reallyhatethiswebsite

[reallyhatethiswebsite]

Glad you brought this up! He's not an antagonist unless the player makes him one. You can steal his stuff and have sex with Haarlep without Raphael even knowing about it. Something he says if you betray him is along the lines of "we could have been friends" and I genuinely think he meant it. The Archivist tells you (if you're pretending to be Zariel’s inquisitor) that he thinks Raphael dotes on mortals far too much and it will come back to bite him. I think that's true. Especially if you've held up the "gentleman’s agreement" with him to kill Yurgir in exchange for what Astarion wants, then Raphael thinks you're good for it. You will honour the deal the same way he will. So when you don't, I imagine it's quite the betrayal in his mind. The way he says "you...?" when he comes home and sees who is robbing him, and the brief moment of shock on his face, always get me. He has plans upon plans, he knows and reads people and predicts how they will behave, but he still didn't see your betrayal coming. Sure he's evil he's a cambion all that blah blah, but...I dunno man, in that moment it feels more like we are the bad guys.

Rambling about Raphael again: I’m getting more and more convinced that stealing from Raphael is an asshole move no matter what.

I just killed Raphael for the first time yesterday. I had gotten the scene where he comes home before but that was way back in my first playthrough and I chickened out back then. The battle itself was awesome, don’t get me wrong but it felt…unsatisfying? Sad even.

I’m obviously not excusing anything he’s done to Hope, but we don’t really know anything about Hope before we have already taken the decision to go to his house.

I found something in the House of Hope that I hadn’t seen before (it’s on the ground in the main area where the fireplace is iirc):

Like yeah, we know that we don’t really need the Orphic Hammer if we’ve played the game before and all that. But does Raphael? It seems like he genuinely thinks it’s a fair trade. Dude lives in the Hells. I’m sure he really does expect the worst from people (especially someone like the Emperor). So he offers us a deal that he really believes is fair, and what do we do? We go robbing his house, fucks/kills his incubus, meddles in his business and essentially spits him in the face. Bonus asshole points if the last thing you ever say to him is that he’s a shit at sex.

Raphael is evil, no doubt, but he hasn’t really done anything to us. If you don’t take the deal, he simply leaves you alone (unless you refuse the Emperor in the end…in which he essentially calls you a dumbass but still helps if I remember correctly) even though that deal is the closest he’s been to the crown in millennia.

Which brings me to his reaction. Obviously, he seems angry right before the fight, but mostly I got the feeling of a man who has been utterly humiliated. His quote that went along the lines of: “Take away their free will and they’ll call you a tyrant. Let them indulge in it and they become tyrants” is kind of stuck with me. I think that Raphael could have potentially treated us a lot worse if he wanted to, but he chose not to (obviously that’s also to get us to trust him, but still). Which is why it stings even more when we fuck him over.

Think about his diary entries. The man has nightmares about us besting him. Imagine how stupid he must feel when that fear turns out to be true and that he shouldn’t have trusted us to keep our word.

#raphael bg3 #raphael the cambion #bg3 raphael #baldur’s gate 3

[reallyhatethiswebsite]

Raphael and Grymforge. I'm not sold on body type 2, we make it work, but it doesn't make sense for him. Still smash though.

Platform: PC

Tools & Mods Used: Photoshop, Otis Free Camera, Gith and Cambion Armor for Harness, Appearance Edit, Raphael Heads.

#sir 🥵🥵🥵 #have mercy #jfc this man makes me feral #Lick the sweat off his body #bite him #hot as fuck #fuckkkk

[reallyhatethiswebsite]

reflection

a small helping of psychosexual fluff featuring my Tav (Eris) and the devil she knows.

Her hair is too long, yes – but perhaps the perfect length for this purpose. A murmured incantation coats her hand with sweet-smelling oil, and she slicks her short-but-unruly blue-grey locks back loosely in an imitation of Raphael’s own coiffure. His hissed exhale is audible, and she stifles a grin, softening it into a smirk so very much like the one he often wears.

“Do you like it?”

His jaw clenches and she watches a vein in his neck pulse.

“Yes.”

tags: femdom, roleplay, degradation, very light genderplay, oral sex, mention of pegging, the usual light foot stuff you know me for

Eris had worn her hair much longer when she was younger. Blue locks hung down past her shoulder blades at one time; she'd pull it up into a messy bun or plait it when active. Pain in the ass to maintain, honestly. On her twenty-seventh birthday she’d cut it into a wavy pixie. It suits her, she thinks. Easy, no fuss. Painless in the bath, too – long hair she’d have to tie up to use the boudoir’s vast, gaudy pool, but now she leans her head back comfortably against Raphael’s damp bicep, his arm laid out casually behind her, and doesn’t worry about getting her short hair wet. 

It's verging on too long, now, though. Tickles the nape of her neck in the worst way. Needs to be cut every two months or so, which is annoying, but at least it doesn’t take long to snip back into shape. She’ll do it when she returns to Baldur’s Gate tomorrow after finishing up her weekend stay at the House of Hope.

Eris pecks Raphael on the cheek – cherishing the ensuing slight upward quirk of his mouth – and climbs out of the pool, grabbing a soft towel from nearby to dry off. She’ll spend an hour or two curled up with a book while he lounges and casually carries out some revisioning work.

He pays her no mind as she busies herself with redressing, choosing to spread his other arm along the rim of the pool and lean his head back into a tasseled pillow, eyes closing in contentment. Satisfied as a cat; regal as a king.

Eris doesn't reach for her own tunic. Instead she pulls Raphael’s crisp, clean white shirt from the neat pile of their clothing on the plush chair next to the wardrobe and slides her arms into the sleeves, buttoning it up halfway and wearing nothing underneath. He likes this look on her, of course – what manner of man wouldn’t enjoy seeing his lover in his clothing? A mark of possession; a claim; a deed of ownership. Not that Raphael would ever assume to own her, of course; she’s long refused his offer to make her his consort, and estimates said offer isn’t up for review for at least another few years (lest he incur her wrath).

Something pushes her to pick up and don his doublet, too. With an ego the size of his, certainly he’ll delight in seeing both layers on her form. It's not just for him, either; Raphael’s overwhelming scent, sweet and smoldering, always stirs her – not that she's trying to be a fucking weirdo about it, but it is what it is – and she pulls the thick material closer, inhaling him.

The sloshing sounds of the water alert her to the man's presence nearing her, and Eris soon feels the heated press of his body at her back.

“Well, well. I have to commend you on your choice of attire.”

She leans her head back against his shoulder and smiles. “Perhaps you're rubbing off on me.”

“Oh, I have before, and I will again.” The double meaning in Raphael’s words is clear as he presses his naked hips against her rear and inclines his head to mouth at her neck, moving the high collars on the shirt and doublet out of the way. “I can be very persuasive.”

“Don’t I know it, with that sinful voice of yours. What was the line, again – oh, I remember –”

Eris turns in the devil’s arms to face him. 

