#raphael/tav

[rauzagel]

Can't believe he talks to us like that! In a damn brothel!!

PLEASE LET US BE BEDFELLOWS LARIAN, I'm begging you.

[azotho]

Raphael/Tav Commission I’ve done for @illidariiii Thank you very much💗

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Prints - society6.com/thepaleindigo

[dantent]

tav, trying to flirt with raphael but rolling a nat 1: if i had to pick a favorite tea... i would pick you, shaw-tea *winks*

raphael: ...

raphael: im surrounded by idiots

-later that night-

raphael in his bed, still thinking about tav: fuck...

[space-blue]

BG3 Fic Feb, comic edition, day 10:

A hard kiss before battle...

I didn't even know about Raphael's ascended form until after I first finished the game. It is glorious and I will be sure to experience it in my Durge game. Anyway, Nia wasn't into Raphael much, but she would have gotten new sympathy for him, I think, if she understood how desperate he is to hide his true appearance. His personality SUCKS, mind you, but he deserves a kiss and to be told the monster fuckers over on tumblr would adore him.

No wings for my sanity's sake.

Kawai version for my freaky mutuals below the cut

Maybe after the challenge is done I might try and colour it. Maybe!

[moremousewrites]

Strategy

Pairing: Raphael/Tav (femme)

Summary:Raphael is toiling away at battle plans leaving you a bit neglected. You manage to gain his attention but the night takes an unexpected turn.

Tags: cockwarming, fingering, light fluff

Word count: 1,024

The plush chaise lounge in Raphael's office was soft on your flushed skin. You were anticipating his touch all night, or at the very least his attention.  But no, his focus was entirely on some blood war strategy you were keen on staying uninvolved with. So you lounged, nude, and bored. 

Raphael's chambers had walls lined with books, all regarding the laws of the hells. Not exactly light reading. You made your way to one of the bookcases to test your independence. If the devil took any issue with your exploration, he did not mention it. You ran your fingers on the spines of the books, just to feel as though you were in a normal library again. The familiar feeling brought you some comfort. 

Raphael's back stayed turned against you. That was irksome. “May I be dismissed?” You asked, feeling antsy. Perhaps Raphael wouldn't give you any affection, but Haarlep certainly would. And the phantom touch might just get your master's attention. You'd be punished severely but it was usually worth it. Usually. 

“No, little mouse, you may not” he sighed, rubbing the bridge of his nose in frustration. You'd become very pesky lately. Perhaps too much time in Avernus. 

You draped yourself along the lounge, stretching yourself theatrically. “Why demand my presence if you won't take advantage?” You slumped in the chair when he didn't glance your way. “I'm speaking to you. Have some courtesy and look at me whilst I'm speaking” you said, frustration building in you. 

Raphael lifted his eyes, scanned your body, and rested his quill.

“Tav, come here” he summoned, pushing back his chair. You sheepishly made your way to him. Here comes the discipline. “I'm not going to hurt you, just come to me” he assured. So you did. He stood you between his legs momentarily, turned towards the desk. You felt his fingers slip between your legs and softly run through your slick folds, gathering the moisture. His fingers pushed into you and you held onto the edge of his desk for stability. Your hand knocked over something small and sharp and you felt a sharp sting to your left buttock. 

Glaring over your shoulder you saw your master giving you a stern look. “Mind yourself, little mouse” he warned. You looked down and saw a model of some footsoldier you had just mindlessly knocked down. 

His fingers pumped in and out of you, slowly, stretching you against his ministrations. He curled his fingers forth, pressing on that fleshy spot you could never reach, and you moaned out for him. When you were just reaching your climax, Raphael pulled his fingers from you. Your frustration was clear but you bridled it, hoping to be rewarded for obedience. 

“Come, sit” he beckoned. You let him guide you onto him. He sank you onto his standing cock, slowly letting you stretch around him. Once you met the base, you attempted to rock your hips but Raphael wrapped his arm around your waist and held you still.

“What? What's wrong?” You asked, unsure if this was a punishment. Raphael stood the model soldier back into its place and held you with his free hand, lightly stroking your stomach with his thumb.

You watched as he maneuvered battle lines, considering which strategy was ideal. He stayed achingly hard within you, twitching often. You tested your limits, fluttering your walls against his cock to squeeze him. His hand glided up to your breast, cupping it and massaging the soft skin. You kept your hips still, fearing he'd stop. Raphael ran his thumb over your nipple then reached over the desk to pick up a large model you assumed to be Yurgir. “Where do you suggest he should go, my dear” he asked, a tinge of exhaustion in his voice. 

You considered the board and its pieces. It was separated by the river Styx. The pieces painted red were shown flanking the blue. “I think he should be where he can utilize his projectiles” you answered, suddenly a bit more interested in his battle operations. 

“Please elaborate. I was thinking his invisibility would be of greater utility” he handed you the model and you leaned forward, feeling him prod inside you, forgetting for a moment he was penetrating you. 

The action caused him to raise a brow at you but no punishment was dealt. You placed the model onto the board in a high vantage point. “I thought about that but you devils can all see invisibility it'd be pointless” you said, resting your chin in your hand. “Besides, he can do more damage with the projectiles than his blade” you examined the board further. 

You felt him twitch in you. “That is an excellent strategy, little mouse,” Raphael said while kissing your shoulder. His hot lips burned against your electrified skin, making you tremble. Raphael could feel your shivers around his cock and kissed your neck, trailing to your ear, then licking the outer shell. 

You moaned his name, breathless and full of want. “Please. Take me” you begged, as your heaving chest was groped by your master. 

Raphael watched as you were unfolding under such minuscule contact. How your body reacted so honestly to his touch. “My dear, I already have you,” he said, breathing into her ear.

Your frustration passed. His hands and lips on your skin were distracting enough, but his cock would press against your walls, and had you desperate for more. “Please, Master. I need you” you panted, gripping the arms of his chair like a vice. 

Raphael took pity on you, his hand trailing a path from your breast to your clit, rubbing languid circles. You hooked your legs around his, forcing yourself to remain still as he coaxed an orgasm out of you, your cunt convulsing around him. He held you there, kissing your neck, watching you come down from your high.

Still, he did not thrust, he did not drag your hips onto his, he clutched you to him. You stayed there for hours, watching him toil over his battle plans, cock stuffed deeply in you. In an odd way, you felt comfort. 

[eclecticmiasma]

Down Comes the Claw Ch. 1 (Raphael x Reader)

Doomed, detected, and caught.

SFW (For now)

[Warnings: afab reader, noncon/dubcon, mind control-ish elements, incubi, clones, ownership, imprisonment. EVENTUAL: cambion Raphael, degradation, domination, forced voyeurism, orgasm denial/delay, size difference]

Artist credit: @wrroniec on twitter

The Archivist’s curiosity isn’t well hidden underneath his thin veil of distrust. A mortal, alone, simply wandering the halls of one of the Hells’ most powerful Cambions because she wanted to...peruse his private collection of artifacts? Even a troll would smell treachery miles away.

Were it any other being, the Archivist would have had you sent screaming to holding cells until the master of the house could decide what plane of torment to shuttle you to next, but Korilla had been rather forceful in her instructions not to intervene.

“He’s got a plan for this one,” She’d grinned, the gleam in her dark eyes devilish in its own right, “Let her play while she can.”

Your lips are split from worrying them between your teeth. As if the Hells aren’t hot enough, the Archivist’s gaze has you sweating buckets. He alone could rip your throat to shreds with those fangs the minute your presence has been deemed unsavory, you’re sure of it. As a gleaming ruby locket catches your eye, you try to regard it coolly. You are nothing more than a purveyor of incredibly rare goods, and not at all trying to make your way toward the glittering contract sat front and center of Raphael’s trophy room. The phrase is a mantra you desperately wish to believe.

“Worn by Lumi, a cleric beholden to twilight…” Gods, is your voice trembling? You repeat the name again as if you’re trying to search your vast religious knowledge for the origin of this treasure. Not a single snippet of information comes to mind. Internally, you brace for the house itself to eat you alive.

Instead, Korilla barks out for the Archivist’s attention. Something about another contract ready to be sorted. The man regards you with a final furl of his brows before turning his back to you and attending to his duties. Adrenaline floods your veins and your fingers flex with anticipation. Get the contract, smash Hope’s chains, and get out.

Hope herself appears out of thin air and parrots your thoughts giddly, “Get the contract, smash Hope’s chains, and get out!” before nipping out of existence once again.

You don’t give yourself another chance to think. Without a sound, you prowl towards the center of the grand room and beeline straight for the contract. This is why they agreed to send you alone- Karlach, Shadowheart, the others. Years of prowling the streets of Baldur’s Gate made you nearly undetectable when you wanted to be, so much so that you had even startled Astarion for a laugh on long boring treks. Sure, Gale and Lae’zel nearly came to brawl over the decision, but after two days of quarrels the answer was final.

It could only be you.

The contract before you almost hums with power. Anxiety gnaws at your stomach as you check it over thrice for traps. Nothing. It seems wrong, somehow. A piece of parchment that potentially dictates the fate of Faerûn itself guarded by nothing but a few words. Something tells you to leave it and run, perhaps remnants of the Emperor’s hold on your psyche. Images of your companions, the Hammer, Hope’s face quickly override your doubts and you close your eyes, prepared.

“Give me my heart’s desire,” The words fall from your lips with ease, but nagging trepidation constricts around your heart. Without a sound, the glittering sphere surrounding your contract dissolves away. Before the Archivist can sense what has occurred, before you can convince yourself to turn heel and dash away from all of this, you snatch the page and tear it in two.

Everything plunges into silence. The eternal screams of the damned beyond the gilded walls, cries and whimpers and babbling of long-gone debtors, Korilla’s nagging- all of it gone in an instant. The air around you becomes oppressive, constricting, increasing degree by degree. Ashes fall from your fingertips as the shreds of your contract disintegrate. Get the contract, smash Hope’s chains, get out. You repeat it again and again in your head until your mantra is a scream, but your legs will not move.

“Fools...fools...how hard you have fought,” A familiar baritone echoes out across the empty archive accompanied by slow clapping. It can’t be, you want to shriek. Hope said he was planes away, that you had time.

