#rafemulciber

 ❝            and all the kids cry out                             please STOP you’re ( scaring ) me                     i can’t help this awful energy                       ❞

A Rafe Mulciber & Regulus Black aesthetic

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rafe mulciber

✦✦✦✦✦✦✦✧✧✧ | Sexual Attraction✦✦✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧ | Romantic Attraction✦✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧ | Crushing✦✦✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧ | Squishing✦✦✦✦✧✧✧✧✧✧ | Sensual Attraction✦✦✦✦✦✦✧✧✧✧ | Aesthetic Attraction

It was a dare. A stupid, silly little dare that, arguably, could get her into more trouble than her pride was worth. She’d never turn down a dare. Not when it called for pool-hopping in the summer, eating some really gnarly foods, or tee pee-ing an old friend’s house for their birthday– and not even when she had been dared to kiss one of the most vile people here at Hogwarts. 

He wasn’t vile exactly. Just a bit.. Pompous. A prat. A cad. A Pureblood elitist that thought, like Rodolphus, he was a gift to mankind. Respect was a two-way street, most people would say. But with Raphael and Celia, it seemed like it was more parallel lines. They were never to meet, they respected and honoured different things. After all, he had no qualms about hitting a female, and the bruise that had only recently disappeared from Celia’s small body could attest to that. 

Yet even with the risk, she was not backing down. 

So at one moment, she’d been walking past the Slytherin table during lunch time, making her way away from her friends who were still  sitting at the Gryffindor table. But before anyone could realise what was going on, she’d set herself into Rafe’s lap, slanting her lips to meet his in a harsh kiss. He probably hadn’t the slightest idea who was kissing him at the moment. 

There wasn’t anything soft about it. There was anger, resentment pouring forth from the girl– evident in the bruising way her lips pressed against his own, and lithe fingers that tangled, tugged at the curling locks at the nape of his neck. Celia wasn’t soft, pliant, and she certainly wasn’t forgiving– not in the way that she nipped at his bottom lip harshly enough to draw blood. She was angry. An angry, hateful girl with little care for Pureblood bullshit.

You could hear the gasp that rang through the Great Hall, the hush of quietness that was shock, utter disbelief in what was occurring. Celia, the girl who openly spat and hissed at the Purebloods that thought they were above all, snogging Raphael Mulciber. 

But as quickly as it had happened, she pulled herself away, standing and taking his goblet of pumpkin juice to wash away the taste of his lips. She looked disgusted. She looked indifferent. There wasn’t a blush to her cheeks or laughing light to her eyes. It was a dare, a bet. Nothing more, nothing less. 

“–Lips aren’t as soft as you would think,” Celia called down to her friends, setting the goblet back down in front of him. “And I,” She said, snatching a cookie from the Slytherin table before she stalked away. “Will take that. Thanks.”

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It’s easy to write about flowers and big bay windows and soft fabric, but there are things that are so much more raw.

There’s the muddy boots that stomp those flowers into their graves, the cracks and the splinters across glass, and the blood splattered across torn sheets.

Werewolf: If you had to spend your life with just one person, who would it be?

“It’d probably be selfish of me to say my mom, wouldn’t it?” She questioned, fiddling with the ring at the end of her necklace. “One person, one person... Gideon, maybe? He’s my best friend after all, and we already act like some stupid, old married couple, anyways. But, still, that’d be selfish. I don’t know. This final answer is probably cheesy as hell, but probably someone who would love me as much as I loved them, and could see themselves spending a lifetime with me as well. And-- I’ll leave it as open-ended as that.”

Incubus: What would someone have to do to get in your pants?

The very first thing, is I have a bigger dick than you Mulciber, and you know it.You’re fun, you’re nothing serious, and you remind me it’s okay to waste a little time. You make me laugh and smile, you make me fee free for a little while, and you give me a good time. You’re the kind of guy I wonder about, I mean, I know you ain’t got shit on me, but I wonder what it would be like to be really close with you, to be your best friend, to be someone you love, I’m curious. But I like us the way we are, clubs with bottle service, dancing all over you, I like knowing you think I’m hot, throwing insults in the halls and I don’t mind that you’re not so good in terms of morals, because you make me feel alive, and when you’ve been sick like I was, when you nearly died, being alive is the best feeling in the world.