#ic: raphael

[dvilsdesire]

(From @abyssalcriminal ) Mistletoe with either Haarlep or Raphael, (whichever you choose) - accidental (hope I'm not too late >_<)

send me   ‘ mistletoe ’   for my muse’s response to being underneath mistletoe with your muse.   specify whether it’s accidental or on purpose.

@abyssalcriminal

Raphael did not have much festive cheer. An excuse to manipulate and sway a client, the devil was an opportunist, after all, but that was as far as any cheer went. A mortal thing, it was, where they all played pretend, but holidays could also bring out the worst in some--and that was when Raphael swept in, on gilded wings, and took their hand. The lonely, the desperate, the poor... He could be their saviour.

Unfortunately, Haarlep had a dreadful habit of redecorating, particularly so he could catch him under the mistletoe. He supposed he could not be too upset at his pet, who merely wished to kiss him and whisper sweet nothings into his ears. After all, who wouldn't wish to press their lips to his perfect skin? He was such a gorgeous devil.

Haarlep, he would indulge in a kiss... But it was not Haarlep who he met beneath the little green plant. His lips pressed into a firm line. Despite both being cambions, Raphael did not consider other cambions as worthy as he was. Such was Raphael's pride and ego, of course (and insecurities delved deeply into his skin).

"You will learn that fruitless little traditions from the Material Plane mean little in this House of Hope, dear. For within an instant, life can wither and turn to ash under my hand." He lifted his hand, and with a click of his fingers, the mistletoe was burned to ash, falling over Ibis where she stood.

"When next you plot with my incubus, do remind him that every act of defiance will be met with a swift punishment."

[dvilsdesire-a]

" Funny. I remember you being significantly taller. You seem rather... Small now. "

Enver being a little shit || always accepting

"And I recall you wetting the bed, boy. Do you still reek of human waste as it trickles down your legs in the middle of the night, the reminder of your mortality at its warm embrace?" He tutted. "Whatever would your loyal servants think."

[paradisecost]

“Repeat after me,” Alan’s face was the epitome of innocent and understanding; a snake without a rattle, ❝ i cannot disobey direct orders. ❞ - Raphael

It was in times like these that he wished he could freeze on command: that he could simply blink and sleep for a hundred years, until this monarchy and Raphael’s ties to it had crumbled to dust.

He looked back at Alan with dark eyes, but didn’t move, straight-backed and strong as he stared at this king who thought he had a right to him. He looked at Raphael the same way Martel had: with a queer kind of sympathy, as if they were both just people doing what had to be done, and they both understood each other. It made Raphael feel like there were insects crawling on him again.

“I can’t disobey direct orders,” he said finally, sounding tired. It wasn’t worth it to fight him on it.

[sunvault]

“ you’re not so heavenly. ” @ raphael [maybe she came to peru to study art? maybe she took one look at him and went 'priest my arse' lmao]

There was nothing wrong with Eilidh, as far as he could tell, but he wondered how she would fare in New Bethlehem and whether she would insist on doing everything herself, or expect Raphael to do it for her. He would acquiesce, of course - he was by nature stronger than anyone else - but he wondered, all the same, what her inclinations would be. 

He sat opposite her at the table, cat’s-cradling his rosary and watching steam rise from the mugs of tea that had been set out for them - mostly for Eilidh, for the mountain sickness. He suspected his own had only been set out because the innkeeper had been afraid of him. 

Not for the first time today, Raphael felt heavy. He wondered if another freeze was coming and hoped it wouldn’t be here, away from home and in front of this stranger who had come here for art, and whose voice and manner were unlike any Raphael had witnessed before.

You’re not so heavenly, she said. Raphael lifted his eyes to hers. His fingers went still. He stared through her, thinking, then slowly let the rosary resume its natural shape. 

“I’m ordained,” he said flatly, slipping the rosary back around his wrist. “You’ll see when we get to Bedlam.” 

She would see more than that, and she would probably - rightfully - come to the conclusion that the priesthood was little more than a safe skin over the surface of something much deeper, but he would worry about that later. It was too late and too much to have all of his worries stacked on top of one another. 

“Drink your tea,” he murmured, and looked down at the table.

