#Masonry Seat Walls | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

simdertalia · 2 months

Text

🌺🌴 ACNH Paradise Planning Set: Part 2 🌴🌺

All the items you'll need to recreate the downstairs & outside of the Paradise Planning office in your TS4 game. Most items came with only 1 swatch each. There are again items that I added extra swatches for, for part 2. *See bottom of item list for links to other items that were used in my images 🌺

Sims 4, Base game compatible | 67 items

🌺 To place clutter on windowsill (and any window that has slots) first place backward so the shelf is on the outside of the building (with right click) place your clutter, then pick up the window & turn it around again & place.

Always suggested: bb.objects ON, it makes placing items much easier. For further placement tweaking, check out the TOOL mod.

You can raise & lower items with 0 and 9 on your keyboard.

Use the scale up & down feature on your keyboard to make the items larger or smaller to your liking. If you have a non-US keyboard, it may be different keys depending on which alphabet it uses.

I hope you enjoy! ☺️ Download below, all in a zip file or pick & choose!

Build: -Floor Stone | 6 swatches | Masonry & Tile-Floor Wood | 6 swatches | Wood

Type “ACNH paradise planning 2” into the search query in build mode to find quickly. You can always find items like this, just begin typing the title and it will appear.

As always, please let me know if you have any issues!

📁 Download all or pick & choose (SFS, No Ads): HERE

📁 Alt Mega Download (still no ads): HERE

Will be public on August 9th, 2024 💗 Midnight CET

Happy Simming! ✨ Some of my CC is early access. If you like my work, please consider supporting me (all support helps me with managing my chronic pain/illness):

★ Patreon 🎉 ❤️ |★ Ko-Fi ☕️ ❤️ ★ Instagram📷

Thank you for reblogging ❤️ ❤️ ❤️

@sssvitlanz @maxismatchccworld @mmoutfitters @coffee-cc-finds @itsjessicaccfinds @gamommypeach @stargazer-sims-finds @khelga68 @suricringe @vaporwavesims @mystictrance15 @moonglitchccfinds @xlost-in-wonderlandx @jbthedisabledvet

-Simple Siding by Sahiya81 -Country Carriage House Roof recolors (by LinaCherie) -Limber Lumber Traditional Hardwoods (EA Base Game) used on deck

🌴👉 PART 1 👈🌴

The rest of my CC

118 notes · View notes

floweroflaurelin · 1 year

Text

So Pixlriffs’ finale is a masterpiece and I’m experiencing a lot of emotions right now ✨🌻✨

For my own reference I made a transcript of the monologue and thought I might as well share it! It's under the cut to avoid spoilers but the whole first 8ish minutes of his video are typed out. I recommend watching at least that much, if you haven’t yet, because it’s really something worth hearing.

We are not done.

Not yet.

Our stories do not begin here, and neither do they end. But before they fade into obscurity, as so many events do, there is one more story left to be told.

[It is the Story

the World.]

It’s important to remind ourselves that history is an account of events remembered—and there are so few left who remember, so it mingles with myth and hearsay, folklore and fireside stories. This is the account of just one man, and others may recall the tale differently. Others still may decide to change the narrative to suit their own ends. And this, it must be said, is no bad thing. So it goes.

[Sun setting

over

our Creation.]

—

In a long-lost age before records truly began, our world was built by Titans (or so it is said). The lands they created became home to people who would seek to emulate and even to surpass that act of creation, and that would eventually bring about their destruction. But destruction is simply part of a cycle. Nothing is ever truly lost.

Those who foresaw the destruction fled before it could bring the walls of their homes down around them. And many who had been downtrodden and overlooked saw it as their chance to find a new life for themselves.

Thus began a great migration, leaving behind the old nations of the world and striking out for somewhere new, a life untethered from the follies of their former state. And though the road was long and treacherous, and many fell behind in the wake of such an awful endeavour, new bonds were forged in the fires of adversity.

As time passed, and more joined the great caravan, the host became a nation of its own, a glorious congregation sharing one purpose, singing the same resolute song. Though the road was long, they were homeward bound.

And a home they found nestled in a mountainous landscape, one that might have been carved by the very bones of the gods themselves. There they planted roots, drank deep from the water, and continued to grow. The farmers sowed new fields and raised new flocks. The work of many hands turned to building a new city. And together the architects conceived a castle upon a great plateau that would stand as a monument to their past apart and their future together. To them, the castle itself would tell the Story of the World.

