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kitasuno · 11 months ago

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dating the love and deepspace boys | domestic moments

featuring: rafayel, xavier, and zayne x gn!reader

(´• ω •`) ♡ modern au! can you guys tell raf is my favorite..?

rafayel

a year younger than you. lies to everyone (including you) that he’s actually two years your senior. you only found out he was younger than you when you met his parents, who have his birth certificate framed.

hates cats. despises them. they fill him with rage (fear). says he’s allergic (he’s lying).

“oh shit raf, this sucks! i guess you can’t move in with me.. i have cats”

“...you have cats?”

“yeah. 3.”

“i’m not allergic. i can move in tonight.”

chronically online. minoring in marine biology and majoring in annoying you. texts you over 200 times a day and if you don’t respond, he’s faking a horrible chronic illness. again. it’s amnesia on wednesdays, appendicitis on thursdays, chronic migraines on fridays… etc..

he has 2 followers on his private twitter. you and thomas.

over 700k followers on instagram for some reason? he sells paintings on depop (he says it's depop but you’re convinced he sells them for heinous prices on the black market)

cooks on occasion? has an apron that says kiss me im irish (he's not irish?) made you a tuna cupcake once??

pescatarian. not in the vegan/vegetarian way where he refuses to eat red meat but because he’s absolutely feral over fish. (is this cannibalism? he says its not)

lives in a 2 bedroom apartment with you but doesn’t use his bedroom. says your bed is comfier. turned his bedroom into a painting studio (IT’S for the black market you say!!) and sleeps with you.

“raf,” you sigh. “don’t you have.. homework or something?”

he sits between your legs, back against your chest as he scrolls through his phone.

“yeah,” he says. you flick the back of his head because you know he’s smirking. “it’s called assignment: you. due in two minutes.”

with his free hand, he reaches back mindlessly to grab yours. you sigh, fingers intertwining with his, a reflex as he leans his head back. his eyes meet yours and you can’t help but laugh.

“well?” you ask, brushing his hair out of his eyes as he squeezes your hand. “what are the assignment details?”

he chews on the bottom of his lip as he thinks, humming while his eyes wander across your face. he swings your interlocked hands in circles. it’s raining outside, the heater is on, and rafayel is warm like hot chocolate.

“what?” he says, his cheeks a tinge pink. “you’re looking at me like that again.” a pause. he turns, his head now buried in your chest.

“just studying my homework.” you say, hands instinctively wrapping around his back. the laundry machine is running in the background, rain is falling against the window, and you faintly hear your rice cooker dinging in the kitchen. home, you think, is with rafayel.

“i can hear your heartbeat.” he says, voice muffled. “it’s super fast. you like me or something?”

“i really like you.” you say, without skipping a beat. rafayel groans into your chest, sighing in discontent.

“no fair. i’m supposed to be the flirter.”

you press a kiss onto the top of his head and you feel his body melt into yours. the two of you fall into a warm silence, his breath steady as he traces paintings into your neck.

“raf?” you mumble, eyes drooping. he hums in response. “did you pass your assignment?”

he smiles. “with flying colors.”

xavier

chronic napper. (yapper?)

has 100 late assignments. failing all of his classes yet got into the top university in your country because he got a perfect score on his entrance exams. you thought he was a nepo baby (turns out he’s just.. smart?)

his procrastination rubs off on you… he is the WORST distraction and he knows it. so smug about it and uses it to his own advantage. will perch on top of you when you’re studying and kiss down your neck until you go to sleep with him.

lives in the apartment on top of yours but is at your house most days, if not all. you ask him to move in.

“am i not already.. living with you?”

“don’t you still have your apartment, though?”

“yeah..?”

is that good for the economy?? is it financially smart? not at all, but he’s too lazy to move out and put his apartment up for lease.

xavier sleeps with his legs entangled with yours and his arms wrapped tightly around your chest. the air conditioning hums in the background as you scroll mindlessly on your phone, dimming the brightness as you hear xavier stir.

“sorry xav, did i wake you up?” you ask. he doesn’t respond, blinking the sleep out of his eyes as he glares at your phone.

“xavier?” you question, swallowing a laugh at his ruffled hair and disheveled clothes.

“phone down.” he says, voice raspy with sleep and an octave lower than usual. you raise an eyebrow at him.

“can i get a pretty please in this economy?”

xavier’s eyes narrow as he snatches your phone away, snoozing the device and placing it on the nightstand next to you. his lips ghost your neck, pressing kisses against your skin as he mumbles incoherently in the dark of your bedroom.

“xavier-” you breathe, giggling at the sensation. “that tickles!”

he nips at your neck.

“bedtime. now.”

zayne

3 years older than you

he literally has his whole life together at 27 which scares you so much

“my credit card is your credit card” typa boyfriend

cooks. cleans. has a 9-5. you’re interning at the hospital that he works at (he’s head doctor!!)

you’re just a sweet little intern and zayne is the big bad monster!! everyone at work thinks he hates you because he’s extra strict on you. doesn’t give you any special treatment, ‘ignores’ you most days (but also slips meals into your locker and hands you heat packs on cold days in the hospital)

no one knows he’s dating you until one day someone sees you leaving in zaynes car.

“oh, you carpool with doctor zayne?”

“huh? no, we live together.”

“you WHAT???”

he’s a virgo……. erm……

the two of you get ready together in the morning. his guard is down when he’s sleepy and he’ll cling to you as he brushes his teeth and does his hair.

you wake up to the cold night breeze, blinking the sleep out of your eyes and shivering as you scan your surroundings. you yelp as you meet the attentive gaze of your boyfriend.

“huh? whuh? huh?” you splutter, squirming as zayne holds you tighter. he’s carrying you bridal style in his arms, his jacket around your shoulders as the two of you walk to his car. you see the bright lights of akso hospital fading away behind the two of you.

“it’s two am,” he says calmly, placing you down gently as he opens your car door for you. “you waited for my shift to end. again.”

you smile bashfully, rubbing the back of your head. “well, i didn’t wanna just leave you!”

zayne clicks his tongue against the roof of his mouth, eyebrows furrowed but gaze warm. he guides you into your seat, clicking your seatbelt in place.

“you can nap on the way home,” he says, closing the door and sliding into his side of the car.

the heater’s on already- courtesy of his super expensive electric car. he fastens his own seatbelt and hands you a hot tea and bread from the hospital vending machine.

“drink up. doctor’s orders.”

you grin before he leans over to press a kiss on your lips.

“thank you for waiting for me.”

#love and deepspace #love and deepspace x reader #rafayel #xavier #zayne #love and deepspace headcanons #love and deepspace rafayel #rafayel x reader #zayne x reader #xavier x reader #love and deepspace fluff

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astridthevalkyrie · 2 months ago

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“You think people ever look at us and wonder why you would be with me?” Rafayel had frozen in place, his hand mid paint stroke as he gazed down at you from his ladder. You’d been curled up on the couch, watching him comfortably while your thoughts took a depressing turn that was anything but comfortable. “No,” he’d said, “absolutely not. No one in their right mind would think that.”

contains: afab reader, edging, rafayel making reader praise themselves, rafayel speaks in hindi, probably ooc and with grammatical errors sorry i wrote this all in like one hour at 10 PM and i was crying for half of it

it's been a while since my own insecurities have actually given me the creative kick to write something like this, so sucks to be insecure i guess, but yay fic!!!!

Insecurity. What a bitch.

It’s life-ruining, at its worst. It makes you look into the mirror and imagine even the reflection looking back and sneering at what it sees. It makes your heart pound as you walk in public, wondering how many people would smile once they get the privilege of losing sight of you. It makes you sob at night when you’re alone, mind knowing that there is no one in the world who is uniquely terrible, but your heart convinced that you’re the exception.

It makes you say something, accidentally, to your boyfriend.

“You think people ever look at us and wonder why you would be with me?”

Rafayel had frozen in place, his hand mid paint stroke as he gazed down at you from his ladder. You’d been curled up on the couch, watching him comfortably while your thoughts took a depressing turn that was anything but comfortable.

“No,” he’d said, “absolutely not. No one in their right mind would think that.”

If you’d been more acute in the moment, you might have heard the warning in his voice, the irk of a god who has just had his most precious jewel taunted.

But you’d continued instead. “They would. You’re so handsome, so gorgeous. Ethereal. Not to mention incredibly talented. And I love you, and I think we’re really compatible personality wise, but looks…you have to admit you could do a lot better.”

It was then you’d began to note how it felt much hotter in the studio than it had a few minutes ago. Like there was an unseen furnace, prickling with an angry fire about to grow into an inferno.

Rafayel’s voice had been, ironically, icy. “How could I do better than you?”

“C’mon, be real, Raf.” It had been hard to keep the pain out of your words, and impossible to keep the thoughts choking you inside. You’d started to plead, some part of you convinced that it would help if he would simply agree that your every insecurity was valid. “I’m not a supermodel. I’m not a genius. I’m not an angel, either. There’s nothing about me that’s extraordinary. Not like you are.”

And then he’d moved.

And now, you’re still on the couch, crying out brokenly with nothing to grip onto, as his hand holds your wrists above your head, and his cock thrusts in and out of you in the most maddening pace you’ve ever experienced.

He’s never been like this. When you plead, Rafayel gives in. He is weak to you, as he’s shown time and time again. But not today. No matter how much you beg with teary eyes for him to go faster, he shakes his head, slowing down even more. With a punishing growl, he pushes all the way in, and all the way out, leaving your drooling cunt clenching around nothing.

It’s torture. Pure and simple.

“What was it you said?” he breathes harshly, leaning down to press hot kisses on your neck that burn so perfectly you sob. “Ethereal? Talented? A supermodel?”

“Rafayel,” you gasp. He ignores it. His eyes are a violent shade of purple, the most dangerous you’ve ever seen them. There are scales blooming all over his body, as though denying you is the key to awake this dormant side of him, to make you submit.

“I’ll give you what you want,” he whispers, biting and leaving a fresh bruise planted on your skin. “Just tell me what I want to hear. Go on.”

He pulls out and you feel the tears running down your cheeks.

“Say, ‘I’m beautiful.’”

In.

“Say, ‘I’m gorgeous.’”

Out.

“Say, “I’m fucking ethereal.’”

You can taste salt from your own sobs, both from being denied, and from the unimaginable cruelty of having to praise yourself. It’s impossible. You want the reward so bad, but you can’t claw your way to it, because the rules are too imposing. The conditions, blinding.

“Be real,” he taunts, repeating your own words back to you, “come on, start easy. ‘I’m pretty.’ Go on.”

Heaving in a breath, you taste the bitter words on your tongue. “I-I’m pretty.”