[dvilsdesire]

❓

'Do you actually care for me, beyond "an investment"?' Enver asked Raphael.

The 'yes or no' game.

Care? Beyond his investments? Raphael almost laughed, but instead, he raised a brow, the very corner of his lips curling upwards. How sweet that Enver would expect anything compassionate from a devil. Like father like son...

"Like a well placed pawn, my darling boy. I care only for your position upon my eternal board."

A pause, as if to let that sink in.

"No."

[dvilsdesire]

❓️ So has your penis shrunk as you've aged? Don't blame me for the question. Your pet is the one spreading the information, and he knows best of your bedroom activities.

The 'yes or no' game.

"It is not the size that matters, it is how you use it." Not that Raphael would know anything about that.

"Yes."

[dvilsdesire]

(4 Raph :3)

Deer Husbunny,

I write this letter bcuz I don't wanna see ur ugly face right now. U r out of wine in da cellar. Again. Pls fix asap as possible.

ur hot wife,

KATYA

Making Raphael's eyes bleed || always accepting

The note was delivered by Korrilla, so he had expected it to be business, not... personal. Let alone from Katya. When he unfolded the parchment, he felt his shoulders tense at the childlike scrawl that assaulted his big, beautiful brown eyes. His lips pressed to a firm line and his brow hardened.

In what layer of the Nine had he done something so dreadful that it cursed him to be married to a Hells forsaken imp! From whatever tiefling line of blood she had been drawn from, he was certain it was demonic.

A hard breath left his lips and he lifted the parchment, it turning into a bright puff of flame and cinders. He could have taken this as ten steps back, but the fact that Katya had even attempted to write on parchment, and some of the words (not many) were correctly spelled... was an improvement. His lessons were working.

He picked up his quill and dipped it into the ink pot.

My self anointed inferno of a wife,

It gratifies me beyond measure to see, for a fleeting moment of this missive, you have managed to wrestle both grammar and punctuality into obedience. Take comfort that your efforts have not gone unnoticed. I shall have some new wine delivered, though never without its sting. For how would this unholy matrimony of ours ever be complete without its games of spite?

Compose your next reply with greater coherence, my dear, and I shall promise you a cellar filled to the brim before the morrow.

Ever your flame, and in contract, Raphael.

[dvilsdesire]

@silvertiefling || wanted a naughty devil

Any day that involved Mephistopheles was a bad day. The atmosphere of the House of Hope had become thick and oppressive the moment that Raphael had returned. Debtors scurried about, the workers avoided conversations that they might need with the master of the house, and Korrilla was diligently staying away. His arranged wife, Katya, was also out--thank the Hells for that, for he wasn't certain he could keep his side of the contract if she tested his patience.

Good.

When he'd entered the boudoir, he'd unbuttoned his doublet and left it on the end of the bed, stripping of his shirt beneath and his pants as well, before he dipped his toes into the warm and calming waters of the restoration fountain. His wings stretched out and his tail flicked against the water before he stepped inside fully, sitting himself against the steps.

It only took but a few seconds for the waters to work their magic against his aching muscles, and Raphael leant his arms upon the marble floor behind him, half submerged now, wings stretched out behind him and taking up much of the floor in their wake. They really were quite large.

He indulged after his dreadful meeting with daddy dearest, a glass of wine brought to him and some fresh meats. Then he shooed the servants away so he could have some peace and quiet to himself. Alone. His thoughts and only his thoughts, until he could no longer deny the acknowledgement of his own nudity. With no servants, no debtors, no warlock and no wife to disturb him, he found that his claws trailed down over his hard, muscled belly, over the ridged of his hips, before they smoothed through thick, coarse hair and a stiffened appendage.

Raphael, one hand still nursing his cup of wine, leaned his head back against the many cushions of the boudoir, palm gently pulling back and forth beneath the crystal waters. That was until he could feel it. He could sense it and smell it.

Katya. She'd returned.

He huffed a hard breath, eyes opening. "If you wanted a show, you needn't spy..." he muttered in annoyance. He was annoyed. Not embarrassed (why should he be when he was such a gorgeous creature?), but he was annoyed at the interruption.