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TIDAL

pairing: rafayel x reader | sea god x bounty hunter word count: 3.3k content: enemies and lovers (?), some violence, stabbing, dub con, hypnosis/spell casting, minor blood/knifeplay(?), fingering, unprotected sex, tongue branding, blood tasting, wound licking, idk why I wrote this a/n: taking a break from the college au, sorry I disappeared I got sick and had to study for a final for a class I hated. I got lazy near the end so in case the fight scenes don’t make sense…yes theyy do.

Under the shroud midnight light, your work is whispered about in the gilded halls of nobility. An assassin of efficiency, and utter discretion. Your blade serves the highest bidder, those draped in velvet and adorned by rings and guilt alike. You are both a sword and shadow hidden in the thick of political disputes.

Yet, even the bloodied hands of nobility do not require constant cleansing. When the seasons shift and the power struggles settle, your contracts grow sparse, and you are left to seek coin by other means. Bounties. Less refined, less personal, but profitable nonetheless. The work is grittier, the targets less acclaimed, but coin is coin, and survival does not afford you the luxury of idleness.

It is during one lull, while scanning the ever-changing board of wishes and hastily scribbled contracts, that your gaze lands upon a peculiar ticket. Unlike the others, it bears no name of a scorned lover or a debt-dodging merchant. Instead, it is a plea, written not by a single trembling hand, but under the weight of collective desperation. The nobles one again, faceless in their cowardice, have set their sights on something they cannot control.

The God of Sirens. A rebirth of the God of the Tides, awoken with a fire that replaced his missing heart. He reclaimed the seas and went after those who enslaved his children. A myth from long ago that reentered chamber walls after a city went to ruins for reasons unknown. It’s said he sits in the palace idly, waiting to be challenge.

A trickster, a lingering echo of something too powerful to be dismissed yet too dangerous to be allowed to roam freely. He is the embodiment of temptation, of illusions spun so intricately they unravel the minds of those who listen. He stands before you, neatly condensed into a single offering of wealth great enough to make even the most seasoned hunter hesitate.

"Wrong." His voice cracks through the dawn like a snapped wire. A second later, the world twists as gravity betrays you, the air slicing past your ears before instinct takes over. A pivot, a breath, and the cold marble railing catches your boots. You crouch low, steady, but his scrutinizing glare chases after you like a predator unwilling to let its prey recover.

"Try again," he calls from above, lounging in his window like a bored god surveying those below.

Your face contorts at his tone. You have no interest in being toyed with. Your bounty has already spotted you, there’s no point in staying. It’s time to retreat, to cool down. But as you turn, a flicker of fire licks your cheek, searing the skin before you can react. A slow burn spreads across your face as you cup the scorched surface, eyes snapping upward.

He leans further out of his chamber, expression unreadable.

“I don’t usually repeat myself.” He goads. His gaze does not meet you as an adversary’s would, not even as a nuisance. But as something far worse. A plaything. His smirk holds the mirth of a child poised over an anthill. You narrow your eyes, fingers twitching toward the blade at your belt before walking away.

When you return to the bounty board, you toss his ticket back to the merchant who had so smugly handed it to you. Laughter erupts around you, rolling in waves of mockery. You ignore it, though the sting to your reputation is undeniable.

Not every bounty can be fulfilled, and it’s better to admit that than to die for the money.

The others are too proud to concede. One by one, they pick up where you left off. None return. The dunes outside his palace swallow their remains.

Under the moonlight, the sand glows like a sea of silver, its ripples forming a pathway that calls to you, daring you to return. A question sat in your mind.

Why didnt he kill you as quickly as the others? Is this a game worth playing?

── .⋆｡𖦹 . ঔঌ ˖°

Flames flicker at your feet. They curl around your boots, beckoning you to come forward. You don’t immediately obey, wincing as it burns through your sleeve.

“Careful,” he murmurs, back still turned. “I don’t conjure natural fire.”

You seize the moment, fingers tightening around the weapon hidden at your side. The instant you raise it, he scoffs. A snap echoes through the air. Instinctively, you drop your weapon as it’s set ablaze, ash scattering to the ground.

“Sloppy.” He exhales, more disappointed than amused. “I expected better.”

He rises from his lounging position, movements unhurried.

“I’ve never met a female hunter before,” he muses, eyes smiling. “Has my bounty gone down?”