Your back arches off the couch as he rewards you with his fingers on your clit, rubbing soft circles while he’s inside you. “Mmhm. You are. And?”

“Please, Rafayel.” You’re clenching so tight around him, and you can see from how he shudders that it pains him just as much as it pains you, this wait, this little game of keep-away. “Please don’t make me—“

You’re cut off by his hand cupping your cheeks, and his lips stealing a salty, breathless kiss. “Meri pyaari gurya,” he groans, kissing you again, “meri chand.” Kiss. “Meri humsafar.” Kiss. “Mine, mine, mine.” Kiss, kiss, kiss. "Do you think I keep anything that isn’t worthy of the Sea God?”

You shut your eyes, crying harder. The logic is loud, but your thoughts are louder. He’s only saying it to reassure you, he’s only saying it to be nice, he’s only saying it because he pities you…

“Meri dulhaniya,” he saves for last, because he knows it’ll break you, “I have nowhere to be. I’m fine staying buried inside you, all day and all night, while your sweet little pussy gushes for me. I’ll bring you to the brink, again and again, but I won’t let you cum, my pretty muse, because either you admit that you’re the most beautiful human in this world, or I’ll fuck it into you till you forget otherwise.”

Trembling, you open your eyes. There is nothing but conviction in his gaze. Conviction, and hunger.

And you realize two very important things. One, that your stamina is nothing compared to his, and you will never hold out against him, and two, that is not something one does out of pity, but out of unyielding, undying adoration.

“I’m,” you swallow, cheeks burning, “beautiful.”

A sharp thrust of his hips makes you moan his name, mouth falling open as he kisses you deeply, and you swear you can feel him hardening even more inside you.

“I’m gorgeous.”

“Yes,” Rafayel hisses, fingers rubbing your clit to match his thrusts.

Eyes rolling back, you cry out, “I-I’m…”

“Fucking ethereal,” he provides, and you think you can feel fire flicking from his lips on your cheeks.

“Fucking ethereal,” you whine, pulling him into a kiss this time.

His hips slam against yours and you cry out against his mouth as his tongue ravages yours. There is nothing Rafayel hates more than someone misunderstanding his art, least of all the art itself.

Your toes curl and your nerves are electrified, everything fading away except you and Rafayel, and his cock and his fingers and his lips, and the couch he’s pounding you into, and you tug at his hair and practically scream as you cum.

He’s still softly licking at your lips as you come down from your high, chest heaving as you try to catch your breath. The air escaping you is light, and for the first time in a long time, there is nothing stuck in your chest, a soft fluttery feeling replacing the heaviness that you’ve been carrying what feels like your whole life.

Gazing back up your lover, you cradle his face, noticing that his lovely purple hues have morphed into an even lovelier pink, only a second before you notice he hasn’t cum yet.

“That’s a good start,” Rafayel whispers, capturing your lower lip between his teeth and tugging.

It bounces back into place for him to kiss softly, before he continues, “Now, let’s try ‘most beautiful human in the world.’ If you get there, I might consider letting you have a break.”

#love and deepspace #rafayel x reader #rafayel smut #lads smut #l&ds #love and deepspace rafayel #rafayel x mc #rafayel #valkyrie stories

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blade-liger-4ever · 2 months ago

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Why Cody Burns succeeded where Rafael Esquivel failed

Honestly, Raf is one of those characters I never thought much of, in part because he was so forgettable. More often than not in Prime, Raf was just the sweet baby who everybody thought the world of and wanted to keep out of harm's way, even though the most he ever did in the show was provide technical help with Earth machinery or play the part of innocent child. This was not helped by the fact that he was buddy-ed up with the mute Bumblebee, who's sole contributions up until his two part arc and the series finale was additional man power and adorable mimic. While this was good for background humor, it ultimately did nothing to the overall storyline in the series, both for Raf and for Bee, and for the series itself.

By contrast, Cody Burns - the resident team baby, beloved by all and unwaveringly helpful in rescue missions - stood out far more than Raf. And what's more, is that he never had "his own" Autobot/Cybertronian partner, when literally his whole family had one of their own.

Allow me to delve into this, hopefully, final observatory post regarding the TFP kids.

Of all the humans, we quite frankly get the least out of Raf. We know he's a prodigy, given that he's twelve (and a quarter) and jumped straight into the same classes as Miko and Jack, the former of whom is no slouch as I've already covered. We're shown that his family allows him free reign of Jasper, as he's playing by himself near the road, although he's alone. That tells us that his family is either extremely lax in their attention for their youngest child, or that Jasper is an actually safe location for a kid who's barely filling out his shoes to be on his own. Whether or not either option is true, that's dangerous and shows that Raf goes unnoticed by his family. I'm not saying they're abusive or willfully neglectful of him, but this points us to the conclusion that Raf has a very lonely home life, and we already know that he's got zero friends until he meets the Autobots.

This could have been a great plot-point for the series: by giving Team Prime a small child with no one for company, the writers could have more clearly given the Autobots hope for the future of the War/after the War, while Raf could have gained confidence and security from having people who actually cared and listened to him. It could have been fun, having him be the human cycling through the Autobots for various needs. Imagine Raf going to Optimus for comfort after another day of feeling ignored, talking to Arcee for ideas on how to stand up to Vince (being the sole child in class makes you a target, after all), or coming to Bulkhead for how to struggle through the physical aspects of his school regimen (i.e. the time he brought up the rope climbing to Ratchet.) The possibilities were endless.

But instead, he's specifically handed over to Bee. Bee, who is the disabled child that is also largely forgotten, and who, while he does bond with Raf and provide him with much needed company, offers nothing else in the way of development or storylines. We got something marginally better when Raf started spending time with the grumpy grandpa that is Ratchet, which was great to highlight Ratchet's soft side that nurtures his own character progression, but it's not enough for Raf's development. I greatly prefer the company of the Autobots to the human characters in virtually every series, but there needs to be a noticable human presence to ground the Autobots' protective instincts toward Earth and to push along the story. Raf ended up being a token character not even halfway through the first season, which is a shame given his potential, especially since he and Bee ended up being background décor.

Now, as a counterpoint, we come to Cody Burns.

Like Raf, Cody is the youngest child of the Burns clan - and I say clan because his family has been the one providing Griffin Rock's safety and protection for about...roughly three hundred years? (Correct me if I'm wrong, but his family were the ones in-universe to discover the island. Thus, there's a large claim and respect to his family's name.) His father Charlie is the chief of police; his oldest brother Kade is the chief firefighter; his older sister Dani is the helicopter pilot and primary search and rescue operator; and his brother Graham, who's about eight years older than ten year old Cody, is already a chief engineer and inventor himself. Clearly, Cody has an impressive family. Clearly, they're the best of the best, and he couldn't be prouder of them.

And clearly, Cody feels the need to earn his stripes given their talents and the family's reputation.

A recurring subplot in Rescue Bots is how Cody is insecure about his role on the team, and that often leads him to attempt to provide help and find his place in life in the family. Sometimes, this works; although he's often left monitoring the situations across the island at home through the cameras, Cody finds ways of giving advice or pointing out a hazard that the others are oblivious to that would have likely killed them. And this is a noble occupation his fills, with his aid saving many lives and much trouble.

However, sitting around and merely being an observer wears on him. It makes him restless, and he often seeks aid from the 'Bots to figure out his problems before typical shenanigans ensue that rectify the current episode's dilemma.

This is an important part of Cody's characterization because while he does occasionally feel left out/ignored by his family, he understands it is because of their duties. Charlie has to daily wrangle different criminals and legal offenses while Graham is eagerly going to town on his latest project. Kade and Dani each have their own lives that are beginning and that they're pursuing, but additionally maintain an intense sibling rivalry due to them being not even three years apart. Thus, while they're seeing they're respective girlfriend and boyfriend, they're also competing in various childish ways that, sometimes, result in massive fights. It's no small wonder Cody rarely goes to them for advice.

For this, he's left with the 'Bots, and because they view him as their darling little brother who inspires them every day to give the humans of Griffin Rock and Earth a chance, they listen and advise him. Heatwave is the oldest of the 'Bots, and thus more experienced; additionally, Heatwave more than once nearly threw in the towel in the early days, but only relented due to Cody's convictions and virtues. Therefore, while they have a special bond without it being the sole focus, Cody tends to run to Heatwave the most when emotionally unwell and Charlie is unavailable. Heatwave in turn gives him comfort and advice, and backs him up in most situations. Chase is one he less often seeks help from, mostly due to Chase's nature of being a rigid rulebook. Most times Cody helps Chase understand human expressions and terms when Charlie is busy or otherwise engaged, with both their efforts helping the police 'Bot to loosen up. There are times when he needs Chase's input, as strange as that aid might be, and Cody doesn't hesitate to seek it.

Boulder he goes to almost as regularly as Heatwave, and the two get along fantastically. Boulder provides him with loving company he's hungry for, and sound advice without being overbearing. Blades sometimes needs more encouragement than anything, and thus Cody plays the rare part of helping guide someone through their numerous fears. Because of that, the 'copter 'Bot is extremely loyal and protective of Cody, and when Cody does ask for his help or companionship, Blades readily gives it. Sometimes, Blades will even go above and beyond what is asked, and never asks for anything in return.

These are healthy, constantly growing relationships that Cody develops with the 'Bots, as well as magnificent characterizations that are always expanding. While the focus tends to be shown through Cody's eyes or centered around him, it never fixates on him more than is necessary. Rather, by setting him up as the show's heart, the writing team is able to stretch out towards arcs related to other characters, both the 'Bots and their specific partners, and the other human cast members who interact with the 'Bots on a less frequent basis.

This is how Cody takes the potential of Raf from Prime and not only runs with it, but builds up countless heartwarming moments and strong characterizations over the course of Rescue Bots' run. Cody is positively and rightly shown as the glue of the family element of the show, and is given the autonomy to maintain his own personality and growth without being forgotten like Raf consistently was. That's why Cody stands out, and poor Raf is left hanging.

Well, that's my thoughts on the matter. I felt I should tackle Raf, given I covered his two peers, and Cody is a cute, fun, and constantly evolving counterpart to Raf that explains much of why I feel the poor baby of Team Prime was ultimately misused and unnecessary. I hope you enjoyed this, and that it got some gears turning in your heads.

I'll be seeing you guys!

"Rescue Bots, roll to the rescue!"

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always-just-red · 5 months ago

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Heya! Rafayel with a reader who's slightly afraid of deep water because she doesn't know how to swim? Fluff please!

