#infernal journey

[grovekeepers]

What fighting in Avernus alongside Karlach and Wyll does to a man

[theshiftingwitch]

this isn't related to shifting but, as a witch, have you ever done deity/spirit work?

Yes!

I work with Lilith, with my spirit team, and sometimes with the infernals.

Here is the thing though, since I'm mainly spiritual, I don't believe in the deities themselves. Because my core belief is that I am the universe having a human experience, every other deity, spirit, demon, whatever you want to call them are also me. So I work with the archetype of their power and what they symbolize as opposed to worshipping them and treating them as something different or separate from me.

But yes, every baneful work I've done has Lilith's energy all over it. And glamour magic is heavily influenced by Aphrodite.

[minotaurmerkaba]

[veiledfox]

} There really is something to good music making things memorable

[eirikrjs]

out of curiosity, is your problem with Amon's design the reference itself or just the fact that it clashes with the rest of the design? I think giving a shout out to Devilman is pretty cool since it was such a huge influence to SMT, but it could've been a lot more subdued

So let me talk about Amon, lol.

The Devilman arms are the focal point of the design. In fact, the composition just doesn't work without them. I cobbled the left example together via the SJR sprite sheet:

There's just nothing to it without the arms. And let's make it even more like the Dictionnaire Infernal Amon:

I definitely prefer Amon wingless (in fact, as an Amonfan I don't like the wings at all) but merely removing them doesn't "fix" the design, it would at least require making the wolf legs less vestigial. But I think the entire idea behind the final design is to make it look as cool and grandiose as possible:

Its "cool" had to achieve marketability, which I think it does, in a similar way to Dagda; it's a shame but a straight Dictionnaire Amon like Kaneko's wouldn't impress the way they want.

Amon is a Tyrant, so I suppose he had to be grandiose and imposing, this despite not being a great fit for his character and that most Goetias are Fallen instead; the true archdemon likes of Belial, Asmodeus, and Astaroth being exceptions.

Then you have to contend with Atlus' interpretation of who/what Amon is, including a demonized Amun[-Ra] (so just repeating the Asura/Ahura Mazda and Astaroth/Ishtar scenarios) or conflating him with Amaymon (which the wiki seems to do) even though they are distinct entities in the Goetia.

But the thing with the arms is not just that it's a Devilman reference or that it's a full display for Doi's overdetailed, horror vacui tendencies but that they represent a type of modern interpretation of "demon" that doesn't gel with SMT's own visual definition. I shouldn't need to expound too much that Kaneko (and Doi!) most of the time merely adapt the 19th century views on demons via the Dictionnaire:

But the arms are much closer to this:

The generic, inexplicably muscle-bound demon of modern pop culture that is in stark contrast to SMT's 19th century usage. It just so happens the muscle-bound demon is what Devilman's Amon is, too. SMT of course deals in pop culture references but there were probably better ways to incorporate the Devilman reference than the clashing-on-multiple-levels arms.

In fact, the franchise is already filled with Devilman references. Fusion itself is a Devilman reference; while the demons of Devilman literally fuse themselves together, SMT has made the idea its own central mechanic. Devilman characters like Welvath should look familiar. Then there's the obvious and premier Devilman content: Akira's scenario in if... including his own fusion with Amon, though Kaneko design above allowed Amon to be, well, normal. All are incorporated without sacrificing SMT's (or Amon's) personal flair.

The Goetias are one of my absolute favorite parts of SMT and Doi's Amon just comes up short for me in every possible way. He's my biggest disappointment after Ultra Odin.

[izartn]

Mostly het mainstream fandoms are bonkers, even more so when you put a triangle. The way sometimes the triangle veers into V poly territory or even full circle, re:feelings in canon and they still go to war and fuck over the other character is mind blowing.

I mean, an author badwriting and refusal to acknowledge they're going the poly option clearly in canon, causes people who dislike that to go in defense mode and be assholes, clinging to their OTP, despite all evidence of the OT3 which is the preferred of the author (no committal to the poly non-standing, bc they're normies writing for normies, usually).

Sadly fascinating to see all kinds of illogical posts about it.