“Brave, brave, but it's all been...for naught,” You can’t tell from where his voice is coming. It sounds both far and near, across the hall and right in your ears all at once. Even his footsteps, slow and commanding, don’t betray his location.

“True Souls that couldn't be bought,” He’s mocking you now, a gleeful lilt in his otherwise menacing tone. True Souls...the faces of your companions flip through your mind’s eye like pages of a tome. This isn’t how it’s all supposed to end, is it? Your lungs start to burn, unable to expand or contract to the fullest.

“Doomed...” Raphael himself is in the room now, you feel it. As he takes his sweet time sauntering up to you from behind, the magic that holds your limbs in place begins to be revealed. A holding spell, tendrils wrapped around your legs and snaked up your torso through your fingertips. It pulsates with a blinding purple glow. Sweat drips down your temples as the heat of the Hells becomes sweltering, as fear settles in your bones.

“...detected…” Gods, you will. Tyr, Mystra, Shar for Hells’ sake, you pray to every last one. Anything to bid your body run. As the screams of the damned filter back in, growing louder and louder with each step Raphael takes, it becomes devastatingly clear that not a single deity can hear you.

Raphael’s hands land on your shoulders. His fingertips, though gently splayed, might as well be digging into your skin. If you could move an inch, you would have jumped ten feet in the air. Instead you tremble like a rabbit held in the canines of a much larger beast. He leans down and aligns his lips with your ear, breath ghosting across your flesh, “...and caught.” If you could sob you would, but the fear won’t allow it. Instinct of prey that’s well and truly done for. Instead you tense, bracing for the impending pain of retribution.

“So,” the Devil muses, mile wide grin easily detected through the undercurrent of excitement in his tone, “this is the path you have chosen. Anything you and your group of sorry souls could have wanted would have been yours. Your names would have gone down in history as the heroes that saved Faerûn. Yet, you squandered it with a flick of your wrist. What do you have to say for yourself, oh fallen hero?”

Your mouth opens, but not a sound escapes. Nothing that surfaces in your reeling mind feels like it could ever be enough to reverse the tide of ruin you’ve brought upon yourself. Raphael waits patiently as you flounder. Your terror is a wine finer than any bought, and he has all of eternity to savor it.

“Please…” The pitiful, squeaking word escapes your throat more so than it coming out on purpose. Raphael chuckles darkly and moves to tuck a stray wisp of hair behind your ear.

“Oh, I do so love to hear you beg, little mouse. However, I think we can both agree that ‘please’ isn’t an answer. Perhaps if I tell you a story, you’ll be more inclined to...talk.”

Raphael pulls away from you and steps lithely to your front. With a snap of his fingers and a puff of flame, he transports the two of you to his dining room. Roaring flames lick the inside of the fireplace before you, silhouetting the Devil as he prepares to speak. The holding spell wraps tighter.

“You see, the Devil is a rather busy man. When I’m not gracing your merry band with my presence, I’m often attending long meetings with prospective clients, or checking up on those that have already promised me their souls. Perhaps I’m even doling out a punishment or two to a cheeky human that thinks it’s found a loophole. It’s all very important work, and requires quite a bit of cunning and concentration.”

The oppressive heat is getting to you. Raphael’s deep voice sounds like it’s ringing in your head, almost akin to the Emperor’s presence. He paces back and forth before you, gesturing his arms in theatrical movements as if performing a monologue. Each word sends your psyche farther into disarray.

“Hero,” Raphael claps loudly, bringing your attention back to him, “Since my tales seem to bore you, I’ll get straight to the point. I had a fairly important event to attend right before your flagrant disregard for our agreement. Now, imagine my surprise when right in the middle of securing a rather rare and valuable contract, I feel a...shudder, wrack my entire body.”

Glowing eyes level with yours as he leans in close. His brows are furrowed now, genuine anger contorting his features, “My skin began to feel hot, clammy. My concentration waned. Before I realized what was happening sheer ecstasy pooled in my abdomen and then-” He’s so close to you that you hear his breath catch, “It became apparent that someone was using my body.”

Your heart drops. It was the only way. The Archivist had given you access to Raphael’s bedroom with a little cunning, and the only thing standing between you and the contract was a rather familiar looking incubus. What harm could there have been in trading your body for the fate of your companions, your home? The incubus had warned you, though, in its own way. If everything it did with your form meant you would feel it on a different plane, it should have been obvious that Raphael’s form would feel it too.

“I...I didn’t-”

“I knew you would betray our agreement,” Raphael spits, lips hovering just in front of your own, “I knew that eventually I would find you hear in my home, remnants of your misdeed in hand. Korilla and I machinated thousands of ways to tear you asunder, to torment you for breaking my one, most cardinal rule,” Raphael catches himself in his rage, and pulls back. He looks to the fire, light reflected in his eyes. Inhale, exhale. When his gaze meets yours again, all remnants of fury are gone.

“I was ready to kill you in an infinite number of ways. But I should have known better. The moment I met you, I knew you were...special. Of course you would throw a wrench in my plans, and do so beautifully. I almost commend you.”

As he smiles, your skin crawls. He moves in circles around you, thinking, plotting. After some time he comes to a stop, once again behind you.

“So, I propose a better solution. I’ve decided that I rather...enjoyed indulging in your body,” You swallow a protest as his chin rests in the crook of your neck, his left hand sliding down the curve of your waist and along the front of your thigh, “Form a new contract. Submit to me, and I won’t touch a hair on your companions’ heads. As much as I would love to take the place of that poor spawn’s master, I can control myself- for you.”

He squeezes your thigh and drags his lips across the straining muscles in your neck. Your sweat slicked skin sticks to his own, and you feel a deep rumble at your back as he revels in the sensation, “For all they know, the contract is still intact. I’ve captured you here,” He kisses your neck and you squirm, fighting back a gasp, “and their only option is to use the hammer,” another kiss, “or you perish.”

“No…I won't...” The answer comes as a piteous whimper. Raphael cackles against your skin, squeezes your body tight to his own, and tuts like he’s caught a naughty child with their hand in the cookie jar.

“Wrong answer, little mouse.”

Chapter 2 smut incoming 😘

*do not post elsewhere without explicit permission. please consider reblogging, as Tumblr tends to hide more mature content!

[RULES] [MASTERLISTS] [AO3] [KO-FI]

[eurydia]

Inferna Victoria (Portrait of the Archdevil and Archduchess Supreme of the Nine) a royal portrait of Raphael and Tav in the style of a Van Dyck for my fic, The Lover's Gambit. it's now my most popular fic, thank you so much for your support! you all have exquisite taste ❤️

Raphael's outfit was inspired by a beautiful gifset by @cherriesandsulphur

details, context below

[Solo Raph painting]

Baroque is one of my fave art movements. the in-game art looked inspired by it, and I wanted to do a piece that combined my love for it and royal portraiture. this was inspired by the works of Flemish Baroque master Anthony Van Dyck.

this is one of the most ambitious and detailed pieces I've done so far: the fullsize is 22 x 32in, and it took over 50+ hrs. royal portraiture usually has extensive detail, so I wanted to make it as detailed as possible. it was challenging and time consuming, but a lot of fun!

framed version (Cassetta frame from the Met website:)

process

spoiler details (for the game + fic)

- their ship came about because I wanted to give Raph a chaotic evil counterpart to his lawful evil. basically he’s the “mansplain, manipulate, malewife” to her “gaslight, (Baldur’s)gatekeep, girlboss” lol.

- I hc this Tav’s ending is the “In my name” one. though I hc she says “In our name” instead ;)

- visually, it looks like Raphael has more power but I hc it’s actually Tav for several reasons: many elements of the composition lead to her (Raph’s sash, arms, the curtains), she’s wearing her crown and is seated, and is also foremost while Raph is in the back.

- Raph’s crown is ceremonial/for vanity only while Tav’s tiara has enough fragments of the stone to be fully functional.

- The crown’s design is based on concept art, and if you look closely it kinda looks like it has hearts on the sides. I added the red gems.

I hc that Raph is a romantic and some of his lines seem to allude to this (code phrase of “my heart’s desire”, the Amulet of Greater Health, which Tav is wearing here, in a prominent place in his house, and his words to Hope in a transcript: “…serve me with your whole heart”)

- I hc they’re married at this point. Tav’s ring has two additional gems, and her outfit in general was inspired by the canon design of the Crown of Karsus.

- there’s a lot of red because according to Hope, Raph’s favorite color is “blood”. my hc for the painting overall is that it was done by his personal painter, maybe a debtor who has to paint for him for all eternity (not a bad deal right? /s) so it reflects his and Tav’s requests.

- I picture this hanging either above Raph’s fireplace in the dining room. or bedroom - much to Haarlep’s dismay 🤣

[inaconstantstateofchange]

Inquiring minds want to see your take...8 INT Tav meets Haarlep in the Boudoir.

asjdaksjdasd oh my god okay, well obviously taking massive inspiration from your og: 8 INT Tav

this got... impossibly long. don't blame me, blame the two competing peacocks.

Raphael rematerializes within the familiar walls of his bedroom, still pinching the bridge of his nose. He normally prefers to arrive at the front hall, to allow his servants to see and feel his presence in their midst, but today… He’ll grant himself an allowance, just this once. A familiar rustle of wings unfurling has him spinning around, looking for the slightest opening to lash out and satisfy even some portion of his wounded pride. He is not kept waiting long. 

Haarlep’s mockingly dulcet voice lilts out of the shadows across the room, eyes alight with glee. “How was the visit with your dear paramour, Unseelie lord?” 

Raphael raises a clawed fist in their direction, discordant notes like distant screams gathering at the tips. Haarlep leans forward with anticipation, the byplay between them familiar if not yet entirely banal. Just before he releases it, tips them over the edge into simple violence that might ease but not soothe the indignity he has suffered today – and every day since meeting that impertinent, irritating girl – a thought strikes him. He grins, slow and toothy.

Haarlep is far too accomplished a fiend to do anything so obvious as blanch, but they do blink twice in rapid succession, a clear sign of their startlement from one who knows them as well as he. It is not often that he misses a step in their masquerade. 

Letting the accrued magic dissipate entirely, Raphael raises his hands to his mouth in an expression of carefree thought, a fine and cutting edge to it that he knows the other feels. 