Stone-whisperers from Mythland and the Grimlands, well-versed in masonry of all kinds, sculpted its walls from the abundant rock of the nearby mountains quarried for the glory of their new capital. They wrought rock and iron, carved and timbered their great halls, and raised mighty towers to stand atop the grand cliff.

The mages of the Crystal Cliffs brought knowledge of magic and the beauty of gemstones, and theirs was the sanctum at the heart of the castle, ever-seated at the Ruler’s left hand: their shield and protector.

A tribute was raised to Gilded Helianthia, whose ruler was still revered in the hearts and minds of many, and in time she became their warden against the spectres of the past, carrying the twin burdens of light and shadow on her shoulders; a burden with which the people of Rivendell were all too familiar.

And below, far below, the engineers of Pixandria sought to reproduce the jewel of their empire. A mechanism that would surpass the work of the Copper King himself.

Not all who came to found the Ancient Capital remained for long. Like dandelion seeds, the people of the Overgrown were scattered on the wind, alighting on the mountaintops and valleys. The vast majority of them came to settle in the rolling meadows of Chromia, which was renowned for the richness and beauty of its dyes for lifetimes after.

In the absence of their king, the nation of Mezelea resettled in new badlands, establishing laws and ordinances of their own. Many of them had been armour stands before the king imbued them with life, and some found this a hard habit to shake.

The people of the Cod and Ocean empires, bereft of the waters that gave them life, took to diving in the rocky pools of vast caverns and their affinity for stone grew. Over many generations they adapted, becoming the green-skinned race that folk came to know as goblins—their pointed ears the only remaining vestige of the fins they had once had.

For the gnomes of the Undergrove, this was a homecoming! They had long dwelled here before their exodus through the Nether and the fairy circles of the Evermoore welcomed them with open arms.

And the villagers of the Lost Empire, hiding in plain sight amongst the caravan of peoples, sought to find a place where they would be unburdened by this facade of humanity, standing at last on their own two feet.

But the boundaries of this land were ever-changing, and the nations soon found the cataclysm they had left behind had weakened the walls between their world and others. Waters rose and fell unpredictably; incursions from other realms were possible, bringing chaos in their wake. The tide of history churned and rippled.

None now remember how the Capital fell, only that its remains have lasted: an epitaph to all they had achieved together.

And just like before, new nations would arise. The pirates of Eversea ruled the waters from their secret cove. The inventors of Cogsmeade arrived sailing in from the air on their skyships—only to find whole buildings floating in the golden kingdom of Stratos. Rumours abounded of a Sanctuary hidden in the deepest jungle for those who knew the way.

Their tales are better told by those who knew them well. Our stories do not begin here, and neither do they end. But for this tired historian, it is perhaps best to leave these things in the past and begin to look towards the future.

For whatever comes next, we who have sown the seeds can only hope for a bountiful harvest.

#empires smp #pixlriffs #empires spoilers #empiresblr #empires s2 #empires pixlriffs #transcript #CHILLS. ACTUAL CHILLS.#this set fireworks off my brain btw. I want to make all the things right now #im busy at the moment but I will make things! I will! I must!

463 notes · View notes

bluebellsandcocklesshells · 2 years

Photo

Traditional Landscape - Retaining Walls

#Summertime landscaping ideas for a medium-sized traditional backyard with partial sun. retaining walls #stone steps #stone seating wall #bluestone wall caps #masonry

0 notes

creative-frequency · 6 months

Text

Raphael x Reader: Act II: The Dinner, pt.2

Summary: Your patron Raphael invites you for a dinner with multiple ulterior motives. Part 2 of 2. Word count: 3853 Notes: Dinner date with Raphael at House of Hope. Some romantic tension finally relieved, making out with the devil.

Previous part

“I’ve been looking forward to spending an evening with you,” Raphael mused just as you pulled your hand back from his. His warmth lingered, burning your fingertips.

He had brought you into a grand foyer. Nervous about the new situation and Raphael’s company – and not really knowing what to reply – you gaped around at the decorative hall. Massive pillars stood in rows at each side and the ceiling was impossibly high. There were no paintings on the walls unlike in the rooms you had previously visited, but devilish sculptures stood amidst the pillars. No doubt sculpted after Raphael’s own visage. Deep red drapes softened the masonry.

Raphael lingered in the middle of the foyer while you paced around a bit, marvelling at the interior.

“Before we dine…”

You turned to look at him.

Raphael snapped his fingers. A sweet wave of nothingness washed and settled through you – silence.

“There. A little privacy from our tentacled friend,” he said with a complacent tone.