“The mouse smiled brightly; it outfoxed the cat!” She pitches her voice a bit lower for the next line, remembering Raphael’s seductive, lilting delivery from their first meeting. “Then down came the claw; and that, love –” 

She leans in to kiss him lightly on the mouth, but he grips her hips with a bit more enthusiasm than she'd been expecting and groans softly at the press of her lips, opening his own underneath them. Eager tongue meets eager tongue and it's clear Eris’s earlier hypothesis on his opinion was well-founded.

“Ohhh,” she purrs as they part. “Do I make a fine enough Archdevil Supreme, devil mine?”

“Second only to the real thing,” he rumbles, sliding a hand beneath his unbuttoned white shirt inside the doublet she now wears to shamelessly grope at her breast.

“Haarlep will be terribly disappointed to hear that.”

“Haarlep isn't here. And what a gift that is.”

“Shall I continue, then? Model the rest of your handsome ensemble?”

“If you must,” he grouses, but his eyes are alight with interest. She knows that look very well.

Eris turns away from him as she slides his trousers on. Of slighter stature than her lover, she finds the waist too large and the legs too long, as expected – but a clean snap of Raphael’s fingers from behind her heralds a quick cinch around her hips and a loss of excess fabric around her ankles. (She’ll remember that the next time she needs something of hers hemmed.)

“How do I look?” she asks slyly, and turns back to find him flushed.

Ah. Well-founded, indeed. Terribly, terribly correct, she was. Marvelous.

“Put on your boots,” he demands. “Complete the picture.”

Eris does exactly that, stepping over to lean against the wardrobe behind her to pull each boot on rather than balance precariously on one foot – as the waves of arousal and tension emanating from him are palpable enough to nearly knock her over. When finished, she straightens and spreads her arms wide in an obscenely Raphael-like gesture of welcome.

“Well?”

For all the words the devil has at his disposal, all seem to fail him now. He still holds his head high, mighty like a king, but the deepening flush spreading down his neck and into the wiry hairs on his chest says more than any words would regardless. His cock had already been stirring against her when he’d pressed his hips to hers before; now it’s full and hard and heavy as he looks Eris up and down.

With forced steadiness, haughty tone more than a little patronizing despite his clear interest, he finally says, “It’s as if I’m looking in a mirror, my dear. Besides the obvious differences.”

Eris smiles, and now she's the one resembling the satisfied cat. “Perhaps another touch, I think –”

Her hair is too long, yes – but perhaps the perfect length for this purpose. A murmured incantation coats her hand with sweet-smelling oil, and she slicks her short-but-unruly blue-grey locks back loosely in an imitation of Raphael’s own coiffure. His hissed exhale is audible, and she stifles a grin, softening it into a smirk so very much like the one he often wears.

“Do you like it?”

His jaw clenches and she watches a vein in his neck pulse.

“Yes.”

Victory.

Eris steps lightly, purposefully over to the ornate bed. Her voice is low again when she speaks after a moment. Smooth. Just like his.

“Then, come here…little mouse.”

As if hypnotized, Raphael comes to her slowly and deliberately. His pretty cock bobs thickly between his legs, flushed nearly as red as his cheeks. Upon reaching her, the devil says nothing, filling the silence with his shallow breaths and hesitant eye contact. Eris reaches out to touch his face, brushing fingertips softly, dangerously over his handsome jawline.

“Tell me how you'll indulge me today.”

Her lover takes a deep breath before responding, only the slightest of wavers discernible in a tone rough with arousal.

“I am yours…Archdevil Supreme.”

Eris’s heart thuds in her chest. 

“Get on your knees.”

And he obeys.

Despite having only just donned Raphael’s attire, Eris lets him undress her again now, noting only the smallest of tremors in his strong, elegant hands. He begins with her boots, pulling each one off gently and placing it to the side. She’d foregone footwraps in the interest of simplicity, so her feet are bared to him quickly – true to form, he lifts each one to his face, breathing in and out, heavy cock beginning to leak between his thighs onto the ornate rug beneath him. Presses his open mouth to each arch in turn, moistening her skin and lapping up the condensing droplets, salty and heady.

But as much as Eris loves to watch him fall apart underneath her heel, now’s not the time. She flexes her foot in his grasp, pushes her sole against his striking nose just hard enough that his head falls back. Sneers.

“There are better uses for your mouth, I think, than chasing your own sick cravings. Perhaps we ought to stuff it with cock.”

She’s not harnessed up right now; isn’t equipped with her pretty polished leather phallus her dangerous darling often desires so dearly; but this isn’t about fucking him. It’s about him worshiping her – as him. A narcissist’s fantasy. A perverse, masturbatory scene. The very flavor of deviance her handsome devil adores.

(She'll put her lovely faux cock down his throat another time, though.)

“Continue undressing me, and then we’ll discuss the terms of our agreement.”

Raphael scrambles to heed her request, unbuttoning his own trousers and pulling them eagerly down over the curves of Eris’s hips. Helps her step out of them so she’s wearing nothing below the waist. So he can see her pretty pink sex.

Bared, she studies him. His eyes are wide, pupils blown as he stares back. Hands clenched into tight fists on his knees. Beautiful cock so hard, so wanting, so desirous of himself and of her in tandem.

“Open.”

Eris slides two fingers onto Raphael’s tongue, pressing further and further back into his throat as he moans around them. Slips the other hand underneath his chin; makes him look up at her while she leisurely explores the inside of his wet mouth.

“A devil’s plaything, aren’t you? So obedient for me, sweet mouse.”

She leans back against the bed and brings her fingertips to her dripping slit, parting her delicate lips for him to see. Traces around her entrance with his saliva, thick between her digits.

“Suck me, girl.”

His mouth is between her legs faster than she can blink. So willing and pliant and needy and serving.

She hoists a knee up onto the bed to give him easier access, and to see his every move more clearly. Watches him reach for his cock. Buries a hand in his hair and yanks his head back. He whines. It’s indecent.

“What makes you think you can attend to your own pleasure? Did I grant you permission?”

“No, Your Grace,” he breathes, face shiny with her slick. “Accept my apologies.”

“Pathetic,” she sneers. “Tell me you won’t touch your cock again.”

“I won't touch my cock again.”

Rare that she can get him to obey so easily. So eagerly. He brats for her, as she does for him. It's how they’ve operated from the beginning – he likes a challenge, likes a fight. 

But, up against himself (in a manner of speaking)? 

Different.

Fascinating.

“Get back to work.”

For Eris, there is nothing like watching her devil chase his indulgence. She thrives on being the one he chooses to delight in; for all the years he's lived, he says, there is no sweeter nectar than that which drips from her honeyed cunt. His self-possessed hunger is unforgiving, and what use would she have, anyway, for forgiveness?

The act of giving oral pleasure is, by nature, a generous thing. But this is not how Raphael usually approaches it. He usually eats at Eris greedily, harsh tongue licking and savoring deeply. Pushes her, overstimulates her to the point of ache, nearly to the point of pain. Usually clutches at her soft hips and pulls her closer still, holds her in place for a sloppy and rampant feast. Usually makes a selfless act into a selfish one, making her pleasure an afterthought even when she’s the one riding his face and he's groaning, whimpering in delight beneath her, trapped so willingly between her thighs.