[dwellerinroots]

♒ ▼ ☆ your Ranger headcanons, hand 'em over

♒ (cooking/food headcanon): Ranger doesn't get the chance to show it off much, but dude has seriously quality taste. I think he could probably live off frozen burger-like product for ages if he had to, he's just tough like that, but on his downtime? He likes cooking. He likes big, pointlessly complex meals that bring people together, and being the Big Guy in the Funny Apron who has excellent knife control when mincing. He likes trying to remember what food tasted like and why people liked it, but how long has he been here, does he even eat any more... And just a bit, memories of grilling franks at park with colleagues or making bagna càuda on a rainy day, when nobody was counting on him and nobody needed his very specific skillset. This is the headcanon I have absolutely ZERO support for, but it's also one of my earliest ones, so I'm sticking to it, bahaha. ▼ (childhood headcanon): He didn't have an easy run of it. I've always felt Doomguy (classic) had a pretty well-adjusted, loving family? Ranger... I think he grew into a defender-of-humanity type because his early life was very difficult. Bad home situation, bad situation at school, working early to try to get out of it, just digging himself out of it... I feel like he was the kind of guy to stand up for someone being bullied somewhere around his middle grades, and - wasn't always the block-shaped muscle hero we all know? Got really bloodied up, maybe even - looked down on by the person/people he was trying to protect. Instead of dwelling on it or using it as an excuse to hate people though, he just resolved to get stronger (literally) and that's why he's the guy we know today. ☆ (happy headcanon): Before things went to a place worse then Hell; the Counterstrike Boys throwing him a very impromptu birthday party, a few were 'absolutely in barbershop quartet' (they weren't), their faces he can't remember that still matter, someone putting on an absolute garbage smooth jazz vinyl that he hums to himself because it's proof he came from a place that was real, that valued him as a human being... ... And as an earlier memory that Quake wasn't able to subvert or twist away from him, freeing a wildcat from a trap while out jogging. He just feels like the kind of guy that sort of thing happens to, right...? And he ends up just watching it run off, faint look on his face, exhales into the air, and gets back to jogging.

[allthefawkesigive]

I’m not sure how long this is going to be and it might just be a jumble of words but I don't often feel emotions as strongly as i am right now so in a way I feel it a duty of mine to write them down somewhere. so welcome to my silly little thought and feelings about a silly little booker series. they’ve been out a while but still Spoilers for The Infernal Devices below

I've spent the past two weeks re-reading the infernal devices. it took me a week to read Clockwork Angle, four days to read Clockwork Prince and 3 days to read Clockwork Princess. this post is about the last few chapter of clockwork princess.

The first time I read these book I was in a very difficult place in my life, between running away from my mums house, police investigations going on around me, moving house and some of the worst bullying I experienced at school. These book and the characters within became my escape and the first time I finished the series I sobbed, a mixture of sadness for the characters and the suffering they endured but also, I was saying goodbye to the people who were helping me the most in a time where I needed it. Deciding to re-read them I knew what I was getting into, I knew the sever of the Parabatai connection was coming and it would hurt, I knew Jem as Brother Zachariah was at the final battle, I knew Will died in the epilogue, I knew it was all coming. But it still stung, I still sobbed but in a way this time was worse? 

Particularly chapters 14 and 20 - 24. 

Chapter 14 - Parabatai. This hurt a lot the first time around. Will in my favourite character as is he probably a lot of peoples reading him going through such a heartbreaking moment as his other half died was hard. Re-reading it knowing what happened to Jem seemed harder. 

All these goodbyes is what got me thinking about my past and how they helped me so much because I realized I was going to have to say goodbye again. Goodbye to the characters that meant to most to me in the hardest time of my life, and it stirred up all this emotion I had the first time. I though it wouldn’t hurt as much because I had been here before and read these pages, as I turned each page through I saw crinkles on the page where my tears had hit them 7 years earlier and they were met with new wet spots where I was crying now. 

Chapters 20 through 24.

These are about lose and love and saying goodbye, Chapter 23 specifically was the one that hit the hardest for me. Jem coming back to the Institute as Brother Zachariah to say his goodbyes, knowing he lives on in some way but cannot see or love the people he cares most about as he’d like. I think this Chapter feels so much different after reading Ghost of the Shadow Market, The Dark Artifices and Secrets of Blackthorn Hall. Knowing what’s coming for him and Tessa, Knowing they were going to go on without Will but still be thinking about and loving him over 100 years later. 