Thanks for the request! Hoping this is the perfect balance of heartfelt moments and utter silliness. It's Raf, after all! Gotta have fun with it! ❤

Practice Makes Perfect

Rafayel x Reader 🎨

Summary: "I'll teach you how to swim!" he said. "It'll be fun!" he said. Let's be honest: the warning signs were there from the very start.

Genre: Fluff

Warnings/Additional tags: gn!reader, established relationship, one instance of swearing, a mild panic attack, humour, Raf bullies you ('out of love!!'— his words, not mine 🙃)

| Word count: 2.3k | Masterlist | Opt-in to my taglist here!

Disclaimer: Characters belong to Love and Deepspace. All work is my own, so please don't repost or plagiarise!

“Rafayel, can you stop that? Please?”

You watch as Rafayel bobs around in the water in front of you. “Swimming?” he asks, pushing slick hair back from his forehead with a lazy smile. “Nah. I’d drown.”

“No, I—” you suck in a sharp breath to keep yourself from wasting it. He knows exactly what you meant. He knows what he’s doing, too: making everything look effortless when you can’t even get out of the stupid boat.

It tips you a little closer towards the ocean, as if responding to your criticisms. You’re done with this. Done with him. Swimming lessons with Rafayel had seemed such a promising idea a few months ago, but now? You’re thinking it would have been better to go it alone. If you’d have drowned, you’d have at least drowned in peace.

He calls his teaching style ‘motivational’, which is to say he spends every lesson trying to motivate you to lunge at him, regardless of your personal safety. It was funny at the local pool. It’s less funny here, on a rickety boat in a deserted bay, where the only witnesses to your demise would be a setting sun and an insufferably smug Lemurian.

You glance up, seeking the familiar half-oceans of his eyes. They’re taunting you to the point of distraction: heating the blood in your veins that had just been running cold. Look at me, they gloat, alive with shimmering reflections, you’re mad at me, remember?

And they have a point. You are. “Stop showing off.”

“Can’t help it.” Dark water laps at the pale of his collarbone. “It’s just so easy.”

“Says the actual mermaid.”

“Merman!”

“Oh whatever!”

He pouts. Then he strokes his chin thoughtfully. “I was worried about this,” he muses, as if he has actually masterminded a teaching plan, and hasn’t just been winging it from the start. He clicks his fingers, signalling a lightbulb moment. “Lucky for you, your super duper swimming teacher came prepared. Check my bag!”

He sinks until he’s peering out from the water, the lower half of his face submerged so you can’t see his smile. You can, though; it’s obvious. You roll your eyes and take the bait because it’s better than sitting here questioning your life decisions and your own mortality. Your hands rifle through his bag until they stumble upon something unusual. Smooth. Plastic. Is this what he meant?

You pull the package out into the evening light, narrowing your eyes.

Inflatable arm bands. Brand new. A toddler beams at you from their cover, seemingly thrilled by its extra buoyancy, and its parents are watching on with unbridled pride. You tilt your head as you read: suitable for ages 2-5! “Not funny, Raf. Not funny at all.”

“What d’you mean?” You flash the photo at him, tapping the toddler’s face. “Yeah? What about it?”

“These are for kids! You’re making fun of me now? Really?”

“No…” His hand leaves the water to scratch at the back of his head. “I thought that was a suggestion? It was kinda confusing, actually. You humans have such weird stuff to help you swim.”

“Oh don’t you dare play the Lemurian card right now!” you seethe, in the middle of retrieving an arm band from the packaging. “You knew! I know you did.”

Set on making your point, you blow air into the arm band’s nozzle. It’s so infuriatingly small; it takes all of three breaths to fill it. “I mean, look at it!” you exclaim, holding it out to him.

He barely keeps his act together. “I think it’s, like… stretchy, yeah?” His bottom lip is caught between his teeth: he’s biting back laughter. “Try it on, maybe it’ll—”

Smack! The arm band hits the water in front of him, and he blinks down at it, shocked.

“Wooooow,” he enthuses sarcastically, “nice throw! I bet the Wanderers just run for the hills when they see you comin—”

Thwack! Another half-inflated arm band strikes his face, and he reels backwards.

“Ow! What was that for?”

“You’re so full of it, Rafayel!” you can’t help leaning towards him, and the rowboat lurches. You clutch at the side of it, but you’ve had enough. “Ugh. Screw it.”

Your adrenaline is lurching too, and you make the most of the momentum: taking a deep breath and swinging your legs over the boat’s side. The chill of the ocean steals that breath away as you lower yourself into it. You’re going slowly, so slowly, your fingers still latched to the boat. But this is… something. You’re in the water. Oh gods you’re in the water. Don’t think about it. Don’t.

“Raf…” you squeak, because how can you not think about it when it’s cold and around your neck?

“I’m here,” he reassures from behind you, and he’s not close, but he’s close enough.

You look at him over your shoulder, gently tugging at the boat until you’re afforded a better view. He chuckles as he flicks the offending arm bands back into it: a calculated arc that sprinkles saltwater over your head. You wince, but you don’t mind.

“You just gonna… hang out there, then?” Rafayel enquires as you wipe a stray droplet from your eye.

“Yep.”

“Nice,” he grins, and it’s weirdly sincere. “Kinda wish you were over here, though.”

“Yeah?” You don’t move.

“I miss you.”

“Aww.”

You’re still not moving, but it doesn’t crush the embers of amusement that glow within his eyes. He’s thinking up ways to drive you crazy again, you just know it. “You could totally make it over here if you wanted,” he says flippantly. “It’s just swimming. If jellyfishes can do it, you definitely can.”

What? What? “They’re sea creatures!”

“Yeah, but they’re soooo stupid.” He taps his head. “No brains, y’know?”

You turn to the boat, pulling yourself impossibly closer to it. “Raf, c’mere,” you beckon, reaching back to him— grabbing at air.

“Why?” He draws nearer.

“So I can hit you.”

You swing a hand at him, but he dodges it, laughing. “If you wanna hit me, you have to reach me.”

There’s movement in the corner of your eye, so you twist to see it. His thumbs and forefingers have met as a square; he’s making a viewfinder. “What are you doing?” you speak from inside the frame.

“Making sure I remember this. I think I’ll paint it.” A corner of his lips lifts as he reveals a prospective title: “Cutie braves shark-infested waters.”

“Sharks?!”

“Who said anything about sharks?”

He’s messing with you— you know he’s messing with you— but you hide your face against your arms, all the same. You squeeze your eyes shut, trying to stifle your senses and your spiralling thoughts. You’re feeling everything too keenly: the water licking at your throat, the darkness beneath you, around you, waiting to pull you under and fill your mouth.

You never feel further from Rafayel than when you remember he calls that darkness home.

“Rafayel?” you call out, because you need him to tell you you’re being ridiculous. You need him to laugh with you, at you— you don’t care so long as you can hear it.

The only sound is water, and it’s cold and dispassionate.

“…Rafayel?” You glance behind you, and he isn’t there.

What do you do? What do you do? Your mind is in contest with your heart; they’re both trying to see who can race faster. You still can’t move. Shit. What can you do?

“Hey.” Rafayel’s voice makes you jump. He’s next to you all of a sudden, water streaming down from his hair and running over his shoulders. He rests an arm on the boat, too. “I’m here, ok? I’ve got you. Just breathe.”

Breathe? “Don’t do that!” you force out of aching lungs, and then your mouth is trying to catch up with the rest of you. “I thought something happened to you! What if something did happen to you? I couldn’t do anything. I couldn’t move. I couldn’t help you. What if—”

“Hey, hey, hey, hey,” he cuts in. “Nothing’s gonna happen to me. I’m not going anywhere.”

Your eyes are watering and he’s so close, but it’s not enough. You reach out, pulling him, urging him to close the distance, and he leans in, pressing his forehead to yours. You can feel the heat of his breath and it’s deep, slow: one, two. One. Two. You hold him until you can match it, and almost everything’s still— the ocean, your mind— but not your heart.

The waves break softly against the boat and they’re breathing with him, too.

“You ok?” Rafayel murmurs. His wet hair is clinging to your skin.

“Yeah,” you sigh.

He pulls away and gives you a smile. “Wanna know what I’m thinking about?”

Always.

“The claw machine,” he continues, because it was, as you suspected, a rhetorical question. “Remember that time you took, like, a hundred goes to get that one plushie? We were there for, what— an hour? Maybe two?”

You sniffle, and you’re just leaning on the boat, now— not gripping it. “That’s because it was a peach blossom birb, Raf. They’re super rare.” Another sniffle. “And the only reason I got it is because you kept buying more tokens.”

“Yeah,” he nods. “Because I knew you’d get it eventually. Just like I know you’re gonna get this. We’ve got all the tokens in the world, yeah? So it’s just like before. One go at a time.”

His gaze is full of faith, and you want to be worthy of it. “One go at a time,” you repeat. “Thanks, Raf. Really.” You tilt towards him again, set on kissing his cheek, but he swerves away like it’s another attack.

“Nuh-uh.” He propels himself backwards. “You wanna kiss me? You gotta meet me out here, cutie.”

And he’s so far already. “C’mon, Raf,” you whine.

“C’mon yourself! Look at me!” He runs a hand through his hair— beads of water sliding and sparkling across his skin. “I’m a total catch.”

“More like catch of the day when I get my hands on you.”

“Cute,” he quips, treading water. “You gonna come get me then, or what?”

You eye up the distance between you. You’re willing yourself to cross it; it won’t be good, it won’t be graceful, but you can do it, right? You just have to go for it. Three. Two. One… Go!

Nothing happens. Rafayel laughs quietly, and it’s warm— so passionate.

“Here,” he says, meeting you in the middle. He holds out his hand.

You can’t trust the boat; it rocks beneath your touch and at the behest of every wave. It is just a thing, like you, at the mercy of something so much bigger than itself. Not Rafayel, though. He’s a part of all this, maybe even the heart of all this. The ocean will not betray him. It needs him to beat for it. To bleed.

Your hand grasps his and you let him guide you into the open water. You’re borrowing him. Stealing him, if only for a moment. He isn’t living for his ocean right now— he’s looking at you. Just you. There are canvases back in his studio, awash with cerulean waves and his love for Lemuria, but there are sketchbook pages, too: you, asleep on his couch. You, with a lily in your hair.

A few days from now, there’ll be a new one, etched eagerly in dark pencil. This.

Rafayel smiles as you tread water with him. Your movements are clumsy, half-frantic, but you’re keeping yourself afloat. He gives you time to adjust, to find some semblance more of a natural rhythm, but your muscles ache and you’re getting tired, so he draws your arms around his neck.

“What d’you think?” he asks, because you’ve captured him. “Better than a beach bottom bird, right?”

“A peach blossom birb,” you giggle into his shoulder.