But now – now, with his own sex-laced tone painting his blue cherry’s words; with his own affectation and mannerism adorning her every move – Raphael is reverent with every stroke of his wicked tongue.

And the comparison, the juxtaposition, is fucked up. There’s a sick sort of pleasure in her gut, a depraved thrill at being worthy of the highest worship only when she’s playing as him. It’s demeaning and debasing for both of them: for him to be so plainly an egomaniac; for her to feel – to be – less than him, less than how he sees himself.

They’re both terribly pathetic, aren’t they?

The thought makes her shiver as the tension builds low in her belly, spurred on by Raphael’s loud and unrestrained sucks and licks at her core. She won’t be long. 

(Never is. But then again, neither is he.)

“Don’t you dare come before I do.” Threat is evident in her tone. She doesn’t expect he’ll last, even with her warning. 

And he doesn’t. Last, that is. Raphael shudders and pauses his ministrations briefly to spill onto the rug between them with a low groan, lips framing a single word, and the sight of him giving in sends a hot throb of arousal through Eris’s every godsdamned nerve. She doesn’t have time to dwell on it though, because he drags two fingers through his release, through the fibers of the carpet, and brings them to join his mouth at the apex of her legs. Slides them inside, lifting a bare thigh with his other hand to rest on his shoulder for leverage, and looks worshipfully up at her with a mouthful of her cunt as he carries her the rest of the way to her end and she comes on his tongue with a soft cry.

She knows his feelings for her match hers for him. She’s not stupid. The two of them wouldn’t be as they are if anything were different.

The single word on his lips was her name – as it always is – and she’d be an idiot to acknowledge it. He – they both – are too proud to speak of love, too stubborn to admit pride as a greater weakness than emotion.

This is enough, though, she thinks, as they curl into bed after another quick dip in the bath, after what feels like a thousand kisses she presses to his mouth. Raphael with furrowed brow, a draft and quill pen on his lap, spectacles on the tip of his nose; Eris with that book she’d promised herself earlier, too-long hair mussed in her usual style tickling the devil’s bare skin where her head rests on his shoulder.

This is enough for them.

[reallyhatethiswebsite]

POV: You’re badly faking knowing the rules to lanceboard.

Raphael: Inspired, truly. By madness, but nonetheless.

#raphael bg3 #Im being cooked im being cooked stop looking at me like that 😩 #That's a lie never stop

[reallyhatethiswebsite]

Raphael doodles😈🔮✨

Baby Raphael👶 Kinda wanna know the story of his Cambion origin

I wonder do devils cry👿💦

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - ■ Twitter | Instagram

Prints - society6.com/thepaleindigo

[reallyhatethiswebsite]

not me sobbing at this interaction 😭

[reallyhatethiswebsite]

Holy shit oh my godfffffffffff hhhhhhhhhelp meeeeeeee

Squish the devil! pet the devil! the rose in his mouth i am deceased ☠️😳🤯

[reallyhatethiswebsite]

omg it's so cute 🥹 look at him snoring away! I love the little mouse too omg this is great

Based on @reallyhatethiswebsite https://www.tumblr.com/reallyhatethiswebsite/746298536550891520/you-wake-raphael-with-a-blowjob-this-is-sin-i

I can’t get sleeping Raphael out of my mind 🥺💤

Sorry for taking so long, but I had some stuff to do :3 I hope you like it! 🐭😊 Quote from ff: "He’s not graceful. His mouth is open, fangs on display, and he’s snoring softly. He’s on his back, his tail and one wing hanging off the side of the bed, the other squashed beneath him. His perfect hair is tousled amidst his mighty horns. He looks younger this way. Lines of stress on his face eased with relaxation."

[reallyhatethiswebsite]

girl dad Raphael ends my life

-

He's not unaware of the intense gaze on him. He's ignoring it until his little admirer decides what she wants to say. She's patient, he'll give her that, but in the end she's a child and he has lived for nearly two millenia. He will outlast her. He will -

"You are staring, daughter."

Or not. His blasted curiosity gets the better of him. He has folded his hand in this silent game. He has been bested by this beast of his own creation, and from the way she giggles, she knows it.

"Yes I am, father," she admits, brazen as a bull.

"Would you care to tell me why?"

The creature's mother, lounging on a chaise across the room, hides a smile behind the pages of the novel she's reading. Clearly she finds this amusing. Later, he swears, he will show her something he finds amusing.

"Well, I was just thinking..." says the child, resting her chin on her hands. It still shocks him how small they are. Even fully spread, her fingers don't cover the span of his own palms. Looking at her hands stirs his protective instincts, fatherly instincts he didn't believe he possessed until she came crashing into his life. "Your horns are really nice and pretty but I think they would look even nicer if I put some gems and ribbons on them."

His wife disguises her laughter as a cough. Wretch. He raises a brow at his daughter, otherwise keeping his face neutral as possible.

"My horns are pretty, you say?"

She nods emphatically, kicking her feet. "Yep! They're so big and spirally and spikey. I hope mine look like that when I grow up."

He bites his forked tongue to stem the flow of pride and happiness he experiences. Despite his verbose inclinations, his knowledge of a hundred languages both young and old, he can't describe what it's like to be given such free and unconditional love like that; true to his nature, he hoards it greedily, adding to the ever-growing list in the recesses of his rotten soul of the terrible things he would do to keep this child safe and happy. He is the apple of her eye, and he will raze the Hells themselves to stay that way. Of course, she doesn't need to know any of this, not yet, so instead he fixes her with a placid look and says:

"So, what do we do when we have a theory?"

"Test it!" She shrieks, delighted, and hops off her seat to run to her room and grab her things.

"No running in the house!" He barks after her. There shan't be a repeat of the great statue-collapsing-incident, thank you very much. Tav's expression when she looks at him warms the coals of desire in his belly. He leans back in his seat and preens. When his daughter returns, her arms full of jewellery and ribbons (of course he spoils her; no child of his will want for anything) he lets her - just this once, mind - sit on his desk, obediently lowering his head so she can decorate his crown of horns as she sees fit.

Her theory, in his opinion, is proven correct: he looks fantastic.

#baldurs gate 3 #bg3 raphael #baldur's gate 3 #raphael x tav #fanfic #kid fic #cringe

[reallyhatethiswebsite]

You wake Raphael with a blowjob. This is sin I don't know what else to tell you

Raphael/gender neutral reader (or Tav, just in 2nd person) I haven't written this way in a while so 🤷

Contains blowjobs/oral, somnophilia (kind of), very mild sexual degradation, explicit content/description (can't stress that enough)

-

It’s sweltering in the bed – Avernus, thick duvet, and a sleeping cambion will do that – but nothing could make you leave. He’s finally let you spend the night here, between the sheets, with him. You’ve been awake for a while, watching him. He’s not graceful. His mouth is open, fangs on display, and he’s snoring softly. He’s on his back, his tail and one wing hanging off the side of the bed, the other squashed beneath him. His perfect hair is tousled amidst his mighty horns. He looks younger this way. Lines of stress on his face eased with relaxation. He’s naked. When you tug the quilt away, he doesn’t stir. 