“You’ve killed plenty,” you counter. “Naturally, that’s done the opposite.”

“So, my price has turned me into nothing more than a lottery?”

“I’m not confident. I’m curious.”

“Curious?” His voice lilts upward, mockery woven into the syllables. “How insulting.”

“Why haven’t you killed me?”

At this, he turns. His gaze is an ocean, dark and endless, with pink gleaming in its depths. You understand, now, why others have fallen under his influence. The thought makes your stomach twist.

Something sharp glints in your periphery—you duck, evading his blade and returning a weapon in one breath. He catches it between two fingers, unimpressed.

“Sloppy,” you echo.

He hums, stepping forward, the room shrinking between you. “You think I find you entertaining?” He flips the blade in his grip, offering it back to you. “To call you that would be an understatement.” He leans in, close enough that your breaths mingle. “I find you fascinating.”

You shove a hand against his chest. He barely budges. In one swift motion, he seizes your wrists, pinning them above your head as he presses you back against the cold stone wall.

“Compared to the others, you’re far less desperate.” His nose grazes yours, lips a mere breath away. “It’s disappointing.”

You turn your head, unwilling to meet his gaze. He tuts, grasping your jaw and forcing you back to him. His grip is firm but not painful, fingers featherlight as they trace your cheek.

“You saw my bounty,” he murmurs, voice lowering, “and had the audacity to trespass just to marvel at me.” His lips brush yours as he speaks, a phantom touch. “I find that rather offensive.”

The flames at your waist flicker higher, eating away at your clothing . The hand pinning you move to the skin uncovering at your waist. You refuse to cry out as the dull drag of his nails mark your skin. Instead, with your wrists freed, you strike.

A razor, hidden beneath your sleeve, slices across his torso. He barely reacts, expression unreadable as he watches the surrounding flesh redden, blood staining his garments. Then, with a single effortless movement, he retrieves his dagger from the wall, steel gleaming. The blade bites deep into your shoulder. You choke on a gasp, shoving him away and stumbling back, your arm quickly slick with crimson. He exhales, slow and deliberate, pressing two fingers to the shallow cut at his stomach. A smirk tugs at his lips as he watches you falter.

His blade twirls between deft fingers, feet bringing him closer until he towers above you. Your knees scrape against the tile as his fire coils around you, framing your silhouette in flickering gold. He halts an inch from your whitening knuckles, gaze alight with amusement.

He extends the dagger to you once more. “Try again.” His smile barely hides his teeth, his pupils blown wide. His very presence hums with something heady, intoxicating.

Your pulse quickens, adrenaline crackles beneath your skin. As you reach for the dagger, it flicks out of your grasp before you can claim it.

Pain ignites in your palm. A ball of fire unravels where the blade separates your flesh. Your scream rips through the chamber, raw and unbidden.

“You were taking too long.” He teases through your cries, slipping the metal from your flesh. His voice is silk, his eyes gleaming. He watches, enthralled, twirling the knife in his grasp before tossing the dagger.

You collapse against the wall as his gaze engulfs you. When losing, you’re used to looks of disgust, disdain. But him, intoxicated by his excitement, your body trembles. He kneels before you, his presence suffocating. The heat of his flames flickers dangerously close, picking at the edges of your tattered frame. Fingers tighten along your jaw, tilting your face toward the fallen dagger across the room. His lips ghost along your cheek, voice velvet, poison-laced.

"Fetch."

For a moment, you don't move. Won't move. Your pride coils in your gut, hissing, demanding you refuse him. But then his grip shifts— just enough to let you feel the raw strength beneath his amusement. Your voice cracks through the cold air, “Does it always take you this long to kill?”

“Kill?” His voice lowers. “And what fun would that be with you like this?” He leans away from your face and grabs your wrist, marveling at the blood painting your skin. He lifts your palm, still raw and bloodied, to his lips. “Why would a fish play with their food?” He murmurs.

His thumb slides beside the opening of your wound, pressing down against the flesh. His mouth is agape as you scream, watching, as if truly entertained by your agony. His tongue slips slowly over the raw opening, setting your nerves on fire.

“It’ll be easier to eat after breaking you down.”

His mouth is dirtied by your blood. He leans in, fingers press against your pulse. His nails ghost down your throat as if debating whether to carve further.