“Why, how delightfully cordial of you to ask after her, Haarlep. In fact, she has been doing the same, nigh incessantly!” He watches the other’s face with barely-hidden glee, tracking every visible micro-expression. 

Another blink. Confusion. Haarlep doesn’t see the game yet. And, after all, how could they? That girl is absolutely incalculable. Raphael soothes his vexation with the thought that, at least this time, he can make someone else play the victim to her unique form of nescience. 

A brief mantling of the wings. They have determined their gambit then. With a sultry movement of their arm, Haarlep gestures to themself. “But of course! Who could possibly resist such a delicacy in truth? I am glad to hear the little darling has come to her senses and reconsidered.”

Raphael lets them preen, their eyes still watchful behind their long lashes, a moment longer, then claps his hands sharply. 

“That’s settled then. I’ll be just a moment, and then the two of you can get reacquainted.” He lets some portion of his own power rise around him for just a moment. No need to put too fine a point on it. “And, Haarlep? I do expect you to give a more proper welcome to guests of the House in future.”

Haarlep looks away for that moment, a pretense at nonchalance, but Raphael trusts his message has been received. He discorporates himself with a moment’s thought, feeling a malefic cheer rising as he considers the treat in store for him. 

Haarlep remains where they stand, loath to cede more ground and mistrustful of this turn of their little brat’s whims. They cast back to their first, brief meeting with the subject of his – unwitting and unwilling – current attentions, but nothing materializes that could explain the specific turn of his disposition. She had been too insipid to intrigue, yet somehow survived her visit unscathed where countless others had not. 

Their thoughts are suspended by the familiar metaphysical crackle that heralds the rematerialization of Raphael’s preferred method of conveyance. This time, he does not arrive alone. Held stiff and distrustful within the loose circle of his arms is… her. The moment she sets her eyes on Haarlep, they go limpid and soft.

Raphael speaks, face inscrutable but voice tremulous with his mirth, “See, dear one, I told you I’d had a… crisis of conscience. You’ve worn me down with your keen moral arguments, and I’m prepared to… see sense, and let you speak to Haarlep again.”

Haarlep blinks, genuinely caught off guard for one of the first times in recent memory. What… is going on. 

The girl steps forward, turning back to give Raphael a solemn, approving look, before approaching Haarlep tentatively. It is, however, not with the understandable caution they are accustomed to from mortals, but rather underpinned by something saccharine and soppy. Their well-honed survival instincts prick at them as she opens her mouth, warning them without even a bare moment to flee that whatever comes out of it will be harrowing indeed. 

“I know, Haarlep. I know what you are.” She reached out toward them with  supplicant hands. “You aren’t stuck here. You can be free.”

Haarlep blinks once, then again. “... What.”

She elaborates, but does not in any way elucidate. “I’ve seen this before, you know. It’s not hopeless. Whatever these fey have told you, your nature does not make you one of them. You belong on the Material Plane, with others like you.”

Behind her, Raphael’s face begins to crack into a grin worthy of a true fiend. Haarlep’s distrust is growing exponentially with each passing moment. They paste on a smile and lean forward, “Others… like me. And just what would those others be, little interloper?” 

“Oh, Haarlep…” To his stark disgust, a single tear drips from one eye. Gleeful micro-vibrations emanate from Raphael, propagating a shimmering haze around him. 

She continues on, after a brief pause in which she stares at him mournfully, “A changeling, of course. I’m so sorry you’ve fallen prey to their lies, that you had to find out this way.” 

She clenches her fist, a mawkish determination filling her entire body. “I’ll find a way to free you. I promise.”

[Haarlep.exe has stopped responding.] 

On the resounding heels of the vacuum left by her pronouncement, Raphael vibrates himself into the wall of the next room over. His cackling still reaches them unimpeded.

[sceleritas-fel]

She is tolerable, I suppose, but not handsome enough to tempt me.

(Jane Austen, Darcy on Elizabeth)

[therenlover]

Put Me Back In It (I Would Do It Again) Chapter Seven: Giveth and Taketh Away

Pairings: Tav/Raphael, Tav/Raphael/Haarlep, Raphael/Haarlep, Past!Astarion/Tav

Word Count: 6,400~

Synopsis: After some time to think, Tav accepts what she's always wanted, deep down. Raphael and Haarlep are happy to oblige.

Rating: E (+18)

Warnings: Stockholm Syndrome, Temporary Character Death, Unhealthy Relationship Dynamics

Tags: Threesome, Imprisonment, Emotional Manipulation, Making Love, Vaginal Sex, Unreliable Narrators, Memory Loss, Love Triangle (Maybe Even A Love Venn Diagram At This Point)

You can find this fic on AO3 Here or find the other finished chapters on Tumblr Here

--------

Tav had plenty of time to think before Raphael came to collect her.

She was grateful for it. There were quite a few things on her mind she needed to parse through before facing him again. It wouldn’t have done her any good to go into their inevitable discussion about the party and everything that had happened after without being fully prepared. Still, he could’ve come a bit sooner, if it had been up to her.

Seeing Haarlep helped the time go by. The incubus came down twice a day like clockwork to change out her food, begrudgingly clean the chamberpot with a quick prestidigitation, and treat her to some small talk. Tav appreciated the reserved, polite conversation that broke up the monotony of her imprisonment. Once things were back to normal, whatever that meant, she hoped the easy companionship they’d built could be repaired. Things were bound to be easier once the looming threat was dealt with.

The threat, though… that concept was difficult for Tav to wrap her head around as were the potential outcomes, even with all the time in the world to grapple with things.

In the night she’d press her ear against the cool stone of the cell wall, waiting to hear the crashing reverberations of combat. They never came. As the days passed Tav was almost disappointed when she was greeted by silence on the other side of the wall, but not because she wanted to escape or see her former friends again. No. She just wanted all of this to be over.

Thankfully, things wouldn’t last much longer. The party’s arrival couldn’t be far away now, given all the time that had passed. As long as Haarlep had passed her message along to the master he could clear everything up with her former party and things could go back to the way they were. The way they should be.

She could curl up in his stupidly soft bed with a bowl of fruit and one of the innumerable fluff novels he kept around for her before luring him into the sheets beside her, if only to feel the sensation of warm skin-on-skin again. How had she ever spent months sleeping on the ground in her threadbare bedroll? She’d only been in the cell for a few weeks and yet she couldn’t wait to be off of her straw-stuffed mat and back on a real down mattress.

When Raphael did come to her, she half expected him.

Haarlep was late with her bowl (she’d been upgraded from oat slop to stew as soon as they’d considered her capable of not purposefully choking herself on a carrot) and with every minute that passed she became more and more certain that the day was finally here. She waited with a somehow eager patience on the edge of her cot, letting the hours drift past without moving a finger.

Then she heard the footsteps pause in the hallway.

Tav gripped the thin fabric and pressed herself into the cot. He really had come. Any lingering doubts about her own devotion slipped from her mind.

Raphael opened the wooden cell door without knocking or announcing himself. His eyes glanced about the room until he found her waiting. She greeted him with a smile. He almost… winced.

“I’ve been waiting for you,” Tav murmured, tone plain and unshaken, taking in every glorious inch of him. Her savior. His skin was still damp from a bath and his nails looked freshly manicured. Still, he looked as he ever did: infallible from head to toe. His eyes similarly raked over her, taking in her hunched features with a measured fascination.

Shame she hadn’t had the chance to freshen up before he saw her.

Raphael gave her his best stern look but somewhere beyond the storm, his eyes were soft. “I assume you’ve pulled yourself together now that you’ve had time to cool down, little mouse,” He ran a hand through his hair, ruffling the half-wet strands. There was something almost boyish in the stubborn man as he leaned against the door frame, filled with a natural charisma that both soothed her and set her teeth on edge. It reminded her of how he’d looked the night she first set her hands on the Orphic Hammer in Sharess’ Caress. He’d had the air of someone who knew they’d already won the game before his opponent even knew it began.

“No need for groveling and apologies, I’ve decided to forgive your transgressions out of the goodness of my heart. What do you say?”

“Thank you,” she replied, and she meant every crooked, breathy syllable.

The devil let out an unexpected laugh. “There. Was that so hard?”

She pasted that eager smile back on and shook her head. It hadn’t been hard at all. Why had she found it so hard before?

There was an easy familiarity between them that Tav took for granted before. They fell into their roles as easy as she breathed. It was different than it had ever been, though, strangely comfortable as she contorted to him and his whims without a hint of shame hiding in her chest. She wanted this. She wanted him. There was no reason to feel guilty for that! Not now that she knew the truth.

It had been her choice to stay at his side all along.

Neither of them mentioned how things ended between them the last time they’d spoken. Instead, Raphael glazed past it as if it were a one-off argument that hadn’t held any weight at all in the grand scheme of things. Knowing there was no more left to say about it… it was the sweetest relief she could’ve possibly imagined.

Tav pushed herself up from her cot, smoothing the innumerable wrinkles in her cotton nightgown as she stood on steady feet.

“If you’re ok with it, could I go back up to the house with you and take a bath? Please? Or maybe just get a change of clothes, if that’s too much?” It took no effort to pull her gaze away from him and focus on the lines between the stones of the floor. Her eyes followed their twisting paths. They ran anywhere but to him and the waiting expression on his face. “I know I’ve given you absolutely no reason to trust me, but I promise I just…” her voice broke, “I just want to feel clean.”

She could hear Raphael hum in consideration before letting her eyes dart up toward him just long enough to catch his pensive gaze. He looked troubled. Oh, how dare she cause him trouble!

“Never mind, I’m so sorry. I just-”

“I suppose I could allow it,”

Cool, blissful relief flooded Tav’s chest.

Raphael came a few paces closer as he spoke, sizing her up. “Only if I join you, though. For your safety, of course. We wouldn’t want a wandering bat to creep their way in and snatch you up while my back is turned, now would we?” His Adam's apple bobbed in his throat as he came toe to toe with her.

Tav’s heart thrummed. Her head spun. She batted wet eyes at the floor again, as innocent as the lamb but begging for his sweet slaughter.

“I missed you,” She whispered.