You shamelessly admire his body. His broad chest dusted with dark hair, the sculpture of his tight muscles that soften around his middle just enough to bely his age and indulgence, the infernal ridges of his cherry-red skin that form into a V shape as they descend his hips and pelvis, his deliciously thick thighs, and of course his cock between them, half-hard beneath a little crown of well-groomed pubic hair. Is it morning wood, you wonder, or is he having an interesting dream? Because you can, you reach out and touch it, squeeze it, tug his foreskin down to reveal the rest of his cock’s peeking head. He’s so warm and pliant in your hand. With the tip of your index finger you follow the path of a vein from the underside of his glans to his base. His prick twitches. He releases a soft sigh but doesn’t wake. 

His cock is handsome; decently long, thick, slightly darker red than the rest of his skin, and it has those same infernal ridges that feel incredible inside you. You want this cock in your mouth. You can’t resist rubbing it a few more times, feeling it stiffen further in your grip. He sleeps on, even as you move, nudging his legs apart so you can fit between them, laying on your belly. Your humid breaths on his length must do something though, because you hear his tail thump against the bed. Licking the pad of your thumb, you press into his tiny slit and rub. He groans. You think you’ve at last woken him; you glance up, expecting to see eyes of obsidian and fire fixed on you, but he’s still asleep, though a little frown has formed on his brow. He’s fully hard now. The magma that is his lifeblood pulses throughout the bulging veins feeding his cock. A pearlescent bead of precum oozes from his hole beneath your thumb and it’s so hot it’s almost uncomfortable. It tastes salty and its temperature stings on your tongue. It isn’t unpleasant. 

At first you start with kitten licks, tracing the edges of his glans and the fleshy ridges that sit under them. He feels like velvet and steel. The throb of his quickening pulse gives you a soft rush of power knowing you’re the cause. Flattening your tongue, you lick the entire underside of his length from base to tip, lingering once more on that sweet, now-sticky slit. You push into it, taking his head in the cavern of your mouth so you can suckle the next little gush of cum. His hips jerk, weak and clumsy. 

“Ah…” His vocalisation is throaty, slurred. If he wasn’t having a good dream before, he is now. 

When you release his prick to lather more spit, it bounces softly with a quiet thud against his abdomen. You watch it leak translucent cum onto his belly. His balls are fat and full of hot seed and you can’t resist cupping them, rolling their weight in your palm, squeezing ever so gently. His hips move aimlessly again. You know he likes that. He likes it when you suck them, too. Makes him finish in record time. That’s for later. For now, you guide his cock back into your mouth and this time you take as much as you can, until the head threatens to touch the back of your throat. Then you hold him there, adjusting to the size and feel of him, revelling in the heavy press of his prick against your tongue and teeth. He fills your mouth. He tastes like sweat, musk, and soap. Your nose almost brushes his pubes and you can smell the cherry oil he bathed with last night. He moans, a choked, stuttered sound. When you’re ready, you get to work. 

Easy rhythm. Easy lover. You bob your head up and down, sucking hard and fast. What your mouth can’t take, your hand picks up the slack. It’s sloppy. Messy. Obscene. Wet. Perfect. The sounds of your greedy devouring of his cock could make an incubus blush. His legs have fallen open, the unconscious roll of his hips hungry for the warmth and slickness of your throat. His little gasps and sighs and tail thumps are secret music only for you to hear – until it stops, cut off by a sharp inhale. He tenses. A large hand settles on your head, claws scraping your scalp as fingers tangle in your hair. 

He's awake.

His prick noisily pops free, shining with your spit. Drool and cum linger on your lips. You lean your cheek on his thigh and look up at him adoringly. His eyes are half-open, glazed by sleep, expression unreadable but simmering with heat. His cheeks are dark, taken by devilish flush. He steals your breath away.

“Good morning, Raphael,” you murmur. For a moment he says nothing. He's deciding if he will tolerate this behaviour, this brief play at control. Then he yanks your hair, mouth twisting.

“Finish what you started,” he snarls, raspy, voice thick. 

He doesn't have to tell you twice.

The moment your damp lips part, he slides his cock betwixt them once more. He’s much more active of a participant now, and you definitely feel it. Lazy, selfish thrusts as he uses your mouth, fucks your mouth, caring little for your comfort. You started this, after all. Your jaw aches so good. You have to take in air through your nose. He's going to make you choke on his prick, and you're damned, you know you are, because the thought gets your blood boiling and your heart races. He's of a similar mind, if the cruel set of his desire splayed plainly on his face says anything. You keep your gaze on him even as your eyes water. You want to impress the picture of him - sharp jaw clenched, sneering down at you - deep into the primal parts of your memory.

“That's a good pet,” he husks, the gravel of sleep still in his throat. He's breathing hard. He spreads his legs wider, forcing more of his length in. Your nose finally touches his soft pubes and you can't stop your gag as he reaches your limit. You can't get enough. You're slobbering all over him. Your teeth scrape his cock's ridges and the sound he makes is euphoric, pure and shameless in its pleasure.

He's going to finish. You can tell by the way his thighs tremble, the way his prick throbs, the way his balls tighten. You grab them, fondle, tease your fingertips across the sensitive skin of his perineum with the promise of going lower, between his cheeks to touch his other hole, no doubt puckered and twitching right now, and that's what does him in. His eyes roll back, fangs bared in a pleasured grimace. He grunts, deep and growly, tapering off into a breathless moan as spurts of hot cum shoot down your throat. You have no choice but to swallow the load; even if you could choose, you'd suck him dry every time. His seed burns on the way down. He fists your hair tight, thrusts shallow as he rides the tail of his orgasm. His tail thrashes. You kiss and lick his cockhead until it's too much and he hisses, pulls you away. Sad that you won't get to feel his dick soften in your mouth, but you can still see it do so. His taste lingers. Your gums tingle.

He pants, a thin, fetching sheen of sweat coating his face and chest. He stares at you, watches you watch him. You have no idea what you look like. You're a mess, probably. You don't care. He loosens his grip on your hair, lightly dragging his claws across your scalp until you shiver.

“From this point forward, unless I say otherwise, you will wake me this way every morning,” he states. He strokes your cheek, your lips, catches a smear of his cum you missed on the pad of his thumb. He pushes it into your mouth and you obediently suck it clean. His nostrils flare, pupils blown. You smile.

“Yes, Master.”

