m.

applefish enthusiast.

[yizhouyiq]

ྀ࿓ . welcome to my blog . . ⊹˓ ༅ ꪳ

call me mira . ! twenty. they/them. intp 954. 𓇼

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<3

( last updated: nov 28 )

[kylominis]

A perfect fit for a Lemurian God [🐚]

[lunamaedotjpeg]

Rafayel's weird way to eat cake. Huh.

More nsfw art on my patreon. 👇🏼👇🏼👇🏼👇🏼

🎀 𝓁𝓊𝓃𝒶𝑀𝒶𝑒 🎀 | Patreon

Get more from 🎀 𝓁𝓊𝓃𝒶𝑀𝒶𝑒 🎀 on Patreon. creating NSFW fanart. Support 🎀 𝓁𝓊𝓃𝒶𝑀𝒶𝑒 🎀 and get exclusive access to their work.

[oceanwolf26]

Day 20

[haine13]

If this post get flagged, im so sorry fam

I drew him for sylus’s fan made event on this weekend, he will be available as prints and freebies heheeheheheh i wish i could draw him in black version too😩

[haverdoodles]

oh? is this for me~? 🎀

— (rafayel)

.

happy belated birthday to my beautiful wife

[yeovv-r]

Quick doodle hehe🤭🤭🤭

[dmonyart]

When the tide turns ⋆⟡

[oceanwolf26]

rafayel's puppy

[ethjayy]

i did end up coloring it

[aethercoreheart]

“You guys wanna see something cool?”

Rafayel speaks languidly, his speech slightly slurred. He’s on his fourth cocktail, and it’s starting to show in how he moves. He plucks a maraschino cherry from one of his empty glasses on the table and pops it into his mouth without waiting for you or Sylus to respond. He chews it quickly, keeping the stem in between his thumb and index finger. He then swallows, then places the stem onto his tongue with a dramatic flair. You watch silently over the rim of your own cocktail glass, and your eyes momentarily flick over to the other end of the circular couch, glancing at Sylus. He too is watching Rafayel with an aloof curiosity, one hand swirling his small glass of whisky, the other draped over the back of the couch. 

Soft, moody jazz plays throughout the bar – combined with the dim lighting and the number of cocktails you’ve knocked back, it makes your body feel light and your eyelids feel heavy. But the way Rafayel contorts his mouth and lips and the glint of concentration in his eyes makes you sit up straighter in your seat. What is he doing? It takes him almost half a minute – he smirks, then opens his mouth and sticks his tongue out. On the end of it is the cherry stem, tied into a knot. You whistle, impressed, and slightly turned on.

“Nice trick,” Sylus chuckles, then takes a sip from his glass. 

He then places it on the table, and reaches past Rafayel, and over to you. You raise an eyebrow at him as he reaches into the glass you’re holding. It’s almost empty, save maybe for another sip of your drink, and your own maraschino cherry. He winks at you, then uses two fingers to skilfully fish it out of your glass. You allow him to take it, then lean back into the couch, waiting to see what he does with it.

“Let’s try and make it a little more complicated,” Sylus drawls. 

He bites the cherry off the stem, then chews it before swallowing slowly. He then does the same as what Rafayel did before – he places the stem onto his tongue, then brings it into his mouth. You aren’t able to anticipate what he does next. 

He draws back, then leans towards Rafayel, taking Rafayel’s chin in his hand. Rafayel blinks, a little surprised by Sylus’s sudden touch, but stays where he is. Sylus tilts his head and brings his lips to Rafayel’s, and Rafayel freezes momentarily, before returning the kiss, his eyes closing as he melts into it. You watch as Sylus pries Rafayel’s lips open with his tongue, and you see him pass the cherry stem into Rafayel’s mouth. You lean forward, your own mouth hanging open as you watch them, transfixed. You watch as their tongues writhe against each other, the sound of their lips smacking reaching your ears. Sylus’s eyelids are half-open, the corner of his mouth twitched up into a slight smirk as he plays with Rafayel’s tongue. His hand is still holding Rafayel’s chin, trying to keep his head steady. Rafayel is breathing heavily, battling to keep his eyes open, and concentrate on his objective – to tie the stem with his tongue while Sylus’s one is inside his mouth.