The Emperor was going to be extremely upset about you dining with the devil and denying it the chance for eavesdropping. It already had opinions and dire concerns of you lending your ear to Raphael. Even more so about sleeping in the devil’s bed, but that was a conversation you rather wanted to forget.

“Oh. It’s… quiet,” you said, bemused.

The whispering and humming of the Artefact in the back of your mind was gone. Not once had it occurred to you that Raphael might have the power to do such a thing. At the same time, it warranted slight worry about his motives for silencing your astral guide. What had he planned for the night that he didn’t want anyone else to hear?

“This way, my raven.” Raphael motioned towards the hallway and you stepped into pace at his side.

Your mind truly was wondrously silent, thanks to the devil. While it felt weird, a sense of bitter longing filled you. What a luxury it was to remain the only inhabitant of one’s skull. You couldn’t get rid of the tadpole soon enough.

The earlier times you had visited the dining hall of House of Hope, you had not exactly been keen on examining the interior design. Raphael didn’t seem to mind that you were taking in every detail of your surroundings now. Hells, he even seemed pleased at your silent awe as your gaze moved around from the massive painting of the devil himself above the fireplace.

There was a simple brass bell on a chain that was mounted into the wall. The bell was almost invisible in the middle of all the elaborate decoration, but something in it drew your attention.

Raphael followed your gaze and hummed in thought. “Go on, give it a ring,” he urged.

You moved closer to inspect the item.

“What is its purpose?” you asked but didn’t dare to touch it despite his encouragement.

“It is merely a simple dinner bell. Ring it and I will know the table has been set.”

You reached for the short chain and gave it a light tug. The bright jingle sound reverberated in your skull and made your teeth ache momentarily. If that sound couldn’t travel through different planes, nothing could.

“Satisfied?” Raphael spoke while you held your cheek to stop your head from spinning.

“And regretting it,” you asserted with a pointed glance and moved in for the seat he was offering. Raphael let out a low and soft laugh while ensuring you were seated comfortably, then took his own seat opposite.

The hexagonal table was once more laden with dishes that you had never seen or tasted before. It seemed that Raphael currently held a taste for the more exotic Southern flair as many of the foods originated from Calimshan. There was roasted goose and stuffed portobello mushrooms with cherry port wine reduction and foie gras stuffing, aqua-tinted Green Calishite cheese, pork sausages and honey-sauteed vegetables – the same dish you had eaten on your first meeting. He also served you a glass of trike, a sweet and strong wine made from palintrike. Oranges, apples, sunmelons and other fruits were plentiful on the table, cut into bite-sized pieces and served with a sweet paste made of dates.

Raphael took care of most of the conversation on his own while you ate. He told you about the ingredients and spices in the dishes, their preparation methods and the history of the area they originated from. While it was certainly interesting, you couldn’t figure out a natural way to bring up Astarion’s dilemma.

After five courses and three different wines to match, you couldn’t possibly eat anything more. When Raphael paused to sip his drink, you braced and went for the direct route.

“Can I bring my companions here for dinner?” you asked.

Raphael arched a brow at you.

“They’re not my clients,” he replied, unsurprisingly, and leaned forward. “You are. My most precious one, in fact.”

The weight of his words made you shiver and a wave of apprehension coursed down your spine. It had been evident that he really didn’t care for your companions, but when he accentuated it like that… You had to avert your eyes in a flush and focus on the empty plate in front of you.

Raphael placed his glass on the table and fixed a curious gaze to you.

“What is on your mind, little raven?”

You inhaled quickly, remembering why you had brought up the topic in the first place: “So, about Astarion…”

Raphael made a calming gesture and smiled knowingly. “Don’t worry, my dear. I’m motivated to help him.”

Your loyalties were already stretched between your companions and your devil patron. To both of them, you essentially owed your life. Raphael could stand to be pressured a bit more. You straightened up on your seat.

“How soon?” you questioned.

“As I’ve previously stated, I’ll think about it and get back to you. Don’t fret,” Raphael replied and, to your astonishment, added: “Until I offer the little vampling a mutually beneficial solution, take care not to tread into any perilous dens on your adventures.”

He was talking in riddles again and looked impossibly complacent.

“I don’t need your approval,” you replied coolly and sipped your wine.

Raphael hummed with mirth and spread his arms theatrically. “Certainly you don’t.” The balmy timbre of his voice sent another wave of shivers through you, but this time the sensation made you feel warm.

You swirled the wine in your glass, examining the deep red colour against the light of the fireplace. Raphael leaned back in his seat, gazing at you contemplatively.