“Yeah, that too.”

…

The sky is full of stars, and the sun has sunk behind the wine-dark horizon.

Rafayel rests his chin on his arms, staring down into the ocean from the edge of the boat, and he’s deep, deep below those waters too. You don’t have to see his eyes to know the faraway look they’re harbouring. There’s nostalgia for all the things he cannot show you. Grief. Rage. Regret.

He thinks you don’t see it, but you do. Especially on nights like this, when the azures of the waves turn black beneath the moon, and they could just as well be blood-red.

“Thanks for waiting for me, Rafayel.”

You’re not sure what compels you to say it, but he glances up at you, his gaze a brief storm of turquoise before settling to its usual amethyst. “Waiting for you?” he asks warily.

“To get all of this swimming stuff. I know it must seem silly to you.”

He relaxes, sitting up straight with a smirk. “Most of what you do seems silly to me. Not this, though. Change can be… scary sometimes.”

“Yeah.”

He slouches back down, but he’s on his side this time— still looking at you. “What made you decide you wanna swim, anyway?”

You mirror him, laying your head against the boat’s edge. “I don’t know. I guess—” waves are sloshing beneath you— “I guess it’s because the sea is a part of you. It’s in your paintings, your stories, and I’ve always felt… disconnected from it. Like it’s fiction— something I could only ever hear about second-hand. But I want to feel it for myself. To know it. All of it. All of you.”

With a sigh, you give your hand to the ocean and draw mindless shapes in the water. Rafayel watches. You both know you’re only touching the surface.

He smiles, bittersweet. “Wanna go home?” he says.

Home. You pull your hand out of the water and smile back.

It’s been a long day. Yeah, you wanna go home.

#🖋rach is actually writing #rafayel x reader #rafayel #love and deepspace #lads rafayel #lnds rafayel #l&ds rafayel #qi yu #rafayel x mc #rafayel x you #lads x reader #lads #lnds #l&ds

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snowballseal · 4 months ago

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Hello! I love your writing sm!

If your requests are open may I rq mc taking care of a burned out or overwhelmed Rafayel? I feel like he's always there for mc but she doesn't get to return the favor often.

Maybe her figuring out how to make him relax and feel better after a particularly bad day/week. ty! <3

Taking care of a fishie

Rafayel X Reader

Summary: When you go to visit Rafayel during a storm, you realize something isn't quite right. He's upset, dealing with a storm of his own as he works, and you decide he needs to take a break. It's up to you to take care of him.

Word Count: 3892

Note: So..........this kind of took on it's own life. It got a little angstier than I'm sure you intended for in your request, anon, but it's still mostly just a lot of fluff and comfort. I really enjoyed writing it, though his dialogue takes time for me to work out. Still! I hope you like it!

Also, I will die on the hill of calling Rafayel "fishie". Sorry not sorry, I think it's so cute.

---

Stepping into the studio is like stepping into a storm. Instead of its usual light atmosphere, the air feels thick and heavy. You can almost feel the static tension crackling along your skin. An actual storm can be seen out the windows, creeping along the coast outside at a threatening pace, casting shadows that make the space feel cold and eerie.

“Rafayel?” You call out into the dimly lit front hall.

No response. All you can hear is the distant sound of harsh brush strokes on a canvas.

Of course he’s working. The world could end and Rafayel would still be working. Though he doesn’t sound…happy about it. Concern slowly twines around your chest as you make your way deeper into the studio, towards the sound. The usual mess is somehow worse - fruits, paints, and brushes scattered everywhere, along with crinkled balls of paper and tape. You guess this storm was a tornado.

As you expect, you find Rafayel where he usually works. He’s deep into a painting, his brush moving ruthlessly across the canvas. His movements are jerky and unnatural, yet robotically precise. Almost…apathetic.

Unease prickles under your skin.

It’s nothing like the evenings you’ve spent watching Rafayel paint, when his motions are slow and hypnotic, his focus always so intense but gentle. You could watch him for hours as he brings life to a painting, each brush stroke a breath into existence. This - this is nothing like that. This feels more like anger, bristling and hot, just like the colors slicing across the canvas. There’s no hint of the beautiful, dulcet tones of blue he loves to use. Instead, it’s almost a violent clash of fire and steel and blood.

Your unease grows with each strike he adds.

Something is definitely wrong.

He’s so focused, Rafayel doesn’t even notice you coming up behind him, not until you curl your arms around his waist. The artist goes tense under your touch, brush freezing against the canvas.

“Hey, fishie,” you greet, voice impossibly soft, hesitant, “I think maybe it’s time to take a break…”

Oh, that’s a tempting thought for him. Rafayel’s eyes flutter shut as he takes a moment to focus on the feeling of your body against his. Your touch is so warm and comforting, like being enveloped by the perfect heated blanket, drawing his attention to just how sore he feels. A bone-deep ache settles in his muscles, reminding him of the deep-set anger simmering in his blood.

His jaw clenches as he levels the painting with a glare, “No time. I have to finish this.”

You don’t even blink at the bite in his tone. It’s not meant for you.

“Raf, you look like you’re seconds away from stabbing the painting. And like you haven’t slept in days,” you note, scanning the bags under his ocean eyes. A frown flickers across his lips as he looks away. “You need a break and you know it. Come on.”

“This is just the way artists work,” he grumbles, waving his paintbrush dismissively, “There’s no such thing as time when it comes to inspiration. Unless there’s enough money, apparently.”

His comment makes you tilt your head, eyes narrowing. It’s not playful or simply dramatic like he usually talks. Instead, you hear a thin note of bitterness, as sharp as his wit. And it tells you all you need to know.

“Nope.”

You click your tongue and snatch the paintbrush from his hands. Rafayel squawks, turning to you with an almost offended look as you drop it in a nearby can of paint. His lips part, and you can tell he’s getting ready to put up a fight, but you don’t even let him start, shooing him off the stool.

“Nope, nope, off you go. You’re going to take a break and a shower,” you insist, pushing him towards his room.

Rafayel gapes at you, and then tries to duck out and around your firm grip, “Cutie, I really can’t-”

“Nope, I’m not hearing it, Rafayel,” you chirp, not unkindly, and block his path when he whirls around.

The man can be more stubborn than a mule sometimes, and it’s best to fight fire with fire. He plants his feet, crossing his arms over his chest with that exaggerated pout, the one that usually makes you give in to all his whims because you can’t deny such a cute, little fish. You hold your ground, though, raising a brow at him. It’s a stand-off. His stubbornness against your desire to take care of him. And you’re going to win.

After a few seconds, Rafayel scrunches his nose, glancing between you and his unfinished painting. If he really wanted to he could probably overpower you, if only for a second, and get back to his work. But the look you give him, eyes wide and earnest, a deep ocean of concern that threatens to pull him under, makes what little is left of his resolve crumble.

“I really need to finish it,” he tries again weakly.

“You need a break,” you respond decisively, “so we’re taking a break.”

“But-”

“Nope.”

“I just-”

“Nope!”

The artist wilts like a kicked puppy. For a moment, though, you swear a flicker of relief passes through his tired eyes. Like he didn’t really want to keep working anyways. It makes your heart clench.

A little more gently this time, you turn Rafayel around and lead him to his bathroom. He doesn’t put up a fight this time, allowing you to leave him perched on the counter of the sink while you go about preparing the shower. You can feel his eyes on you as you move around, the only sound in the room coming from the water steadily hitting the shower’s glass walls, and the distant roll of thunder.

There aren’t many times you’ve witnessed Rafayel being quiet. He usually likes to chatter, no matter what you’re doing, whether it be about a painting, or something he saw on a trip to the city, or a story about Lumerians. This silence is unsettling. Another storm, on the brink of breaking. That feeling grips your chest, tight and cold, despite the warm steam curling around you, filling the room.

When you glance back at Rafayel, your eyes meet. He’s still watching you, an indecipherable look on his face. He looks somehow more exhausted, his skin ghostly pale, eyes dull with a look of…defeat.

It’s wrong. Everything is wrong. And you want to make it right.

Stepping over to him, Rafayel spreads his knees a fraction wider so you can settle between them. One of your hands finds the line of his hip, the other resting against the soft curve of his cheek to draw him close. Rafayel lets out a stuttering breath. You touch him with such tenderness, such love, it makes his head swim, makes him feel like he’s drowning yet undeniably safe, all at once. Everything else fades away, leaving just the two of you, surrounded by a soft haze of steam and the low light of his bathroom.

“I don’t know what’s wrong,” you murmur, so quiet he can hardly hear you over the sound of the shower, “but you know I care about you, right? I’m not trying to be mean to you, I’m just….”

Worried.

Rafayel softens. Of course you’d worry. You’re the only one that would for someone like him. His own personal angel, sent to drag him from the depths over and over and over again. Reaching up, he traces your brow almost reverently, easing the wrinkle between them.

When he talks, his voice is raspy and low, “What a fool I must be, making such a beautiful face look so concerned.”

“You’re not a fool,” you chide disapprovingly, “You’ve never been a fool, Rafayel. You’re just…a little self destructive at times, like we all are. But that’s why I’m here. I’m happy to be the one worrying about you, fishie. I’m happy to take care of you. If you’ll let me.”

Another emotion you don’t recognize flashes behind Rafayel’s eyes. He hums quietly, the tension slowly dripping from his shoulders, and turns to nuzzle into your palm. You inhale sharply, heart fluttering when his lips press against your skin, lingering yet hesitant. And when he looks back at you, there’s so much warmth, so much affection in his gaze, that you almost feel yourself melt.

“Please take good care of me then, miss bodyguard,” he murmurs, a ghost of that familiar smile on his lips, “ I leave my wellbeing in your capable hands.”

The heat that creeps up your cheeks matches the blush warming his ears. What a pair you are.

“Then let’s get you in the shower,” you hum, voice a little shaky (though you’ll deny it), and card your fingers fondly through his messy hair. “I’ll get you some comfy clothes and make you some food. I’m sure you haven’t eaten all day.”

“Mmm, am I that predictable?”

“Only to me.”

You lean up and press a chaste kiss against his cheek. As you pull away, though, Rafayel catches your chin, slotting his lips over yours. It's a slow and overwhelmingly gentle kiss, devotion bleeding with fondness, raw and vulnerable and filled with a yearning that makes you dizzy. You can barely catch your breath when you pull away, the heat in Rafayel’s gaze nearly making you toss out the rest of your plans for the night.

“Take a shower,” you whisper, breathless, quickly separating yourself from the tempting man in front of you.

You still catch a glimpse of his smirk as you dip past the door, though.

