♱⋅── about: Nightly Rendezvous card, but now we finally understand why rafayel was so desperate when he came back to the hotel room.
♱⋅── word count: 6.7k
♱⋅── warnings: mdni, smut, porn with some plot, the belt scene, slight exhibisionism, sooo much kissing, slight oral fixation, Lemurian mating bond, needy raf
art credit to @/khouxy on instagram
You swear Rafayel is doing this on purpose.
The first time it happens is right after your flight, the two of you only just managing to check into your hotel and change for dinner.
It's a fancy restaurant overlooking the vast desert, and the outdoor patio offered a clear view to gorgeous sunset. Furious spirals of orange and vermillion cast their light across the sand, making it appear to glow as winds kick up waves of golden dust along the horizon.
It’s beautiful, almost as much so as the man across you, who is still staring longingly into the distance as though committing every color to memory. As if repainting it entirely in his mind.
Not hues of warmth, but those of the deep sea. Blues and purples and colors so dark they’d only come to life in the night.
“How’s your drawing?”
Rafayel sighs at your voice, tossing his pen across the dinner table with a huff before leaning back against the sofa. A stack of crumpled sketches litter your table among half-finished plates of food. He insisted on traveling here to relax, and yet he seems to be doing everything but.
“If a few lines count as a drawing, then wonderfully.” Sassy as ever.
He sighs again, but this one sounds more pained, and you notice the red tinge highlighting his ears and neck as he leans against your shoulder.
“You still don’t feel good?” You ask, voice hushed as you place a kiss against his temple, the skin burning beneath your lips. Raising a hand, Rafayel immediately nuzzles into your palm as you pull his chin up towards you, feeling the rising temperature along his cheek and forehead. “We can head back if you’d like. Take a bath, or shower?”
You hoped the together was implicit by now.
But Rafayel only nods, placing a chaste kiss against your exposed shoulder. “What about the sunset? I saw you admiring it, and squandering a beautiful view is unacceptable for an artist. It’s one of the greatest offenses.”
Rafayel’s breath is minty and dry against your ear, and when you turn to look at him, his face is doused in the fiery hues of the sunset, each one casting deep purple shadows that only make his features all the sharper, half his face veiled in darkness.
Some days you wish you were an artist as well, if only to capture moments like this—to show Rafayel just how gorgeous he was.
Perhaps it’s only natural for a god. After all, no mortal could ever need beauty so violently arresting, so worthy of worship.
You’re leaning in despite yourself.
Rafayel meets you halfway, one hand on your waist as the other traces your jaw and bottom lip. But as soon as you feel the brush of his lips across yours, he pulls away.
You open your eyes in confusion. Rafayel’s never denied you before.
When you look at him in question, he only gives you a tired smile and pulls you to your feet with a chaste kiss on your cheek. “Sorry. I’ll feel better as long as I’m close to you like this.”
The second time it happens is when the hotel reception mixes up your and Rafayel’s rooms, leaving you to deliver some sort of formal invitation to him.
But the letter is soon forgotten; you can’t be bothered thinking about it, not when Rafayel still looks so absent.
He’s right next to you, knees brushing yours as you sit side by side on the couch, and yet he seems to be miles away, gazing out the window as the dunes shift and rise like waves under the moonlight.
"I used to really enjoy scenic spots before," Rafayel says, voice barely rising above the hum of the heater. "Catching sights of subtle things that might be easily overlooked used to feel like enough. More satisfying than finishing a painting, even."
A laugh. Dry, humorless.
His fingers grazed the edge of his glass, tracing the condensation absentmindedly. A droplet trails down his wrist. "But now, sometimes, I forget why I even decided to travel in the first place.”
You watch him, waiting. He doesn’t meet your gaze.
"I think," Rafayel continues, "somewhere along the way, I stopped just... noticing things. And I started needing them. Like the world wasn’t worth looking at unless I could turn it into something. Capture it, hold it in my hands, and call it mine." He shakes his head, a shadow of a smile crossing his lips. "It’s not a very generous way to live, is it?"
"You don’t need to be generous with everything," you say carefully. "Some things are just... for you to enjoy."
"Enjoy," he repeats, like the word doesn’t quite fit in his mouth. A pout. "It doesn’t feel like enjoyment anymore. It feels more like... hunger.”
Like he’s always fucking starving.
Rafayel finally turns to look at you, eyes eclipsed in the dark. Nearly dilated black.
“Sometimes I’m afraid that if I feed it, it’ll only grow worse.”
You turn to face him on the couch, sliding your leg between his thighs before perching yourself on Rafayel’s lap. It’s not lost on you how his heartbeat picks up, chest rising and falling rapidly as each shallow breath hits your lips. Perhaps it’s cruel, but you can’t help but touch him again, fingers tracing his full lips, up his jaw, fluttering against his eyelashes and into his hair.
“You think hunger gets worse when you feed it?" You finally ask, voice quiet, slow, daring to push back. "Doesn't it stop when you're full?"
Rafayel’s mouth quirks, a sharp, fleeting twist of a smile. "Not always. Sometimes it makes you realize just how much more you want. Or how much more you could take."
You frown. “You’re not demanding anything. Not from the world, not from me."
"Maybe not yet. But, if one day, I become someone who only takes… If I were like that, would you leave me?"
The confession hangs for a moment, the truth of it hidden. Something about the way his shoulders tense under your touch— like he's bracing for something, but it hasn’t yet arrived. A phantom pain from centuries ago, and a pain to come for a thousand years more.
“Silly fishie, I’d never leave you.”
Rafayel smiles in a way you know all too well, lopsided and teasing and empty.
“Thank you…” he hums, finally pulling you closer as his lips skim alongside the curve of your neck. “for accepting me the way I am.”
His breaths come out in desperate huffs against your skin, and he inhales sharply, freezing, before finally placing a kiss against the crook of your neck. And then another, and another.
“You’re just anxious,” you whisper, sucking a mark into Rafayel’s neck as he moans so sweetly against your ear. “I can help you relax.”
You wiggle your hips to better balance yourself on his lap and Rafayel looks almost near tears, one hand forcing you still while the other grabs your wrist, trailing kisses from your fingertips back up to your neck.
More. You need more. Rushing, your hands fly up into his hair, about to tug Rafayel to lay down on the couch when a crack echoes behind you.
The glass lays shattered against the floor.
Panting, Rafayel stares at the spilled water for a long moment before pulling away. You feel his erection digging into your thigh, the warmth of his fever spiking yet again as his skin burns against yours, yet he still refuses.
“As you said, I’m anxious…” Still panting, Rafayel picks you up, gently lifting you up as he stands from the couch. “Or, more like restless. In every sense of the word.”
The need in his eyes almost makes your knees buckle. He looks at you like you’re the only thing he could ever crave, like a bite would both be salvation and leave him hungry forever.
“But see, now I can’t stand the idea of letting you go again, and you don’t want me to either.” He sets you down just a little farther than necessary, but his hands don’t leave your waist, trembling, waiting. “What should we do?”
“Rafayel…” You want him. You want him so badly it hurts.
“Fuck.”
You nearly jump at that. Rafayel curses again, his head falling onto your shoulder as his breath hitches. “I can feel your concern. That and…” another convulsion, his body burning up. “Fuck. You have to leave.”
You don’t even have time to retort before you’re pushed out of his hotel room, and the door slams shut behind you.
By the third time, you know something is wrong.
It’s not that you and Rafayel haven’t kissed yet. Hell, you’ve had sex before. The last time was quite literally on the night before you were supposed to leave for this trip. Obviously, Rafayel suggested that you stay at his place for the night—insisting he was closer to the airport and getting an Uber would be quicker this way—and one thing led to another, as is what happens nearly every time Rafayel and you are left alone for too long.