“I was surprised to see you at Last Light today,” you said to change the subject. “A mere coincidence, I take it?”

Hells, you were apparently starting to imitate his way of speech now. That was too much wine.

Raphael chuckled, as though pleased with your question. “There are so many people ripe for temptation,” he replied. A non-answer.

Your brows furrowed as you remembered Mol. Had she already made a deal with the devil? You had half a mind to ask Raphael, but he probably wouldn’t provide an answer other than citing whatever patron-client confidentiality rules devils lived by. You sipped from the glass again, flushing down the thought.

“Does it ever bother you to make a living out of mortals’ suffering?” you questioned and watched Raphael’s reaction over the rim of your glass. He snapped his fingers and the glass filled up right in front of your eyes.

“Life is not a fairy tale, my dear,” he replied in a low tone, posture relaxed and not at all bothered by your questioning.

You paused to huff in thought before answering: “Yet mine already has the main antagonist on stage.”

“Oh?” Raphael raised a brow. “I didn’t realise I was the villain in your narrative,” he said, clearly amused. If the line was meant to taunt you, you held back any further retorts and sipped the wine.

Raphael didn’t let the silence sit for long, eager as he was to continue painting the analogy. He leaned forward over the table. “And what does that make you, little raven? The hero? The sage? The victim?”

You leaned back on the chair. “Isn’t it a bit too late to choose a role?” you mused. “I am clearly the underdog.”

Raphael laughed. “Everybody loves an underdog, don’t they?”

You hated the blush that crept over your cheeks. “I should hope so,” you murmured nonetheless.

Raphael’s eyes narrowed at the sight as a self satisfied smirk crept across his lips.

“The journey has changed you already,” he noted.

Despite having a whole table between you, the moment felt as intimate as him buttoning up the borrowed shirt on you that morning in his boudoir. Heady and tender feelings coiled inside you, and it didn’t exactly help cooling down your flushed skin.

“How so?” you asked.

Raphael brushed any doubts aside with a burgeon motion of his hands. “You’re no longer the tender bud I encountered at the site of calamity. You’ve grown, little raven. Flourished.”

“Right…” You didn’t really know how to react when he was suddenly showering you with compliments. “I hope it hasn’t been a complete waste of time for you to watch me grow.”

“At least I can’t say I’m not entertained,” Raphael said with a warm chuckle.

“Enjoying the show, then? I’m glad.” It was the wine talking, but damn if flirting with him didn’t make you exhilarated and hot all over.

“Very much so, my dear.”

You placed your elbows on the table and locked your fingers under your chin, never breaking eye contact with the devil. Raphael’s eyes glinted at the sliver of gold on your finger. His lips curved upwards. He too leaned over the dinner table, fingers intertwined, and immobilised you with a heated stare. The honey-tinted brown eyes had gained molten swirls. Your heart started drumming faster.

“How your features and string of tragic misfortune have entranced me,” Raphael said, surely in jest, but the voice. It was a lover’s voice, sensual and suggestive. A sharp pulse of desire shot through you. His attention was intoxicating. You wanted more. A flutter sprang to life in your chest.

You blinked and focused on trying to stay calm even though your head was spinning.

“Shall we enjoy the rest of the evening in a more comfortable setting?” Raphael asked carefully. The rumble of his voice set your very soul alight. Gods help you, you were hanging on his every word. A pulse of desire was pooling into a warm liquid that spread through your body.

“You’re the Master of the House, so I’ll follow your lead,” you managed to reply.

Raphael arched a brow in surprise and chuckled. He stood up.

“Undoubtedly I am. Come.”

He offered his arm to you like the perfect gentleman and walked you down to the next room. Just holding his arm threatened to turn your legs into jelly, but you steeled yourself, determined, though nervous to see the evening through.

The room was a small parlour with plush sofas and small tea tables littered with delicacies and confectioneries. You made a little gasp. Calimshan Knots, Mraed and different kinds of chocolate were on display on a luxurious silver tray with three layers. It looked almost too beautiful to break a piece from the work of art for a taste.

Raphael guided you to sit down on one of the red loveseats and sat down next to you. Exhilarated at the proximity, you had to force yourself to breathe, only to inhale his sweet scent of cherries concentrated in the air.

“Please. Indulge.” He motioned towards the sweets, but you felt the words had another underlying meaning. Your blood started running hotter in your veins.

Raphael examined your features with great interest.

“You said there was something you wanted to discuss with me…” you suddenly remembered.