Closing it behind you, you steady yourself against the wall, taking a deep breath. The sounds of him shuffling inside, followed by the soft clink of his shower door closing, lets you know that he’s at least listened to your instructions. Your racing heart gets a slight reprieve, then.

Alright.

Slapping your cheeks lightly, you bring your focus back to the present. Even if he seems a little more himself, there’s still a lot to do. Rafayel deserves the world, and you’re determined to give it to him. As much as you can at least. Starting with comfortable clothes and a good meal.

You duck into his closet, picking out a particularly soft looking pair of sweats and a light button up. Maybe some socks too, you think as you remember just how cold he felt. Rafayel usually prefers to go barefoot, but you pick a pair of thick socks, just in case he wants them. Everything gets laid out on his bed, ready for when he finishes his shower.

Next - food.

Digging through Rafayel’s fridge is a mostly fruitless effort. Well, not fruitless. In fact, there’s plenty of fruit, only fruit really. Amusement curls in your chest. You’ll have to take him grocery shopping tomorrow and maybe have a conversation about a balanced diet. Luckily, you find some pasta in the pantry, and the basics you need to make a decent sauce. Maybe you can cut up some of the fruit too and make a little snack board.

Plan devised in your head, you set about making it happen.

You’re in the middle of finishing the sauce when Rafayel silently pads into the kitchen. He looks a little more lively, cheeks flushed, eyes bright with curiosity as he shuffles up behind you. Slowly curling his arms around your waist, he draws you back against his body so he can nuzzle into the crook of your neck.

“Smells good,” he murmurs, breath tickling your skin.

You hum, one hand falling to rest over his, “I hope so. It’s nothing special, but it should help you feel better.”

“Anything these hands make can be special.” His fingers trace over your knuckles lovingly. “It just has to mean something to you. It’s only when it means nothing to you that a creation becomes insignificant.”

A part of you wonders if Rafayel realizes how transparent he is being. That, or you’ve just become so familiar with all his habits that you can just tell. To you, reading him is like reading your favorite book, and this is as obvious as a missing page.

But you don’t want to address it just yet. “Ready to eat?”

“Hmm, will you feed me?” He draws back to look at you, a mischievous twinkle in his eyes.

It takes everything in you to smother a smile. While you don’t often entertain Rafayel’s games, sometimes it’s nice to play along, if only to see him blush when you turn it on him. And today feels like one of those days. So you plaster on the most exaggerated, concerned look you can muster, flipping in his arms to cup his face.

“Do you need me to? Are you that tired?” You coo at him, satisfaction washing over you when his ears burn vermilion red. How cute. “Aw, my poor fishie. You’ve been working too hard, I knew it. Guess I’ll just have to tell Thomas that I’m holding you captive to make sure you get enough rest.”

“You’re teasing me,” Rafayel whines, the rest of his face flushing.

“Only partially,” you giggle, leaning up to peck his lips, “You always turn so red, it’s adorable.”

“I’m not adorable,” he grumbles back, “I’m handsome. Some would even say dashingly so.”

“Of course.” Mirth dances in your eyes. “My dashing prince. So I guess that makes me the knight coming to your rescue.”

He turns somehow darker, gaze darting away, “Even a prince needs caring for sometimes…”

“Yes, they do,” your voice softens, and you press another kiss to his cheek, “Now come, my prince, let’s eat and then we’re going to lay down on the couch and watch a movie so you can relax, okay?”

Rafayel is surprisingly cooperative for the rest of the night. You do end up feeding him a few bites, teasingly wiping at his mouth just to watch him blush again. But with every tender touch, no matter how teasing, you can see him slowly start to relax. His smile becomes a little more genuine, what’s left of the tension in his shoulder melting away. And you love it. You love taking care of him, spoiling him, if only for the night.

By the time you’ve finished dinner and cleaned up, the storm has finally made its way over the studio. Rain drums against the windows as you lead him to the lounge, streaks of lightning filling the room with flashes of light. It’s just the two of you, isolated from the outside world, lost in the warmth of the coastal storm. No one’s going to bother you tonight.

Or so you thought.

You curl into the corner of the couch, holding your hand out for Rafayel, waiting. Just as he’s about to collapse onto you, to finally put the day behind him, his phone comes to life on the side table. Its ring pierces through the relative quiet of the studio, startling both of you. Thomas. Rafayel’s face immediately falls at the name, and he hesitates at the edge of the couch, so close but still so far. In the dim candlelight, you watch his eyes waver, glancing back at the doorway.

“Rafayel.”

They flicker back to you. A flash of lightning illuminates his face, and for an instant, you see dread stain his beautiful features, pleading and desperate. It breaks your heart.

“It can wait, Rafayel,” you whisper, somehow feeling just as desperate. Desperate to take him away from whatever it is that’s making him feel like this. Desperate to let him know he can rest. “Whatever it is, it can wait. Just…stay. Please.”

He glances back at the phone. It vibrates against the marble table, over and over and over, and you wait with baited breath. Until it goes silent. Still, he doesn’t move.

Slowly, so slowly, you reach forward. When your fingers tentatively intertwine with his, Rafayel takes a deep, uneven breath. And when you give his hand a gentle pull, he crumbles.

Rafayel lets you pull him onto the couch wordlessly. You make him lay down, head on your lap, while his arms curl tightly back around your waist. His grip is almost crushing, his fingers going pale as he wraps them in the back of your sweater, like you’ll disappear. Or like someone might try to tear him away.

Not that you would ever let that happen.

A heavy silence rests over the two of you. Not suffocating, but thick with unspoken words. What words, you’re not sure. They seem to rest at the tip of your tongue, but you can’t make sense of what you wish you could say, or even if you should say anything at all. It doesn’t quite feel right.

So you settle for waiting and start brushing your fingers through his unruly, damp curls, working out the tangles. Rafayel shivers at the sensation, the gentle tug at his roots, the pleasant tingle it leaves behind. He focuses on it, breath catching whenever your nails trace along the back of his neck. Desperate for another anchor point, his hands slip under your sweater to press against your skin.

You gasp at his cold touch, movements wavering.

“Don’t stop,” Rafayel immediately pleads, voice cracking.

God, the things you would do for this man.

You continue without a word, and the artist hums, practically purrs. He’s remarkably like a cat, despite how much he hates the animals. Clingier, though. Much clingier. And you will never admit how much you love it.

You’re not sure how much time passes like that. Time never works quite the way it should when you’re with Rafayel. Seconds feel like days and days feel like seconds. His hair is dry. The rain is light, now tapping a quieter rhythm against the windows. The thunder sounds farther off. His chest rises so steadily, you almost wonder if Rafayel has fallen asleep.

Until he finally breaks the silence.

“It’s a commission from the mayor.”

You blink. The words process slowly in your mind, a frown forming on your lips. He continues before you can say anything, though, and once he starts, it seems he can’t turn it off.

“Thomas accepted it without asking me. He said the money was too good to pass up, as if I don’t have enough already.” Rafayel’s voice bleeds with such pure vitriol, you’re almost taken aback. You’ve never heard him so…angry. “It’s for his nephew. You’d hate him. He’s no better than a wanderer, preying on helpless people for profit.”

Understanding washes over you.

No wonder he’s upset.

Rumors have spread like wildfire about the nephew of Linkon City’s mayor. Sexual assault allegations. Financial fraud. None of it has been proven in court, but that hardly means they’re not true. It just means he has the power to avoid the consequences.

“I told Thomas to refuse it, but he insisted business is business and he’d already taken the money. As if my art is just business and money. As if inspiration can be bought. Like I can be bought.”

“Rafayel…” You start, a lump forming in your throat.

“It’s like when they used to capture us.” His voice remains thick with bitterness, shaking as he talks. “Humans would pay such high prices for us Lumerians. Just for entertainment, to show off their status and power. Dead or alive, it made no difference, we meant nothing to them. This painting represents the blood of my people, but to him, it will mean nothing.”

You’re not sure if an aether core can break, but you’re certain you feel something shatter in your chest. It hurts. Seeing Rafayel like this, feeling him shake in your arms, hurts. You’ve never seen him so fragile, so trapped.

And you hate it.

“Rafayel, listen to me.”

You touch his chin, drawing his burning gaze up to you. He looks torn between tears and brutality. The man who’s held you through your worst nights, and the one who can take life as easily as he creates beauty. Always torn in two and living under the weight of expectation. You can’t stand it.

“You have a choice here,” you murmur, tone insistent, “This is your work. It’s the way you speak to the world. You don’t have to share it with people who don’t deserve it. If this is the hill you want to stand on, then I’ll stand with you, and I’ll make sure you always have the freedom to choose.” A weak smile pulls at your lips. “I wouldn’t be much of a bodyguard or partner if I couldn’t do that for you.”

Rafayel’s brow furrows, sharp and conflicted, “But Thomas-”

“-Is a smart guy,” you chirp, “And you pay him well. I’m sure he just got swept away at the business prospects. If we sit down with him and explain the best we can, I bet he’ll understand. And if he doesn’t, we’ll just find a…creative way to fix this deal. Like delivering a blank canvas with your signature. We can say it’s a commentary on the emptiness of human gratification or something”

That gets the artist to snort despite himself.

“Or we could take it a step further - deliver an empty frame. They’d probably force Thomas to return the money at that point.”

His snort turns into a low chuckle. You grin, ruffling his hair.

“Humans may suck, but we’re good at being petty and coming up with ideas for revenge, huh?”

“Mmm, not all humans are so bad,” Rafayel hums, eyes dancing with amusement as he looks up at you. “I know a hunter who never fails to remind me how good some can be. She’s bold and selfless, not to mention compassionate, even to cats. The world is brighter when she smiles, and her touch chases away even the worst of storms.”

Thunder rolls through the house, perfectly timed, and you giggle when Rafayel frowns.

“Well, maybe not real storms. Though I’m sure she would try.”

“For you, I would do anything,” you promise and he softens even more.

“I know, cutie.” Rafayel catches your hand, pressing a kiss to your knuckles. He then moves to start getting up. “And knowing that gives me the strength to finish what I need to do. You’ve inspired me.”

“Nope.” The artist grunts as you suddenly wrap yourself around him like a koala, dragging him right back down onto the couch. You flip the two of you over, so you’re laying on top of him, chin propped on his chest. Stuck once again. “You agreed to listen to me about your health today. And now that we’ve talked about it, you’re going to actually rest. Whatever you have to do can wait until tomorrow, okay?”

“Ah, my apologies,” he says, voice lilting with hardly concealed laughter. “It seems I forgot about our arrangement.”

“Uh-huh. I’m in charge tonight, and that means we are going to cuddle and watch a movie, and then you are going to sleep. For the whole night. Understood?” You try to speak with an authoritative tone, but it also breaks with laughter.