“Of course you did,” Raphael shook his head. “What would you do without me? I can’t exactly say the feeling is reciprocated. You can’t imagine how much work I’ve been able to complete without you there to distract me,”

An involuntary shudder slammed its way through Tav’s body. Somehow, though, she stayed sturdy through the chill. That sturdiness only threatened to disappear when Raphael’s arm shot out to steady her against his body.

She leaned into the warmth like a dog.

“I’m sorry. I can stay here if it’s better for you, as long as you visit sometimes. Or not, you don’t have to. I just want what you want. I want whatever is best for you,”

“Tav, I...” He laughed again, breathy and troubled, but she couldn’t focus on it, not when he had just said her name. It sat so beautifully in his voice. Nobody else could have said her name so tenderly if they’d tried. “Can I tell you something, just between the two of us?”

“Of course. Anything.”

The devil leaned in, placing his lips close to the sensitive shell of her ear. His breath was a gust of chimney-hot smoke on her skin. “I did miss you bothering me.” His thumb rubbed a small circle into her arm. “In fact, at least once an hour I look up from my work and find myself more than disappointed to not see you peeking into my office, trying to lure me to bed.” He pulled his face away from hers. His eyes were filled with fire.

“Oh,” Tav gulped.

“Oh?” Raphael tilted his head slightly. “That’s all you have to say to me? ‘Oh?’”

He was still laughing under his breath. How was he always laughing? She hoped so desperately he was laughing with her and not at her.

“How does it make you feel, Tav, knowing I missed you?”

She felt the urge to shudder again from somewhere deep in her stomach, but it was a warm shudder this time.

“Good,” She whispered.

He smiled his toothy smile. “Good.”

And without warning he was kissing her, pressing his tongue against her chapped, waiting lips, and she was letting him in, wrapping shaking hands around his broad shoulders to pull him as close as she could pretend was unintentional.

He was hot and sweet like summer fruit in her mouth. This kiss was different from anything they’d shared before. Kissing outside of sex was so new. Her touch starved body was so addicted to the sensation that she didn’t bother pulling away for air, even as her lungs burned. Tav could drown there in his lips and teeth and eyes until she died in his arms. When he pulled away, she whined like some poor deprived animal.

Oh, how he liked that noise! His eyes said it as clearly as his lips did.

“I’m going to enjoy this,” he purred low, “I’m going to enjoy you until the only thing you think about when you see me is how grateful you are to be mine,” His last word was a growl. Guttural. Animal.

And Tav wanted.

She wanted like she was starving and drowning and burning and ailing and his touch was the sole sure to put a stop to it all. Only his lips on her temple could give her air. Only his hands wandering below her dress to squeeze her rear could save her from the flames. But he was flame too; roaring through her ears, singeing her skin, devouring her whole. She was destroyed in the crucible of his body but he remade her in his image, an idol to the best and worst of his heart. Her very existence was a devotion. Nothing remained of her but the gracious pieces of himself that he’d lent to her.

After everything that had led her here, she wouldn’t have it any other way.

Tav gripped Raphael’s back harder, leaving behind a collage of jagged, bloody crescent moons. Her breaths came in ragged pants.

“Take me home,”

The devil smiled and hoisted her up, letting her thighs wrap around his hips. “As my lady commands,”

She lavished his neck as he carried her effortlessly through their home, their palace, a house of stolen hopes and dreams. Dark bruises bloomed with each kiss. She could feel his pulse quicken and thunder beneath her lips. Raphael’s nails grew long, cutting into the fabric of her already ratty skirt as he walked, wings ripping through the back of his emerald tunic. He was losing control of himself with every taunting moment that passed.

Finally, she held an ounce of power in her shaking hands.

Despite that, though, his touch was still intentionally gentle. He held her firmly to him without gripping her fragile body too tight. How rare a treat, to be treated so gently while his lust raged on, proven by the growing hardness pressing against her barely clothed core.

She silently thanked him for forgetting underwear when he redressed her all those weeks ago.

Raphael took the stairs two at a time and it wasn’t long before they were once again bathed in the orange glow of Avernus. Its light washed over Tav like a baptism. Had she ever really appreciated the beauty hiding in the Hells? The swirling auroras of reds and yellows dancing in the endless burning skies? She let her lips pull away from the underside of Raphael’s stubbled chin just long enough to close her eyes and bare her face to that glorious, radiant light.

He met her movement with a growl, diving in to mark her waiting, exposed neck with some love bites of his own.

Electricity raced down her sternum and straight into her warming cunt the second he sucked hard against a prominent vein. She keened as his sharp incisors threatened to break the thin skin. She wanted to feel him rip into her, feel him below the surface, feel consumed and desired… he didn’t though. He just laved his tongue over the angry red scratches and pulled his mouth away again.

Around them, the house was quiet. Not a single anguished wail rang out. The only sounds were his heavy footsteps and the mingling of their heaving breaths. Tav brought her mouth back up to his jaw to fill the sudden quiet in her mind.

“The things you do to me,” he groaned the moment her lips met his skin again, squeezing her thigh. “You little succubus you. Spending too much time with Haarlep must’ve turned you into one of their kind, that’s the only explanation. You’ve bewitched me with your wicked wiles,”

Tav’s heart stopped with each compliment. She hung on his every word.

Since when had he been so doting? Taking care to hold her gently, passing out sweet nothings like candies… Had her confession spurred on this new side to his affections? He put a stop to her thoughts as he suddenly shifted the weight of her body to one arm. She opened her eyes to find them in the dining room.

Haarlep was stood near the table and dressed in green again. Their robes glittered as thousands of tiny golden runes reflected the candlelight. They looked beautiful despite the pinched, anxious look on their face.

“Really?” The incubus spoke quickly, curtly. “Now?”

Raphael just continued his walk until he was upon his prey, pulling them in for their own searing kiss. Haarlep sputtered weakly but leaned into the affection just as Tav did. They didn’t whimper when he pulled away, though. They were much too proud for that. Still, Tav knew that look in their eyes as their upright posture softened.

“Yes, now,” Raphael replied. “Join us?”

Haarlep didn’t need to be asked twice.

They moved together to the boudoir, Haarlep’s hands wandering to her hair as they kissed her back and shoulders. She continued her ministrations on Raphael too, using her free hand to unbutton his collar and gain access to fresh skin. The devil was only driven to get them into bed faster with every distracting kiss and touch. By the time they passed through the threshold, though, his patience was waning.

The moment they were safely within the walls of his bedroom Raphael was quick to toss Tav gently onto a cushioned bench beside the baths. When he stood over her with his wings flared he almost looked like a vengeful angel come to deliver her to salvation. How apt. He’d always been her savior, even when she couldn’t see it.

“Do you truly insist on bathing first?” He asked, chest heaving.

Tav took one look at the grime on her skin and gave a sheepish nod. How human of her.

In a second Haarlep was sliding up behind the devil, wrapping an arm around his broad chest. “Don’t worry master, I’ll take care of her. Go make yourself comfortable,”

“Fine, but make it quick. My patience won’t last long today,”

Raphael turned on his heel, quickly extricating himself from the incubus's arms and walking to the bed. He began to undo the buttons on his tunic as his eyes took in the greatest treasures he’d ever owned.

Then the game began.

“Well, hello,” Haarlep murmured as they knelt beside her. “Look who finally rejoined our little family,”

Their voice sounded slightly strained in it’s softness but Tav expected nothing less. Things were still difficult between them and their conversation about Haarlep’s love was still raw in both their minds. They had nothing but tenderness when they ran a hand down her face, though, or when they began to gently lift her dress over her head. She accepted the affection eagerly.

Raphael was nude by then. He settled himself on the bed, angling his body so that he could lounge and stroke himself while overlooking the pair.

It took a lot for Tav to divert her attention away from him long enough to shift out of the filthy cotton nightgown but somehow she managed, letting Haarlep discard the garment somewhere behind them. Nudity didn’t bring heat to her cheeks anymore. Not with the two of them, at least. Being bared down to their basest was so much less confusing than facing the carefully crafted facades each of the three wore, herself included. Once she helped Haarlep out of their robes they were all just skin and blood and bone. Made of all the same stuff.

They were equals.

She brought Haarlep’s waiting mouth in for a kiss before descending into the warm waters awaiting them.

It was sinful, the way the incubus’s hands caressed her skin with the bar of soap, tracing her breasts and the soft line of her stomach, hands creeping low beneath the water but never low enough. All the while Raphael was stroking himself lazily. Tav relished the gentle touch and leaned her back against Haarlep’s steady form. Their own erection was waiting for her, pressing against her thighs.

The second their skin touched Raphael hissed a sigh.

“Careful, Haarlep,”

Then it was Tav’s turn to sigh, because Haarlep was rutting up into her thighs, so close to her wanting heat.

“What was that Master? I couldn’t hear you. I was too focused on this delicious little thing,”

Raphael growled softly, but did nothing, hand falling away from his cock. It wasn’t needed when he could feel every slow, delicious thrust Haarlep made.

“Must you draw this out?” the devil asked.

“Maybe I’m just waiting for you to ask for what you want,” Haarlep taunted back.

Throughout everything Tav was silent, letting soft whimpers escape her open lips with each of Haarlep’s taunting touched. She was captivated by Raphael, and from the intensity of his gaze he was more than smitten with the sight of her. After the frequency they’d been together before the party it was shocking to suddenly go cold turkey from his touch. Now, though, Haarlep’s gentility was barely scratching the itch that grew under her skin.

She needed to be dominated, body and soul, and she needed it yesterday.

As if he could tell, Raphael was finally merciful.

“You’re both clean enough. Get up here now,”

“That didn’t sound like a question,” Haarlep teased, “but I suppose I’ll humor you this once,” And just like that, their bath was over.

Tav felt like a naiad as she rose out of the water, body lithe and entrancing as she fought the urge to bolt up the stairs to the bed. She walked slowly and Haarlep flanked her. Their hands roved over her wet skin, evaporating the water with the sheer heat of his infernal skin. Vapor rose around her. She supposed she must look like some sort of goddess emerging from the mist. Raphael was certainly looking at her as if she was.

He propped himself up on his elbows, waiting, expectant.

She paused.