“Ah, yes. There is a matter of great importance that your little group will soon have to resolve,” Raphael stated and his head tilted slightly in thought. “One way or the other.”

“Oh? What kind of matter?” you asked unsure if you really wanted to hear this. “I assume it has something to do with the Artefact?”

“Technically, yes,” he said, a hand to his chin, “I happen to possess an item of great interest to aid you in this predicament. I could be persuaded to part with it.”

You blinked. “And what would I have to offer in return for this item?”

Raphael chuckled mirthfully. “Very good, little raven. Your skills in the art of infernal negotiation are improving. But, for this particular instance, I’m willing to take a loss.”

Simultaneous feelings of unease and pride clouded your mind. “That’s… unexpected. You would lose hold of such an item for me?”

“If it means you win, my dear,” Raphael purred and leaned closer. “However, it still comes with its conjectures.”

“I’m not sure I like the sound of that,” you said quietly, “What would those conjectures be?”

“I’m willing to loan you this item, if” – Raphael lifted exactly one finger in the air – ”you promise to return it along with another trinket of my choosing.”

He could very well ask something impossible of you and do whatever he wanted with your soul in the end when you inevitably failed to deliver. So far Raphael had been fair in his dealings, but you had to be careful. Cryptic and unhelpful hints aside, you didn’t want to think about the Artefact, the tadpole or the Absolute right now.

“I’ll think about it and get back to you,” you murmured.

Raphael barked a laugh. “Indeed. Imitation is the highest form of flattery, my dear.”

The laugh left the remnants of a smirk over his lips. You swallowed. His scent of fire and cherries was making you go mad as it addled your poor, tadpoled brain. He lifted his arm over the sofa back and angled his body properly to you.

“You, my most troubled protege, will surely make the right decision,” his lover’s voice whispered with a rumble you could almost feel over your body.

Raphael’s hand dipped to caress your shoulder. The touch ignited a trail of fire in its path. He leaned closer and instinctively you leaned away. A proper smirk now curved his lips. So it became a chase; the fox hunted the raven. Your breaths grew shorter by the second.

He placed his other hand on your knee, a gesture to keep you still. The touch shot a wave of heat through you and you barely held back a wince. Thanks to the wine and your general ludacrity, you were already feeling wanton enough in his company, so you wouldn’t be able to take much of his enabling to finally snap and throw all noble notions into the fires of Hell.

That was presumably his goal.

“I’ve grown fond of you, little raven,” Raphael purred, “I’d hate to see you make the wrong choice.”

His every word caressed your skin, adding fuel to the liquid fire raging in your body. You swallowed to gather the last bits of your prudence and said: “I’m sure my companions and I will make the best decision we can under the circumstances.”

Raphael’s smile widened, his head leaned to the side. “That is most gratifying to hear, my dear.”

His hand still lay on your knee and you believed you felt it inch up your thigh while the other one continued caressing your shoulder, trekking up to the back of your neck. You couldn’t take your eyes off Raphael’s face. His gaze lowered to your lips. You placed your hand over his on your thigh and saw the delight spill into his expression. His skin was hot and you were already dreaming how it would feel wandering around your body; caressing, circling, fondling…

Did he do this with all his clients? Somehow you knew the answer. You could read it in the curve on his lips and the spark in his eyes. Mortals often held no such interest to him.

You were special.

In the back of all the lust-ridden thoughts, you wondered how it might feel to be loved by him, to wake up next to those molten saffron or darkened honey-tinted eyes.

You swallowed as Raphael’s fingers moved to the inner side of your thigh.

“Though I could use some motivation…” you heard yourself saying loud and clear.

The devil’s eyes widened for a fraction of a second before they were lit with plain and clear desire.

“What a brave and naughty little thing you are. You never cease to surprise me,” Raphael husked. The words were latent with seduction and promise.

He leaned closer and you felt his shallow and waiting breaths fanning over your cheek. Only the warmth radiating from his body and his scent of sweet cherries, deep musk and smoky brimstone was registering at this point. You felt almost woozy, aching in the trepidation that he might pull away and not give you what you craved more and more with each passing second.

Raphael’s eyes were the colour of dark honey, his eyelashes so dark and beautiful, and the thought of his lips on you… The consuming craving to taste him was overwhelming.

“It’s the company I keep,” you intended to say, but in the end were unsure if the words actually left your mouth or were blocked.

Raphael kissed you with overwhelming heat and hunger.

He cupped the back of your head and pulled you right into him.