But now it’s been nearly a week and Rafayel has barely touched you, let alone picked up on your not-so-subtle clues.
So yes, it's safe to say you’ve become rather pent up.
You’ve fallen asleep in the off-roader the two of you rented out for the day, bobbing up and down the dunes like waves flecked white not with seafoam but snow. There’s a chill as you drift off, but your dreams are anything but, plagued with memories of Rafayel.
His hands, deft and talented with a brush, are even more so when teasing your skin, knowing exactly how to trace delicate circles against your thighs before roughly curling into your cunt. His tongue, every smartass comment and teasing grin now silenced as he licks and sucks against your clit. His body, the warmth of it, bearing down on you with every thrust, or perhaps writhing beneath you as you take him again and again and again—
It’s the cold that wakes you up.
Your eyes flutter open, first noticing the dim light of the hotel parking lot, and second, the burning desire still aching between your legs.
“Rafayel?”
A shuffle makes you turn, and you find said man still seated in the driver’s seat, unbuckled as he sits with his head resting on his hand.
“Yes, cutie?” Rafayel’s tone is teasing, but the way he stares down at you feels like anything but. The hunger is back.
Sitting up, you clear your throat. “How long have I been asleep? Why didn’t you wake me up?”
“You seemed like you were having such a nice dream, I didn’t want to disturb you.”
You inhale sharply. Glaring, you try and see if he’s teasing again or being serious, but Rafayel doesn’t let you read him for long, already leaning over the middle console.
He places his lips gently on your temple, brushing over the skin, and then moves down to your cheek, his breath warm against your neck. He whispers your name, so softly you almost think it was a trick of your imagination.
Your mind goes blank when he kisses your jaw, a small noise escaping the back of your throat as you feel his hair tickle your skin.
"Raf," you mumble under your breath, but you know he hears it because he exhales sharply against you.
Rafayel trails a series of kisses up your neck, "I know, I know. I'm sorry, cutie." His body temperature is rising again, and the air in the van feels dangerously thin as he sways in your grasp. "I'm trying."
The hunger is back, all-consuming and hot as you genuinely fear you might burn up. A wave of dizziness washes over you, and you finally cup Rafayel's jaw, leading him towards your lips.
Yet again, he stops you halfway.
“Do you want to go back to your room first?”
At first you think he’s suggesting moving there before continuing, but you know better at this point.
“You’re not coming with me?”
Rafayel pulls out the invitation from before, waving it between the two of you as if all this was the letter’s fault. “I still have to attend my friend’s salon thing.”
“But you’re still burning up! Forget this, I can’t let you go out to who knows where when you’re still acting strange. Maybe we can see a doctor—”
“Cutie…”
“—No, no. Or maybe I can come with you.”
Rafayel says your name this time. Firmer. Cutting off your rambling as he places his forehead against yours.
“Do you want me to turn into a sea creature that’s beached on the sand after the ocean recedes? Leaving me to suffocate when I come out of the water?”
You don’t quite know how to respond to that, feeling his desperation in every word even as you struggle to make sense of it.
Rafayel continues, pulling away from you again. “Don’t you trust me? How about we make a promise?”
“What kind of promise?”
A smile. “I promise… I’ll be okay without you tonight.”
There’s no joke, no hidden meaning, just Rafayel who so violently hopes that this promise will hold true.
So you relent. “Okay, just take care of yourself.”
Finally, Rafayel opens the car door, letting the desert night winds sweep in with a biting chill as he leans back against the driver’s seat. He lets out an almost inaudible sigh. “You can head back. I’ll be back before you know it.”
Rafayel promised he’d be okay without you tonight, but you don’t think the opposite could hold true.
Not when the dizziness Rafayel caused remained. Not when you still feel the phantom touch of his lips and hands all over your body, burning you up, leaving you cold and empty and aching.
You’ve been burning for the better part of a week now.
Something stuck between a laugh and a cry of pure frustration leaves you as you fall onto the bed, staring up at the ceiling. “This is pathetic.”
Even the damned sheets smell like Rafayel, pillows deeply laced with his shampoo and the smell of his cologne—amber, yuzu, and something salty like the ocean—surrounding you as though this were his hotel room and not yours.
Desert nights were cold, but even the room's chill could do nothing to quell your desire, arms shaking with it as you quickly stripped yourself of your shirt and bra. The room spins as you stumble around, leaving your clothes on the floor, another delirious whimper seizing you as you sprawl against the silk sheets.
You need him.
Fuck, you need him, and you hate him for leaving you while the growing ache between your thighs threatens to swallow you whole.
The sheets are deliciously cool against your flushed skin, and you turn your head to rest your cheek in the cool embrace of the pillow. But it only needs a second to heat from your desire.
And then the room is all too hot once again.
Kicking off your pants, your hand snakes down your bare torso, leaving half-hearted squeezes to your breasts and hips, failing to replicate the touch Rafayel already has you addicted to. The memory only makes you more frustrated.
A hand slips beneath your soaked underwear, and fuck, you’re dripping enough to ease your fingers in already. You force yourself to slow down, rubbing slow circles around your entrance, the mere friction enough to have your hips bucking up against nothing.
Inhaling sharply, you slide a finger into your weeping cunt, a moan pushing from your lungs as you do. Not enough. It’s not enough.
You force yourself to draw each movement out, the curl of your wrist accompanied by your muffled cries and the slick, obscene sounds echoing alongside your ragged breath. Withdrawing your finger nearly to the fingertip, two plunge back in this time, and your back arches off the bed with violent tremors as you imagine it was Rafayel's hand instead.
How he’d tease you in the early mornings to wake you up, how he’d take special care of every sensitive spot on your body, how he’d draw his fingers along your clit just the way that will make you come undone.
And as your fingers find that sensitive bundle of nerves, the way you cry his name into the empty room is no different.
Your head is spinning, falling, your thighs shake, and it's not long before you're gasping out, "Rafayel, please.”
Still not enough. Every rough thrust of your fingers brings you higher and higher, but without the pressure of Rafayel's chest pressed to yours, or his hot breath ghosting across your ear, his voice, his lips, his touch—
Without him.
A sob rips from your throat, your hips bucking uselessly against the air as you fuck yourself harder, deeper. But your fingers are only so long, and your free hand, fisting the sheets, is unable to make up the difference. "No, no please," a whine, and your free hand rushes to circle your clit, the other picking up pace.
You're close, so close, sobbing his name when the dizziness from the car returns tenfold, overtaking your body in waves as your eyes roll back. "Please, ah! Rafayel, m’cumming-"
The world goes silent as pleasure surges through you, muscles convulsing, a choked, garbled sound escaping as you come. Collapsing back against the sheets, you struggle to catch your breath, the stickiness of both the heat and your orgasm coating your thighs.
There’s another tug, a violent pull against your chest, but the dizziness remains.
You know you should change the sheets or at least move them aside, but you can’t manage to do either as you rush to shower before Rafayel returns from his friend’s exhibition.
It’s only when you stumble into the bathroom that you notice it.
Shit. This is Rafayel’s room.
You must be trying to kill him.
Surely, this is the gods' cruelest trial—a final test of his resolve—to see if he’d bow once more, forsaking divinity and succumbing to the temptation of you.
Because it’s been barely an hour, and Rafayel has already resigned himself from the party, passing blank smiles and empty compliments as he quietly counts down the minutes until he can return to the hotel, when suddenly he feels it.
The tug of your bond flashes through his body as his dick aches.
Rafayel freezes mid-sentence, the polite smile he'd been wearing slipping from his face. The conversation at the bar around him, something about chiaroscuro in the artist’s latest piece, become muffled static as the chains tighten, digging into his heart.
It’s unmistakable now. The rhythm, the rising intensity, the waves of pleasure that don’t belong to him but still manage to spark delirious heat up his veins.