Haarlep didn’t wait with her. They passed her without a thought, crawling into the big bed like they’d done thousands of times and settling in at Raphael’s side. It looked so inviting. It almost looked… safe. Still, she stood paralyzed.

Raphael held out a hand. “I refuse to start without you, darling. This is all about you, after all,”

Tav was stunned. For what felt like the thousandth time since she’d woken, Raphael shocked her.

He’d called her darling.

All at once, the life she’d never dared to dream was her reality. Gone were all traces of fear and shame. She was Raphael’s darling. She finally had a place to call her own, not for now but for forever. She was loved. She was known. There would be no more imprisonment, no more terror, no more waiting. She was a member of the family. She was home.

The last remnants of thoughts about her former friends dissipated the moment she crawled onto the bed, kneeling above Raphael as he and Haarlep took in her form greedily.

Those people she once knew were nothing.

This? This bed filled with two being waiting to adore her?

It was and always would be everything.

She met Raphael in a searing kiss, letting his hot tongue explore her eager mouth. His hands explored more than that, though. It was as if he were memorizing every curve of her nude body, every scar and blemish. Haarlep simply leaned on one arm and watched it all unfold with a slightly heartsick smile on their face. Usually Tav would’ve done more to make the poor incubus feel welcome, but she couldn’t think that far, not when Raphael’s cock was twitching so deliciously below her.

“I want you,” she whined, and he cooed at her as she hovered, waiting for permission that never came.

“What a sweet thing. Not today, though. Today, I want to try something new,”

The devil was unusually gentle as he wrapped clawed hands around her waist and maneuvered her down onto the bed. She blinked up at him, confused. Haarlep seemed confused too as Raphael came in for another kiss.

“You’ve been so very brave, Tav. How I wish I’d seen your loyalty sooner,” he whispered against her lips, pressing his own to hers almost… chastely. “Let us take care of you. Let us show you how valued you are,”

Was she dreaming?

She had to be dreaming.

Raphael’s hands did feel real. His weight above her was solid and sure, keeping her pressed to the bed as he kissed down her jaw, pawing at her breasts. Even his voice was right as it hummed more praise into her skin.

Her wildest dreams blossomed with every press of his lips to her waiting body.

If she hadn’t been dripping wet before, she definitely was now.

Haarlep’s hands joined Raphael’s, gently rolling her nipples between their lithe fingers, running feather-light nails down her abdomen. Tav could barely breathe through the intensity of it all. Where were the five-minute bursts of intense fucking? Where was Raphael’s usual impatience? It all melted away with her mind as Haarlep took a breast into their mouth. Raphael seemed to purr at the sound of her eager whines.

“It’s like your pretty little body was made just for us, isn’t it Haarlep?”

The incubus hummed a reply, sending a wave of warm breath against her sensitive bud.

Tav arched up her back to chase the sensation. She was caged in by bodies on all sides. It was searing hot flesh on flesh no matter where her body ran.

Raphael brought a clawed hand to his cock again while she writhed. There was no aloof joy there, though, no smarmy grin waiting to greet her as she looked into his eyes. He looked human despite the wings and horns. His smile was a gentle one.

“Tell me you want me,”

Her voice was a shuddered gasp, escaping her lungs and tripping over her loose tongue and lax lips.

“I’ve always wanted you. I need you. Don’t ever go away, I think I’d die without you,”

Truths, truths, truths.

Dirty little truths that wormed their way out over all those tortured years.

He parted her folds gently, taking great care to make sure his claws didn’t dig into the sensitive, wet flesh as he brushed her entrance with the leaking head of his cock. “I don’t want to wait for you any longer, Tav,”

And there was her name again!

The things he did to her, the ways he made her feel- up and down and up again. Raphael had been egocentric and predictable and even then she had loved him. Now, though… what could she do but fall ever deeper into the pit of pleasure and adoration before her?

“Take me?”

“As you wish,”

Raphael entered her in a slow smooth movement.

She welcomed him eagerly.

Through her still-parted folds she watched every inch of him disappear into her, distending her abdomen ever so slightly. He hissed as he bottomed out. Beside them, Haarlep shifted, taking up his usual position behind Raphael and stretching the man easily with a practiced hand and a bit of oil from the nightstand.

So this was making love.

The usual grunts and moans were there, yes. They would never go away. Somehow, though, the connection thrummed between the three as they began their undulating dance. Haarlep into Raphael and Raphael into Tav. She felt it in her chained soul. Every movement was deliberate. Hesitant, even. This was new territory for them all.

Haarlep’s eyes seemed almost weepy above the pair despite their nature.

They felt it too.

“Do you feel good, dearest,” Raphael murmured, bringing his face close to hers. There was restraint lacing every word as he paced his thrusts. Tav flushed hot.

He wanted it to be good for her. It was always good for her, Gods was it always good, but he wanted it to be good for her.

She pulled him closer wordlessly and kissed him like she was dying.

His lips curved upwards against hers.

Tav had thought domination was what she needed, something hard and fast to make her feel alive again. Who could have guessed the effect that the opposite would have on her body?

Each push of his cock into her cunt was molten. Every swipe of his thumb over her swollen clit was electric. The shape of his body was branded into her own flesh by pure heat alone. Had it always been like this? Maybe now that she finally had the ability to do more than just wail and drool as he pounded into her she could see so much worth appreciating. She brought a soft hand up to his cheek. Raphael stalled a bit, surprised.

“I love you,”

The devil yellow eyes found hers. He whispered his answer so softly into her skin that she barely made it out over the groans and breaths and slapping of skin.

“As do I, Tav,”

And then he continued on as if she hadn’t heard. As if his confession had been hidden in the bliss of their lovemaking, as it was to Haarlep. As if her whole world hadn’t imploded and burst out in a big bang of devotion the second the words left his lips

She kept that secret close to her aching heart as he filled her cunt to the brim, finally picking up his pace.

It wasn’t long from there. Haarlep was rutting rhythmically into their master and Raphael was chasing his own release just as fervently, but not without bringing her with him, finding that just right spot to slam as he kept rubbing steadily on her oversensitive nub.

She let herself surrender to him as white hot flame filled her.

Tav was on fire. Her lungs burned as she wailed, letting the reins on herself go as the flames raced up to consume her writhing body and soul. She could feel her very spirit lifting, spreading through the steamy air and drifting down in a shower of ash as her arched back fell and her breathing evened. Finally, she was a hero no more. She was an ember flickering ever so faintly in the pits of the Hells. She was a charred soul, wrapped in the cradle on Raphael’s arms as he heaved and settled onto the bed, letting Haarlep begin to clean them up.

Cleansed.

Pure.

She was tainted, yet pure.

The juxtaposition didn’t bother her. Chaos was comforting in a place like the House of Hope. She let the lasting warmth of their connection lull her into a comfortable sleep as she nestled closer to Raphael’s chest, breathing in time with his quiet, steady heartbeat.

———

When she woke, he was still there.

Thick, hazy clouds of steam floated throughout the room, cooling Tav’s skin as her eyes fluttered open to find Raphael’s chest waiting before her. He’d stayed. Her surprise was outweighed by a body-wide calm. It leaded her limbs, keeping her lazily wrapped around Raphael’s large, sleeping frame even as her mind began to wake. She smiled.

It wasn’t every day Tav got a chance to watch him with his guard down. His usually furrowed brow was slack, and drool pooled at the corner of his slightly parted lips, wetting a small spot on the pillow above Tav’s head. She wiped it away with the crook of her finger. He never looked half as peaceful when he was awake.

Carefully, trying not to wake him, she ran her fingertip along his lower lip.

His great wing twitched slightly, letting the silk blanket he had pulled over them fall below his hip and reveal his nude form. Tav breathed him in like a masterwork. Every plane of his body must have been sculpted by some great god of artistry from deep, brilliant agate. Still sweat-slick, he even glistened like a gemstone in the candlelight.

She pressed her lips to the salty skin of his shoulder.

If Tav closed her eyes again, she could almost ignore the blazing yellow sky outside the window and imagine them somewhere far away, some secluded winter cabin in the far northern lands where Raphael’s body heat would be the only thing keeping her from certain, frozen death in the wastes. He would keep her safe, though, and close. She had no doubt of that anymore.

The beginnings of a housewife fantasy had begun to weave themselves into the soft, delicate places in Tav’s heart, luring her closer to her lover's body.

He shifted in earnest now, his body waking with him. She welcomed him in warmly. Her breath was a warm cloud in the cool, smoky air.

“Good morning, Master Raphael,” She purred. Her hand came up to cup his cheek, placing another gentle kiss on his forehead. “Did you have pleasant dreams?”

The devil mumbled something intelligible, snuffling his face into her hair.

“No need to leave them for me. I’m happy right where I am.” She laughed. Tav breathed him in, the hand on his cheek bringing him closer as she relished in the musk on his skin, still tinged with soap and sex. Cherry and gun-smoke and… lemon? Tav paused, pulling her face away from his. Was that bergamot too?

Smoke sat heavy in the cool, clammy, choking air.

Raphael was still only half awake, but he groaned, stretching an arm up to the sky as he let his yellow eyes flit open.

After that, a lot of things happened at once, the first of which being that Tav realized she was not, in fact, in bed with Raphael.

Lemon had been the first giveaway. Raphael’s soap of choice was darker, something laced with patchouli and musk. Haarlep always preferred a cleaner scent. When Tav saw their eyes, with that distinct yellow glow so much sunnier than the devil’s own, it had only sealed the deal. She didn’t move to detach her body. Instead, she lay confused as Haarlep rolled onto their back.

As the incubus moved, though, they gave Tav an odd look, almost peaceful in it’s sorrow. She could hear their voice echo through her skull strangely while she watched his lips, unmoving.

“Thank you, Tavvy. Sorry about this,”

The very moment Haarlep leaned back, baring their body and chest to the room, the smoke around them seemed to thicken. At first glance, Tav had assumed it was just steam from the baths, but as it coalesced into a tighter, darker cloud she realized it was so much more. Haarlep hadn’t smelled of bergamot. This strange cloud had. Vapor swarmed to Haarlep’s chest in no more time than an eye-blink, and then from the chaos, a body appeared, as if it had been built by every wisp of dark that had been hanging in the room.

