezes at that, pouting. “Right, you already came, didn’t you. So mean, cutie. Leaving me out.”

Before you can argue, Rafayel dips his head, dragging his tongue up your cunt before sucking roughly at your clit. 

Your legs thrash above his shoulders. “Ah– wait, not so!” It’s too much too soon. Still sensitive from your prior orgasm, your back arches violently off the mattress, but Rafayel pays it no heed, deaf to your cries as he sloppily makes out with your pussy, drool and slick connecting his lips to you in sticky strands even as he pulls away just far enough to talk. 

“She’s already so sensitive, s’not fair,” he pouts, mouthing against your thigh as he flicks your throbbing bundle of nerves. You jolt, gasping at the sharp jolt of pain. At the same time, Rafayel fucks his tongue into your cunt, just barely dipping in before he moves back to rub nonsensical patterns on your clit. “But this is mine. I don’t want you touching it without permission anymore.”

Fuck, if you had any semblance of a coherent thought you would have argued, maybe even laughed at the sheer audacity of the man.

Instead, all you can manage is a pathetic whine of his name, because the strange swirls and harsh lines he’s licking into your clit aren’t patterns at all but letters, spelling something over and over and over again. 

R-A-F-A-Y-E-L-R-A-F-A-Y-E-L-R-A-F-A-Y—

The ring of the hotel phone buzzes from the nightstand. It’s the artist whose party Rafayel left only minutes ago.

“Tch,” Rafayel scoffs in annoyance, whiping his chin as he goes to decline the call.

But this gives you a moment to breathe, and all you can think of is getting revenge. Especially on the bastard who tried to take Rafayel from you tonight. 

“Wait,” you grab his wrist. “You’re just going to hang up? What if it was something important?”

Rafayel turns to you with narrowed eyes, knowing there’s no good intent behind your wicked smile. It turns you on more than you can admit, the sight of his glare, mad at both the call and you interrupting his feast. But Rafayel can't deny you anything and does as he’s told, pressing accept. 

“The guest of this room is unable to answer. Please leave a message.”

Instantly, you have Rafayel on his back. 

His neck looks far too bare, and you climb onto his lap, enjoying the way his pulse kicks up under your palm.

Ripping his shirt’s buttons off, you begin biting dark spots down the pale expanse of his chest and neck. You’re about to aim right for the glowing mark on his chest when the phone beeps again, playing a voice recording of a clearly very drunk man. 

“Why did you leave, bro? Come back here r’now. One more round of drinks a—” Incoherent laughter and sounds of clinking glasses. 

No. No, Rafayel’s not allowed to leave you, not again. 

You don’t know where the fear comes from, but you force yourself closer on top of him, breasts pressing into his abs as Rafayel shivers beneath you. Leaning down, you kiss the glowing mark atop his heart, admiring the way it flickers and glows when Rafayel bucks into your touch, moaning as you begin to nip and suck in earnest. 

And then you’re flipped onto the mattress once more. 

Rafayel’s heaving, arms trembling to keep himself up. Away. “...Are you sure?”

“If I don’t, then you might actually leave. What will you say if you’re asked why you didn’t go back?”

Rafayel smirks, and you catch a glimpse of fangs as he sits back on his knees. There’s a click, the rough sound of metal on metal as he undoes his belt, unzipping his trousers with one hand as the other cups the inside of your thigh, yanking it over his shoulder as he drags you down the bed. “I’m busy.”

And then he’s kissing you. 

You’re lost, so hopelessly lost in each other that you fail to notice the phone beep once again, the monotone voice of the machine saying, “Please leave a message at the tone,” before flashing twice, still running. 

Again, Rafayel seems to forget the concept of breathing, gasping into your lips as he ruts his hips into yours. “You’re not leaving me, right?” Fuck, he’s leaking all over his stomach, pre-cum splattering across your thighs.

“Never. I’ll never leave you, Rafayel.”

“Then tell me you’re mine. Tell me, please, please—hah—tell me and I’ll do anything, promise cutie, promise.” He’s all but gasping between kisses, cock trapped between his body and yours as he grinds forward, voice a pitch or so higher than it usually would be. “Say it, say you're mine, tell me, I need to hear it again."

He's talking in circles, rambling, the desperation in his voice palpable. Grasping the base of his cock, he sloppily fisting himself once, twice, before thumping against your entrance.