Rafayel’s breaths quicken, body temperature rising as his Evol flickers out of his control. He glances around the room, feigning interest in the conversation, the glittering glasses of champagne, the faint hum of the crowd. It doesn’t work. The only thing he can focus on is you.
He should leave. Go outside, breathe in the night air, and let the tether between you both loosen, just to regain control. Just to prove to himself it’s not too late.
But the bond tightens, as invasive as it is intoxicating, demanding Rafayel’s attention like a leash coiled around his neck. It’s not gentle. It’s not kind. It’s primal, every nerve in his body pulled taut like you’re screaming his name over and over into the depths of his soul.
It’s not fair.
No god can deny the prayer of a worshipper.
Your pleasure becomes his, and when Rafayel closes his eyes, he swears he can feel your phantom hands on him, dick already heavy and throbbing, leaking through his expensive trousers.
Are you in bed, thighs trembling as you grind against your own palm? Or maybe the shower, steam curling around you as you chase release? Or worse—are you riding something of his? His shirt? His pillow? Is this vengeance a cruel punishment meant to shatter what little resolve he has left?
Shit. He’s hard.
“Hey man, what’s wrong? You good?”
The slam of a glass brings him back. Gods, he hates these rich socialites.
The champagne glass Rafayel was holding is now covered in cracks, blood trickling down his ring finger. He’s unraveling, composure fracturing with every pulse of your pleasure surging in and out as violently as a full moon’s tide.
Rafayel looks up, smiling. “Stress. And apparently a very needy pet.”
The man laughs at what he assumed was a joke, but Rafayel sees his hesitation, the type animals give when they pick up rustling in the bush. Fear.
Rafayel’s grin only widens, all teeth. “I should probably go check on her. Wonderful party,” he adds, lifting his glass in a half-hearted toast before setting it down with a sharp clink.
As he steps outside, the desert air does nothing to soothe him. If anything, the dryness makes it worse as the pull becomes sharper, like you’re reaching for him, your need coiling tighter around his chest.
A growl, almost feral, rumbles low in his throat as he staggers down the cobblestone streets. He doesn’t need directions. He doesn’t even need to think. His body moves instinctively, guided by the bond, by you.
Rafayel swears he can feel you all across his body, your heartbeat picking up as you get closer, the smell of your skin and arousal, the cries of his name that only become more and more desperate as you fail to bring yourself over the edge without him.
You’re begging for him in a way his bond mistakes for worship, because Rafayel’s body feels like it’s burning. Like blood spilled on his altar, an offering of yourself to your god, your husband.
The thought that you might be doing so unintentionally only drives him further into madness.
But, beneath the frustration, there’s something else. A glimmer of something Rafayel hates to name but knows all too well: relief.
Because as much as he might deny it, Rafayel could never leave you. And now that you’ve reciprocated, now that you’ve begged for him oh so sweetly, he would gladly submit to his bond and become chained to you once again, forever at your mercy, unable to escape the inevitability of his fate.
He doesn’t even knock when he reaches the hotel room door. It swings open under the force of his hand, and the sight of you standing there—wide-eyed, startled, only in a bath towel—hits him like a blow to the chest.
There's a soft click as Rafayel locks the door. A hurried shuffle of shoes as he all but stumbles toward you, closing the distance between you in one hurried, unstoppable motion. A startled gasp as he grabs your face in his hands.
It's the last breath you take.
An arm wraps around your waist, blocked by only a flimsy hotel towel as Rafayel violently spins you around. Your surprise is swallowed by his lips as you’re pinned against the window, the chill of the desert snow, frosted against the glass, a harsh contrast to the burn of his touch. His hand pins yours at the wrist as he stares down at your fingers.
“Rafayel? What are you doing here?”
The question barely gets out, not before he rushes forward to claim you in a kiss, if it was even that. A desperate, consuming need overtakes him, Rafayel pushing you back so insistently that your head hits the window with a thud, pain immediately distracted as his clothed knee grinds up between your bare thighs.
Holy fuck, just a towel. Right.
You try to push him back, one hand pressing against his chest as the other flies back to tighten the towel. “Wait–”
Rafayel kisses you again. And again. And again.
You can feel the cloth slipping.
But Rafayel makes it very hard to care. His hand traces your throat, your heartbeat, then drags you closer by your hips as he thrusts forward in time, still caging you against the window. He’s relentless, every kiss only broken with a ragged breath or gasp as though he’s given up on breathing entirely, content to consume you instead, his tongue sweeping against your lip before it coaxes yours to meet it halfway, licking and sucking into your mouth.
It’s obscene, animalistic, and you swear that there has to be something wrong with you because the dizziness is back, and this time it’s enough to make your knees buckle, the two of you blindly stumbling across the hotel room.
So you bite him.
“Why–” Breathe. Remember how to breathe. “Why are you here?”
Rafayel almost looks offended, thumbing his bitten lip before licking away the smudge of blood with a lopsided smile.
Fuck, he’s hard. You feel the heat of his cock jolt against your thigh, pressing into you as he surges forward again, kissing you as his hands squeeze and cup your waist, lifting you up.
"Why?" Rafayel laughs, roughly grinding up against you, your legs wrapping instinctively around his hips. "This is my room, remember? You’re the one who decided to come in here." He growls the last part, licking, biting, sucking at your throat.
“Or was that intentional?”
The look in his eyes is feral.
There’s no hesitation left, no half-riddled questions, no sweet praises, no semblance of your devoted lover. Just hunger. He’s rushing, pushing forward even with nowhere to go, almost in revenge. In punishment. Your teeth click together, foreheads bumping, unable to talk because when you try to open your mouth his tongue only slides in deeper.
The wet sounds echo against your ears alongside your racing heartbeat, only causing you to grind harder, rougher, before Rafayel ungracefully drops you onto the bed.
Your body bounces on the mattress, but it gives you a moment, and you scramble to cover Rafayel’s lips with your palm before he can begin devouring you again.
“What I meant was, shouldn’t you still be at that art salon?”
He all but collapses into your touch. Lips parted, he grabs your wrist, tongue darting out as he licks up your middle and ring fingers, moaning against your skin.
“I tried. I tried going, leaving.” He's panting, breathing in your scent before biting your palm. “But you called me back, you cruel, selfish human. And now I’ll never leave again.”
Your words come out between moans, unable to look away. “I called? I didn’t do—” You’re cut off as Rafayel licks up your skin, sucking lightly at your fingertips as his eyes, half-lidded and blown out stare down into yours.
Oh.
A hot flush of embarrassment seizes you and Rafayel must sense it because his eyes flutter closed. His hips snap forward, grinding his erection into the side of the bed, and he lets out a low whine.
Gods, the taste of your cum lingers in Rafayel’s mouth. Every dry swallow, every inhale, every damn breath tastes like you, and it makes him want to submit to every horrid urge and simply consume until—
“You don't think I know? Don't think I can’t tell?” Rafayel goes back to kissing your wrist, needing something more, something stronger. His hand ventures to the edge of your towel. ”Can feel everything you do, no matter how far away I go. Gods, I feel it, feel everything, and it drives me insane. Need you so bad, need to hear you, feel you, taste you..."
A shudder runs up Rafayel’s spine at the mere thought, and he can't stop himself anymore, leaning down to suck your fingers into his mouth, tongue curling around the digits, saliva coating your fingertips. He rips the towel from your body.
"Say you need me too," He’s begging, sinking down to your knees. "Say you need me just as badly. I–ah fuck—I can smell how much you want me."
Throwing the towel to the floor, Rafayel runs his hands down your chest, rougher, long fingers cupping and massaging your breasts as his mouth trails wet kisses down your stomach, his tongue dragging against the smooth skin, a clear goal in mind as he settles between your thighs, looking up at you as though you were a thing worthy of worship. His Goddess.