In some ways it hurt a lot less, know what Jem and Tessa went on to become, knowing they had a family, knowing they looked after the Herondales thought generations for their Will, knowing they searched endlessly to find Kit and keep him safe, knowing Will lead a full life dying of old age with the two people he loved most in the world, knowing there are most stories out there that Will and Tess are in together with their children. It hurt less in ways. But then it also hurt so much more.  

I was once again reading the goodbyes of characters I hold to dear to my heart who would never know me for they are not of my world. Reading about them and their adventure I almost felt like I were there with them and they were my friends. The first time around they were all I had and that all came flooding back. I didn’t want to say goodbye, I wanted to go with them as they were. But I can’t, I can only skipped ahead several years and be with them once they are grown and with children on their own. Or once they are long gone into dust and shadows.

I felt so much for Will because they first time I read them I was like him, I had built up these walls around me and pushed people away afraid that them being near me or befriending me or loving me would get them mixed in with my life and hurt. This time around I felt some much for him because I to have had my walls fall down around me and now have so much love in my life without fear of it being taken from me. 

There is so much more I want to say but I do not have the words for it. I will miss them even though they were never my real friends, I know I can go back to these books are start all over again and re-live that part of their lives with them but I will miss them as though they were my own friends and family that I have lost. I am catastrophically in love with every single one of them.

I cried all over again but instead of alone in my room in the early hours of the morning wondering if I’m stupid for doing so, I had my partner to hug me and tell me my thoughts were not stupid and I was not being silly for crying over these fictional people who would never know me. 

Edit: in a way this is a thank you to @cassandraclare , so thank you Cassandra for creating these characters and telling their stories because they mean so much to so many

[cosmicallymundane]

KARLACH I LOVE YOU SO MUCH OH MY GOD BUT PLEASE DO NOT EAT DIRT WHEN I ASK YOU TO STAY AT CAMP !!!

[wyllzel]

live and let live but getting That Scar tattooed on your body will never not make me feel a bit squeamish 😭

[dorianpavus]

Panel from Hell Info Roundup

We got a release teaser trailer!

CHARACTER CREATION/CUSTOMIZATION

Character creation got a revamp! More efforts were made to explain things to someone who hasn’t played D&D before, or one who hasn’t played other Larian games. Classes now also have unique animations when you select them.

Choice options now have a corresponding icon, so you can see what you’re selecting.

There are more available faces to choose from.

Dragonborn and half-orcs are playable at launch.

Warlocks are now able to call on their patron for insight and advice.

New sliders have been added for Maturity (adding wrinkles), Freckle Quantity (and intensity), and Vitiligo Pigmentation.

Horn Customization! Now you can change their color and tip color.

There are scar options.

More hair and beard options! As well as more options for hair colors (including greying) to have tri-colored hair.

Strong/buff body types added!

Piercing options have been added.

Heterochromia option has been added.

Dragonborn can customize their face, crest, chins, and jaws. Skin color options include metallic, almost duo-chrome shades. For white dragonborns, there are also pearlescent effects. Dragonborn Draconic Bloodline sorcerers will get a unique scale pattern that changes color based on your ancestry.

There is also a selection for genitals, which they did not elaborate on, but was selected as ‘default.’

You will meet a character that will allow you to reset your class and respec your abilities.

The team went back from Act 1-3 to make the game more reactive to your choices. If you’re playing something odd or unique, the game should react to it.

THE DARK URGE

They are the new Origin Character, and they are avatar-only; they can only be played by you, not recruited.

You can fully customize their race and class.

They do not know who they are; they are waking up, and the only thing they know is “the bile of their liver, the gushing of their blood, and their ruined body telling them: you’re going to kill and kill again.” They are meant to be a dark counterpoint to the story.

Has unique scenes and storylines unlike anything else we’ve seen thus far.

They have dark impulses and thoughts that tempt them; you can play as embracing it or trying to resist.

At 4:36:55, we have some gameplay of them from early on in Act 1.

KARLACH

She is an Origin Character, and you can recruit her or play as her.

Born and raised in Baldur’s Gate, was sold to slavery in the Hells, and managed to break free. She has an infernal engine for a heart.

She’s a barbarian who has a special rage animation/effect.

Curses a lot.

At 5:20:00, there’s a bit of extended gameplay and one of her romance scenes.