#baldurs gate 3 #baldur's gate 3 #bg3 raphael #raphael x tav #raphael x reader #fanfic #jfc this man makes me feral #cringe #sorry

[reallyhatethiswebsite]

weird glitch: a cambion goes outside

I just wanted to document this glitch I had when playing earlier before it gets patched out. Raphael didn't take me to the House of Hope like usual (he said "come" twice haha but he didn't make me "come" anywhere) and instead we had his conversation right where he found me - which, I would like to point out, was outside the druid grove by the harpies so literally anyone could have seen him burst into cambion form (I find this thought hilarious). The camera moved the way it was meant to during that scene but instead of Raphael’s portraits I got to stare at grass (game probably telling me something lol)

Has anyone else had this bug? I'm on console so no mods, but I liked this because I got to see cambion Raphael outside and lit up all nice for me to ogle.

#baldur’s gate 3 #baldurs gate 3 #bg3 raphael #raphael the cambion

[reallyhatethiswebsite]

Hi darling. Can I ask for soft Raphael? To help you a little I am giving you few prompts. You can use only one and if you are brave enough all of them :) *pearl necklace *bow - tie *swan

Hi anon, thanks for the request! I ended up only doing one of the prompts kkkk. This fic was very much inspired by @reallyhatethiswebsite fic, ‘Creature Comforts’ (go read it, it’s amazing!) and I took the concept of a Tav who’s a sex worker at Sharess Caress and Raphael’s favorite. Warning for the usage of the word “whore”. Hope you liked it!

…

Pearls - Raphael x Fem!Tav

…

That peacefulness was cut short when Tav felt someone shaking her awake. Still with her eyes closed, she turned around, ignoring whoever it was. Then, the sheets which she covered herself with were ripped off of her, prompting Tav to finally open her eyes, being met with Nym’s gray ones. Sitting on the bed, she asked “What do you want?”

The drow crossed her arms. “There’s a client waiting for you.”

Her eyes widened. “But it’s my day off! Can’t you attend to whoever it is?”

Nym shook her head. “He asked specifically for you. Mamzell tried to change his mind but he paid good coin.”

“Ugh.” Tav rolled her eyes, stretching her arms and putting her feet on the floor. Before getting up, she asked “Do you at least know who’s the bastard that ruined my sleep?”

The drow raised a brow. “Who else but that devil.” She smirked. “He seems quite smitten with you.” She teased as Tav quickly put on a simple, beige dress. “Considering how often he comes here, one might even say it’s love.”

Tav stood in front of the mirror, trying to make her hair look presentable. Her eyes met Nym’s in the mirror, and she raised one brow, skeptically. “He’s a devil. I doubt he even knows what love is.” She turned to look at the drow. “And if he was in love, he’d be a fool.”

“And what about you?” Nym asked, walking closer to Tav. “How do you feel about him?”

She contemplated her answer for a moment, gathering her thoughts. In truth, she quite liked him, as he was one of the few clients who treated her with respect. He would converse with her, long after her services were done, asking her about things beyond her work. He’d gift her with books and then discuss with her about it, complimenting Tav on her mind, saying ‘You are far more than just a body or a pretty face, dear. If none else can see to that, they are not worthy of your presence.’

It also helped that the devil was quite easy on the eye. Tav smiled. Maybe, if he wasn’t who he was and she didn’t have the work she had, there could be a chance to pursue those feelings, let them bloom.

Alas, Tav was still a whore and Raphael was still a devil, and so, she told Nym “He pays me well. That’s all I need to care about.” Grabbing a nearby shawl, she wrapped it around her shoulders, and left the room.

She remembered her mother’s words, uttered once when she was a child but that haunted her since.

There is no such a thing as love for people like us.

With that in mind, she made her way to the Devil’s Den, knocking on it twice before the doors were opened. Raphael stood in the middle of the room, hands behind his back, a smirk forming on his face as she walked in.

“My, my, finally you decide to arrive. Any longer and my feet would become rooted to the ground.”

Tav raised a brow, holding her shawl closer. “Well, it’s what you get for bothering me on my day off.”

“Ah yes, that. Mamzell tried to tell me off, but as you well know -“ He took a step towards her “I always get what I want. One way or another.”

Tav took in a deep breath. Raphael was close enough that she could smell his cologne - cherries with a hint of musk, overwhelming the smell of sulphur that fiends were known for. She looked at him, into his deep brown eyes, trying to take a read on him. He didn’t look like he was there for carnal pleasures, but Tav couldn’t tell his true intentions.

“And what do you want, Raphael? What was so important that you demanded I come see you?”

The devil smiled, taking a step back. “Do not worry, my appearance here is only momentary. In an instant, you shall be free to enjoy the rest of your day off.”

Tav huffed, crossing her arms, as Raphael walked around, giving a little speech.

“I have grown fond of you, you know? In my own way. And I kept thinking, how can I express my gratitude for all the time you have so graciously spent in my presence?”

With a flick of his wrist, a small, wooden, rectangular box appeared in his hand. Tav stepped closer, noticing carved inscriptions along the sides and on the lid, recognizing the language as infernal. She traced the words with her fingers, impressed by the fine work.

“Open it.” Raphael demanded in a soft tone. She did and inside, there was a pearl necklace.

“Raphael, I-“ Tav gasped at the sight, almost scared to touch it. The necklace seemed expensive, probably worth more than what Tav had ever earned.

“Do you like it?”

“I-it- it’s lovely.” ‘But I don’t think I should have it’ she finished the sentence in her mind. Tav had only ever seen the ladies of the Upper City wearing this sort of jewelry, doubting that a whore such as herself, who bedded devils, would be worthy of wearing it. However, she knew better than refuse such a gift. “Thank you.”

Raphael smiled. “I want to see it on you.” He grabbed the necklace, leaving the box on a nearby table. He moved behind Tav, his hands appearing in front of her, holding the adornment against her neck and clasping it on the back.

The pearls were snug against her neck and collarbone, not a tight fit but not too loose. She walked towards the pool, looking at her reflection.

“It’s beautiful.” Tav said, admiring the way the necklace looked on her.

Raphael appeared behind her, placing his hands on her shoulders. “You’re beautiful.” He whispered, and Tav almost didn’t catch it. She felt his lips on her shoulder blade, and she could feel the blood rushing towards her cheeks.

Inhaling, Tav turned to look at him. “Thank you, again. It is a most precious gift.”

Raphael nodded. “I do not know when will we see each other again, as I have business to attend elsewhere and it might take long.” He sighed. “I hope you’ll see this token of my affection and remember me.”

“I will.” Tav moved forward and pressed a small kiss to his cheek, before walking towards the door.

Raphael smirked. “Tav.”

She turned to look at him. “Yes?”

“I want to see you wearing it when I return.” She smiled, nodded and Raphael snapped his fingers, leaving in a circle of smoke and fire.

Tav left the Devil’s Den, trying to contain a smile from forming on her face.

‘Maybe I’m the fool.’