She knew that body.

In fact, she knew every sinewy curve and bend. She could have recognized his voice in a room of strangers or mapped the planes of his face with her eyes closed. It wasn’t as if his figure wasn’t burned behind her eyelids, doomed to haunt her nightmares, asleep and, seemingly, waking now as well. Things were different in person, though. More feral. More sinister. More… terrifying.

No.

No.

It couldn’t be.

He couldn’t be.

And yet there he was, flesh and blood, upon her only true friend and equal in the world. She’d been found. It was over.

Astarion.

Tav’s heart stopped beating correctly just about when Haarlep’s did, dark infernal blood spraying her face and body as the attacker turned his lean visage to her.

His red eyes softened as they took in her shaking form; the quiver in her lip and the wetness threatening to spill over her cheeks. He crooked his head to the side. “I’ve come for you, Tav,” The monster crooned gently. “It’s alright now. I’m here,”

She didn’t hear him, though, not with her focus trained on Haarlep’s shredded neck and the way their features began to melt into dark neutrality like chocolate on a summer's day. Their eyes, their true eyes, still lemony yellow but with strange, beautiful flashes of red and gold and cobalt blue, found her; soft, pleading- afraid. So afraid. She’d never seen Haarlep truly afraid in all her years at their side. Facing death alone, though, or functionally alone, seemed to be the breaking point. Their lips moved around a lead tongue, soundlessly whispering the only name that would have mattered, and, as the vampire dismounted from their broken body, she watched the last shaking breath escape their slack lips.

Tav mourned with a vengeful, horrid wail.

Confusion marked all of Astarion’s sharp features, his brow knitting together. He extended a hand to her that she quickly scrambled away from, leaving the bed altogether with nothing more than a thin silk sheet to protect herself. Her nudity before him didn’t scare her, only the vulnerability it brought, the access to all her softest, most vital places.

“Tav?” He whispered.

She did not dignify him with a response to her name. He had no right to know it. He had no right to know her.

“I’m going to kill you,” Her voice was a low growl. “I don’t know how, but I will. And I’m going to make you regret coming here,”

“What are you talking about?”

“Where is Raphael? What have you done with him?”

“Oh, come on! We meet after seven years, I come here to save you, and this is what you say to me?”

Baffled annoyance was growing in Astarion’s voice as he prowled closer.

Tav did not back down. Not from him. She was Raphael’s only defense now, his closest companion, and when he had poured her anew from the fires of his heart he had made her strong enough to withstand this, if only for him. Haarlep had too, in their way. It was thanks to the love they’d shared that she was able to stand strong on her own feet again after so long feeling scared and small. She growled like the deeply feral animal she was.

His guard dog. His last line of defense.

“Where. Is. Raphael.”

Thankfully, Astarion didn’t have time to answer before her question answered itself.

“Beautiful job, darling. I can take it from here,”

Her head snapped back to the shimmering entrance of the boudoir and there was Raphael, waltzing in at the bottom of the stairs with Shadowheart’s bruised form dragging behind him by the wrist. She was upright but battered, not that Tav cared. Tears finally fell as relief filled her chest. The chill in the room was replaced with that signature, flaming warmth that followed the infernals everywhere. She didn’t realize how much she’d missed it until it was gone.

Beside her, Astarion snarled. His eyes darted between Tav, Raphael, and Shadowheart, never pausing in one place too long as he took in his surroundings.

Tav didn’t risk moving. She was placed directly between the two rival men. If she tried to move back to Haarlep she’d have to move through Astarion, but if she chose to move towards Raphael she would have to turn her back on the vampire. It gave him too many opportunities.

“Welcome back to the House of Hope, Lord Ancunin. I can’t say I remember sending out an invitation, but I’ve been expecting you nonetheless,” Raphael spoke with his usual confident air. Shadowheart groaned, trailing behind. “I think you lost this on your way to find my pets.” He raised the cleric’s limp arm. “Care to take back your garbage?”

Shadowheart replied before her companion could. “We’re here for Tav,”

“Is that so?”

“Yes, it is! So if you’ll kindly let us do this the easy way-” Astarion took a few more steps towards Tav, but stopped, shocked, as she yanked away from his body.

This was her chance.

Stalled in his surprise, Astarion gave her just enough of a window to wrap the sheet closer around her body and make a run down the stairs, slamming into Raphael’s waiting chest.

The vampire paused. “Tav?”

The devil grinned.

“Checkmate, little vampire. Shall we move this to my office?”

--------

(A/N: And with that, we have gotten to the juicy bit! Thank you for your patience with my infrequent upload schedule, my boss is a bald asshole who saps any will to be creative out of me, but I'm so glad I can continue sharing my writing and ideas despite his existence. On that note, if any writers are looking for a mutual to throw ideas at and get ideas thrown at them in return, I'm your fool! Thank you again for reading, hugs and kisses. Sorry for putting you through the wringer there at the end. It's only a little more suffering and then the joy can start <3)

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Taglist: @the-pale-elfs-love

[rauzagel]

When he looks upon you with that look of longing and hate <3

(the longing to break some bones)

[dalgursbate]

make a mess, lioness (4/?)

Summary: It’s much easier to get the upper hand in a negotiation when you’re the one on top. Or, Tav reads Raphael’s diaries.

WC: 12,194 Rating: E Pairing: M/F, Raphael/Tav, Raphael/Haarlep, Haarlep/Tav

part 1 || part 2 || part 3

When Tav awakes at dawn the next morning, her body aches like a sweet memory even as her gut roils with the bile and lead that seem to have made a home in it. Every stretch of her poor, abused form is at once delicious and terrifying; every exploratory press of fingertips into tender flesh revealing another place where she has been made vulnerable by Raphael’s touch.

She struggles to swallow, choking on nothing but her own tightening throat at the thought of the bet she’s made. She doesn’t remember the exact details, isn’t sure that Raphael even really described them before she metaphorically signed, but she knows that wagering with one’s soul is typically bad form. 

Oh well. It’s too late to change the past, Tav supposes. And if she’s being honest, part of her is a little titillated at the thought of this cat and mouse game with Raphael playing out. There’s something about the idea of teasing him, driving him crazy, that she hasn’t been able to shake since she first read his diaries. She is, truthfully, looking forward to getting to indulge that impulse freely; she finds it exhilarating even as it frightens her. Mostly, she just wishes she better understood the terms of their agreement. 

Almost as if a prayer has been answered, Tav notices through the thin haze of grogginess clouding her mind that a crisp envelope is waiting for her in her tent, poised delicately atop her robes (and had she folded them so immaculately last night? She doesn’t think so). 

Tav would know who the missive was from even if the telltale aroma of cherries and sulfur didn’t cling to the paper, but the smell of it nevertheless sets a frisson of heat alight in her belly. Ugh, she thinks. It’s humiliating how susceptible she is to Raphael’s charms, sometimes. Nevertheless, she holds out hope that whatever is inside of it will offer some clarification on the situation she has gotten herself into.

As she picks up the envelope, Tav can feel that there’s something small and bulky inside of it, something other than mere paper, and she wonders at what that might be. But as she removes the wax seal adorned with a devilish crest, the first thing she encounters is a piece of parchment. Carefully, Tav begins to scan the page, though her efforts are thwarted somewhat by the lingering sleep that still clings to her eyes. It makes it a bit difficult to focus on the words, but eventually Tav is able to parse them. The letter, perfumed with the scent of Raphael’s cologne and written in a fine, cursive hand, reads:

The lanceboard is set and the curtains are drawn,

But the game we shall stage will have nary a pawn.

Instead, it is waged ‘twixt a King and his Queen,

And ends only when one must exeunt from the scene.

For in order is bliss, we shall take play in turns;

Each to stoke in the other the fire that burns.

On this board, the players have charge of their rival–

Your turn only forfeit upon your arrival.

You may use them, abuse them, amuse at your leisure,

But moves must be made in pursuit of their pleasure.

Now, enough exposition; let’s begin the dramatics–

For this story has promised to be quite climactic.

White always moves first, so, my dear little bird:

Collect now your piece, pet, and utter the word.

As Tav finishes reading, she notices that the ink on the page smells faintly of Infernal magic; it seems that Raphael has somehow altered the terms of their agreement, or perhaps simply elaborated them. At least, Tav thinks he has. She doesn’t quite remember what exactly she assented to last night, after all, given the state she was in; it’s possible that this was all in there, though that seems unlikely with how frenzied the whole situation had felt. It’s also possible, she imagines, that the agreement was so vague that Raphael was able to define the terms to his own liking, devil that he is. Either way, she has obviously made a grave error in not hammering out the details more precisely.

Still, at least these rules offer a bit of clarity. If Tav is reading it right, it seems like they’ll each get to take turns subjecting the other to erotic torture, and the turn ends when the person whose turn it is orgasms. So on and so forth until one of them cries uncle. Simple enough, and thankfully Tav already has a number of ideas about how she might exploit such a loose structure to her advantage. They slide around in her mind easily, the images of them caressing her brain in a way that sends excitement straight to the core of her. 

Perhaps this won’t be so bad, she thinks as she upends the envelope, dumping the other item inside of it into her waiting palm. As the skin of her hand is greeted by cool, heavy stone, Tav quickly recognizes the small statue as a lanceboard piece. Specifically, the white queen. After all, it seems like it’s my turn first. There is nothing particularly noteworthy about the piece, aside from its obviously fine make, except that around its neck is a thin scarlet ribbon. The ribbon bears a tiny slip of paper, upon which the unfamiliar spell “cupio” is written in neat lettering.

Tav absentmindedly mutters the word aloud to herself, testing the feel of it out on her tongue, and two things happen at once. 

First, the ink on the letter glows bright, fiery red for a moment before cooling back to the rust-colored script that lay there previously. Oh, Tav thinks. So it probably wasn’t actually binding before. She presumes it is now, though—that her adherence to the instruction constituted consent to the new terms.

This is why I’m a sorcerer and not a warlock, Tav thinks to herself with a groan.

The second thing that happens is somehow more distressing, which is that as the spell leaves her lips the queen begins vibrating wildly, as though affected by some variation of the blur spell. It isn’t making any noise, but she can feel it buzzing against her skin in a strange and intoxicating manner, like she is holding a handful of surprisingly pleasant bees.