He’d offer himself to your alter time and time again. So long as he was the only one who got to bleed for you.
“Yes.” You’re already soaked, the sight of Rafayel panting between your thighs enough to have you babbling, ”Yes, Rafayel. I needed you so, so badly all week. Couldn’t help m’self, please.”
He freezes at that, pouting. “Right, you already came, didn’t you. So mean, cutie. Leaving me out.”
Before you can argue, Rafayel dips his head, dragging his tongue up your cunt before sucking roughly at your clit.
Your legs thrash above his shoulders. “Ah– wait, not so!” It’s too much too soon. Still sensitive from your prior orgasm, your back arches violently off the mattress, but Rafayel pays it no heed, deaf to your cries as he sloppily makes out with your pussy, drool and slick connecting his lips to you in sticky strands even as he pulls away just far enough to talk.
“She’s already so sensitive, s’not fair,” he pouts, mouthing against your thigh as he flicks your throbbing bundle of nerves. You jolt, gasping at the sharp jolt of pain. At the same time, Rafayel fucks his tongue into your cunt, just barely dipping in before he moves back to rub nonsensical patterns on your clit. “But this is mine. I don’t want you touching it without permission anymore.”
Fuck, if you had any semblance of a coherent thought you would have argued, maybe even laughed at the sheer audacity of the man.
Instead, all you can manage is a pathetic whine of his name, because the strange swirls and harsh lines he’s licking into your clit aren’t patterns at all but letters, spelling something over and over and over again.
R-A-F-A-Y-E-L-R-A-F-A-Y-E-L-R-A-F-A-Y—
The ring of the hotel phone buzzes from the nightstand. It’s the artist whose party Rafayel left only minutes ago.
“Tch,” Rafayel scoffs in annoyance, whiping his chin as he goes to decline the call.
But this gives you a moment to breathe, and all you can think of is getting revenge. Especially on the bastard who tried to take Rafayel from you tonight.
“Wait,” you grab his wrist. “You’re just going to hang up? What if it was something important?”
Rafayel turns to you with narrowed eyes, knowing there’s no good intent behind your wicked smile. It turns you on more than you can admit, the sight of his glare, mad at both the call and you interrupting his feast. But Rafayel can't deny you anything and does as he’s told, pressing accept.
“The guest of this room is unable to answer. Please leave a message.”
Instantly, you have Rafayel on his back.
His neck looks far too bare, and you climb onto his lap, enjoying the way his pulse kicks up under your palm.
Ripping his shirt’s buttons off, you begin biting dark spots down the pale expanse of his chest and neck. You’re about to aim right for the glowing mark on his chest when the phone beeps again, playing a voice recording of a clearly very drunk man.
“Why did you leave, bro? Come back here r’now. One more round of drinks a—” Incoherent laughter and sounds of clinking glasses.
No. No, Rafayel’s not allowed to leave you, not again.
You don’t know where the fear comes from, but you force yourself closer on top of him, breasts pressing into his abs as Rafayel shivers beneath you. Leaning down, you kiss the glowing mark atop his heart, admiring the way it flickers and glows when Rafayel bucks into your touch, moaning as you begin to nip and suck in earnest.
And then you’re flipped onto the mattress once more.
Rafayel’s heaving, arms trembling to keep himself up. Away. “...Are you sure?”
“If I don’t, then you might actually leave. What will you say if you’re asked why you didn’t go back?”
Rafayel smirks, and you catch a glimpse of fangs as he sits back on his knees. There’s a click, the rough sound of metal on metal as he undoes his belt, unzipping his trousers with one hand as the other cups the inside of your thigh, yanking it over his shoulder as he drags you down the bed. “I’m busy.”
And then he’s kissing you.
You’re lost, so hopelessly lost in each other that you fail to notice the phone beep once again, the monotone voice of the machine saying, “Please leave a message at the tone,” before flashing twice, still running.
Again, Rafayel seems to forget the concept of breathing, gasping into your lips as he ruts his hips into yours. “You’re not leaving me, right?” Fuck, he’s leaking all over his stomach, pre-cum splattering across your thighs.
“Never. I’ll never leave you, Rafayel.”
“Then tell me you’re mine. Tell me, please, please—hah—tell me and I’ll do anything, promise cutie, promise.” He’s all but gasping between kisses, cock trapped between his body and yours as he grinds forward, voice a pitch or so higher than it usually would be. “Say it, say you're mine, tell me, I need to hear it again."
He's talking in circles, rambling, the desperation in his voice palpable. Grasping the base of his cock, he sloppily fisting himself once, twice, before thumping against your entrance.
“I’m yours, Rafayel.” You writhe, grinding yourself up against him in hopes that he’s just hurry the fuck up.
“Again.”
“I’m yours, yours Rafayel.”
“Again, ah—again,” he’s nuzzling into your neck, lifting your leg higher and higher, pinning it to your head as he folds you into a matting press. Still, he refuses to press in, cock throbbing against your clit as he hugs you tight, every muscle in your body screaming in protest and pleasure. “Again, please, please.”
“I’m-” You’re either gasping or crying, words flooding out, ”Rafayel’s, I’m Rafayel’s.”
At that, Rafayel’s entire body convulses. He sobs, finally thrusting forward, bullying up into you bit by bit, forcing you to count every inch as the entirety of his weight bares down onto you.
You can feel the way his muscles shift, the way his arms bulge and contract as he holds himself above you, hips flush against yours. The desert air must be infecting him, because Rafayel is dripping sweat, flushed from his ears to his chest as he begins to pull out and slowly grind himself back in.
His voice is wrecked, breathless as he tries to kiss you, missing slightly as he sucks against your bottom lip, drooling. "I'm yours too, I'm yours." At the same time, his cock jerks in you, burying deeper with every filthy roll of his hips, throbbing against your sweet spots.
Then something snaps, Rafayel’s lips sealed back on yours, and the rhythm he sets is brutal.
Rafayel's cock drags over your walls, molding you in ways you never thought possible. Each thrust is hard, deep, and leaves you gasping, eyes rolling back into your head as you arch off the mattress, nowhere to go as his body folds yours damn near in half, weight bearing down on you.
It's all you can do to wrap your arms around him, nails scratching into his back, drawing thin lines of blood across his shoulder blades as you try to stay grounded, keep your mind from being swept away as the dizziness returns.
But the pressure building up in the pit of your stomach makes it hard.
Harder still as Rafayel begins mumbling into your lips, the filth pouring from his mouth making you clench, cunt fluttering around his cock as he pounds into you.
He can see and feel everything like this. Unable to look away from your face only inches away, watching every expression with love-drunk eyes, hugging you closer, fucking you harder.
"Can feel you, can feel you getting tighter. You're close right? Say you're close, please, mhm fuck." he's panting, and if you focus hard enough you can hear the sloppy noises of him sliding in and out, wet and obscene, the harsh slap of his balls against the curve of your ass.
But then Rafayel’s pushing himself lower, your legs dangling uselessly in the air as his chest is pressed so tight against yours you can barely take a breath.
"You're mine, only I can touch you like this, feel this. My wife. Say it, say you're mine, wanna hear it, please. Please, ah, I’ll do anything, say it."
He's barely pulling out anymore, resigning to quick, deep grinds as though he can’t bear to part.
Too uncoordinated to kiss you, Rafayel's head falls to your neck, sobbing into your marked-up skin before messily kissing atop the bruises.
"Yours. Yours. I'm yours, your wife," the words spill from your lips before you can even think, and Rafayel nearly passes out trying to stop himself from cumming then and there.
It’s like you’re trying to milk him, hugging him closer and ankles wrapped around his neck as he’s lifting your hips right off the bed. But now he needs to see it.