You don’t know how long this goes for – you feel like you can watch them go at it for an eternity. You have to cross your legs tightly, and ignore the fluttering feeling in the pit of your stomach. Eventually, Rafayel breaks away, panting, but looking triumphant. He smiles, and wipes at his mouth with the back of his hand before sticking his tongue out, revealing another tied cherry stem.

Sylus sits back into his spot with a sigh, looking pleased with himself. He picks up his glass again, then takes another swig of his drink.

“Impressive,” he murmurs. He motions to the other empty glasses on the table, with more cherries in them. “We have a few more cherries to go through. How about we all take turns practicing?”

[signoreratto]

Wine

[shukillz]

I can't omgghsjsjhb the way u draw fem sylus GGEHEHHEBRR she's sooo jwhhehwhehheneshzjajjsje (YOUR MOST RECENT ONE???? OH MY GAHHH) is there even the smallest chance we could get some more fem crowfih PLSAPSLWLALALSS

ANYWHOS your art is genuinely so beautiful and I knaw at it daily ≽^• ˕ • ྀི≼

THE KITTY KAOMIJI SO CUTEEE

ehehe i finished my coding project…i draw girls now..

[kylominis]

A slippery fish like him can't be caught so easily [🐟]

[deepspacenova]

Write an excuse for your absence that satisfies me

[onirarm]

I'm out of ideas, so keep these long-haired men

[thewrldx]

rafayel when he's begging to cum...

CW: forced submission, bondage, handjob, edging/orgasm denial, begging, raf being a brat lowk

AN: this is literally the opposite of my hc i just wrote sorry

thank you my bby @medicli for proof reading (can we kiss now or...?)

Rafayel loved to have his way with you. 

No matter what, it always seemed that he got what he wanted. He took control. He was the one to tease you relentlessly until you shook and sobbed and begged him to give you mercy he never granted. He liked watching you unravel at his touch, liked the way your breath hitched when he leaned close and murmured something filthy in that tone of his. 

He was insatiable. Even when you tried to take control, he gave you such a hard time—laughing, twisting things around, turning your dominance into something he could mock and rule. Rafayel was not obedient in the slightest. 

Which is why the sight before you brings the biggest grin to your face.

Your muse sits in a chair, hands bound behind his back. He should have known better than to trust you when you’d insisted he help you test new hunter gadgets. 

“So gullible,” you giggle, circling the chair slowly, letting your finger trail over his shoulder. 

Rafayel groans, glaring at you with exaggerated annoyance as he tugs at the cuffs binding him to the wooden frame. “Real cute. Your hunter gadget works greeeeaaaat.”

“Don’t they?” You complete your circle and stop in front of him, tilting your head.

“Unlock them.”

“Mmmm,” you tap your chin thoughtfully. “No. I don’t think I will.”

“Uuuuggghhh,” Rafayel throws his head back against the chair dramatically, sending his purple fringe from his face. “What are you going to do then? Leave me tied up all day? My wrists are gonna hurt, y'know. I need them. For painting! For art!” 

You step closer and nudge his thighs apart with your knee, a little rougher than necessary, claiming the space between his legs. “You’re sure whining a lot,” you murmur, leaning down so your mouth hovers near his. “And I haven't even started.”

Rafayel laughs, trying to steal a kiss that you dodge. “Started what? 

“My fun, of course.”

Your hands are faster than his mouth. His belt is undone in seconds, leather slipping free before you drag the zipper of his pants down. You tug his boxers just low enough to reach inside, fingers curling around and drawing him out into the open air. His cock is soft at first, warm and heavy in your palm, already stirring at the contact. 

His ear flush pink instantly.

“What are you doing?” the demand tries to sound commanding, but his voice cracks just slightly at the end. 

“Payback,” you say sweetly. 

Your hand closes around his length and gives a slow, purposeful squeeze, feeling the subtle rush of blood beneath your hold. A sharp inhale slips through his teeth. 

“Oh,” comes the breathy reply. “So that’s how it is.”

“Mm-hmm.” You stroke lazily, thumb dragging up the side of his cock while your fingers tighten and loosen in an unhurried rhythm. “You tease me for hours. I think it’s only fair if I return the favor.” 

He shifts in the chair, straining his wrists against the cuffs “You planned this.”

“Did I?” You press your thumb to the tip just as a bead of precum gathers there. You smear it gently, then lift your finger, watching the sticky string stretch between you before it snaps. “Seems like you don’t mind my plan.”