“I’m yours, Rafayel.” You writhe, grinding yourself up against him in hopes that he’s just hurry the fuck up.

“Again.”

“I’m yours, yours Rafayel.”

“Again, ah—again,” he’s nuzzling into your neck, lifting your leg higher and higher, pinning it to your head as he folds you into a matting press. Still, he refuses to press in, cock throbbing against your clit as he hugs you tight, every muscle in your body screaming in protest and pleasure. “Again, please, please.”

“I’m-” You’re either gasping or crying, words flooding out, ”Rafayel’s, I’m Rafayel’s.”

At that, Rafayel’s entire body convulses. He sobs, finally thrusting forward, bullying up into you bit by bit, forcing you to count every inch as the entirety of his weight bares down onto you. 

You can feel the way his muscles shift, the way his arms bulge and contract as he holds himself above you, hips flush against yours. The desert air must be infecting him, because Rafayel is dripping sweat, flushed from his ears to his chest as he begins to pull out and slowly grind himself back in. 

His voice is wrecked, breathless as he tries to kiss you, missing slightly as he sucks against your bottom lip, drooling. "I'm yours too, I'm yours." At the same time, his cock jerks in you, burying deeper with every filthy roll of his hips, throbbing against your sweet spots. 

Then something snaps, Rafayel’s lips sealed back on yours, and the rhythm he sets is brutal.

Rafayel's cock drags over your walls, molding you in ways you never thought possible. Each thrust is hard, deep, and leaves you gasping, eyes rolling back into your head as you arch off the mattress, nowhere to go as his body folds yours damn near in half, weight bearing down on you.

It's all you can do to wrap your arms around him, nails scratching into his back, drawing thin lines of blood across his shoulder blades as you try to stay grounded, keep your mind from being swept away as the dizziness returns.

But the pressure building up in the pit of your stomach makes it hard.

Harder still as Rafayel begins mumbling into your lips, the filth pouring from his mouth making you clench, cunt fluttering around his cock as he pounds into you.

He can see and feel everything like this. Unable to look away from your face only inches away, watching every expression with love-drunk eyes, hugging you closer, fucking you harder.

"Can feel you, can feel you getting tighter. You're close right? Say you're close, please, mhm fuck." he's panting, and if you focus hard enough you can hear the sloppy noises of him sliding in and out, wet and obscene, the harsh slap of his balls against the curve of your ass.

But then Rafayel’s pushing himself lower, your legs dangling uselessly in the air as his chest is pressed so tight against yours you can barely take a breath.

"You're mine, only I can touch you like this, feel this. My wife. Say it, say you're mine, wanna hear it, please. Please, ah, I’ll do anything, say it."

He's barely pulling out anymore, resigning to quick, deep grinds as though he can’t bear to part.

Too uncoordinated to kiss you, Rafayel's head falls to your neck, sobbing into your marked-up skin before messily kissing atop the bruises.

"Yours. Yours. I'm yours, your wife," the words spill from your lips before you can even think, and Rafayel nearly passes out trying to stop himself from cumming then and there. 

It’s like you’re trying to milk him, hugging him closer and ankles wrapped around his neck as he’s lifting your hips right off the bed. But now he needs to see it.

Needs to know the way you'll cry out his name, how your eyes will glaze over and roll back into your head, the way your chest will heave, the sweat that will pool at the valley between your breasts, the way the skin will flush from a soft pink to a burning red as you lose yourself in the feeling. To him.

It's the only thing he's able to concentrate on, the only thing he's able to think of. The feeling of your body beneath him, the sound of his name on your lips. 

And that alone is enough.

Rafayel’s orgasm is sudden, a jolt of pleasure that surges up his spine with enough intensity to have him collapse, pinning your body beneath him. You can feel it, the way his cum splatters against the walls of your womb, painting your insides, filling you up until the excess squirts out around his cock and your intertwined thighs. He can't stop his hips, can't stop the way he grinds his pelvis against yours, trying to get deeper and deeper still. 

"Mine, mine, mine," is all he can say, eyes wide and pupils blown out as he watches the way your body twitches, a mixture of sweat and cum painting your body as you nearly pass out in exhaustion. "Gonna- gonna fill you up, fuck, so pretty, my pretty girl, pretty wife, gonna make sure it sticks, so I’ll never leave. So you’ll never leave me again."