[reallyhatethiswebsite]

Me irl

I am okay with this

[reallyhatethiswebsite]

Justice for Raphael

I'm very new to Tumblr, I created an account here a few months ago after I discovered all the amazing Bg3-related art content that this place has to offer. Since then, I've never posted a single thing and barely left any comments, I'm not a very social person...but today I was scrolling my favorite bg3-related feed, when I stumbled upon a post of someone who received a rather rude ask from an anon whose sole purpose was to mock their works and insult their (possibly) favorite character Raphael, who was referred to by that anon as a "100% canon two pump chump bottom cringe clown". 

It is saddening to get yet another confirmation that some people out there aren't capable of respecting others' likes, not even in a fictional/virtual environment...but I guess that's to be expected. Besides the obvious, what made me decide to write this wall of text as my very first post is that Raphael happens to be my favorite too, the one and only fictional character I've ever felt invested in, and probably the reason why Bg3 will leave a life-long lasting impression on me.

So here I am, trying my best to point out some facts that (apparently) are easy to go amiss for some people out here:   First of all, there's nothing canon regarding what Haarlep says of Raphael, as a character's opinion about another isn't a fact to begin with. Especially if said character is (proved by facts) very unreliable as a source: him being an incubus whose standards are undoubtedly different from any mortals' and the fact that he hates Raphael are but the most obvious. Not to mention that "Speak with the dead" isn't 100% reliable either by D&D 5e rules ("the corpse is under no compulsion to offer a truthful answer if you are hostile to it or it recognizes you as an enemy"). Besides that, even if everything Haarlep says is to be considered true, the mocking words the players can say to Raphael before the fight are NOT, as Haarlep never gives such info to the player (he only responds with a "no" if asked about the matter). That line we can say before the fight is but the player's guess/ childish mockery, certainly it's not a fact.

From a purely objective perspective, the only info Haarlep gives to the player that isn't merely his opinion is Raphael's obvious selfishness and narcissism (the HoH is covered with images of him) and the fact that he likely only sleeps with himself (he has his incubus wearing his shape, even his name). By no means does that make Raphael a "cringe clown", nor would it even in the case where Haarlep spoke entirely the truth. Honestly, it never ceases to baffle me how some people can be so shortsighted and shallow. But perhaps those people are yet to grow up and come to learn that there can be much hidden beneath someone's (fictional or not) behavior. There's nothing to mock about the "Raphael only wants to sleep with himself and only loves himself" statement. 

How could it be otherwise? How, when the only person who ever loved Raphael, the only one he could trust and rely on since his birth, was himself? How could he crave someone's affection and so, be seen as weak? How could he care for another or their feelings when he never got that care or respect, to begin with? Despite his theatrics and his facade, Raphael was born Cambion, a half-breed never to be considered more than the lesser of the devils in the hierarchy of the Hells. Cambions cannot rank up, no matter their blood ties, yet Raphael managed to achieve all that he has...his palace, his many souls, and his power. None of that was gifted to him, he fought hard and earned every last bit of it with his claws, his wits, and his determination. I admire Raphael for that, for striving to become something greater than what he was supposed to be...something better than his father's "half-devil" son.

To reduce Raphael, who's most certainly one of the deepest and most complex characters we can encounter in the game, to a "100% canon two pump chump bottom cringe clown" is beyond low, very immature, and a rather shallow view, more so if it comes from someone who hasn't even had the guts to show their name...

Well, that's all. I doubt someone will make it this far, as I wrote a veeeeery long paragraph. But for once, I wanted to have my say ^^

[reallyhatethiswebsite]

Creature Comforts (Raphael x F!Tav)

Tav is a working girl at Sharess' Caress, and she's Raphael's favourite.

Soft smut, bath sex, mild body worship, mild touch starved Raphael, soft(ish) Raphael, mentions of prostitution

AO3

-

“The devil’s asking after you,” said Mamzell, holding a metal bucket of ice and a bottle of wine for Tav to take with a sly smile. “Paid in advance.”

“Of course he is,” sighed Tav fondly. Naturally the wine was the most expensive Sharess’ Caress had to offer. Rich and dry with a lingering, burning aftertaste; just like the devil who drank it. Tav climbed the stairs to his room was the usual warm anticipation bubbling in her belly that she’d come to expect by now when she met with him. Bad business, she knew, to be fond of a client – especially one so dangerous. Yet every time he asked for her, she went to him. It would come back to bite her one day, but Tav had always been a glutton for punishment.

Pushing open the door, his room smelled like the rose petals scattered on the ground, the heat of hot bath oils, and the ever-present undercurrent of smoke and fire he could never quite hide. Tav quietly shut the door behind her. He was in the bath, with the water up to his chest as he rested his arms on the bath’s rim, his head lolled back. He was facing away from her as she entered, but she didn’t doubt he was aware of her presence.

“You started without me,” she said, feigning disappointment, though she didn’t have to try very hard. Watching him carefully undress was always an enjoyable experience. Especially when he stared her down the entire time.

“The water was simply too tempting to resist,” he hummed. His delicious voice held the thickness of indulgence that deepened its cadence and set her blood alight beneath her skin. “Fret not, darling. I haven’t done your job for you.”

Tav laughed, well aware there was no chance of that happening. He was here to be pampered. She approached the bath, setting down the ice bucket. When the bottle clinked, the devil rolled his head so he could look at her. His cheek pressed against his bicep; a stray lock of hair escaped his otherwise immaculate coif. His big brown doe eyes were as arresting as ever, even with dark circles beneath them.

“Hello, sweetling,” he said.

“Hello, Raphael,” she murmured in reply. She cupped his face, stroked his refined jaw. He leaned in to her touch. He seemed more tired than usual. Tav wondered what kinds of infernal intricacies were going on to drain him so, then decided she’d rather not know. He wouldn’t tell her even if she asked. She wouldn’t ask; an unspoken rule. “Drink?”

“Please.”

Her fingertips dragged slowly across his chin as she walked away to fetch glasses. Raphael popped the cork and poured them both a generous amount of burgundy coloured, fruity scented wine. He took a deep draught. Tav watched the bob of his throat when he swallowed, supping on small sips herself. She liked the wine, but too much made her head spin. She needed to keep it clear around this devil. She put her glass down and sat on the bath’s rim, close to him. The silence was comfortable, charged. She knew this dance; they had performed it many times already. The water was incredibly hot when she dipped one hand in, to the point of discomfort, but that was alright. A puddle in her palm, she coasted it over one broad shoulder of his, liking the way droplets scattered down his tawny skin. She kneaded his muscle, memorising his soft exhale.

“Shall I wash your hair first?”

“If you wouldn’t mind.”

Raphael handed her a small clay jug. She filled it with steaming murky water. “Close your eyes,” she said, waiting until he obeyed her, keeping his drink at safe distance, then she gently tipped the water over his head and neck. His hair darkened as it saturated; quite a fetching look, Tav thought. “Soap?”

“Mm.” He offered a block of dark red and umber that smelled of cherries and pepper. He always brought his own things from the Hells, something Tav privately found amusing. They were clearly pricey, better than even the highest quality luxuries that Sharess’ Caress offered. Of course Raphael would settle for no less, her Hell prince. The soap slid like liquid silk in Tav’s hands as she wet it and began to lather up the devil’s soft hair. He felt good beneath her hands; good to spoil. She coaxed tension from his temples, gently scratching her nails across his scalp in the way she knew he liked.