Needs to know the way you'll cry out his name, how your eyes will glaze over and roll back into your head, the way your chest will heave, the sweat that will pool at the valley between your breasts, the way the skin will flush from a soft pink to a burning red as you lose yourself in the feeling. To him.
It's the only thing he's able to concentrate on, the only thing he's able to think of. The feeling of your body beneath him, the sound of his name on your lips.
And that alone is enough.
Rafayel’s orgasm is sudden, a jolt of pleasure that surges up his spine with enough intensity to have him collapse, pinning your body beneath him. You can feel it, the way his cum splatters against the walls of your womb, painting your insides, filling you up until the excess squirts out around his cock and your intertwined thighs. He can't stop his hips, can't stop the way he grinds his pelvis against yours, trying to get deeper and deeper still.
"Mine, mine, mine," is all he can say, eyes wide and pupils blown out as he watches the way your body twitches, a mixture of sweat and cum painting your body as you nearly pass out in exhaustion. "Gonna- gonna fill you up, fuck, so pretty, my pretty girl, pretty wife, gonna make sure it sticks, so I’ll never leave. So you’ll never leave me again."
You're cumming.
He can feel the way your cunt spasms, the way your walls lure him back in, the way you tremble and shake as you throw your head back with tears.
Rafayel can't stop himself from leaning down and biting, teeth sinking into the crook of your neck, his hands grabbing at any bit of flesh he can find. All the while he fucks you through your orgasm, the mess of fluids creating the most obscene noises as they squish and bubble out, pooling out from between your bodies.
As you’re swaying in and out of reality, you think you see it. A field of red flame lilies, a poison so sweet that when you drink it, you lick your lips and thank the gods.
God. Just one, the one of the sea and the flaming sun.
♱⋅── a/n: Uber now canonically exists in the lnds universe, thanks. Also, I would have included the absolutely gut-wrenching aftercare included in the card with MC asking Rafayel to sing for her, but honestly I would not change that scene in the slightest and am content to believe that is exactly what happened next.
>> Rafayel is the best companion when it comes down to styling, and your lover would definitely take up the opportunity to dress and style you up. As an artist himself, Rafayel has a much more refined understanding of color theory and how different shades can enhance individual features. Thus, he would look at you, cradling your face gently in his palm as his eyes would sweep over your features, taking his time to assess your skin tone, eye color, and figuring out your personal style.
>> "Can you do my makeup, Rafayel?"
>>Your lover would be so ecstatic, bouncing in his steps as he would usher you to sit by the vanity, setting out your products on the table. He would do your makeup with such concentration, whether you prefer to go for a bolder statement or a subtle enhancement, his artistic eye would ensure that every detail is considered, bringing out the best in you with his skills.
>> Imagine him just coming home with a shopping bag in his hand, to reveal a handful of makeup products that he thought might suit your skin's complexion. And of course, it did enhance it.
>> "I knew that lipstick shade would suit you, cutie," he said proudly after you swatched the lipstick he bought for you over your lips, the color enhancing your beauty even more. Trust me, the next thing you know is that your lipstick will be all over his face and lips, drowning your lover in endless kisses.
>> Whenever you and he would go on a makeup spree, he would grab your hand to swatch on anything, lipstick, eyeshadow, or a shade of foundation, and provide his insights on it.
>> "Nahhh, that foundation is too light on your skin. Let's try this one."
"But I've been using that foundation for years."
"Are you not trusting my artistic senses, cutie?" He would quip back, proceeding to swatch the perfect shade of foundation over your knuckles.
>> If both of you could not find the right shade, HE WOULD MAKE IT FOR YOU. He would combine the paint and create the exact shade you needed, and would probably make the product for you himself.
>> In addition to makeup, he would also offer some insights on styling, helping you choose outfits that would harmonize with your color palette.
>>"I knew you would look stunning in this. Now, where are the songs of appreciation for the God of Styling?" All praises goes to the almighty Fishie.
>>He would also opt for a matching couple's outfit and would always get a feminine counterpart whenever he goes outfit shopping himself.
>> All in all, Rafayel is such an endearing lover. His support for you is neverending and he will go through such length if it will empowering you to express yourself confidently through both makeup and fashion.
What if you never existed to them in their universe? (Love and Deepspace)
I have a LADS fic idea sitting around in my head of like a self-insert isekai trope fic where the person is an obsessed player but is only a random in the background, but has a close position to the characters, only to be ignored no matter how hard they try to be heard.
the pain of being invisible in a world that consumed you.
being Xavier's neighbour but he doesn't know you exist, no matter how many attempts you made.
attending every one of Rafayel's galleries only for him to walk past you without a second glance.
undying devotion to them only to one day understand you're probably worthless to the people you poured your heart into, and not even because they hate you-
but because you're so irrelevant they don't even know you exist.
and yet a year later when you've accepted this reality, chance encounters start plaguing you.
Rafayel frequenting the cafe you work at, noticing when you remember his order, and finding a blog interpreting his artwork written by an 'anonymous' fan.
Xavier noticing the bunches of untouched neighbourly gifts sitting on his counters and hearing noise in the apartment next door, remembering a name to the face next door.
⤷ Synopsis: You should never eat what a mafia ringleader had for you, but your husband accepted it nonetheless. What could go wrong with a box of chocolate?
⤷ warnings — Aphrodisiac Sex, GN Reader, general yandere warnings
⤷ Ask: Well well smut fics??😏, reader accidentally eating a chocolate that has aphrodisiac in it and literally aching for yulian, so...ofc yulian helped reader♿🛐,make readers leg suffer,thank you!
"'s hot inside me... dear..." You whined at your husband as you grind your crotch against his hand, his Adam's apple bobbing up and down as his eyes watched the sweat forming on your forehead dripped down.
His fingers slightly grazed your clothed sex on its own before his lip hungrily devoured yours as he caged you on the wall– tongue feeling the insides of your mouth while whining at how your tongue tangled with his, a fight for dominance.
"Dear... fuck- don't... don't tease- me!"
He was trying his best to withhold himself, to not accidentally make you unable to stand again after hours of forcing orgasms upon orgasms on you. The aphrodisiac, that damned chocolate that Kaspar bought for him! He didn't expect you to be the one who ate it at all!
"Try this pal', bet your spouse will fall head over heel on you."
It was supposed to be him who ate it right? Or did he mean you instead? Either way, you eating without him noticing it earlier was already a problem. He really didn't want to screw up again, but the sight of you being so needy, it's driving him nuts.
"Fuck- alright, what else can I do?"
Yulian was a man of etiquettes and seeing him hissed with curses was a rare sight alas pleasing. He started by loosening the tie to his shirt as his hand slipped into your underwear, fingers working skillfully while feeling your needy sex.
"O-oh! The-there!"
You couldn't even form a proper word anymore, just by him touching you directly, a wet patch formed on the fabric that clothed your crotch. Tonight will be a wild ride, you thought to yourself. Yulian carried you with both his arms, striding toward your shared bedroom.
There, he placed you gently on the bed before undressing you, allowing you to finally breathe- free from the suffocating clothes that prevented you from rubbing your skin against him. As though unable to bottle his arousal anymore, Yulian hastily undressed but his lip never left yours, always connected with you in one way or another.
Did he perhaps get the aphrodisiac effect from the kiss you two shared? Just why was his mind so clouded with you? His cock ached for attention but he knew better, he had to make your thighs choke him tight as he made you moan like a bitch in heat.
He hoped the men he stationed around you were smart enough to leave before he slammed their heads hard onto the concrete wall, permanently damaging their hearing. No one gets to hear you like this except him and he will ensure it.
Finger sinking into your hole, assisted by the fluid you produced as a lube- he explored your insides in excitement, he knew exactly where to go in order to feel that one spot that never fails to make you raise your hip and grind against his curled fingers.
"There there, good. Feeling good?"