OTHER/MISC COMPANIONS

Many of the companions are good-aligned, including Karlach, Halsin, Minsc, and Jaheira. For evil companions, there is Minthara, who you can recruit in Act 2 depending on your choices.

Wyll has gotten a complete overhaul. Much of his dialogue has been rewritten, and he “can go in two directions” much earlier in the story. He wants to kill Karlach at the beginning of the game, and how that unfolds is up to you. 

If you kill your companions, you can hire Hirelings. There are twelve (one for each of the classes), and you can customize and respec them.

Companions will join your camp and be able to come with you along your journey; you don’t have to choose between them, but can swap them out as you see fit. If anyone leaves or isn’t able to be recruited, it will be by your own choices or the narrative.

When you’re playing as an Origin Character, you’re not a mystery to yourself. You’ll get unique scenes and information that you may not otherwise get with them as your companion. For instance, when you go to sleep, you might have nightmares about your past.

A scene relevant to Astarion’s backstory was shown at 4:25:57.

ROMANCE

They tried to show “two people genuinely struggling through a hard time and supporting one another. And you’re not going to be the same person in Act 1 as you are in Act 3. Neither is your partner. Your relationship is going to have to grow along with the game’s story.” 

At 4:46:10, they have a video where they discuss this and show scenes from the romances. 

How you treat your companions will be reflected in how they treat you. Whether they want to be in a relationship with you, whether they leave your party, or even try to kill you -- all depends on your choices. 

“Sometimes it’s actually better to have an argument, and challenge your partner about their way of thinking.”

Some characters will happily share romantic partners with polyamory; some of them won’t.

Characters may have very different romantic endings based on what happens during the game and how you treat them or what you did with them. There’s not just one scene that’s the same for all playthroughs.

You can still romance people on “evil” playthroughs, so long as you play your cards right.

Mature content warning! There is a romance scene between Astarion and Halsin that the audience helped select at 5:32:49. Wowza. Worth getting banned from TikTok? 

COMBAT

Multiplayer is up to four people, with split screen. 

There are 3 difficulty modes: explorer (or easy), default, and tactician (hard). Tactician mode gives enemies base buffs, but also hand-crafted difficulty increases to encounters. 

The “brutal AI” from tactician mode is supposed to feel like a DM that is pushing you to your limits, which manifests in ways like attacking your squishier characters, or trying to break casters’ concentration.

At 5:44:28, there’s a video showcase on the Monk class. Two minutes later, at 5:46:13, there’s some combat gameplay showing off monks and the different difficulty modes.

STORY AND CINEMATICS

At 6:00:40, there’s a video showcasing cinematics, with various clips from the game featured (lots of enemies/creatures shown). 

They estimate that running through the main story will take about 80 hours, but it can go multiple times that length if you actually take your time and explore. 

174 hours of cinematics doesn’t mean you’ll see all of them; it’s more that there’s so many permutations and reflections of the choices that you made, that you might not even see them all even if you play this game over and over again.

MISC

When you go to camp, you are now able to wear “camp clothes” rather than your armor, which can be toggled on and off. You can find various clothes in the world, and apply dyes to them. You can wear them outside of camp if you want to as well. 

Cloaks are added.

The devs prefer not to think of this being a story told to you, but rather a story they are telling with you. Though there are many themes, trust is a big one: who you can trust, why you can trust them, and why the world should trust you as well.

There’s an unboxing of the Collector’s Edition at 6:14:26.

There is a very heavy spoiler chunk of gameplay from Act 2, starting at 6:20:42, which closes out the stream!

[whisper-in-the-night]

Undesirable

Plot: Thomas is omega who will never find his true mate. Or no?

Warnings: omegavers; deviation from the canon; omega!Thomas Hewitt, alpha!male!reader / Y/N

Part 2 | Part 1, Part 3, Part 4

•••

The sun was slowly rolling out from behind the horizon, turning the dark sky a dirty orange color. The night sounds gradually closed in, and at the same time the warm Texas wind was leaving, indicating another hot day coming.