“Long day?” She asked.

“More prudent to say long month, I think,” he responded lazily.

“Ah. That’s a sentiment I definitely understand.” Using the jug again, she rinsed the soap from his head. “I finished the book you lent me, by the way.”

“What did you think of it? I’m curious. What’s the phrase? ‘Copper for your thoughts’?”

“A whole copper? Generous.” Raphael’s chuckle was barely more than a rumble. Tav nudged him to lean forward so she could start soaping his neck and shoulder blades. She was not ignorant to the way he pressed into her touch. “I liked the story, but I found it hard to feel sympathetic for the Count of Darkness the way the author probably wanted me to.”

The devil perked up, as he tended to do when discussions turned philosophical. “And why is that, little dove?”

Tav’s slippery fingertips trailed into the divots of his spine. “Difficult to root for someone who kidnaps and seduces a married woman because he feels like he’s entitled to her, with his only excuse being she may or may not be a reincarnation of his dead wife. No matter how charming he is.”

Raphael’s response was impassioned. “Is he not entitled to her? What of his passion, his love? His broken, lonely heart? Centuries of isolation he endured, his beloved so viciously stolen away from him, only to discover he may have a second chance at life with her again…why should he not reach for her?”

“She was already married, for a start. She loved her husband.”

The devil tutted. “None could know her or love her as the Count could.”

“Of course you’d say that. Poor Mr Harker would probably beg to differ.” Tav was more amused than anything. Raphael was responding exactly as she knew he would. “Well…I suppose the Count did have a nice castle. Real estate is in shambles these days, so Mina could have definitely done worse in that regard.”

“How pragmatic of you,” Raphael drawled. Tav laughed as she finished washing his back.

“I’m a simple whore in a chaotic world. It’s taught me to be pragmatic.” She stood and observed him for a moment. Wet, glistening tawny skin, honey-brown eyes smouldering, sharp jaw set. He was devastatingly beautiful.

“Have you no care for romance, Tav?” He asked, voice airy despite the weight behind his question. He drained the last of his wine and set his glass aside.

“I think you and I hold different definitions of romance.” They weren’t talking about the book anymore. She decided the conversation was over. “Shall I wash your front now?”

He didn’t answer for several seconds, expression unreadable. Tav wondered if he’d press the issue or not; he didn’t, perhaps too content or lethargic. “That depends. Are you going to join me?”

“Hm…” Tav pursed her lips, pretending to consider it. “I’m not sure. The perfume I’m wearing right now is quite expensive, you know.”

“I’ll buy you a dozen bottles, sweet dove,” he promised.

She had no doubt he meant it. She smiled, sliding out of her clothes. They fell into a pile at her feet. Raphael devoured her with his gaze as she stepped into the bath, opposite him. His eyes consumed one length of long, lithe leg at a time as she made herself comfortable, stretching out so her legs were either side of his hips, the soles of her feet resting against porcelain. The places where their bodies touched burned hotter than the water. He watched her in loaded silence as she settled, staring blatantly at the dusky peaks of her nipples and the pretty warm flush travelling across her cheeks, neck and chest. No one made her feel wanted quite like him.

Soap in hand again, she pulled his left leg across her lap, rubbing lather into his knee, shin, and the heavy defined muscle of his calf. Had she not felt the way he relaxed like melted butter, his deep sigh would have given away how much he was enjoying her touch. When he bent that leg so she could rub his ankle and foot, she caught a glimpse of another growing sign of his enjoyment amidst the sloshing soapy water. The sound he made when she pushed her thumbs into the arch of his foot made butterflies burst to life in her belly. He didn’t look away from her the entire time, eyes half-lidded. He wanted her to know what she was doing to him. What he was allowing her to do.

His other leg received the same treatment, but instead of moving to his gloriously thick thighs, Tav splayed her hands out on Raphael’s belly and slowly slid them up, ghosting the grooves of his abs and the trail of hair that disappeared below the water, then his sternum, resting her fingertips there for a second to feel the strong thumping of his heart. She circled his pecs; flicked her thumbs over his pebbled nipples. He sucked in a sharp breath.

“Ah…”

Unable to resist, Tav swallowed his gentle vocalisation with a kiss. He tasted of wine and smoke. His thin yet plush lips were like hot velvet against her mouth as he fiercely returned her kiss, coaxing her tongue out so he could suck on it. This time it was she who groaned, fingers curled, nails digging small crescents into his flesh. He brought her closer with one hand between her shoulder blades, his other squeezing her hip tight enough that she was sure she’d have finger-shaped bruises. Water spilled over the bath’s lip and onto the floor; the only sound besides the sticky smacks of their sloppy kisses. Like that, Tav could feel the entirety of his hard cock pressed between their stomachs. She wriggled a soapy hand down and squeezed it, tugging from root to tip. She bit at his mouth, greedily feasting on his gasp.

“Are you ready for me?” She whispered into the humid cavern behind his teeth.

“Always,” he growled.

With practised familiarity, Tav guided the head of Raphael’s drooling cock to her folds, swollen and slick despite the water. She teased them both, just a little, grinding against him enough so that his glans bumped her clit and felt the enticing heat of her entrance. She liked to see his pupils expand and eclipse the sweet brown of his irises like black holes before she sank onto him completely. He rested his forehead on hers as she worked him inside, grunting when he was fully sheathed. She gripped his biceps, he her hips, and they stared at each other; then she moved. Rolling her hips slow, lazy, enjoying the feeling of fullness and the way his cock nudged sensitive spots along her inner walls. His rutting was equally lazy, and it didn’t take long for them to find an easy rhythm. Her breasts slid over his soap-slick chest, jolting her entire body each time her nipples brushed his. It was good.

Raphael licked the seam of her lips, dotted scorching kisses across her chin, her jaw, the spot where her pulse thundered. She tilted her head and sighed when he sucked a mark there, that precious vulnerable place. “Be mine, Tav,” he purred darkly into her ear. Goosebumps erupted on her skin. “I would give you everything you wanted, every claim and castle, any luxury in life you desired. All you have to do is agree to be mine.”

“You can’t tempt me with contracts, Raphael,” sighed Tav, breathless as the pace and strength of his thrusts increased, changed to fit his mood. They were making a mess of the bath water now. “You know that.”

“Then what can I tempt you with?” An edge of frustration lingered in his voice. It showed itself in the rough way he swiped at her clit with two fingers, making her cry out and arch her back.

“Something…mmm, something you’re not ready to offer me.” In retaliation she leaned forward and bit his nipple. The overwhelming floral musk of soap in her mouth was worth the spitting curse he released, worth the flash of claws she felt digging into her flesh.

“Stubborn creature. You have yet to tell me what that means,” snarled her devil, fighting to regain control.

“I’m sure you’ll figure it out.”