You're cumming.

He can feel the way your cunt spasms, the way your walls lure him back in, the way you tremble and shake as you throw your head back with tears. 

Rafayel can't stop himself from leaning down and biting, teeth sinking into the crook of your neck, his hands grabbing at any bit of flesh he can find. All the while he fucks you through your orgasm, the mess of fluids creating the most obscene noises as they squish and bubble out, pooling out from between your bodies. 

As you’re swaying in and out of reality, you think you see it. A field of red flame lilies, a poison so sweet that when you drink it, you lick your lips and thank the gods. 

God. Just one, the one of the sea and the flaming sun. 

The one who's still kneeling before you. 

The one who you love. 

"Maximum voicemail length reached, recording sent."

♱⋅── a/n: Uber now canonically exists in the lnds universe, thanks. Also, I would have included the absolutely gut-wrenching aftercare included in the card with MC asking Rafayel to sing for her, but honestly I would not change that scene in the slightest and am content to believe that is exactly what happened next.

Oh the things I’d give to hear Raf sing~

[mephisto-reporting]

Wearing This Dress Was a Mistake…or Was It?

Premise: You decide to prank him by making him think that you'd be wearing that risque, revealing outfit when you are about to head out... only to find out that pranks have consequences. Pairing: Reader x Xavier, Zayne, Rafayel, Sylus, Caleb (Seperate) Note: Reader and the men are in a relationship. This is suggestive. Please do not interact if you are a minor. If you wanted to be added to my taglist, please DM, ask or comment :D Content warning: Suggestive. MNDI.

CALEB

Caleb was lounging on your couch like he owned the place, one arm draped lazily over the backrest, the other holding a can of soda that he swirled absentmindedly. He had taken a few days off, escaping from his duties as Colonel to come back to Linkon. And now, here he was, making himself right at home in your apartment like he had never left. The sight was almost domestic, but you knew better—there was nothing ordinary about Caleb. Not anymore.

He was on leave, a rare moment where he could shed the weight of his uniform and just be Caleb. It was a refreshing change to see him like this—less guarded, more relaxed—but something about it sparked mischief in you. You'd always had a playful, mischievous relationship with Caleb when you were younger. Pranks, jabs, teasing—it had all been part of the dynamic. And now that he was back, you couldn't help but feel a familiar tug to push his buttons just a little.

You'd planned this prank for a while. Slipping into the most scandalous, revealing outfit you could find in your closet, one that certainly wasn’t something you'd wear out in public. You had no intention of actually leaving—just giving Caleb the briefest hint that you were about to, and seeing how he’d react.

You walked into the living room, draped in the most inappropriate outfit you could manage. A fitted dress that barely covered your thighs, a deep V that left little to the imagination, and a loose, barely-there wrap that hung carelessly from your shoulders. Your intention was to get under Caleb’s skin, to push him just a little—just enough to remind him that the old pranks hadn’t gone anywhere.

When Caleb glanced up, his relaxed demeanor faltered for just a second, his sharp gaze lingering on you. There was a flicker of something darker in his eyes, something predatory. But he said nothing at first, just observing you with a cold silence that sent a chill down your spine. Your pulse quickened slightly under his intense gaze, but you pushed down the thrill crawling up your spine. This was just a joke.

You took a deep breath, feigning innocence. "I'm heading out to meet some friends," you announced, grabbing your purse.

The shift was instantaneous.

The lazy, relaxed Caleb from moments ago was gone. His can hit the coffee table with a soft thud, his entire frame tensing as he straightened up. His gaze darkened, trailing over your figure with slow, possessive deliberation.

"You're wearing that?" His voice was low, almost casual—but you could hear the undercurrent of something dangerous lurking beneath it.

You swallowed but kept up the act. "Yeah. Why?" You tilted your head, feigning confusion. "It looks good, doesn't it?"

"You’re not going anywhere dressed like that." he muttered, the words falling from his lips in a near-growl.

You smirked, crossing your arms over your chest. "What, you think I can’t pull it off?"

He stood in one smooth motion, and before you could react, he was standing in front of you, his hand gripping your wrist with a surprising amount of force. His fingers were warm, rough, as if he were trying to ground himself with the touch.

"If you're so insistent on showing this side of you to others," he whispered, his breath hot against your ear, "then it’s only fair that I get to see more of it, isn't it?"