You sighed softly, letting the smoke out of your mouth and filling your lungs with residual coolness, blissfully closing your eyes. Your head hurts a little after another sleepless night, but it was clearly worth it. Your little sister enjoyed the holiday and your presence to her heart's content. Although it was somewhat uncomfortable to be among all this huge mass of relatives for a whole week, you were able to heroically withstand this ordeal, although it was not without bad gossips of envious relatives behind your back. And yet all these inconveniences paled against the background of your sister's sincere smile without a few lower teeth. In addition, the girl was very pleased with the gift of a drawing set from you.

And so now you had an equally tedious and long journey home, your home. Although that place could hardly be called home already. Work got boring, familiar peopleс got bored, and constant entertainment with friends caused stress. You missed your childhood home for only one reason: the spacious landscapes here have always brought warmth to your heart and a feeling of freedom. But, alas, there were no people here who would understand you. Besides, having lived here for a long time, you have not found your mate. Perhaps the decision to leave was for the best.

You threw the cigarette butt on the ground and rubbed it on the asphalt with a hard movement of your boot.

•••

A long gray strip of road seemed to stretch endlessly ahead in front of the car. You rested your head boringly on your hand, leaning against the opened car window, your other hand resting on the steering wheel, which was slightly slippery from your sweaty skin. It wasn't even ten a.m. and the heat was already infernal. The sun was reflected in the car window with nasty sunbeams, which made you have to lower the visor.

After driving only about an hour and a half from the departure point, your gaze inadvertently slipped a little further from the road, noticing a group of people standing nearby.

They were three young people about twenty years old. One of them, a young guy, was tall and rather broad-shouldered, but still quite thin, with a sloppy short brown haircut and dimples on his cheeks. He was dressed as openly as possible: a white T-shirt, apparently so that the sun would not mercilessly burn his grayish skin, and loose red shorts; he had a large sports bag on his shoulder. There were two girls on either side of him. One, the short one, had the same color hair, and delicate blue eyes that looked at you just at the moment when you were slowing the car down, staring at the guys. Her hair was neatly pulled back into a careless bun that flashed at the back of her head whenever she turned. She was wearing some kind of inconspicuous yellow dress with flowers matching the color of her slightly worn ballet flats. The other girl, slightly taller, had black hair flowing freely over her fragile shoulders, a white shirt tucked into denim shorts and a bunch of bracelets on her arms. Both girls carried small backpacks with them.

As soon as the short girl saw you on the road, she happily said something to her friends, nodding in your direction. The company came up to you, you stopped the car.

"Hey! Could ya give us a ride?" Smiling, the guy asked, which caused small dimples to appear on his cheeks once again, "It's just that transport doesn't often go here. 'think we'll be stuck here for a long time without ya, y'know."

You looked the young man up and down, as far as the current review allowed you, and after throwing a short 'Get in', nodded towards the back doors. You took a small thermos from the glove compartment and a pack of suppressants, hastily stuffing a couple of pills into your mouth. Just in case. Without thinking twice, the young man putted his friends in the back seat with their bags, and he sat in the passenger seat in front, deciding to keep you company. The car drove on.

You drove in complete silence for a while.

Finally, the young man spoke.

"Well.. Thank ya for lettin' us down, man. My name is Mason," the guy began with a slight smile, shifting his gaze from the road to you. The young man was clearly not dejected by your bored expression.

"Y/N" you answered briefly, feeling a dull headache coming up to your temples from a sleepless night; it didn't help that the guy's voice was quite high and loud, which hurt your ears a lot.

"Cool, nice to meet ya. This, by the way, is my girlfriend Judith," he pointed at the short girl, "and my sister Lily," He nodded towards the tall girl. It's not clear if this was his strange attempt to start at least some kind of conversation or if there was some other reason behind it, but you didn't care at all about either the guy or any of the girls present, who at that moment began to giggle softly from the back seat. The only thing you wanted was to get home and rest as soon as possible. Your gaze inadvertently slid up, looking into the mirror. You could see how the girls were whispering enthusiastically about something with silly smiles, from time to time running their eyes in your direction.

The rest of the trip was quite calm. Over time, Mason's speech became less enthusiastic, but rather more friendly and carefree. He talked about his family and college studies, friends and hobbies. In the end, from his story, you knew out that these guys were students who took a sabbatical and just decided to visit different states. To some extent, you even caught yourself thinking that you envy these guys: you would also like to spit on all your responsibilities and goals and go somewhere far away, even if you stay here in Texas. But work is work, you wouldn't want to let your family down, much less your little sister.