“Of course.” Rafayel leans forward, and seels your deal with a brief, but ardent kiss. It leaves your heart fluttering as he draws back to whisper, “Thank you for taking care of me, my treasure.”

“Anytime, fishie.”

---

This ended up being sooooo long! I wanted to get the atmosphere and stuff just right, and then poof, nearly 4000 words. Anyways, hope y'all enjoyed a bit of Rafayel angst/comfort.

#love and deepspace reader insert #reader insert #x reader #love and deepspace #love and deepspace rafayel x reader #lads rafayel x reader #lads rafayel #love and deepspace rafayel #rafayel x reader #hurt/comfort #fluff #lads x reader #love and deepspace x reader

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jinwoosbabyboo · 1 month ago

Text

Blue Magic

How I imagine the lads men (pre-relationship) react to you verbally enjoying them gently greasing your scalp. A/N: This one is specifically for my black girls and anyone with thick hair who understands what it's like to have to grease your scalp. Also for those who understand what it was like growing up with your momma and aunties brushing your neck, ears, forehead, and inner most thoughts. Getting popped with the comb for moving too much and the dread of knowing they’re about to pull out that hot comb. [Requested by: Anon]

Summary: He was always curious when you would turn down plans because you needed to wash your hair. He never understood why you had Wash Days instead of just a quick wash while you're showering. Since you had a crush on him you took the time to explain how your hair is different from his and how there's no such thing as a quick wash while showering for you. You decided to let him see what all goes into your Wash Days. Now here you were sitting crisscross on the floor in front of your full length mirror surrounded by all your hair tools. You just finished blow drying your hair in four sections and it was a relief to drop your arms and relax them for a while. You hung your head knowing that you had one last step to do before you could lay down.

“Do you need some help?”

Zayne

Zayne would be so meticulous with his hands as if he were actually doing surgery on your hair. He would be so gentle gliding the rat tail comb through your roots and gently spreading the grease on your scalp and slightly massaging as he went. “I’ve never had someone be this gentle with my scalp” You couldn’t help, but sigh however your sighs seemed to come out as soft whimpers. “Right there, scratch right there” he did exactly as you said and felt his ears getting hot in the process. Hearing you moan and whimper out soft “That feels so good” and “wait wait massage right there” followed by the most sultry sound he’s ever heard come out of you.

Nearly halfway through he's standing at attention. His nerves are on edge and he doesn't want you to see him like this. "I’m sorry, but I have to head home I have an early out-patient to attend to in the morning" You turn suddenly making him jump. "We're only half done" Your words came out more whiney than you intended.

You’re a little confused at his sudden need to leave, but you nod and stand to walk him to the door. "I'll make it up to you. Good Night." You don’t miss the very obvious bulge in his pants as he quickly grabs his coat and slips out your front door.

Rafayel

Rafayel is unintentionally rough as hell when he starts parting your hair. “Ow! why are you tugging so hard?!” You smack his hands away opting to do it yourself, but he begs to try again and you give in to those big puppy dog eyes he has. “Be gentle!”

Second time around he’s so gentle it almost feels like a lovers touch as he massages the section of your hair before going through with the rat tail comb like you showed him. You can’t help the noises that escape out of you as he smears just the right amount of grease on your scalp. “Are you always this vocal during this process?” He asks in almost a whisper. You try to turn to look at him, but he quickly snaps your head back towards the mirror, hiding his face behind your head. “It feels good when someone else does it” Another sigh leaves you as he keeps going “Please don’t stop” Once he reaches the last section you end up leaning slightly back into him and thats when you feel something poking your lower back.

Y/N: Raf are you…..are you turned on? Rafayel: You’re the one moaning my name while im doing this! Y/N: So it’s my fault? Rafayel: YES Y/N: pokes it Rafayel: do that again and im calling the authorities

He quickly excused himself out of the room while you cleaned up your mess of hair products.

Xavier

Xavier is hanging on by a single worn thread while he’s greasing your scalp. He can barely make it through the first section before he’s already nearly panting listening to you moan “Thank you Xavier” Hearing his name on your lips like that had him near feral. “You’re welcome” He whispered in a raspy tone. You feel him constantly adjusting his position and clearing his throat while he slowly works his way through the next section of hair. “Right there rub right there” You whimper and he inhales deeply as he does as you say. “Right here?” His voice is low and gravelly it actually sends tingles through your body.

Xavier literally can’t take it. His composure was slipping the minute you sighed his name. He managed you finish the job only to turn and tilt your head back to look in your eyes. The tension was always thick between you two. His gaze bounced from your eyes to your lips and you melted when he whispered “Can I kiss you?”

Sylus

Sylus is outing you right then and there he don’t care. The minute you whimper from his fingers gliding across your scalp he’s smirking. He’s so gentle while he does it you almost forget this is a Mafia Don that you have greasing your scalp in the middle of the night. “People would get the wrong idea if they could hear you now” He teased in that sultry voice of his. You felt a wave of embarrassment wash over you that quickly dissipated the second he started massaging your scalp again. “It just feels so good” You whimper again while he slowly works his way through your hair. “I can tell”

He would be able to hold his composure throughout the entire process and by the time he’s done you can finally think clearly. You quickly slip your bonnet on and turn to face him thats when you notice his red cheeks and ears. “You’re never going to do this for me again will you?” You see the corner of his mouth quirk upwards.

He’s enjoying this.

“I don’t mind making you moan again” You shove his shoulder and he just chuckles as you pound your fist into his chest. “You owe me a scalp massage now sweetie”

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glubandeepspace · 3 months ago

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the cn fans are so cool what the fuck is with those multiple fan animations that could pass as 5 star cutscenes from the actual game if not for how theyre even more detailed and dynamic than anything within game and based off scenes we already have

#saw like two for xav by now and one for raf and part of one for zayne and actually idek if they were clipped bc theyve just been #what look like reposts on tiktok albeit with the creator name in caption. like where did the creator(s) originally post why cant i find it #this xavier one where hes in the spaceship my god the atmosphere and composition ephasizing the utter solitude and fuck what #the secret times moment undid me well enough i thought

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lostinlads · 2 months ago

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Pretty in Pink

Synopsis: your boyfriend, rafayel, finally lets you buy feminine clothes for him after you asking. he tries them on for you, but to your surprise he ends up liking them a lot more than you imagined.

Tags: rafayel x afab!reader, MDNI IF YOU ARE A MINOR YOU WILL BE BLOCKED, no use of y/n, smut, porn with little plot, not proofread, not edited, femboy!rafayel, overstimulation, pegging, dressing rafayel up, whiney and needy rafayel, use of pet names (m receiving- my fishy, baby), raf calls you master, light spanking, you suck him off through his panties

Words: 4.2k

a/n: hi everyone, i know that there is a lot of stress right now especially with my fellow americans so i hope this can distract you even for just a moment. also i literally wrote this bc moot on twitter were making me and tbh? i loved it. but this is my one shot to tell everyone im back to writing after taking a week off! i hope you love femboy rafayel as much as i do because this man makes me insane actually

ao3 | kofi

It's been over a month since you've tried to convince your boyfriend to let you dress him up in feminine clothes, the thought of seeing his smooth, silky skin wrapped with lace and soft fabric made your head spin and twisted the desire in your gut even tighter. He finally warmed up to it, allowing you to go out and buy whatever your heart called out to. Excitement wasn't even the word to describe the feelings that whirred around in your head.

You sat on your shared bed, staring longingly at the massive walk-in closet that held Rafayel, gnawing your lip as the only sound to occupy the space was the soft shuffling of him dressing behind the closed door. You wondered what he would choose first, having gone maybe a bit crazy in the luxurious stores, grabbing anything with lace and bows. Fuck, the anticipation making you nearly jump out of your seat to see his beautiful milky skin in fabric so thin you could rip it to shreds. The image of his long legs in stocking, or better yet, thigh high socks nearly make you drool.

Rafayel poked his head out from the door, cheeks a rosy pink, his eyes not meeting yours. "I think I'm finished..." His voice quiet, embarrassed. You shift, sitting up straighter on the bed as you wait for him to show you.

"Well?" You question, wanting nothing more than to walk over, throw open the door, and run your hands all over his body. He gulps, taking a breath before pushing open the door at an agonizingly slow pace. You wished he would hurry, toss it open so you can drink him in, but the slight tremble in his hands and the blush deepening down to his neck you knew he was nervous.

"Uh," Rafayel spoke, stepping fully into view in front of you, hands attempting to pull the short skirt down further to cover more of his delicate skin. You rake your eyes down his body, slowly taking him in fully.

A baby blue sweater hung off of his torso loosely, small cherries embroidered on the knit fabric, making it look warm and perfect for spring. The sleeves falling just shy of his fingers as his palms lay hidden underneath. Hugging his hips and dipping down his legs a blue and white pleated skirt lay, falling a few inches below the curve of his ass. Legs almost fully on display, white sheer stockings stopping just at the middle of his plush thighs - lace bows tying at the top.

You watched as he wrapped his arms around himself, eyes darting off to the corner of the room as his cheeks and the tips of his precious ears blazed in heat. His thighs rubbing together as your gaze pierced right through him. You knew, just in the way he squirmed under your eyesight that the other outfits would have to wait for another day. You needed him, and the growing tent he tried to conceal in his skirt told you that he needed you too.

"Come here," Arms opening for him, voice soft and warm. Your boyfriend flashed his eyes to you, teeth sucking his bottom lip in as he nibbled. Unsure footsteps towards you, his eyes staying trained on the floor as he inches closer.

"Do you... like it?" Rafayel asks, eyes never meeting yours, hands running down the length of his short skirt. Do you like it? Surely he's joking. The growing dampness between your thighs was answer enough for his silly little question. You loved it. Wanting nothing more than to pull him onto your lap and let your fingers run over every inch of his heavenly body.

"I love it, baby," You reach out to him, hands finding his small waist as you pull him closer, needing to feel his body heat on you. He looks down, watching your hands slip under his sweater and caress his soft, sweet skin. "So beautiful," You whisper, barely enough for him to hear. Rafayel reaches forward, hands resting on your shoulders as he slots himself between your spread legs bare thighs brushing your own. You could feel how warm he was, how his body temperature raised just by you admiring him.

Hands running down to his thighs, you rub your thumb where the stockings met his skin, admiring the way the lace looked as if it belonged on him, like it was made for Rafayel alone. Hands brushing over his creamy pale skin, running up towards the hem of his skirt, you could hear his ragged breath quicken. How his hands gripped your shoulders tighter and how he shifted between your legs. You knew he liked this, could see how turned on he was from wearing this for you. You continued on your path up, groping here and there at his delicious thighs until your fingers brushed against something soft and thin on his hip. Something you hadn't expected.