Before you could protest, he hoisted you effortlessly onto his shoulder, your legs dangling in the air as he carried you toward your room like a caveman claiming his prize.

"Caleb!" You gasped, half-laughing, half-embarrassed by the sheer force of his actions. But Caleb wasn't listening. His grip was firm, his footsteps purposeful as he crossed the room.

He threw open your bedroom door, his eyes locking with yours with an intensity that made your heart race. "You think you can strut around like this for anyone else?" His voice was dangerously calm, but the heat in his gaze betrayed the undercurrent of rage—jealousy, possessiveness—swirling just beneath the surface.

You opened your mouth to say something, but he silenced you with a heated kiss, his lips claiming yours in a way that left no room for argument. His lips were urgent, demanding, but still with an edge of care as if he couldn’t bear the thought of anyone seeing you in that outfit.

"Do you want me to show you what that outfit can do to any individual with a working braincell?" Caleb murmured against your lips, his breath shallow as he gently pushed you onto the bed. He towered over you, his body a wall of heat and strength, completely commanding your attention.

You couldn’t help but laugh breathlessly, still shaken by the intensity of the moment. "It was just a prank, Caleb. I didn’t mean—"

His fingers traced the line of your jaw with surprising gentleness before his eyes darkened. "No," he whispered. "You didn’t mean to tease me like this, but now that you have, you’re not going anywhere. Not until I’ve had my fill of you. I don’t like the idea of anyone else looking at you like this.”

You opened your mouth to explain, to tell you weren’t actually heading out like this, but before you could say a word, he was on you, his lips crashing against yours with a possessiveness that left you breathless. His hands roamed down your body, tracing the curve of your waist, gripping you tightly as if he were afraid someone might take you from him.

You could feel his breath on your neck, hot and heavy, as he pulled away just enough to whisper, “You’re mine, understand?” His words were both possessive and adoring, a dangerous combination you knew too well.

And as your neighbors found out soon after, the only sounds that filled the air that evening were far less friendly than the teasing words you’d exchanged earlier.

RAFAYEL

Rafayel was early. Again.

Technically, he was supposed to be on time tonight—after all, it was his gallery event. But you knew better. You had predicted, with painful accuracy, that he'd find some way to ding-dong ditch his own damn celebration. Which was exactly why he was here at your apartment an hour before you needed to leave.

"I'm only here because Thomas would physically drag me if I didn't show up at all," he muttered from the other side of the door of your bedroom. "Consider this me being a responsible artist. All of you should be grateful."

You hummed, feigning disinterest as you checked your reflection in the mirror. "Oh, I am grateful, Rafayel."

"Good, as you shou—"

He cut himself off entirely as you stepped out from your bedroom.

You had planned this prank the moment you'd heard he was coming early. Because if Rafayel wanted to ditch the gallery, you'd at least make sure he suffered before he got his way. So, instead of slipping into something elegant and refined for an art exhibition, you had opted for something else entirely. It wasn’t even an outfit you would wear outside—it barely covered anything at all, and the material clung to your body in all the wrong places. A sheer, tight-fitting slip with lace accents, enough to leave little to the imagination. The fabric wasn’t completely transparent, but it did the job well enough to make every inch of your skin noticeable. Every inch of skin exposed was deliberate. Calculated. A direct attack on Rafayel's composure.

And oh, it worked.

His entire body stiffened, the lazy smirk on his lips frozen mid-form. His next grape missed his mouth completely, bouncing pathetically off his chin and rolling onto the floor. But he didn't even notice.

For a long, silent moment, all Rafayel did was stare.

Then, dramatically, he clutched his chest. "No."

You blinked. "No?"

"I can't take you anywhere like this," he lamented, waving frantically at all the exposed skin. "You—You will steal the show! The gallery will forget my masterpieces the moment you walk through the door!" Rafayel’s eyes flickered to the door, then back to you, his expression a mix of shock and something darker. “You’re kidding. You want me to take you to the gallery dressed like… this? Everyone will be staring, and I can’t have that.”

He turned his back to you with a huff, clearly flustered. He spun around to face you again, his eyes narrowing, and a flicker of possessiveness flashed across his face. “This is too much. I’m not taking you out like this.”

You raised an eyebrow. “Are you saying you’re embarrassed to be seen with me?”