•••

Driving up to the already familiar gas station store, you parked near the entrance and got out of the car. Perhaps, finally, it would be worth taking some gasoline with you. There would hardly be another gas station for the next mile ahead.

"I'll buy gas and come back," you said shortly, taking one last look at the young people.

Without waiting for an answer, you walked towards the store. Your ears were filled with the already familiar ringing of a small door bell, the door closed behind you with a slight creak. The sweet, tired old woman's face was immediately waiting for you at the checkout.

"Hello," you said with a slight smile, walking inside the room.

The woman looked at you sternly, but as soon as she recognized your face, her features softened. "Oh, hello son. I didn't think to see you here again."

"Oh, yeah.. I'm still after the same thing. I need to buy gas to go home," you said, awkwardly, as if embarrassed, rubbing the back of your head with your fingers.

The old lady looked at you with almost maternal understanding and nodded. Obviously, she was alone in the store today. After putting the meat on the shelf of the showcase and wiping her hands with a towel, she came out to you.

"Yes, sure. Except I don't have any cans left in the store, and as you can see, my son isn't here today either. Could you take me home? I'd give you the canister for free, son. I live here, nearby."

You looked at her in surprise, but immediately replied with a slight nod. Who could refuse such an offer?

"Sure. Come on."

You opened the door for the woman and as soon as you both left, she began to close the store with several locks. Obviously, the area was not the most prosperous. You looked back at your car and saw the guys on the street. Mason was standing under the awning of the store and reading some small ads from an old time, while the girls were practically hugging each other and chatting casually about something. As soon as you left the store, Mason's sister gave you a strange look and smiled slyly.

"I'm go na take my friend home now, stay here, okay? I'll be back in about fifteen minutes."

You opened the passenger seat in front for the woman and helped her get inside. She explained to you how to get to her house, and you started this slow relaxing ride. She introduced herself to you as Luda-May and was no less pleased to hear your own name. Her face was constantly decorated with small wrinkles on her cheeks or between her eyebrows when she asked you something with interest. Overall, she was a pleasant conversationalist and was happy to tell you about this town. Luda also told you about her family, which includes three people besides herself: her brother Monty, son Charlie and youngest son Thomas, whom you have already seen directly before. As you listened to the story, clutching the steering wheel leather with your free hand, you lit a cigarette, releasing gray smoke out the window. After knew out about the same habit of the woman, you kindly offered her one from your pack.

"You are such a sweet child, Y/N, not like my eldest son. Would you like to come over for tea?" Luda asked with a smile, blowing smoke out the open window, and looking at you. You couldn't refuse this lovely woman.

[reallyhatethiswebsite]

Raphael spoils his favourite pet (you). Afab reader, nsft

Read on AO3

-

Freshly-bathed, you wandered into your private room in the House of Hope. You wore nothing but an expensive silken bath robe tied loosely at the front. Your skin was still pleasantly damp. You towelled off your hair and sat in front of the big dark oak vanity you'd been given, searching for a comb. You’d already begun pulling it through your wet locks when your magic tingled excitedly, sensing your Patron's presence. 

“Hello, little mouse,” he murmured. 

“Hello, Raphael.” You could see the devil leaning against your door frame from the reflection in the mirror. His infernal orange eyes were fixed on you and the motions of the comb in your hand. His gaze was heated, but you had long learned not to assume what he might want. Acting demure was in your best interest for now. “Was there something you needed?”

“Hmm…there are many things I want, but I can't say there's much that I need.” Raphael pushed himself up and over. His gait was full of purpose. “And I have you to thank for that, don't I? Always so eager to serve. Such a good pup…” He took the comb from your hand. “Allow me.”

“Oh…alright.” 

You experienced a strange thrill with the first stroke of the comb's teeth. This wasn't quite what you expected but you certainly weren't going to complain. Raphael was usually predictable, but not always. Even after knowing him for so long, he was incredibly hard to read. The devil brushed your hair slow and methodical, almost reverent with his care. He took his time to work any knots free. It was so good, so relaxing, that your eyes began to close. The more you relaxed the more you leaned back into your Patron's broad, warm chest. You felt spoiled. You could easily drift off to sleep like that. Raphael had other ideas.