You nodded, evident by how tears pooled in your eyes, it was too much but addicting nonetheless. Was it the aphrodisiac or had it always been him who made you squirm like this?
"More," You whined out, "I want more of you~ need you to feel me inside out~!" Had it not been for the aphrodisiac, you wouldn't have begged this pathetically. You should thank it for not making you bury your face into the pillow and ass up for him to take for granted!
Yulian swallowed the lump inside his throat before gently caressing your face with his other hand, the other still curling inside of you, "My dearest," he said while peppering your face with kisses, "shouldn't say something like that."
Just before the cold could hit your body, his words made the heat inside you burn even more.
"Is it not natural for me to perform that duty? This is a husband's duty."
Head practically buried in your sex, making you jolt from the sudden intrusion. Yulian is a man of word and you bet your whole fortune that tonight will be the night when your thighs will shake from all the orgasms that he forced his way into you.
"I don't think my dearest can get even a wink of sleep tonight, yeah?"
Sleep would be nothing but a luxury of being away from this man's never-ending stamina. You could picture it, all the poses the two of you would be using tonight. Even better, you saw it.
You saw Yulian unwrapped the chocolate that you ate. It was his client's gift so what harm could come from eating it? And yet it had you shaking in arousal, needy of your husband's touch and kisses. Now that he had eaten it, would it have the same reaction on him as well?
"Hmm," Yulian licked his fingers clean before staring back at you, "now we both feel the same, be it pain or pleasure, I am dying to feel what you are feeling dear."
Yulian is a man of words. Can you imagine how much pain he was in just to feel how you were tortured repeatedly until the two of you reunited?
"Now," Yulian lined his mouth back to your sex, "enough talking and more action now, shall we?" He offered his hand for you to hold, linking the two of you as a form of solace even amidst lust.
"Want you to gush your sweet nectar all over me."
He started to feel your sex with his tongue, hand working diligently, "Want you to shake in pleasure until you can't stand," he starts rutting his cock against the bedsheet, did the aphrodisiac finally take effect?
"Want you to take me really well after these."
And you won the bet. You, folded into a mating press position. You, face buried into the pillow with your ass clapping against his pelvic bone. You, pressed against the wall while your legs circled his waist. You, in a classic yet loving missionary, watching how drop-dead gorgeous your husband was, his emerald orbs never failed to drown you in love with him.
And so were your eyes to him. Your tongue lolled out, eyes crossed out while sweat glistened the two of you. It was damp despite the cold air that surrounded you.
And yet the two of you wished this could somehow just last for eternity.
Never mind about giving Kaspar an earful, he'd just shrug it off for making the two of you share yet another lustful yet passionate night.
DEAR ARTISTS WHOEVER SEE THIS I HAVE AN ART SUGGESTION OR IDEA?? Love and Deepspace Male Leads as Houseki no Kuni Charas? Do u see the vision?
Ok so it's been a while since I read the manga but I distinctly remember there was a gem who liked making outfits and is very artistic? I see Rafayel as that gem.
For Zayne, I think it's pretty obvious who he'll be.
I wanna hear your other thoughts with others... Also Luke and Keiran as the Amethyst twins lol
Possibly OOC and very inaccurate but sometimes I think abt scenarios where MC starts remembering her past with Rafayel and starts feeling guilty. Im not rlly sure but I kinda notice that Rafayel seems to be mentally drained and again ik he loves the MC so much.
What if someone drives MC's guilt so much that she decides to time travel in exchange for all her reincarnations (so technically she has trully died in the oast and cant reincarnate anymore) to never meeting Rafayel? Or perhaps making sure she gets sacrificed? (Ok so i dont know the full lore yet forgive me)
Then current day Rafayel waking up to Lemuria still thriving but can't seem to remember that something is missing?
Ok idk what am I saying I just want to say Rafayel starts looking for someone that doesn't exist anymore.
My favorite relationship dynamic in fiction is a worshipper and their God. Not a literal God, but their God. The only thing in the whole world that matters to them. I will live for you, I would die for you, I would kill for you. My only moral compass is You. You can do no wrong in my eyes and I will never stray from your side. I was born to meet you and to love you. You are the only being I pray to. Your life isn’t just my passion, it’s my religion. You don’t think you’re anything special but you don’t see what I see. You don’t see that you’re the only person who’s ever made me feel this way. You don’t understand how beautiful you are to me and I will devote my entire life to making you understand and accept it.
Has anyone made a self aware lads au? Cuz imagine when the boys of the game are very much aware of you and who ur head over heels over.
Picture this, lads keep track of your schedule and try making u pull for their limited card but you're trying to save for another guy. Or imagine when they have different voice lines when they see you upset or happy.
Imagine getting isekai’ed into otome game as a background character, watching the main character going down routes as you live your peaceful, mundane life, but you’ve unknowingly been going down a route as well, a route for a hidden character that you didn’t discover during your time playing the game.
That character being the reason the game has a dark content warning.
Gosh anon, that idea is so good!!!! I didn't know it would tickle all the right places in my brain, but when I started I couldn't stop lol. Love it, thank you for sending it in ♥
If this had one of these super long titles that are tmi it would be:
I got Isekai'ed into an Otome Game as a Background Character and now I Have to Finish It with the Secret Yandere Love Interest!!
»»———————— ♡ ————————««
A serene smile spread over your lips as you watched the two lovebirds in the corner of your coffee shop.
Swirling the milk into a cup, it created a little white heart surrounded by foamy coffee, its aroma drifting into your nose. Had someone told you that the little things like a cup of coffee made with love and care were enough to give you the peace of mind you always wanted in your previous life, you would have laughed at them. For you, it had always been the hustle, the making money, finding a partner, and creating a family. Make everyone proud while being successful, whether it costs you nights of sleep or days without proper meals. But looking at yourself now, it all seemed so far away now, and you let out a content sigh before setting down the cup in front of the customer at the bar.
"You seem happy today," your regular at the counter noted, picking up the cup and taking a moment to appreciate the aroma just like you had. A smile sneaked onto their lips, too, after they took a sip, and you couldn't help but feel your heart swell with pride and happiness when they gave you a satisfied nod.
"I am! I'm really getting accustomed to my new life here, it's... been a while since I've been so content."
The truth behind everything that happened to you was something you couldn't speak about lightly. Not when it turned the life you knew upside down, leaving you to start over completely. One day you were an employee of a well-known company, responsible for sales and reports and everything stressful. And the next, you were in your favorite, cozy video game, running the coffee shop the main character liked to visit with all the romance options in the game.
Isekai was the genre that came to mind when you thought about your situation. Luckily you were spared the memories of your death in the real world, the circumstances blurry as you barely remembered going home late from work, only to wake up in this very different universe. Perhaps you were just comatose, and this was a dream. Still, by now, you had managed to slip into your role as the barista of the small coffee shop, a barely mentioned background character, just fine.
Your eyes jumped back to the couple in the corner, giggling and teasing each other over a group project, and you felt an immense relief you weren't reincarnated as the main protagonist and had to go through the years of studying and trying to establish connections with the love interests again. You already did that in your old life, and it wasn't as romantic and fun as the game made it out to be. You only played it because it got your mind off things, the art was pretty, and it had the exact amount of cozy time management you needed to relax. But living as the main character in it? No, thank you!
"Jealous?" your regular teased, and you chuckled, shaking your head. They tapped their—now empty—cup, and you took it from them, replacing it with some water until you had the next cup of coffee ready for them.
"I just think it's cute. I never had someone so interested in me they'd take me out for coffee and share their cake with me when I was younger."
Your words tasted a little bitter on your tongue. Still, you genuinely couldn't wish for anything but the main character's happiness. It was just the feeling of being loved, desired, and wanted that you missed, even though your new life was more than satisfactory despite you feeling a little lonely sometimes.