His expression faltered, and for a split second, you saw a vulnerability in his eyes. But it was quickly replaced by his usual dramatic demeanor. “Embarrassed? No!! I just don’t want everyone gawking at my—especially when I’m the one who’s supposed to admire you tonight. How am I supposed to take you out like this? All eyes will be on you, and I don’t know if I’m prepared for that level of attention. How am I supposed to look at this…”

"Is that such a bad thing?" You teased, twirling a loose strand of hair around your finger.

"Yes!" Rafayel practically whined. He circled you like a predator, eyes flickering with a hunger he hadn’t quite named yet. "Some art should be displayed for the world, sure," he murmured, voice turning dangerously low. "But some art? This should be kept private. Mine."

You bit your lip, barely suppressing a laugh. "Raf, it's just a prank. I'm not actually going like this."

He stilled. Then, very slowly, he grinned.

"Oh?" he purred, stepping closer until there was barely any space left between you. His fingers skimmed the edge of your exposed thigh, tracing your skin before gripping it lightly. "Then you should go change, hmm?"

You moved to step back, but Rafayel caught your wrist. His grip was loose, teasing, but there was no mistaking the heat behind it.

"Ah, wait," he murmured, feigning deep thought. "Actually… No. That would take too long."

You frowned. "What—?"

"We're already late," he sighed, tone laced with mock regret. "And if we're already late, then it doesn’t really matter, does it?"

Before you could say anything else, Rafayel scooped you up in one swift motion, his hands firmly gripping you. “Forget the gallery,” he said, his voice practically a growl. “You’re not leaving this apartment until I’ve taken my time enjoying this… work of art.”

“Rafayel, wait!” You tried to protest, but he was already striding toward your bedroom, his grip firm around you.

“You don’t deserve to wear something this distracting for anyone else,” he muttered, his voice laced with a possessive hunger. “I’ll be the only one to appreciate it properly.”

Before you could even respond, his lips were on yours, demanding and heated, the rest of the world completely irrelevant. You could barely keep up with the intensity of his kiss as he stripped away the fabric, each motion more urgent than the last.

As the sound of Thomas’ calls rang through both your phones, going straight to voicemail, Rafayel didn’t spare it a second thought. The gallery? It was already a lost cause. Tonight, he had you—and he was taking his sweet time with it.

SYLUS

As Sylus prepared for his mission, a sense of anticipation hung thick in the air. He was packing his gear with the meticulous attention of a man who thrived on the chaos he created, readying himself for whatever dangerous task lay ahead. This lifestyle was no stranger to him —the dangerous, dark heart of his empire. But you couldn’t shake the worry that gnawed at you every time he walked out the door. Dangerous, illegal missions were a regular part of his life, and while you knew he could handle himself, the thought of him in harm’s way left you restless.

But you weren’t about to voice that concern—not when he took so much pleasure in riling you up with his teasing. Tonight, you had decided to give him a taste of his own medicine—payback, as you saw it. After all, his teasing and his ability to keep you on edge with his deep voice, knowing smirks, fleeting touches, and that intense gaze deserved a little retaliation. This time, you were going to make him work for it.

Fair was fair.

You stepped into the study, heels clicking against the floor, the sharp sound enough to draw his attention. His red eyes flickered up from his preparations, widening just slightly before narrowing with intrigue. You had dressed specifically to get a reaction—a short, black mesh dress that left little to the imagination, the sheer material teasing glimpses of lace underneath. The plunging neckline dipped scandalously low, while the cutouts along your waist accentuated every tempting curve.

Sylus let out a low, appreciative hum as he leaned back against the wall, taking his time raking his gaze over you.

“And where exactly do you think you’re going dressed like that, sweetie?” His smirk was lazy, but the sharp glint in his crimson stare was anything but.

You let your eyes linger on his figure for a moment, before casually offering, "Actually, I’m heading back to Linkon for a night out—clubbing with some friends." Your heels clicked softly against the floor as you took a few steps closer, and you could see his pupils dilate briefly, his reaction evident, though he masked it quickly with another smirk.

"Well, well," he drawled, his eyes still locked on your attire. "Funny, I’ve never gotten the pleasure of seeing you in such bold outfits before."

You shrugged nonchalantly, your lips curling into a playful smile. "I dress for the occasion."