“I have a gift for you,” he declared, his free hand - oh so warm and soft - stroking the flesh between your neck and shoulder. You gasped quietly. Your eyes snapped open. In the mirror you saw Raphael's burning hunger and felt its equal awaken from dormancy in your blood. You weren't sleepy anymore.

“What kind of gift?”

In response he abandoned the comb, producing a gorgeous gold and leather jewel encrusted choker from his pocket. Branded on its front was a silver ‘R’. Through the mirror you watched him fasten it around your neck. It was enchanted; you felt the runes spark and settle with your magic.

“Consider it an accessory of protection,” he purred into your ear. “Insurance for my best asset.”

“Thank you.” You had no doubt it was far more than what he claimed, but you stopped caring right then because Raphael nuzzled your jaw, dropping rough, open mouthed kisses across your neck. His facial hair, perfectly cultivated evening shadow, created an incredible sensation in junction with his plush thin lips; one of the few advantages his human form had over cambion. “Ah…Raphael…”

“Such a diligent, loyal little warlock I have.” His hands slipped inside your robe, making journeys up your tummy. They left goosebumps and searing heat in their wake. “And how good you look wearing my jewels, my symbol…I could just devour you.” He tugged the lobe of your ear with his teeth. You tried not to squeal.

“Raphael…!”

“I do so love the way you say my name.” The devil at last cupped your breasts, kneading both in his hands. His deft fingers reached your nipples and tweaked them, rubbing over them with his thumbs. He circled again and again and again until the fleshy nubs were almost sore with pleasure. You let your head roll back, baring your neck for your master to kiss and bite. Raphael didn't disappoint. He bit and sucked bruises everywhere; under your jaw, along the column of your throat, your shoulders as he peeled your robe down your shoulders to reach them. He liked to do this as a cambion, sink his fangs in deep, sup on your sweet blood and leave you with marks that lasted weeks. His blunt human teeth, still sharper than a normal person's, gave a different kind of pain. Perhaps you'd been more sensitive from the bath, because you felt like you were on fire. “I think you deserve a reward, don't you?”

You could not answer. Raphael's left hand slid back down your sternum. His fingers tangled into your little patch of pubes, resting just above where he knew your swollen clit was, begging for attention. He grazed it with two fingertips, either on purpose or by accident - likely the former. Your hips bucked. 

“Please,” you whispered, “please, Raphael.”

“Please what, little mouse?” The devil cooed.

“Please touch me…”

“Oh, but I am touching you.” He punctuated the statement by tweaking one of your abused nipples again. You whined. “You need to be more specific than that.”

“Touch my clit. Please, master.”

“Good girl,” the devil growled. You couldn't help it, your entire body shuddered at the praise. “Open your robe for me, then.”

With shaking hands you did as you were told. You undid the sash of its knot and pushed the fabric aside, spreading your legs. You sighed at the cool air's caress. Raphael hummed with approval and circled your clit, pushed his fingers between your mons. With expert precision he dipped them into your entrance and gathered your hot slick, enough to make his next rub of your desperate cunt slicker, harder. You groaned, rolling your hips into his touch, his rhythm. Your bare toes curled into the plush carpet with pleasure.

“Oh, fuck…”

“Look at yourself,” Raphael demanded. From the moment he touched you, you'd been avoiding the mirror. “Look at how debauched you are. Look at how you're falling apart in my hands. Look.”

You could not deny him. You saw yourself, face flushed, half-lidded pupils blown wide, mouth open. You saw your legs spread shamelessly as you jerked your hips with every motion Raphael made. You saw your cunt, soaked and lewdly on display by the devil’s scissored digits, your clit desperately hard and fat with blood being coaxed even further out of its hood by the skill of Raphael's tawny, clever fingers. You saw your hands, one reaching back to grasp at the devil, the other gripping your own thigh, white-knuckled. You saw your heaving chest, one breast still swallowed by the devil's hand. You saw your tousled locks and the blooming marks and bites on your throat. You looked obscene. You looked…good. Behind you, Raphael took in every iota of your image with fierce, possessive desire and dark satisfaction. 

“Yes, that's right,” he snarled, husky and low, “now you see what I see. And all of it is mine.”

“Yes, it's yours,” you choked out, “I'm yours, I'm yours!”