The kiss was searing, passionate and would’ve swooped you right off your feet had you been standing. His hand instantly made headway up your leg, fingers already tracing your inner thigh and unceremoniously delving closer to your aroused, aching sex.

You gripped Raphael’s shirt, pulling him even closer. You wanted him closer. You wanted him so much. How you wished the clothes on your back would just burn away.

He pushed you against the sofa back with his body. His mouth moved from your reddened and swollen lips to plant hot kisses on your cheek, jaw and down to your neck. You mewled with pleasure and offered yourself to him, indulging his every motion and brush of his lips.

Two thoughts fought for purchase in your head, but neither gained any foothold: were you really doing this with your patron and what consequences there would be. Your soul was already damned. He had been tempting you for weeks so it was about time for things to progress this way. Tangling your body with his surely didn’t actually mean anything.

“Give yourself to me,” Raphael whispered into your ear, his breathing tickling. His hand reached its aim between your legs and you gasped as he resolutely stroked your clothed sex.

Your whole body quivered from the delicious friction of the contact and you bit your lip. A tight sensation coiled in your lower abdomen, ready to burst at the next hint of touch.

You wanted more of him.

“So eager…” Raphael whispered. He kept your head still and close, turning it as he pleased to reach the sweetest spots of your skin. You acquiesced to all of it, too stunned, too ravenous for more to move. The grip of your fist tightened on his arm and at the hem of his shirt.

He claimed your lips again. You spread your legs and his nimble fingers stroked you through your clothes with the most perfect pressure, all the while his heavy breaths tickled your neck and the shell of your ear between demanding kisses. The more you gasped and moaned, the more laborious his breaths also became.

“R-Raphael…” Your throat was dry and your voice already hoarse.

Your hand wandered south with the goal of reciprocating the pleasure he was giving you, but the brushing motions of his fingers sped up and you waivered, abandoning mission. It was extremely hard to focus on anything else besides the pleasure Raphael was so expertly giving to you.

Amidst the kisses and hot breaths on burning your skin, your release was hell-bent on building fast and hard, and, frankly, it surprised you both.

It hit you like a pit fiend running into a wall at full speed.

You gasped for air, clutching Raphael’s forearm and felt the ravaging pulsing against his fingers through your clothes.

“Fuck…” you huffed, voice hoarse.

Raphael’s motions stopped as it dawned on him: You had reached an orgasm in a shamefully short time. It was certainly… surprising.

“Uh, guess I was more motivation-starved than I thought,” you managed to mumble in what you aimed to be an apologising tone. Your head was spinning from the sharp and intense orgasm, and it was extremely hard to think in complete sentences.

Raphael slowly drew back from you with a muted expression. No tender kisses, no praises, he was just staring at you in mild disbelief.

“I, uhm. Do you want to…?” you mumbled ambiguously, but couldn’t quite reach the shame waiting somewhere in the back of your mind. It had felt way too good to be ashamed.

You took a deep breath to clear your head and Raphael straightened his back.

Then he laughed, low and rough and assumed back his role. “Like I said, you never fail to surprise me, little raven.”

You blinked. He was acting as if he had not just kissed you silly and made you come with his fingers while both of you were still fully clothed.

“Hopefully the evening was as enjoyable to you as it was for me,” he continued in a cultured tone.

Heat rushed to your cheeks. So that’s how it was going to be. You hurried to settle your clothes into a more presentable state and hopped to your feet. Your legs were shaking and you felt lightheaded. There was no way your companions would not realise what had happened. Astarion would take one look at you and start either yapping or giggling.

“Yes, uh. Would you be so kind and send me back now?” you inquired, trying to reach an impassive tone but failing spectacularly.

Raphael paused, clearly deciding whether to abide by your request or not. Not a hint of the earlier lust was visible on his face. Either he hid it extremely well or your little display had not affected him at all. How frustrating. So he could make you come with a single finger, but you had no effect on him.

“Of course. Far be it from me to keep you here against your will,” Raphael said with an incline of his head. Not even a hair was out of place on him.

With a quick snap, he sent you back to camp right then and there. A swift look around told you that no one was awake. Good.

Only a moment later you realised that by ‘motivation’ Raphael probably had not meant to allow you to come. Oh well, what was done was done. You could only hope the consequences of your own actions wouldn’t come back to haunt you.

My writing masterlist

#bg3 raphael #raphael bg3 #raphael x you #raphael x reader #baldur's gate 3 fanfiction #bg3 fanfiction #fanfiction #the devil wears house slippers

37 notes · View notes