Rafayel’s jaw tightens. He bites his lip in a failed attempt to suppress the sounds threatening to spill. “You’re awfully bold,” he manages, “for someone who can’t stop whimpering when I—ah—”

Your grip tightens suddenly, stroking him with intent now. He’s fully hard under your touch, cock pulsing once against your palm. The teasing edge in his voice collapses into something breathier. 

Needier. 

“Careful,” you warn when he opens his mouth again. “Keep talking back and I don’t think you’ll like what happens.”

Your threat isn’t taken seriously. Of course it isn’t. Even through breathless pants, that mouth keeps running. Disobedient little remarks tumble out between soft, involuntary moans. 

So you slow.

Your pace drops to a tortuous glide, barely moving, maintaining just enough friction to keep him aching. A loud groan spills out as his head falls forward, hair slipping into his dazed eyes.

“You’re evil,” he mutters.

“And you don’t listen.” 

You spit down onto his swollen tip, watching it slide before beginning to pump him again. The added slickness makes your strokes smoother when twisting your wrist slightly at the top. His hips jerk, chasing your hand.

“Don’t move,” you scold, pressing him back into the chair with a firm hand on his chest.

“I can’t help it,” he mutters through gritted teeth. “You’re—haah—!”

His cock throbs heavily in your hand, his thighs tensing around you “I'm close,” he admits reluctantly. 

That's when your hand disappears completely, the warmth of your touch replaced by cool air. 

He freezes, blinking up at you in flushed disbelief. “What the hell?”

“Aww,” you pout mock-symphatic. “Poor baby. Not so fun being on the other side of things, huh?”

You don’t give it back right away. Even when he pouts.

Instead, you let the tension build again, ghosting your fingers over his inner thigh, murmuring filth. Only when his cock stops throbbing sp violently do you wrap your hand around him again, giving slow, almost gentle tugs. 

And just as his hips begin to lift, just as his body starts to squirm with the building pleasure, you stop. The pattern is a deliciously cruel denial that he earned. So you do it again.

And again.  

Rafayal wrenches his head away from you, his cheeks flushed an incandescent rose. Too proud to let you see the trembling mess you are making of him. 

“Ah—ah,” you croon, squeezing the swollen base of his cock. “Look at me.”

A small, broken sound slips past his lips as his head snaps back. The usual confidence in his eye is replaced by ones that are wide, shining, and desperate. “W-Why are you so cruel?”

“Cruel?” Your lips stretch into a slow smirk. You move your slick hand up and down his length, thumb teasing the throbbing tip. “How is this cruel?”

Your poor boy can’t even form a coherent retort as another wounded whimper escapes. He's finally where you wanted him, and it had only taken a little bit of edging.

His hip surge, an involuntary, pathetic buck into your palm. The head of his cock tight with the need to release. You begin to slow.

“Nngh—!” A sound of pure frustration rips from him. The cuff clink with another failed attempt of escape. 

“Beg,’ you grin, leaning in your lips brushing his ear.

His breath stutters, sweat sticking purple strands to his forehead. 

“Oh come on,” you encourage. “You’re sooo good at making me do it.” 

There is a long pause while his pride wars with his desire—and desire wins. 

“...Please,” the single word slips, stripped of all sass. It's an honest admission of defeat that places a triumphant smirk on your lips.

“Please… what?”

“Please…” he chokes. “Please let me cum, baby.”

You hum thoughtfully, teasing his flushed tip with just the lightest touch. “You can beg better than that.”

“Please!” This is torture…” he swallows hard, a storm of broken moans and syllables erupting from him. “You know I can’t—I need you too—f-fuck—I need to cum for you.”

Its good enough, you decide. 

Plus, you can tell he’s right there, the uncontrollable twitching of his cock gives him away. Soft, broken whimpers he can’t quite swallow no matter how hard he tries. 

So your hand doesn’t slow, working him with smooth tight strokes that make his cock pulse erratically in your grip.

“W-Wait—” he tries, overstimulated before he even comes.

“Go on.” 

“Mmmph!—fuck—c-cutie—my god—” he stutters, thick, hot ropes of his release instantly shooting and coating your hand as he trembles beneath you. 

You wait until the last tremor fades before leaning in, pressing a soft kiss to his jaw. “See? Was that so hard?” 

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