Their coupling grew frantic, a chasing of release, using each other’s bodies to find it. With Raphael ruthlessly fingering the stretch of her cunt around his cock, prodding the wired nub of her clit when he felt the urge, it was Tav who reached her climax first. The throbbing coil in her womb unfurled; she let her head fall back, mouth open, groaning out his name. He watched her ride her orgasm intently, the harsh clench of his teeth and wild desperation in his eyes giving away that he’d been waiting for her. For this. The fluttering squeeze of her walls milking his cock and the almost-reverent way her lips shaped the syllables of his name were too much; Raphael emptied deep inside her in spurts, jerky thrusts, and a strangled staccato groan. His rapture made for a truly handsome picture Faerun’s greatest artists could only dream of painting.

They basked in the afterglow for a while. Tav washed the lingering suds from him; he watched as she washed herself, cleaned his seed from her sex, his only contribution to the endeavour a hungry, possessive look of debauched satisfaction. She would smell like cherries for hours. Eventually he climbed out of the bath as Tav reclined, finally letting herself to finish her drink. He dried and dressed himself meticulously, off to go where devils went and do what devils did. Prim and orderly about his appearance despite the messy way he’d fucked her not long ago. Aloof and back to business despite the way he’d been so pliable beneath her hands. Tav was very fond of him indeed.

“Do you want your book back?” She asked him when he’d tightened his cufflinks.

“Keep it,” he replied, more refreshed and put together than he’d been when she arrived. “Perhaps one day you will read it again and your viewpoint will change.”

“Perhaps,” she allowed.

Raphael smiled at her then, just a small quirk of his lips, ambition and determination sparkling in his pretty, disarming eyes. She may have won this battle, but the war was far from over. “Ta-ta for now, little dove.”

He clicked his fingers and disappeared in a burst of fire and infernal magic. He’d be back soon; despite everything, Tav looked forward to it.

#baldur's gate 3 #baldurs gate 3 #bg3 raphael #raphael x tav #nsft #smut #fanfic

[reallyhatethiswebsite]

Samael (Raphael x F!Tav)

Dad Raphael fic, a little bit fluffy and a little bit dark

-

Tav’s body woke her. Her breasts ached, her biological clock wired and telling her that her baby would probably be getting hungry right now, even if he hadn’t yet made a sound. She expected to hear his cries shortly, but her son wasn’t in his cradle, and her husband wasn’t in their bed. The space where he’d been sleeping was still warm. For a moment, Tav simply lay there, soaking in the peace.

Her baby was not a tiefling, but a cambion, meaning he slept in odd fits, and his behaviour was often unpredictable and so unlike a regular infant his age. He’d been born with tiny fangs – something Tav’s nipples did not appreciate – tiny wings, tiny claws, and a tiny ropey tail. Bumps on his forehead indicated where his horns would eventually grow. Tav loved him desperately. He’d also almost killed her on his way into the world, but Tav would give her life a thousand times over for him.

Eventually she dragged herself out of bed, deciding to look for her boys. The House of Hope’s halls were quiet and empty, most of the wandering debtors being banished after the birth of the little prince. His father deemed their ilk unworthy to look upon his offspring; Tav was just glad the creepy bastards were finally gone. It made hearing baby babble and the low, dulcet tones of her husband much easier, and from there Tav simply followed the music.

Raphael was in the archives, their son on his hip. He was wearing his soft red velvet dress robe – Tav’s favourite – and his feet were bare. She noticed with amusement his big wings were held further out from his shoulders than usual. They fascinated their son, and he had a habit of pulling and chewing on them. It didn’t hurt, but Raphael was sick of being covered in baby slobber.

“So you see, Samael, when drafting a contract, one must always ensure the clause has enough wiggle room for the recipient to believe they can hold the upper hand against you,” said Raphael, matter-of-fact. “That way, when the curtain falls, they fail to notice just how tight your grip has become. It’s something of an art form, I believe.”

“Abababa!” Samael gurgled, waving his pudgy red fists at his father.

“Precisely,” Raphael nodded. It appeared they were having a serious discussion. Heart warmed, Tav just stood there and watched them. Samael got stronger every day. He could already spread and flex his wings, and his control over his tail muscles constantly improved. A few months old and he was able to delicately curl it around the arms and wrists of his parents – something he was attempting to do right then, but Raphael made a game out of evasion. He’d wait until the last moment before gently snatching Samael’s tail, commanding the boy to try again. Samael giggled every time; Tav wasn’t blind to the fondness softening her husband’s gold eyes at the sound.

He was every bit the scheming, opportunistic, terrible devil she’d met so long ago, but there was so much more to him than that. He’d spent countless nights reading novels, plays, and poetry to Samael while he was still in her womb; he’d rubbed her swollen feet whenever she asked and weathered her terrible mood swings with grace; he’d shed tears, silent and stoic, when his wailing and bloody newborn was placed in his arms for the first time. Looking at him now, Archdevil Supreme Raphael, holding and teasing their son, Tav wondered not for the first time if concepts such as good and evil were too broad to truly exist.

Samael turned his head and spotted her watching them. A fanged smile lit up his face and he wriggled with excitement, reaching for her. He cooed unintelligibly, noises far too sweet to come from hellspawn, surely. The jig was up, though of course, Tav had no illusions that her husband was unaware of her presence. She approached them. Raphael offered the boy with little resistance, and Tav sighed at the feeling of completeness when he was snuggled against her chest.

“Hello, Sammy,” she murmured, pressing a kiss to his soft chestnut-coloured hair.

“What woke you?” Raphael asked, his voice rich and quiet. “I thought to let you rest.”

“My body,” Tav huffed, amused. “Telling me to feed my baby.”

“Ah.”

“Yes, alright, I know,” Tav said when Samael began fussily pawing at her breast. “Give me a moment.”

She let her loose sleeping shirt slip enough to free one breast. Samael immediately latched on and began suckling, his miniature claws finding purchase. Raphael’s expression was like simmering magma: dark and primal satisfaction, possessiveness, desire, hellish adoration. He always took in particular delight when she nursed Samael. Fed their little cambion. For him, Tav knew, it was the truest acceptance of his nature – the same undeniable nature of their son. She knew she had bonded herself to Raphael far beyond the promises between husband and wife, mother of his child; he would never let her, or Samael, leave him.

Sometimes, the depth of love and obsession she saw in Raphael’s eyes scared her. He would do unspeakable things to keep them safe. To keep them. Sometimes, when Samael would deliberately bite her nipple to sample her blood as well as milk, she wondered what kind of monster she had brought into the world. If he would grow into a fiend more than a man. Sometimes, she wondered when her old friends would finally act upon their threat to destroy her and her Archdevil lover. If Raphael would make their deaths swift or slow. But never did she wonder if she’d made the wrong choice. Raphael tugged her close, shutting his wings around them. He purred when she leaned into him. Samael’s tail encircled her arm. Tav was content.

#baldur's gate 3 #baldurs gate 3 #raphael x tav #bg3 raphael #fanfic #fluff #cringe