Then, as if on cue, a mage hand appears from thin air and delicately plucks the piece from her hand. She only has a moment to be startled before the hand is moving again. It traces the crown of the queen over the bones in Tav’s wrist, as though mapping out her anatomy with due care. Gradually, it leads the piece up her arm, just barely dragging the tip of it over her skin. 

It is like nothing she’s ever experienced before, the stone humming intently but delicately over her flesh. As it tickles her sensitive inner arm and dances up over her shoulder, she can feel herself sighing and leaning into it intuitively. Tav is only wearing her smallclothes, so the flesh the piece ghosts over is gloriously naked, raising goosebumps in its wake and making her grow wet in anticipation of where else it might touch her. Her body is still so hyperreactive from the way it was lavished over last night, and the hand’s unhurried teasing is exquisite in a way that is entirely foreign to her.

On some level, she knows she ought to be questioning why this is happening. But her mind is still so addled and overwhelmed from Raphael's attentions and the sluggishness of sleep that she does not find she has it in her to put a stop to something so nice. Especially not when the piece glides down her chest to vibrate against her nipples. She can feel them harden almost instantly, a combination of the temperature of the marble and the surprising ecstasy of it, and Tav almost cries out. 

She barely has time to focus on smothering the sound before the hand is moving down, down, down to where her cunt is still covered by cotton. It hovers just above the waistband, gently petting her pelvis with the piece through her panties.

And, oh, Gods, she desperately wants to feel this lovely alien sensation on her clit. 

“More,” Tav begs without thinking, because of course she doesn’t think. Why would she think? If one were to examine only the past twenty-four hours, they might come to the conclusion that Tav both has never thought and will never think again. 

Gods, I could never be a wizard either, she grouses to herself, before adding: And I can never, ever tell Gale that. He would be insufferable about it.

Evidently ignorant to her frustrated internal monologue, the hand acquiesces to the request. Tav lets out a loud gasp that turns into a moan as the strange buzzing lights every nerve in her cunt on fire. The hand rubs the crown of the queen in small, tight circles against her underwear, and it is a matter of mere moments before Tav is writhing and squirming against it. She is captivated by the sheer decadence of it all, by the ease with which the hand has undone her without her having to lift a finger. Without having to take off her smallclothes, even. It has her muttering and whimpering her climax into her fist to keep from making too much noise, undone so thoroughly by something so small.

As soon as she rides out the last waves of pleasure against the cold marble, the hand disappears and the piece ceases its vibration. Tav barely has a moment to catch her breath and come down before her surroundings dissipate in a puff of red, sparkling smoke. When the world comes back together, she is sitting not in her tent at camp, but on the floor of Raphael’s boudoir.

“What the fuck?” Tav asks, blinking up blearily at the cambion in front of her. He’s currently sitting at a desk, dressed in his business attire. She suddenly feels very naked.

“Hello, little mouse,” Raphael grins, looking extraordinarily pleased with himself. “Did you enjoy your turn? Because I know I am going to enjoy mine.”

“My turn?” Tav repeats, confused, until the significance of Raphael’s words sets in. Once they have, she is alert in an instant. “But–wait–no. Do you mean just now? I wasn’t even the one in control of that! That’s not what the parchment said.”

“Mmm, I distinctly recall you demanding ‘more,’ pet,” Raphael counters, and by the Gods, Tav swears she is never interacting with a devil before sunrise again. Or after sunset. Really, whenever it’s dark out. “You did not give me any orders to refrain from touching you, as I recall. I am bound by our contract to do as you tell me—not to only do as you tell me.”

Tav processes that, and stows it away for use in the future; that must mean the same is true in reverse. Still, though: “But–but. But that wasn’t for your pleasure, surely.”

“Was it not? Because I enjoyed myself immensely,” he says, and sweeps a hand downward to gesture at the obvious bulge in his trousers.

Tav swallows.

That bastard.

“So it’s your turn, then,” she says slowly, and despite everything she can feel anticipation pulsing in the core of her. “What would you have me do?”

Raphael pretends to think about it for a moment, before saying, “I think I’d like you to come sit on my lap, pet.”

Tav hesitates for a moment, wondering what his game is, but the impatient look in his eye stirs her into motion as she remembers that her soul depends on her compliance. As such, she cautiously begins to shuffle toward him on her knees.

“Oh, but strip first would you? I want to admire you.”

It sounds painfully earnest despite the cool affectation in his voice, and Tav flushes. She does as he asks, though, ridding herself of the lacy underthings adorning her body without a word. As soon as she is naked, she gingerly climbs into his lap.

“Gorgeous,” Raphael says under his breath, almost as though he did not intend to, and Tav can feel the blood rise to her cheeks even faster. 

With a gentle hand, Raphael repositions her so that Tav is sitting with her back to his chest, straddling his right thigh. One of his hands slides up the plane of her stomach to cup her breast lightly, while the other kneads a steady rhythm into her hip. A third hand, what Tav assumes must be a mage hand, tangles gently in her hair to guide her to bare her neck. Then, Raphael leans down to drag his nose along the line of her throat. He inhales deeply at her pulse point, apparently savoring her scent, before his tongue darts out to taste her. Distantly, Tav hears herself whine.

“You’re truly delectable, you know,” Raphael says against her skin. “You make it nearly impossible to get any work done.” Once more, Tav finds herself squirming. The praise feels good, feels too good, and it settles inside of her a bit uncomfortably. It is as though half of her brain is fighting to reject his words and the other half desperately craves more of them. “Imagine how it feels to finally have you right where I want you.”

Tav tells herself that he is manipulating her, that he is merely trying to win this game he has started. She tries to gather her bearings and keep her wits about her. Still, she finds herself asking, “This is where you want me?”

“Yes,” Raphael hisses, and his sharp, sharp teeth graze her so very softly. Tav gasps, writhing into the feeling.

She tries to force a dry chuckle from her lips, but it ends up sounding like a strangled cat. “For how long? I have hero stuff to do, you know.”

Raphael doesn’t answer her, just slides the fingers at her hip lower, skates them feverishly over her pelvis. Tav instinctively opens her legs for him, leaning back against him further to offer him better access to her still-dripping cunt. She forces her eyes open, unsure of when exactly they had closed, so she can watch as two of his devilish claws carefully part her folds. Tav is captivated by the sight of it, and she moans unbidden as he spreads his fingers around her clit, rubbing either side of it.

Fuck, it’s so hot. It’s so hot. And then he starts talking again.

“So pretty,” he murmurs against her neck, like he’s reciting a litany. “So clever. So resourceful. So powerful. I hope you realize what a marvel you are.” The pad of one finger grazes over her clit head-on, and Tav nearly screams. She isn’t used to being talked to like this, touched like this. Like she’s more valuable than any finery in the entirety of the House of Hope. Like she’s more valuable than anything. It’s too much, she thinks. I can’t take it. As if Raphael can sense her hesitation, he plants a hot, wet kiss to her throat. The deft fingers on Tav’s clit pick up speed and pressure, rubbing delicious patterns into her skin as she bucks and keens.

“You’re incredible like this,” he says, and the sincerity Tav can hear in his voice sends her reeling. But he refuses to slow down, repeating, as if to himself, “You’re incredible.” He keeps plucking at her strings like a virtuoso does a violin, and Tav feels her incoming climax build in a glorious crescendo. She arcs her hips upwards, bracing her body weight with one hand on the seat of the chair as she throws her head back onto his shoulder. The noises she’s making now are lurid, filthy; tears begin to prick the corners of her eyes.

Raphael speaks again, deadly serious, “Let me cherish you, pet. That’s an order.”

“Yes, sir,” Tav mumbles, only half aware of the words leaving her lips, and then cries out. Her bliss overtakes her in a brutal rush of searing heat, wave after wave of arousal and pleasure crashing over her. It feels as though she has dived headfirst into an endless lava pit, the way her bones are melting inside of her with no reprieve in sight. She collapses back into Raphael, panting and gasping for air.

The room is still for a long moment as she recovers. As her breathing calms, Raphael removes his fingers from the slick mess in between Tav’s thighs and sucks them greedily into his mouth.

“You taste good, too,” he says after he removes them, echoing Tav’s words from their first encounter. Against her will, she hears herself whimper. “Now be a good pet and get on your knees.”

[tsuraiwrites]

Baldur's Gate 3 Fic Masterpost (Dec 2023)

Funeral March - Astarion/nonbinary OC-insert Dark Urge, polyamory, WIP, NSFW

Dirge would like to make it clear that of all the planes of existence to get isekai’d to, one of the most popular fantasy murder worlds would not have made their chosen top ten.

Mithridatism - Kar'niss/female Tav, BDSM, NSFW

Perhaps it should scare her, how good Imrena is at getting what she wants—to put feeling behind the words where there is none, to play the part of a compassionate person with just enough action behind it to make them believe in her, believe that she will do what she says she will. A hard century as a traveling bard has had her honing her talent to a fine razor’s edge. And, occasionally, she will indulge in that belief, that trust, to get one of her more selfish desires met.

mind my wicked words - male Tav/Raphael, BDSM, NSFW

They say no plan survives first contact with the enemy—especially when that plan includes seducing said enemy. Thankfully, Zor is damned good at scheming, and this is far from first contact.

Raised a Scorpion - default male Dark Urge/Enver Gortash, BDSM, NSFW

After Archduke Enver Gortash has time to grow used to his lover’s new, monstrous form, he has a request to make.  Tonight, the Dark Urge finally indulges it.

co-writes with @sephirajo

Safe Up High - Astarion/female Dark Urge, drug use

Soon after they're tasked with rescuing Halsin, Niobe lay awake with echoes of the past ringing in her skull. Astarion helped, in his own way.

Pulled by the Moon - Astarion/female Dark Urge, NSFW

Niobe knew murdering Gandrel in front of the others wasn't an option, but allowed Astarion to convince her to eliminate the threat later. Things escalated, as they were wont to do between a vampire and an unknowing Bhaalspawn.