"You're hesitating," he taunts, grip loosening just enough to let you scramble free. The moment your feet touch the ground, you bolt. But you don’t run for the dagger— you run for the window.

He watches as you leap, landing hard in the palace garden. His dagger nearly misses your ankle as you gather yourself, dashing through the lush palace yard to escape his heavy glare.

── .⋆｡𖦹 . ঔঌ ˖°

The memory of his fire clings to you like the scent of something burned too deep into fabric. A single spark from a passing lantern makes your fingers twitch. The smallest ember makes your breath hitch.

The bounty board is quieter now, the crowds that usually gathered has thinned. The Siren’s posting remains, its price climbing higher with each passing week. As he said, he became a game of chance. A death wish dressed in gold. You trace a scar along your hand, a parting gift from the last time you entertained the idea of collecting.

And yet, despite the warnings carved into your own skin, your feet still hesitate before walking away. Nobles continue to complain as they lose hunters by the day, and you can’t help but be proud at how desperate the city is to have his head.

── .⋆｡𖦹 . ঔঌ ˖°

Rafayel lazed over his furniture, the ornaments adorning his body gleam against the setting sun. Fish swimming at his fingertips ignite and scatter around the room, lighting his candles. Melted wax hangs from their silver plates, branded with a royal emblem he does not own. A hum escapes him as the breeze tickles his neck.

“A visitor?” He sings. His head tilts upward to hang from his seat, a smile already playing at the corner of his mouth. “I’ve missed you, my dear.”

Your laugh is short, amused at how quickly he recognized you. Your heart quickens under his gaze. “Have you charmed me, siren?”

He smiles knowingly, “Amplifying the emotions that are already present is far more exciting. Why else would you come back to me?”

You shrug, “I’ve come to congratulate you. Your life bothers the inner city so much that your head no longer has a set price.”

It’s true. After collecting from another mission, you noticed his poster. His face decorated a large canvas, emboldened by red spelling. Under his picture, the price tag reads:

⋆ ANY ⋆

His bounty is now a blank check.

“Ugh, that explains why I’ve been so bored lately.” He swings his head, leaning over the lounge chair to meet your eyes.

“How should we celebrate?”

A dullness stirred in your stomach. The orchid in his eyes bloom as a smile dances across his face. His color becoming clearer, more vibrant, more beautiful than before.

“Come closer, my love.”

Your heart pounds, you fully acknowledge that you’re under his spell but feel no need to fight the thoughts his power amplifies.

Slowly, you approach him. “Curious, what does a fish want to do with a palace anyway?”

He laughs slightly, “Humans. Curious but not cautious.” he mutters, reaching a hand out to you. Your palm slips into his grasp, body following as he guides you on the lounge chair. “Invade my kingdom, take my children as pets.. . and then question why I retaliate.” He lies in the chair’s silk as you climb in. The room shrinks at the sound of his voice, melodic and heavy.

“Such filthy resolve.”

You sit atop him staring into the colors of his eyes. Your fingers brush against his lips as they move, inattentive to the scorn leaving them.

“You, Ms. Hunter.”

An idle hand explores his chest, drawing lines in his neck down to his collarbone. His darkening gaze flickers through his lashes as your hand treads down, tracing the muscle of his torso.

“You’re getting cockier with every visit.”

You lean dangerously close as you study the jewelry that wreathed his hips. His nose nudges your cheek, he speaks against your lips.

“Do you enjoy how I favor you?”

“Favor?” a small laugh leaves you. “Do you scar all your toys?”

“With my reputation, would it make sense for you to leave me unscathed?” He hums as his fingers trace your jawline. “I’m protecting you, my love.”

Inattentive to him undressing you, his hand slips past your clothing as his voice continues to charm you. He feels cool against your flushed body, dragging against the uncovering skin. You lean into him the lower he trails, accepting his touch.

“You’re so cute.” He murmurs.

His hand drags down your body before slipping between your legs. Your breath hitches as he fondles your slicked folds. A moan escapes you as slender fingers slip into your slit. Shallow breaths settle in the haze between the two of you. He becomes restless, his free hand roaming your waist. His cock twitches at the sight of you grinding against his hand, almost jealous of the hand surrounded by your soft velvet. He pumps another finger inside, taking in the cries escaping you as he maintains his rhythm.