"What?" You question, reaching to push the skirt up higher so you could get a look for yourself. Your boyfriend's hands flying to still yours, just a second too slow.

"W-wait!" He stutters out, voice high and desperate - but it's too late. With his blue skirt hiked up to his hips you're face to face with a pair of pink pastel panties you do not recall buying for him - or even owning for yourself. Fabric so thin you could make out the outline of his shaft through them, the small but growing wet patch near his tip becoming translucent with his precum. A tiny pink bow sat at the waistband, a pearl in the center glistening in the light. You couldn't help the smirk curling its way onto your lips as you stare at his weeping cock through the material.

"I don't remember buying you these, fishy," You hum, index finger reaching out to stroke his pretty, pink head. He gasps at the touch, cock twitching as his thighs rub together.

"I... got them myself..." Words nothing more than a mumble as you finally look up at him. Eyes blown wide and glossy, pink lips parted as he pants out hot breath, a heavy flush painting his beautiful face. A few strands of his purple locks brush the tip of his nose as he looks down at you. "You were so excited, I wanted... to surprise you..."

Oh how badly you wanted to take him right then and there, toss him on the bed and have him writhe beneath you as you fuck his beautiful brains out. Rafayel had always been one to have a surprise or two up his sleeve, always leaving you on your toes - but this was something you would've never expected from him.

Without answering, you let your finger run up the length of his shaft once more, a teasingly slow pace until you made your way back to his tip. He twitched beneath your touch, stomach clenching as you assault his sensitive skin. You wanted nothing more than to savor this moment, drag it out for as long as you can so you can drink in every moan, every twitch and flex of his muscles as you milk his sweet cum out. Lips graze over his cock as you lean in, placing a soft kiss to it, his wetness painting your lips when you pull back. You swear he stopped breathing as you look at his face, in a daze of lust - wanting you to ruin him.

"I don't think we are going to be able to see the other outfits I picked for you tonight, fishy," Hands coming to lift his sweater, exposing his stomach to the chilly air of the room, his muscles tightening under his skin.

"Yeah..." Throat bobbing as he gulps. You stand, bodies flushing together. Hands cupping his cheeks, you bring his face to yours, lips connecting in a kiss. You can feel his desperation, the way he works his lips against yours, hands coming to your waist as he grips you closer. Feeling him grind his hips helplessly to yours, seeking relief for the tight tension that wound its way into his core. You hum, slowing him, licking at his lips as he tried to bury his tongue deep in your mouth, a cat and mouse game you both played so often, but him being on the receiving end. He didn't like it, a grunt leaving his mouth as he tried once more to deepen the kiss, only to be disappointed when you pull away completely.

"Not yet," You hum, thumb caressing his face as you admire his eyes, pupils wide with lust, with need. Hooded, showing the pink hue that swirled and darkened. Heavy pants leaving his lips as they dusted on your face. "Why don't we take this off of you?" Fingers coming down to play with the hem of his sweater. He nods, barely enough time before you pull it up and over his head, leaving his torso bare. Pink nipples hardened, your mouth wanting nothing more than to latch on and hear him whine for you, arching his back into you. But that could wait, you needed to get him on the bed.

Wrapping your arms around him, you switch positions, the back of his knees pressed to your shared bed. With a small push he sat with a bounce, you could see the nerves tensing in his arms as he stared up at you. Those eyes waiting in anticipation, swirling with need and want, moments like these you were thankful he was all yours.

"Do you want me to take this off?" Rafayel asked, hands smoothing over the pleated skirt. You smile, lips curling as you climb on his lap.

"No, I want it on," With shaky hands he holds onto your waist, looking up at you with wide eyes. You lean in, kissing him again, slow and lazy as your hands roam over his top half. Snaking down from his neck, over his broad shoulders, down to his pecs. The nails of your index fingers grazing softly over his sensitive nipples.

"Ah!" He pulled back with a gasp, chest heaving with every rough breath leaving his lungs. You feel him twitch beneath you, cock jumping at the contact he craved. Chuckling you place a soft kiss to his forehead, brushing his soft locks to the side before you let your hand drop to his chest again. Thumb brushing over one perked nipple, a hiss drawing from between his teeth. You flick it, softly, feeling his hands tighten on you as a soft, sweet whimper leaves his blessed lips. A sound so beautiful you wish you could record it, your favorite song.

"Lay back, baby," Whispering in his ear, sending a shiver to rake through his body. He obeys, back hitting the mattress and eyes closing. You run your hands down, teasing him with just your fingertips as you draw out small gasps and heavy breaths from him below you. Taking the opportunity, you grind your hips down on him, rubbing your clothed heat against his leaking dick. A moan slipping from your lips from just the feeling of how hard he was for you, how much he wanted to be fucked by you. Rafayel cried out, eyes screwing tighter shut as he arched his back, trying to get even more friction any way he can.

"Mm, please," He whined, thrusting his hips up in an attempt to meet yours, but you pull away before he could make contact.

"Please, what?" You coax, knowing this would only make the blush on his face deepen. While Rafayel took his time to whine and wiggle in protest, you sink to your knees on the floor. Fingers tracing between his thighs as you push them apart, getting a glimpse of his pretty pink panties that held his needy cock. Peeking an eye open he glanced down at you, brows creased as he watched you plant a single kiss to the skin of his thigh.

"I'm waiting," You remind him, fingers playing with the hem of his stockings, curling under softly and letting it snap back onto his skin.

"Please..." Rafayel pauses, breathing in deeply as he stares into your eyes. "Master..." Word so soft you almost didn't catch it, but as it rings through your ears something ignites deep in your core. Pushing his skirt up, bunching it at his thin, slutty waist, you waste no time to touch him.

Cupping his member through his now sheer panties you feel him shudder, pearls of precum leaking from his pretty tip. You stroke him once, a soft moan slipping from him as his thighs tighten around you. Already so touch starved and you haven't even gotten started yet. Swiping a thumb over his tip Rafayel tries to lift his hips, desperate, already so close to cumming for you, but with your other hand you hold him still, wanting to draw everything you can out of him.

"Not yet, baby," You mumble before leaning down, placing a firm kiss to his throbbing cock. "I've barely had any fun yet." Placing another, you hear your boyfriend stutter out a moan, the slick wetness of his groin collecting on your lips. It made you drool, just the taste of him sending your brain into a frenzy.

Flattening your tongue, you lick a fat stripe up his shaft, his fingers curling in the sheets, hips attempting to rock forward. He didn't make it far, bumping onto your outstretched tongue once before you held him back down. He whined in protest, high pitch and defiant, but slowly washing out into another moan as you lick one more stripe.

"Please, please please!" He cried out, head falling back onto the plush bed. You wanted to laugh at how cute he sounded, how his whimpers and whines only wanted to make you torture him even more. But you wrapped your lips around his leaky head, tongue brushing over his clothed slit as you lapped up his precum through the fabric. Rafayel choked out a cry, body jumping as one of his hands threaded through your hair. Now, you had him right where you wanted him.

"Taste so fucking good for me, baby, you know that?" Lips brushing on his cock as you spoke, low and sultry to make his head meddle into mush. He only cried in response, shifting under you as to coax you into pleasing him more. You obliged, humming as you wrapped your lips around him once more, drooling on his dick, his panties completely soaked in the front. Other hand coming up to caress his balls, granting a high pitch whine from him as his fingers tug at your scalp. You could feel how close he was. How much he aches for release from the way your mouth was flooding with his wetness. The way his balls tightened, and the vein running along the underside of his shaft throbbed.

"Cum-!" He cried out, words dying on his tongue, mixing with a moan as his hips jutted forward, pressing your face directly onto his cock, forcing you to smell the musky scent of his skin and arousal. You could hear how quick his breaths were becoming, almost on the verge of hyperventilating.

"Not yet fishy. Hold out a little more," You hum onto his sensitive skin. Tongue massaging his cock from base all the way up to his head. You slurp at his slit, sucking down everything he had to offer as he tried to hold back his release, the lewd sound buzzing off of the walls. You could feel your arousal dripping down your thighs, soaking through your underwear at just him alone. It didn't matter if you came tonight, you just needed to string out as many orgasms from him as you could until the sun rose, the image of him cumming for you was enough to get you off.

"C-can't! Can't hold-!" Rafayel cries, back arching as his hand falls from your hair and back to the sheets below. Releasing him, you lean back, hand still stroking him as you watch in awe at his cock twitch, tip an angry shade of pink as he tried to hold himself back.

"Cum for me baby," You whisper, eyes never leaving him as your hand moves faster, forcing him to reach his peak.

Rafayel wastes no time, a deep moan growling from his chest as his eyes roll so far back you swear he could see his own brain. His beautiful cock twitches once, twice, then you watch as his milky cum spurts out of his tip. Soaking his panties even more, dripping through the fabric and onto his pelvis. You want to lap it up, drink whatever he has to offer, but that wasn't the plan for tonight. His mouth the perfect O shape as his moans drowned out to silent gasps of breath.

As he slowly calms down, only thing left was him twitching beneath you, you never released him. Still stroking him, milking his cock dry, sending spasms through his body with every stroke. You don't allow his cock to soften, pumping him until his shaft swelled and thickened once more.

"You did so well," You praise, other hand coming to stroke his soft thigh. "Do you think you can do one more for me?" Voice silky, hoping he would grant you your wishes. With a weak nod, you see him bob his head, chest inflating and deflating with every breath.

You waste no time pulling his spent panties down his legs, freeing him completely. Slick and wet cock, shining in the lights of his room. Your hand returns, pumping him, not satisfied until you see those pearls dribble down from his slit. He squirmed, thighs jumping, abs flexing as he threw his head back onto the bed again.

"Ah-!" Your lover cries out, hand coming to push yours away from his sensitive member. Swatting his hand away, it only drives you further, feeling him twitch in the palm of your hand, watching the first beads drip down his shaft.

"I want you to ride me, baby. Can you do that for me?" You push off of him, standing to your feet and strip. Cool air kissing your skin as you lay on the mattress. Reaching your hand to your nightstand and pulling open the drawer, your fingers clasping over a bottle of lube and your pink opal strap on. You slip it over your hips and reach out to your pink faced boyfriend. With shaky arms, Rafayel crawls to you, still huffing out hot air, cock stiff and leaking as he settles on your lap.

The dildo pressed to his backside, your hands come down and kneed his ass cheeks. Two full handfuls as you massage them, soothing him as he made himself comfortable on your thighs. His hands coming to rest on your waist, holding him steady as you fondle him, fingers giving you a small but loving squeeze as his eyes bore into yours. Vibrant irises swirling with color, lust, and affection - moments like these made you realize just how much you loved this man. After a beat, you released him, hands finding the bottle of lube and coating your fingers.