"Well, it's never too late to start," they chuckled, taking up their fork and cutting off the tip of their strawberry shortcake, including the big chunk of strawberry on top, picking it up and holding it out towards you.
"Oh, I wouldn't dare--"
"I insist! As thanks for the amazing coffee every time I come here."
Nudging your lips with their fork, you let out an awkward chuckle. It was okay, right? They wouldn't sue you for eating the cake they paid for, would they? This was just a silly little game. What could go wrong with you accepting their kindness?
Opening your lips, you let them feed you the cake, taking a moment to let the sweet and fruity notes mix with the fluffy whip cream before you were sent straight to heaven. Not to toot your own horn, but your baking skills had improved so much since you started working at the shop. Who knew you had that in you?
Occupied with the moment of bliss as you let the cake flavor mix in your mouth, you hummed happily before devoting yourself back to making the coffee with a smile on your face. Unaware of your regular fixating on the fork you had just eaten from, staring at it like it was some strange artifact. Your phone dinged softly in its drawer, and you checked it briefly to see the notification pinging up, saying, "Achievement unlocked: Cake-Master - Provide the most delicious cake to your customers."
"Excuse me!" the main character called out to you, stepping up to the counter, and you directed your attention to her, ignoring the little game notification you've been receiving since starting your new life here, the love interest not far away before the two began fighting over who was going to pay the bill this time lovingly. Of course, the love interest won, but you wouldn't have expected it any other way. Seeing the blush on the main character's face after her romance option told her he'd "always take care" of her made you grin like a little fan, and you cheered them on in your head.
By the time you returned to your regular, their knuckles had gone white with how hard they were gripping the fork in their hand, their eyes following the couple who was about to leave. For a moment, it made you wonder if they had a crush on either of them, their sweet interaction surely uncomfortable if that was the case. But you didn't remember there being a jealousy scene in the game. You'd know, almost playing it 100% before your death. There apparently was a secret route you never got but were trying your hardest to achieve. Now you were left to wonder what it entailed.
But the second you returned, they looked up at you, expression softening and the tension disappearing, and you chalked it up to having witnessed a cringe moment that they had gotten so awkward. "Thank you for the cake, that was really nice of you! Do you want another fork?" you asked and were met with a headshake and a smile.
They quickly began eating their cake and complimenting your baking skills, stroking your growing ego when they rubbed their belly.
"I never had a cake that good!" they proclaimed, and you laughed out loud, overjoyed that you had made them so happy.
"Say..." they suddenly spoke up again, leaning on the counter and watching you with gentle eyes. Your heart set out for a second, tension rising as you didn't know what they were going to ask. Ever since you opened the coffee shop, the main character, love interests, and this regular had come by constantly. If you were honest, you enjoyed their visits more and more. Their presence felt like it belonged here with you, and you were a part of something bigger after all, washing away the small, lonely part of you.
And maybe... just maybe... this was how your happy end would play out.
"Are you this nice to every customer?"
Halting your movements, you set aside the brew head that you used on the espresso machine, despite having to clean it, thinking about your answer for a moment. It was a strange question to ask someone who worked in customer service. Still, you appreciated your regular, so you didn't want to give them a snarky answer.
"Uhm, well, I am just trying to make everyone feel welcome! But of course, it's a bit different with my regulars! After all, they come here often, like a second family. So I guess I'm a bit nicer because you really get to know and appreciate these people that stay to chat and tell stories."
"I see," they muttered. "Family, huh..."
After that, you suddenly were swamped with sudden orders, excusing yourself to fulfill them, chatting and laughing with even the people that were just passing by. Maybe you really were just nice? Perhaps this new environment had made you more relaxed and gentle than the harsh world you lived in, and it was showing? But their question was shoved into the back of your mind as you kept fulfilling orders and earning your keep.
Once the rush was over, you returned to your regular, only to find their seat empty. Strange, you thought. You could have sworn that you felt their eyes on you the whole time you were away, but luckily, they didn't walk out on their tab, leaving the money and a folded-up napkin beneath their empty cup for you to find. You quickly stored away the bills, trusting your regular with knowing what they had to pay after so many weeks of the same order.
You were about to throw away their napkin when you noticed some red marks on them, unwrapping the paper to find a note scribbled in what you had to assume was ink.
"You're so beautiful when you laugh."
The surprise wore off quite fast, and you smiled, thinking nothing of it but that it was a nice compliment from your regular. Still, you ended up throwing the napkin away—not knowing if it was dirty, after all—taking the coffee cup and plate to the sink to clean them, overseeing the red tip on the fork that was too dark to be from the strawberry.
The rest of your day was uneventful, and by the time you were closing, you were tired and ready to tug in for the night, wrapping up your business at the shop quickly before walking home. You didn't have a chance to look at your phone since you glanced at the achievement notification, so you took it out, startled when you saw a dozen new messages.
Achievement unlocked: Happy new life - Be content with your new life
Achievement unlocked: A fork for two! - Share a fork with someone special
Achievement unlocked: Jealousy - Make someone special jealous
Achievement unlocked: Soothing - Calm someone special down with your presence
Achievement unlocked: Family - Have someone be moved by your words
Achievement unlocked: The nicest person in town - Be beloved by all, but especially by someone special
Achievement unlocked: Blood in the cup - Have someone hurt themselves at your coffee shop
Achievement unlocked: Wonder-Barista - Complete twenty orders in less than thirty minutes
Achievement unlocked: Strange compliment - Receive a compliment through unusual means
Achievement unlocked: Blooming infatuation - Have someone special fall in love with you
Achievement unlocked: Shop-Pro! - Close the shop twenty times after making a profit from your work
Achievement unlocked: Tired - Hard workers deserve to relax
You blinked a few times, surprised by what you were reading and a little weirded out by some of these achievements. They gave you some extra coins in your shop till and reputation with the townspeople, so you usually didn't mind them. But to say some of their descriptions were weird was an understatement. You couldn't even remember someone getting hurt at your workplace that day.
By the time you reached your apartment, you decided to ignore the strange notifications and just let the day come to an end with a hot bath and your favorite show. But you were startled when your phone suddenly began ringing loudly, even though you had turned off the sound back at the coffee shop after the first notification. The first messages that appeared before you were more achievements, and you stopped turning the key in your door as you read them.
Achievement unlocked: Follower - Have someone special follow you home
Achievement unlocked: Welcome home! - Arrive at home, not alone
Achievement unlocked: Wherever you go, I'll be watching you - Ɨ ΔΜ ΔŁŴΔ¥Ş ŴΔŦĆĦƗŇǤ ¥ØỮ
Lifting your head, you looked around you, glancing over your shoulder and into the courtyard below. No one was out; everyone was at home eating dinner and occupied with their lives. Confused, you swiped all the notifications away before another pop-up appeared.
ALERT!
You're about to enter X's route. Do you want to continue?
> Yes
> No
Panicked at this point, you pressed "No," but nothing happened. You kept tapping it repeatedly, not understanding what was happening with your phone. But nothing changed, the notification staying in place. The sound of something breaking inside your apartment tore your focus away from your phone, startling you.
You must have finally managed to close it, the pop-up disappearing just as you unlocked the door to your apartment, still having held on to the key when you were surprised by the sound. Darkness and silence greeted you from inside, everything seemingly normal.
Majorly confused, you shook your head, slowly entering the hallway leading inside. "Hello?" you called out, reaching for the light switch. The light flickered on, and... there was no one. Holding your breath, no sound reached your ears, and you groaned, realizing you got freaked out about... nothing.
This wasn't some kind of horror game, and the story never had a murder-solving subplot. True, the ratings for it were kind of strange—it being rated as 18+ on the website—but seriously, what should happen in a cozy little city like the one the game played in? You didn't even think they had a police station here.