[areax]

oh btw i did write some raphael/haarlep-in-tav's-form smut. if you even care. yes this is the erectile dysfunction (kind of?) fic

guy who is a sub but thinks he’s a dom tries to control his partner in order to work out his issues, fails miserably. YOU WANT THEM TO FUCK YOU SO BAD IT MAKES YOU LOOK STUPID!!!! if you do read please mind the tags, rating, and author’s note!

[moremousewrites]

On a Platter

Pairing: Raphael/OC!Tav(named)

Summary: Naadja was being starved for Gods know how long. Raphael, in his ever bountiful generosity, offered her a feast- at a cost. She only had to tell him her past. A tale she was not keen on repeating, especially not for an audience hell-bent on exploiting it.

Tags: Starvation, broken bones, manipulation, threats of violence, alcohol, food play, degradation, sensual licking

Note: this is a little self indulgent fic about my oc Naadja. It's gonna have a lot of her lore that ive posted about before. I hope you like it!

Meals at the House of Hope were never predictable. Raphael sent them to her at odd times so she never knew what time of day it was; not that she would. There was no sun in Avernus. 

The master of the house would send her feasts only to let her starve for days. Haarlep would offer her nectar to lick off their body after a long stretch of starvation. They languished in her fervent licks, her hunger numbed any shame she might have had. This meal, Raphael ordered her to dine with him. She was dressed in a gown and adorned with gold- shackled almost. She took her place at the head of the table where a plate was already covered for her. Her master sat opposite of her, awaiting her arrival. 

“Naadja, so good of you to join me. I have something exquisite planned for us tonight my little mouse” he announced to her, raising a gold chalice. She lifted hers to her nose, it was dry and bitter, but unadulterated. She chugged it and watched it refill itself.

“Now, now. Let us have some decorum. This is a special occasion, my dear” he cooed. She thought hard at what he could possibly mean. “You've given me your present and with the contract- your future,” he took another sip, then swirled the wine in his hand. “Tonight, you will give me your past” he said, tasting the notes of fruit on his tongue.

Naadja stared at her warped reflection in the metal cover of the cloche. It felt more like herself than what stared back at her in the pool. This was a foggy, contorted woman; plated and ready to be devoured. She couldn't stand to look at herself as she was. “Why should I tell you my past?” She asked, wine hitting her empty stomach. 

“Because I love you, and I need all of you” he explained. 

Her hands gripped the arms of the chair, nails scratching against the wood. “You do not love me” she felt rage building within her. 

Raphael summoned a debtor from the corner of the room and gestured to his plate. They removed the cover from his plate as another removed the cover from hers.

“This first course will elicit your senses,” he dismissed her entirely. She looked to her plate, it was beautifully decorated with sauces and foams. She considered how one could possibly eat this. There was no bread, no silverware, was she supposed to use her hands?

“Lick” Raphael commanded. 

She raised her hands to lift the plate but paused when she heard her master's voice. “No, little mouse. Lick” he reiterated. 

She leaned forward, pressing her tongue to the plate and dragging it through the sauces. Savoury flavours piled on her tongue and filled her mouth. 

“Good girl. Very good” Raphael praised her, swiping two fingers through the plate and pushing them past his lips. She wanted to throw her plate, or push it away in protest, but her hunger forced her to lick it clean. When she sat up straight, he ordered the plates away.

“Now, you are going to tell me about your life. Who were you before the infection?” He asked, taking another sip from his chalice. 

“I was First Priestess of my house. Eldest daughter and a powerful caster. I have a brother. We never got along” she explained through the sound of her stomach growling. She chugged more wine to fill her stomach, it hit her hard.

When Raphael made no gesture to replace the dishes, she continued. “I was becoming influential in Menzoberranzan. Too much so at my young age. So my mother arranged my marriage with an allied house as punishment” she picked up her napkin and draped it across her lap. 

“How is an alliance a punishment?” Raphael asked, waving in the next tray of food. She was being rewarded for her honesty.

A spoon was set at the side of the tray. No more licking.

“I was already involved in a romantic relationship. The marriage was for reproductive purposes of course. At least that was what I thought. He died before he ever touched me” she didn't lift her eyes off the cover, she had a taste and needed more.

Raphael nodded and the cloches were lifted. Underneath were two shallow bowls of soup. They had a thick consistency and a heavenly smell. Naadja wasted no time in spooning it into her mouth. It was morrel and potato. Lovely. “Inspired by your home, the underdark. Tubers and mushrooms” he declared.

When she finished the soup, she noticed the edges were not completely clean. She was tempted to run her fingers through it as he had before but she knew she would be punished. “May I have some bread, please?” She asked, nervously. 

“You may not. Bread is served in a later course. You would spoil your appetite and palate if you ate the bread now” he refused, watching ire corrupt her sweet face. 

She grabbed the bowl before the debtor could snatch it from her and threw it against the wall, causing it to shatter. 

The cambion didn't flinch. A scowl etched itself deep into his face. “I won't tolerate this juvenile tantrum. You will behave or you will starve.” He commanded. 

She sat, stewing in her anger. “I'm sorry. I'm hungry” she hissed through her teeth. Raphael nodded, his gaze softening in his way.

Debtors swept the shattered porcelain from the floor as another tray was placed before her. “Tell me about your former lover” Raphael ordered. A set of silverware was placed. A fork and a steak knife. 

“Why?” She asked, switching the fork and the knife to their proper places. Raphael dismissed her server. 

“Because you are hungry,” he said, his voice deep “but you must earn your seat at this table. Feed me and you shall be sated in return”

She considered his proposal and its implications. She would have to give him her past, but to what end? He had starved her so she was desperate. He wanted leverage against her. Another plot. “I want your word that you will not harm her. I want it in writing,” she knew she wasn't choosing her words carefully but it would have to be enough.

Raphael perked at her reference to her ex lover. He had the first clue, a female. And her petty attempt at security was all but endearing to him. She was becoming bold, but not witty. He would indulge her for the sake of continuing. 

“I swear on my honour, I will not harm your past love. She will be safe from me” he said, hand over heart, and a contract appeared as he spoke, words writing as he dictated. She listened as he orated, waiting for some hidden clause, but she was too drunk to spot it. 

Raphael signed the contract in his blood. Satisfied, Naadja continued, “she was a cleric of Lolth. We met at a ritual sacrifice,” She began, realizing she was putting her ex at risk of danger for a tasting menu. Naadja deserved to starve. “I wanted to give her everything I had. She wasn't as privileged as I was, so I gave her my influence. I took her to parties and made her rub elbows. She taught me how to disembowel a heretic.” Raphael gave her his rapt attention. Still, the cover stayed on the plate. “She learned of my engagement through aristocracy I'm sure. I never had the chance to tell her to her face, I couldn't break her heart with my own hands. I'm not sure if I could have if I was ever given the chance; but I should have been the one holding the knife that stabbed her in the back” she said before tipping her chalice over, watching it pour wine over the table, then stopping. 

The fiend gave Naadja a toothy grin. His expression was dark and pointed. “You have done very well, my pet” the covers were lifted, red meat- a la carte.

Naadja tore away at the meat, her teeth ripping at the sinew, au jus dripping down her hands and arms. The carnal display of savagery was not commented on by her master. 

She chewed at the meat until her jaw ached, her mandible unpracticed in her profane devouring. But she chewed until mutilated meat remained. Then, she utilized her silverware. 

“Tell me, Naadja, where is your priestess now?” Raphael asked, primly cutting his steak.

Naadja lifted her chalice and watched it refill. She washed down the meat, splashing wine down her chin in desperate gulps. “If I knew, I'd be dead” she said, putting down her wine and cutting into the chewed meat. She looked very proper covered in wine and meat, cutting her meal with grace. 

Raphael gave her a look that suggested she elaborate. She did not. A basket of bread was held in front of her. It was homemade, rustic. Perhaps a sourdough. When she reached out, it was pulled away from her. She continued,  reluctantly. “That kind of betrayal doesn't go away when I do. I'll have to pay for what I've done” she reached and the basket stayed out of reach.

“Better to die by her hand than to live by your own?” Raphael clarified. 

“All things considered, it'd be the most honorable way I should pass. Not that I deserve it, but she deserves my death” Naadja turned away from the fiend, tears welling in her eyes. She never liked dwelling on the past.

Raphael had more than enough pieces to fit together now. “Then you owe her closure” he said, eyes devouring her.

Naadja turned to face him and saw the bread had replaced her plate. Her reward. 

“She will kill me. You can't bring her here, you swore” her breath quickened. She was in disbelief. 

“I swore that I would not hurt her. You will choose to defend yourself or die. I would like to see how sincere your talk of honour truly is” he sneered.

Naadja's vision blurred. All she could see was Raphael's horrible, taunting face. He had to die.

Grabbing the steak knife, Naadja jumped onto the table and sprinted to her master. She aimed the blade at his unbuttoned doublet, for his heart.

The cambion caught her wrist, shattering her hand in his grip. The knife fell to the table while she howled in pain.

“My fount of patience is all but dry, little mouse. Heed this last warning: behave” he held her wrist, dangling her body.Summoning all her fury, she roared. From the depths of her pain to her widened maw she roared at him, eyes blazing in abject hatred. 

“When will you accept my love? When will you realize that this incessant reluctance is pointless?” He asked, dropping her wrist, letting her fall to her knees. “Fine! Finish what you came here to do,” he held the knife in her hand, thrusting it to his chest. “Kill me! If you won't take my heart, pierce it. You cripple the thing by denying it” he pressed the blade, the skin dimpling around the point.

“Raphael you sick fuck” she stared at his chest, willing the blade to move. It remained still in her hand. She took it and repeatedly stabbed what was left of his roast. “I hate you I hate you I hate you!” She screamed, unable to stop the tears flowing down her face. 

Raphael looked at her, enamored. “I love you” he watched her eviscerate his meal as she had done hers. 

She sobbed, falling into his open arms. He pulled her into his lap. “I love you” he repeated. She couldn't speak.

[eurydia]

Raphael / my Tav, Leilana, after Gustav Klimt's The Kiss

(devil is in the) details:

Klimt's "The Kiss" is one of my fave paintings! the man in the original reminded me of Raphael, so I wanted to do a version with him and my Tav ❤️

the white flowers are asphodels, commonly associated with the dead and the underworld

all the patterns can be found in-game:

process