"Are you ready, my fishy?" He nods, bobbing his head as he lifts himself off of you just enough for you to reach around. Fingers graze over his hole and you feel him clench, a small hiss at the sudden liquid. Your free hand hold onto his hip, squeezing it to let him know you would take care of him, that he is safe. Rafayel and you have used your strap a few times, him slowly warming up to it more and more but every time you started you could see the nervousness in his pretty eyes. "I have you," You promise, easing a finger through his tight ring of muscle. He relaxes, letting out a breath, allowing you to sink in deeper. He was so warm, wishing you had an actual cock so you can feel what it was like to be inside of him, feeling your own personal heaven.

He whines from above you, shifting his hips to let you know he wanted more. You reach another finger in, him relaxing more, taking your fingers to the base. You give him a moment to adjust, watching his face intently for any signs of discomfort or rejection. But the only thing you can find is his glossy pink lips parting, tongue darting out to swipe at them and his lust filled eyes calling out to you.

"More," Voice clear, almost demanding as he moves his hips, grinding back onto your hand. You oblige happily, pulling them out almost completely before thrusting them back in. He grants you a moan, eyes fluttering shut, his hair brushing along his cheeks as he tips his head forward.

"Already such a mess and I haven't even fucked you yet, someone is a needy boy tonight," You coo, thumb brushing against his hip as you thrust your fingers into him again, this time curling them.

"N-need you in me, M-Master!" Rafayel cries out, thrusting forward into the air between you. You don't waste any time, pulling your slicked up finger out and coating your fake cock with lube. No matter how much you wanted to push him down and fuck his brains out you knew you had to be patient, just for a little longer at least.

"Go slow," You soothed, holding his clothed hip firm as he slowly eased himself onto your fake cock. You watch as his mouth falls open, the tip of it sliding in his hole as he slowly sunk deeper until he consumed it to the hilt. His skin on yours was hot and damp, a light layer of sweat glowing on his skin as you watch him breathe in and out.

Rafayel recovered in seconds, rising his hips before letting them fall back down, skin slapping on skin. You watch as he takes his bottom lip between his teeth to conceal his noises, those delicious sounds he kept from you.

He rose his hips again, stiff cock slapping on your tummy as he fell back down, bobbing the hem of his skirt, dribbling his precum on your silky skin. When he rose once more you watch the thin string connect from your stomach to his head snap, before another bead rolled down his swollen shaft. You raised your hand and placed a hard smack to his ass cheek.

"F-fuck, ah!" Rafayel gasps out, shaky body lurching forward. You take the opportunity to shift your hips under him, hands coming to his waist so you can take control. One thrust, his sweet, beautiful cries ring out. Eyes closed, his flush spreading to his broad chest, looking ethereal and fucked out.

"So pretty for me," You breathe, caressing his skin as you fuck up into him again, faster. He hummed in response, brain foggy and only filled with sex, not able to form words.

The sound of your bodies slapping together filled the space around you, both of your moans clouding your mind as you give your all to your lover. Watching his godlike body crumble over every small touch you grant him, every twitch of his weeping cock as it smacked against your skin leaving behind marks of his love for you. You wanted nothing more than to watch him come undone, paint your body as you feel him shake with pleasure on top of you.

"Close-" Your lover shivers out, hands coming to hold you tight as he squeezed his eyes shut. You bless him with another spank, it ringing off of the walls as he falls to your chest, arms giving out beneath him.

"Yeah? I want you to cum for me, fishy," You whisper in his ear, hot breath fanning down his neck and making him groan. That was enough to send him over the edge, a string of high pitch moans falling from his beautiful lips as you feel him twitch twice, then his warm, hot liquid seep between your bodies. You don't stop, slowing your hips to lazy thrusts until every last drop drained from his balls, every spurt met with its own thrust. Sweaty forehead nestled in the crook of your neck as he cries, lips pressed to your skin, hands grabbing you wherever he can, rubbing his softening cock against your body. You wrap your arms around him, holding him close to your chest as you ride out his high with him.

Slowly, your boyfriend stills, hips jerking once before settling quietly in your arms, breath fanning over your skin as he fights to control himself. You ease out of him, earning a hiss in response, but once you're out he bares his full weight onto you, crushing you beneath him onto the bed. You kiss him, lips brushing on his temple as you feel his rapid heart beat against your chest.

"You did so well for me, baby," Cooing as you pet his dam hair.

"Well obviously," His cocky attitude returning in no time as he huffed out of breath, making you laugh out loud with how ridiculous he could be at times.

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nether-ending-dream · 1 month ago

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The LADS Boys' Realistic Kinks

What are they actually into?

Kink list and imagines ♡

I feel like a lot of the kink lists I've seen for the guys haven't been realistic/match their characteristics. Therefore, I wanted to write my own and see whether or not you guys agree with its accuracy! Remember, this is just fiction, and I'm going based off my own thoughts and personal, sexual experiences. Let me know if you're interested in full fics or short imagines. I'd be down to write them or take requests. With that said, enjoy!!

♡♡♡

Rafayel

Switch

Teases/Acts bratty to initate sex

Loves getting and giving hickeys

Thigh fucking

Chastity cages

Would like to try sounding but is too scared.

《Raf!sub》 Impact play. He specifically likes paddles with that leave hearts/designs.

All his toys are aesthetically pleasing and match.

Tail butt plugs, but he's shy so he tends to only wear them when masturbating on his own.

《Raf!sub》 Likes handcuffs, but doesn't like rope (doesn't like how itchy and rough it can feel).

《Raf!dom》 Very much into shibari and practices on mannequins with he's not with you.

Dacryphiliac. Loves being made to cry from pain and occasionally likes seeing you cry from pleasure (makes him feel like he's doing a good job)

《Raf!sub》 Likes receiving anal and keeps his butt clean and prepped

《Raf!dom》 Loves getting head the most because it boosts his ego. He can get very rough with your hair and have you drolling everywhere.

Definitely talkative during sex. Usually a lot of affirmative words and moaning. Checks in quite often and overall pretty conversational during.

In my experience with numerous bottoms, this tends to be how they are. However, as you all know, he enjoys being dominant as well. Though he can be very whiny and shy, he is also caring and intuitive. He prides himself on knowing all your sweet spots and making you into a pretty mess at the end. I'm a professional artist too, so I know the need to strive for perfection in all aspect of our lives. Sex is no different, he's definitely the type who googled "how to kiss" as a teen.

Xavier

Switch but mainly a dom

Exhibitionist. Likes sneaky touches in public or sex in the woods. Quite possessive, but won't make a scene about it.

Vocal and obvious about when he's riled up. Master of foreplay and teasing.

Likes watching you get him off. He adores your face when you go down on him.

Lots of "good girl" and praises

《Xav!sub》 Always tries to hold back moans and act tough while he takes it. Less bratty and more nonchalant. But he likes taking orders from you and letting you lead.

《Xav!dom》 has a thing for spit and degradation. He likes it sloppy.

Somnophiliac. Sleepy sex, cuddle sex, morning sex, etc.

Toys and vibrators to enhance the session

Not really into bondage cause he likes when you're both touchy and explore with your hands.

《Xav!sub》 Surprisingly would be into cross dressing or puppy play

I don't really know anyone like Xavier in real life, since he's so myserious and calm. He's like a hidden gem when it comes to sex. Tends to be more vanilla, but hes still very flirtatious and can be rough. Since he finishes quick, he loves edging. Doesn't really sleep around, so it may seem like he's inexperienced, but hes extremely loyal.

Zayne

Soft dom, doesn't really enjoy bottoming, he'd rather pleasure you.

Lots of soft words, pretty pet names, and check-ins to make sure you're okay. Loves getting you to be vocal. Will pretend he didn't hear you so you can say dirty things.

His favorite position is doggie while holding your arms back. He loves looking at you and flashes a smile while you're turned around.

Bodyworship and massages, takes his time leaving kisses and soft bites all over you.

Premium aftercare and knows how to set the mood. Lots of candles, dim lights and soft music.

Guilty pleasure is roleplay. He can really get into it and play along. He thinks its fun to dress up as different dynamics.

[I've been waiting for this moment my whole life] Sounding. Since he's a surgeon, he has access to the high quality rods. He knows how to sound safely and loves either sounding you or himself.

Though he is sweet, he can be rough when he's really riled up. He'll mumble words with his head thrown back, picking up speed and grabbing you tightly.

Only slightly spanking, but he does enjoy watching you tear up from pleasure. He likes watching your ass get red.

Really into your thighs and labia. Will spenda lot of time kissing you there before eating you out.

Of course his surgeon hands know your weak points. Master at fingering.

Has a thing for tongues, whether it's watching you lick his shaft, putting his fingers in your mouth or licking your body.

With him, you'll probably never have bad sex in your life. Though if he's too "by the book" and gets formulatic, just let him know because he definitely has new things he wants to try. Super keen to your needs and can never get enough of you. He can usually go for multiple rounds. Master of aftercare.

Sylus

Strictly a dom. He gets a laugh out of watching you try to dominate him, but it always ends up with him back on top.

Heavily into impact play. His tool of choice tends to be a belt

Bondage with cuffs and blindfolds. He's not as dedicated to learning shibari as an art form, but he knows basics ties and how to do it safely.

Not into public exhibitionism (he has an image to uphold), but he loves a private show. He enjoys watching you from afar (lap dance, pole dance, mutual masturbation, etc.)

Slightly into voyeurism, in the sense that he loves teasing you by walking around the house with only a towel or a robe.

His secret fanstasy is dog masks. In an alternate universe where you're dominating him, he'd love to get on his knees with a collar.

LOVES anal. Although he is always sure to fully prep you, the second you're ready, it's non-stop roughness until you both finish.

Fingering>Head. While he does enjoy watching you go down on him, he gets too riled up too quick and wants his hands all over your body.

If he is getting head, he's definitely throat fucking you with your neck over the bed.

Definitely into knife play and I think he'd also enjoy spurs.

Wax and temperature play

Dirty, nasty talk. Lots of curses (unless you don't like that, he accommodates to you) lots of pet names.

Biting and grabbing whenever he can.

Loves giving oily massages.

Baths/showers for aftercare + body worship

Reluctantly giving credit where it's due, Aries knows how to fuck. It's going to be rough and heated. Since he's a busy guy, he always makes sure to give his darling a good time. He's a try everything once kind of guy, so whatever you have in mind, he'll make it happen. Very confident in his sexual abilities, but is always looking to improve any weak points.

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