Pushing off your shoes as you shrugged off the weird feeling from before, you walked up the hallway to your living room, turning on the light before coming to an abrupt halt. There were broken pieces of glass underneath your living room window, but what really freaked you out came into view only when you lifted your head. You could look into the mirror of your cabinet door from your position, red marker dripping from it as if someone had hastily scribbled on it just seconds ago. You weren't sure it was a pen anymore, judging by its deep red color and the fluidity of it.
Omg i love your work😭😭 especially Yulian he's crazy but he's sooo sweet🥹 and you write him so well fr
I was wondering how'd he react if his darling decides that they wanna break up with him / get a divorce,, or they start to feel like he's hiding something from them which causes them to doubt him. But I feel like he would 100% gastlight them first.
Chances of divorce in Utopia is 0 honey :)
But let's talk about Dystopia.
Yan! Lawyer Husband - GN Spouse Reader
Yes, Yulian will corner the fuck out of you mentally as much as he hates it. He should have picked up on the signs earlier and yet he paid no mind to it until you exploded, again.
The reason was simple, you doubted him.
It all started from a suspicion of his absence, the rumors circulating around him and the voice in your head yelling you to leave him.
'That man is no good! Leave him before it's too late again!'
"Where were you dear?"
"Duty called dear. I'm sorry for leaving you alone for a long time yeah?"
"I asked everyone around and they told me that you were absent for the 5 days. Where were you if you were not in the court nor your office?"
Yulian didn't expect you to bother questioning around, mentally adding another note to bribe everyone next time.
"I was visiting another place, the client did not like leaving his curb so I had to visit him myself, I'm sorry I didn't notify you earlier dear."
Yulian's hand creeped into your cheek, caressing it gently while giving you an apologetic smile. The smile that always makes you shrug all your doubts and worries away.
But not today.
"This is not the first time this has happened, Yulian."
Yulian jolted. You were glaring at him. The face that he rarely sees from you, the face that he never expected to see from you. You.
"Dear?"
'You know right? This man right here is nothing but a swindler!'
"Why do you always lie to me?"
'How many secrets has he hidden from you? Better yet, why is he keeping you in the dark?'
"Always, always, always lying. I had enough of you, Yulian. This is not the first I have confronted you and this is not the first out of your many lies that I haven't confronted you about."
'Stay away from him.'
"I want a divorce."
'Run.'
"Di... vorce?"
Yulian's face darkened. A face you had never seen before.
"Divorce?"
"Yes."
'Run!'
Yulian sat down, his eyes traveling toward anywhere but you. He took in a shaky breath before exhaling it in fury. No, it was not directed at you. It was directed at himself for being slow and dumb. A fool no less.
"I'll have Aava packed my stuffs today. I will hand you the papers for you to sign later." You paid no mind to his slumped figure, leaving him.
"No..." Yulian stopped you in your track, his hand holding your wrist tightly. "Don't leave me alone again."
"Is it not supposed to be directed at you instead?"
Yulian winced. You were right but he was right as well. What should he do? What should he do?
What he should do.
"Dear..." Yulian stood up to his feet, "don't you think you are being a bit too hasty?"
"Wha-?"
"Over something so menial," he knew he shouldn't word it like that, "I was trying my best you know? I tried my best to wrap up everything quickly but I just can't not attend to duties such as this."
He was driving you into the corner again.
"If this is the same word game you are playing with me then it's not working on me anymore."
"No, this is the truth we are talking about," Yulian's hand cupped your cheek, "I know you have it hard, but I too, am troubled from it. Do you perhaps view me as an irrespobsible man who leaves his spouse because he feels like it?"
What?
'Run, leave him, just leave him!'
"Have you always viewed me like that dear? I can't fathom how you... thought of me like that even just for the slightest."
Was it not supposed to be the other way around?
"You, you are the one who always thinks of me like that!"
"How could you even say that?"
How could you even say that to me then?
'Stop listening to him!'
Yulian's hands clasped your ears, his face close to yours.
"How could you even think of something so shallow?"
'ADAMMMMMMM!!!!'
"Have you never even considered my love to be real just even for once?"
You don't feel like thinking anymore. You don't feel like listening to them both anymore.
"Don't worry dear, I'll make sure to ease those doubts away. Just listen to me and everything will be alright."
ALWAYS REBLOG WHEN YOU SEE SOMETHING LIKE THIS PLEASE; ITS SO MUCH MORE THAN IMPORTANT TO PEOPLE. IT MEANS EVERYTHING TO SOMEBODY AND EVEN THOUGH YOU MIGHT NOT SEE THIS IN THE SAME LIGHT, SOMEONE MIGHT. INFACT YOU REBLOGGING THIS COULD STOP SOMEONE TAKING THEIR LIFE TONIGHT.
These numbers are important to know! They have saved my life more times than I want to admit. And if you don’t want to call these hotlines, message me! I will help you any way that I can. Or talk to someone that you can trust.
Just remember, no matter how hard it is, there’ll always be someone who will do anything in their power to help. If you don’t have that person, I’m here, no matter what. You can always reach out to me.
I don’t post at all (Though I plan to). But In times when I needed stuff like this, I didn’t have anything of the sort, but I know there are people who genuinely need this information, so please think about rebloging this. And if you need any of theses numbers, please call them.
oh gosh, i always have fic recs, we're just too spoiled with incredible writers in this fandom!! here's a handful, though -
stuff i'm currently reading / ongoing fics:
The Cultivating Force by esama - post canon but also star wars mashup? i'm not huge into star wars so i didn't expect to love this one as much as i do, but there's just something really charming about the world building + getting to see long married bingqiu from outsider pov!
In the Red by ibex_ascendant - binggeyuan rather than bingqiu, but this has one of my favorite takes on how mean-slash-sad of a guy bingge is, and how miserable he really would be if he was driven to the point where he wanted to go find his own sy. mind the tags on this one!
stuff i've recently reread + loved just as much as the first time:
Infinite First Dates by pallas_rose - lbh finds sqq's mind during sqq's 5 year dirt nap, except sqq's mind is firmly sy in the dreamscape. hilarious every time
Critical point by mamiser - canon divergent where lbh was brought up by huan hua to hate all of cqm... and then he meets sqq, who teaches him both the truth and to be kinder to his own self
(some of) my favorite bingqiu writers:
The Feels Whale (miscellea) - i really adore their bingqiu characterization (obsessed with each other) and general writing tone. hard to choose a favorite by them, but i'll go with Tongfang, in which disciple lbh is sent to work for young master shen yuan in the summers and very quickly discovers his true career goal of 'bride' >:))
x_los - they always have some of the most unique fic ideas + carry them out well! i think my favorite is Marriage by Proxy, which is an arranged marriage / identity shenanigans fic!
i could go on and on and on about all the fics and writers i love honestly but 🙈 hopefully there's at least something there you haven't read yet!
She kept asking as she stood on the ground. Seeing the person, they trusted the most along with the same people who made them like this. Like a doll meant for war.
“Was everything a lie?” They asked, feeling defeated.
“Was I just part of some observation to see if the experiment they did was successful?”
“What am I to you?”
Luca turned to face them with a stoic expression. “Yes. Everything was a lie. I was assigned to observe if project visousia was successful. “
“Then why do you look like you’re dying inside? Luca, I know you enough that stoic look you’re doing right now means you’re holding something back.”
Luca was stunned but he gathered his resolve to not give into his feelings. “I didn’t love you. You are merely a task given to me.”
More tears came to their face, the dark chains within started manifesting into reality as they gave into the pit of despair. Dark red chains were manifesting around their body as though it had a mind of its own it was destroying everything around it. It covered them like a cocoon while wreaking havoc all around.
“It’s been a while Luca.” A metallic voice came from the cocoon. It was the being that was sealed into them.
“It seems that you made this poor child fall into the depths of despair for them to let me loose like this.” It continued.
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