A small chuckle escaped him, the sound rich and dark. "Interesting, these 'occasions' never seem to happen when I'm around." His eyes trailed over you once more, the intensity of his gaze making your pulse quicken.

He walked slowly, closing the distance between you in a few slow, measured strides. When he reached you, his fingers brushed against the exposed skin of your thigh, the touch featherlight, deliberate.

“I suppose I should consider myself unfortunate, then,” he murmured, trailing his hand higher. “But I’ll be damned, sweetie, you do look ravishing.”

You hummed, feeling the heat of his touch ghosting over your skin. "Maybe ypu were just not paying enough attention before."

His laugh was low, dark, full of amusement. "Oh, kitten," he purred, his hands drifting lower, tracing the dip of your waist before pulling you just a little closer. "Trust me, I pay attention. Especially when it comes to you."

Your breath hitched as his palm splayed possessively over your hip, his fingers teasing the hem of your barely-there dress. “Not worried about all the attention I’ll get?” you teased, meeting his gaze.

He let out a soft chuckle, the sound almost like a growl. "Sweetie, I know you can handle yourself if things go wrong." he said, his hands suddenly roaming over your skin, slow and deliberate, almost as if he were marking his territory. His touch was magnetic, entrancing. His fingers traced your jawline, grazing over the curve of your neck, and you felt the weight of his presence pull you in, closer to him with each movement.

He smirked, as if he could sense the effect he was having on you. "Go ahead. Have fun tonight," he murmured, pulling out his black card from his wallet and offering it to you. "Just don't have too much fun without me." His breath ghosted over your lips, hot and tantalizing, and you could feel his eyes trailing lower

You saw it then—the flicker of something dark and hungry in his stare, a silent challenge laced with possession. It made you want to push just a little further.

“What if I do?”

The moment the words left your lips, you barely had time to react before Sylus’s hands were on you. A startled gasp escaped you as he lifted you effortlessly, locking your legs around his waist. The back of your dress rode up, and his fingers pressed into your thighs, holding you firmly in place as his mouth found yours. The kiss was deep, slow, devastating. He wasn’t just kissing you—he was claiming you, drawing you in until the thought of leaving, of doing anything other than this, felt ridiculous. “Then I guess I’ll have to make sure you’re more entertained...” he murmured against your ear, his voice dripping with possessiveness, as if you were already his in every sense.

Without another word, he carried you through the mansion, his lips never leaving yours as his pace quickened. He didn’t even give you a chance to respond, his hold on you firm, commanding, as though the very idea of you going out tonight was laughable. His smirk never faltered, his confidence radiating in waves.

“You think I’d let that happen?” he said in a husky whisper against your lips, his voice thick with amusement. As he kicked open the door to his bedroom, he laid you down on the bed with a grin that sent a shiver down your spine. “Guess neither of us is going anywhere tonight…”

You tried to speak between stolen breaths, to tell him it was a prank, but he only smirked against your mouth, cutting you off with another slow, intoxicating kiss.His weight pressed you down onto the bed, his hands sliding over every inch of exposed skin. “It’s a good thing you weren’t actually going out,” he mused, voice dripping with amusement. “Because I plan to keep you here… All. Night. Long.”

A thrill ran through you as you realized just how easily he'd flipped the situation in his favor. And you weren't sure if you could—if you wanted to—fight it.

XAVIER

You had been scheming for a while, setting the perfect trap to prank Xavier, and today was the day you were finally going to execute your plan. You’d texted him earlier, asking him to swing by your apartment to pick up the meals you had prepared for him. You knew full well Xavier could barely cook an egg without burning it, so he was always appreciative when you made him something special. You always made quite a batch of food whenever he came over to pick it up so he could store them in his freezer.

He had a spare key to your apartment in case of emergencies, but today, you were going to make sure he’d get more than just food when he came over. He’d always been so calm and collected in most situations that it was infuriating at times. You had tried to get a reaction out of him before but had always failed. But today, it would be different. Today, you knew you would get him to falter. You’d been thinking of a little prank to get a rise out of him—and you knew exactly what would get under his skin.

When you heard the door click open, you made sure to pick up your purse slowly, letting Xavier get a good look at the outfit you’d chosen: A tight, revealing midnight blue dress that clung to your curves like a second skin, the plunging neckline barely covering what was necessary and the high slit on the side showing just enough leg to drive anyone wild. The fabric was soft, almost like a second layer of skin, and you knew it would make his blood run hot.