“Almost there baby?”

Your grip on him tightens as you nod against his shoulder. He watches as your hips roll into his knuckles, body twitching as you inch closer to your release. Suddenly, his ingers slip from your warmth. Irritated and empty, you whine— body searching for something to finish you off. He kisses down your neck as he pulls away from you.

“Do something for me first.” He cups your face, planting tender kisses against your lips, “Then I’ll reward you.”

He holds you by the waist, tapping a finger to your lips with his other hand.

“Open.” He commands, voice colder than before. You follow, parting your lips and meeting his gaze. His thumb glides against your tongue as another hand holds your face steady. His nail pierces through the surface of your tongue. You flinch as his fire carves lines down the muscle.

“Shhh, almost done.” He coos, watching you wriggle in pain.

A hint of smile tugs at his lips as his thumb rubs against the scar. The softness of your tongue is disturbed by the roughness left behind. He presses against the muscle and is pleased by your obedience. He watches you shamelessly wrap the injured muscle around his finger as he retrieves his thumb.

“A brand for my favorite pet.” He murmurs. His lips rake up your jaw, settling against the tender skin under your ear. “You’re mine now.” He says, voice rough.

His hand presses against the small of your back, pushing you close once more. “Want your reward?” His cock springs from the easy access of his garments, the heat of him rubbing against you. You grind down on him as his lips find yours, hungry and eager as he tears off what’s left of your clothes.

He teases himself between your folds, rimming the tip around your throbbing entrance. You grip his shoulder, breath uneven as he lowers you down his length.

“That’s it, take me like a good girl.” He purrs. An encouraging hand holds your waist, directing your body to move. You melt into him as you moves.

His breath is hot against your neck as the pace quickens. Your moans echo through the night as your hips collide. Hands finds solace on your ass, kneading the skin as you lose yourself in his ecstasy. He feels so soft, his embrace suffocating yet addictive. You cant help the noises that escape you as the knot in your stomach aches to unravel. A trail of kisses tickle up to your neck while a hand holds your waist, “That’s it baby, leave yourself wide open to me.”

Rafayel stills himself, watching as you ride closer to release, as you unravel against him. A dull pressure breaks through your skin— A blade penetrates your dorsi. You suddenly stiffen, body twitchy from your interrupted orgasm. Your wails rip through the haze thickening the room as he nuzzles his smile into your neck.

“You sound so beautiful, my love.” He pulls you closer to continue his praise. His kisses do nothing to distract from the pain welling around your wound.

Hand prints stain your skin as he strokes your cheeks, untucking the hair past your ear. “Why aren’t you moving? Have I played too rough?”

You find the strength to fight out of his hold. You knock him in the head as you lift a leg, kicking him away and off the lounge chair. You both fall to the floor, a strained groan escaping from you as you unsheathed the blade from your flesh. A hand ghosts over your figure, desperate to keep you from escaping. The blade twirls in your palm before you turn to face the figure behind you. You pin his hand to the floor with the blade, imitating a move done to you nights before.

You don’t meet his eye, hurrying to your feet. The siren sits there silently as your blood trails out the nearest exit. He scoffs, tossing the weapon aside. The wound barely bleeding as it closes itself. He lies on the ground, chest still heaving from the fight he started.

“Ah, I wasn’t finished.” He sighs.

The sand is still warm between your feet as you run through the desert. The city’s light reflects off the dune’s curves, guiding you to its gates. His voice echoes through your ears, his unwavering spell following you through the darkness. You shake your head, heart thumping with adrenaline. You’re far enough from his palace walls but it feels like he hasn’t let go of you.

You return to the city completely tattered and injured. The people of the night quickly look over you in contempt as you drag your body through the crowded streets.

── .⋆｡𖦹 . ঔঌ ˖°

His oceans are strongest the nights he craves you most. Nights you spend fighting against his spell, ignoring his melodies. You see him, hear him, feel him. His whispers and praise tickles your neck. The ghost of his fingertips graze your skin and prickles its surface. His voice taunts you the more you try to ignore.

“Come to me. Return to me.”

Nights have passed and your return to the city has left you restless. The scar he left on your tongue brushes against the roof of your mouth as you stroke the wound healing on your back. You so carelessly allowed him to brand you, leaving his spell to continue to haunt you.

ه*:･゚ঔঌ ৡ

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