Xavier’s footfalls slowed, and the air seemed to thicken with tension as he entered the room, his eyes immediately darkening the moment they landed on you. His usually calm expression shifted, but only slightly, and his voice, low and even, carried an edge. “You have plans?” His tone was casual, but you could tell it didn’t match the storm brewing in his gaze.

“Oh, yeah, I’m heading out with some colleagues,” you answered nonchalantly, knowing full well that would get him riled up. In your mind, this was all part of the prank. You were expecting a laugh, a joke, maybe even a playful remark.

His eyes narrowed, the calm veneer slipping away. “Wrong answer.”

You tilted your head slightly, looking at him with feigned confusion. “Huh?”

“I said, wrong answer. You are not going out to meet them… in that?” He spoke slowly.

“Why not? What’s wrong with the dress? I think it makes me look nice.” You looked at your dress pretending that you didn’t know what was wrong with it. “Plus, I already made plans with them…”

He didn’t hesitate, slamming the door behind him with a soft thud. His hand rested on the doorframe as he leaned in, towering over you. “Your plan,” he said, voice gruff with unspoken demand, “is with me. Right here. And only I should be the one seeing you in that dress. And outside of it.” he added, his voice dark with possessiveness.

Your heart raced, though you maintained an innocent air. “Xavier, come on... I’m just going out for fun. It’s not a big deal.” You tried to laugh it off, but your breath caught as his hands trailed over your skin, tracing your body with an intention that left no room for interpretation.

 You didn’t have a chance to react before he was right in front of you, his frame crowding you against the door, his hands gripping your hips as he lifted you slightly.

He didn’t respond to your attempt at casualness. Instead, his gaze was fierce, intense, and utterly unyielding. The meals you had prepared was forgotten. The only thing on his mind was you—and the dress you wore, too.

“Why do they get to see you like this when it’s meant for me?” His voice dropped, each word heavier than the last.

Your breath hitched at the intensity in his voice. The heat between you was immediate, pressing, suffocating. Xavier reached up, his fingers gently grazing your neck, then sliding down to your waist, his touch possessive and slow.

You tried to laugh it off again, your playful nature not quite prepared for how serious he had gotten. “It’s just a prank,” you said, offering an innocent smile, hoping to break the tension. “I am not going anywhere…” You giggled, but it came out a little nervous. “I swear… It’s just a prank, Xavier.”

He blinked once,  the twice, confusion flickering in his eyes. His boyish, innocent looked returned, stunned at your words. He seemed to process it for a moment. Then, the intensity of his gaze returned, fiercer than before. He took a step forward, closing the non existent distance between you, and his lips were suddenly on yours—hard, commanding. His lips crushed against yours, his tongue immediately claiming dominance as he growled low in his throat.

Before you could even process what was happening, you were on the couch, his body pressing you into the cushions. His hands roamed, touching you everywhere. as he leaned down to whisper in your ear.

“Prank or not,” he said, his voice hushed but full of intensity, “you’ve got me thinking about you in that dress with them—with anyone else.” His hands moved lower, sliding over the fabric of your dress. “You thought teasing me would be funny, huh? Let’s see how funny it is now.” His tone was equal parts teasing and threatening, a dangerous mix that made your heart race.

You gasped as his hands found your thighs, pulling you against him, his body already pressing into yours. There was no more pretending, no more games. Xavier’s need was undeniable, and you couldn’t escape the heat between you.

His lips met yours again, deeper, more frantic this time, as if making sure you understood just how serious he was about what was happening between you. You didn’t stand a chance against him.

And when the night ended, teasing Xavier definitely wouldn’t be on your list of things to do again... or maybe it would be.

ZAYNE

The dress was daring—too daring, perhaps. The fabric clung to your body, smooth and sultry, dipping dangerously low in the front and riding scandalously high on your thighs. The sheer lace along the sides barely covered enough, teasingly revealing glimpses of skin beneath. It was the kind of dress that would have heads turning, and you knew it.

That was the point.

You had planned this all too perfectly. A new pastry café had just opened downtown, and you’d invited Zayne out for a date. You had been expecting a reaction when he arrived—maybe a subtle quirk of his brow, a small shift in his usual stoic demeanor. Something.

Instead, when you opened the door and greeted him with an innocent smile, his gaze flickered over you, and for a moment, there was nothing but silence.

Then, the door clicked shut behind him.

His expression remained unreadable, but his movements weren’t. The way he took his time removing his gloves, slipping them off with methodical ease before placing them neatly on the nearby counter. The way his fingers traced the hem of his coat, unbuttoning it in a slow, deliberate motion.

“Interesting choice,” he finally said, his voice calm—too calm—as his gaze finally lifted back to meet yours.

You grinned, shifting your weight just slightly to make the dress slide a little higher along your thigh. “Do you like it?”

He didn’t answer immediately. Instead, he took a step forward, and you felt the weight of his presence settle over you. His fingers brushed your arm, barely there, before trailing down your wrist. The lightest touch. A doctor’s touch—controlled, precise. But beneath it was something else.

Something simmering.

“Tell me.” His voice was still even, his tone almost thoughtful as he lifted your hand to his lips, pressing a soft, lingering kiss to your fingertips. “How far were you planning to go with this little game of yours?”

Your heart stuttered. He knows.

You feigned innocence, tilting your head as if confused. “Game? I was just dressing up for our date.”

“Is that so?” His lips curved, the barest hint of amusement slipping through. “Then I suppose you wouldn’t mind if we went outside right now.”

Your stomach flipped. He wouldn’t.

Would he?

Before you could respond, his other hand moved—so subtle, so swift—and in one seamless motion, he pulled you closer, his fingers splaying over your lower back. Your breath hitched as your bodies pressed together, the warmth of him seeping through the thin material of your dress.

His lips were close now, brushing against your ear. “You forgot,” he murmured, “I know you.”

Your skin burned.

You swallowed, trying to keep your composure. “Okay, fine. It was a prank.”

Zayne chuckled softly. The sound was low, velvety, but it sent a shiver down your spine. “I knew that before coming over.”

His fingers traced slow, idle circles against the small of your back, and suddenly, you were all too aware of how little there was between you. How easy it would be for him to simply pull—just a little—and the dress would slide right off your shoulders.

You blinked. “Wait, you—?”

“Of course I knew.” He leaned in, his breath brushing against your jaw. “You think I don’t know when you’re trying to get a rise out of me?” The heat in his voice made your knees weak.

Your heart pounded against your ribs as his fingers traced a slow path up your spine, dragging along the zipper of your dress.

“I knew the moment you picked up my call earlier and sounded too innocent. The way you sent me a picture of the food but conveniently cropped yourself out.” His fingers pressed, teasing, against the small of your back. “And now? Now you’re here, looking like this and expecting me to just let you waltz out into a crowded café?”

You barely managed a breath before he tilted your chin up with two fingers, his expression unreadable save for the faintest glint of something more. “Cute.” His lips brushed against yours, feather-light. “But you knew better.”

You shivered at the subtle challenge in his voice, the sheer restraint beneath it. “Zayne, we have a reservation—”

“Mm.” He kissed the corner of your mouth, slow and deliberate. “We’ll reschedule.”

“I—”

Whatever you were about to say was swallowed by his kiss. It wasn’t rushed or frantic—it was deliberate. A slow, consuming thing that left no room for escape. His hands were firm but unhurried as he guided you back, step by step, until your back met the nearest surface—the couch, the wall, you didn’t even know anymore.

Zayne finally pulled away, but only just. His breath fanned across your lips, his fingers still resting against your waist. He looked at you then, truly looked at you, his eyes dark with something unspoken.

“You wanted my attention.” His voice was a whisper now, a dangerous kind of quiet. “You have it.” Your protests faded the moment his hands slid lower, gripping your thighs just enough to make your breath hitch. His lips trailed downward, past your jaw, tracing a searing path along your neck before murmuring, “Tell me, was the prank worth it?”

And as his hands began to move, taking their time, exploring, savoring—one thing became very, very clear.

Prank or not, you wouldn’t be leaving for that café tonight.

AN: reblogs, feedback and opinions are appreciated!

Taglist: @cordidy, @natimiles @leighsartworks216 @notisekais @raining4food @fallthelong @pomegranatepip @juliuscaesarsstabbedback @krystallevine @lemurianmaster @nenggie @loverindeepspace@sinsodom@m00nchildwrites