You wouldn't last, watching Raphael touch your cunt like that. Your climax was roaring to the surface with reckless abandon. Your guts were taught and your pussy ached, screaming for release. Raphael pushed the pad of his thumb down hard on your clit, his index and middle fingers rubbing directly on your leaking hole. You felt the tell-tale pulse of infernal magic set your nerves ablaze.

“Watch yourself, little mouse,” he commanded, voice rough, “watch yourself finish for me.”

“Gods…Raphael…!”

Yet again, you did as you were told. You watched your back arch and your expression twist then go slack as your orgasm rippled through you. You watched your cunt spasm, clench, ooze your release all over Raphael's fingers. You watched your hips give a few shallow thrusts as Raphael drew out your orgasm, rubbing until you whimpered for him to stop. You watched yourself relax in the afterglow. You watched the devil watching you; ravenous, terrifying, beautiful. You watched him hold up his hand, showing you your hot cum clinging to his digits. You watched him use that cum to draw a letter on your quivering stomach, smirking as he did so.

‘R’.

[galeorderbride]

Forgiving the Flame for a Burn - Zevlor x F!Tav Fic Request

An angst/comfort/smut piece for @evocationwriter. Thank you so much for asking me to do this piece, I adore you! Xx

This is SMUT (tags/details below)

18+ MDNI

Summary:

One year after the defeat of the Elder Brain, Tav is trying to settle into daily life. But being a hero means the making of enemies, and Tav ends up on the wrong side of the city, with the wrong kinds of people.

That is, until a charming, former Hellrider steps in, saving her from the worst and taking her into his home for the night.

Tags: angst, comfort, smut. Unprotected piv sex, oral sex (f receiving), light orgasm denial, tail play, tiefling anatomy (infernal ridges, forked tongue), religious language used; some detailed depictions of a violent attack (beating to be specific)

Word count: 5k

Zevlor x F!Tav

No one talks about the end of a hero’s journey. Tav found herself thinking of that often, ever since the Elder Brain fell by the hand of her and her companions. Subjects of bard’s songs and children’s puppet performances, all of them bending to the whim of ‘thank yous’ and questions about adventures. All of them fading over time into nothing. People moved on, they had to, of course. Rebuilding homes, restarting businesses, schools and cleaning up parks. Life went on, and the looks of admiration as she’d wander the streets dissolved.

Needless to say, that wasn’t all bad. Walking around the city gave her a sense of anonymity she’d missed in the year since the brain’s defeat. While she had fond memories of children asking for autographs and telling tales at the Elfsong to curious attendees, the harassment and threats from those who felt nostalgia for the cult of the Absolute soured the experience. Every time she’d think about it, memories of Stone Lord exiles and concealed Banites taunting her with torture fled to mind.

Now, she could relax. Bask in the beauty of city living with no one to bother her (other than letters from her companions and comrades, which always excited her). Evening slowly began to fall, a wondrous sunset disembarking for the night as shopkeepers lit sconces outside their doors and brought in their signs. Fishmongers and tradesmen met in the streets to coalesce at either the Blushing Mermaid or the Elfsong. Parents corralled their children to follow them home after a day at the markets. Tav walked among them, smiling at the peace of normality she’d never forget again.

On nights like this one, Tav would look up above the Elfsong and see Alfira strumming her lute on the balcony. By now, she’d been giving lessons to children at her very own music studio for the last three or four months. Even then, she’d still go up to that rooftop and sing her heart out. Tav felt remorse every time she gazed upon the dazzling tiefling, guilt in her heart that, rather than enjoy the music, her soul yearned for the presence of a different tiefling entirely.

A year since she saw Zevlor at the final battle. A year since she’d discovered he survived. A year—and not a single letter. Everyone else reached out to her but him. In the weeks following, she wracked her brain for anything she might’ve said wrong. Any word that could be taken as an insult. Only he knew, and that would be just so forever.

She ignored the chest aches now, and the tingling in her abdomen that sometimes made her knees shake. Hoping one day they’d fade away like her fame. One outlived the other.

Was he even in Baldur’s Gate anymore?

Clearing her throat, she kept walking. Straightening her shoulders. New bottles of dye clinked against each other in her basket, held close to her stomach. In her daydream, the clock tower struck nine, startling her as she realized she’d been standing there for too long.

“Shit,” she whispered under her breath, forced to face her newfound fear of walking alone outside ever since anonymous former cultists began to harass her. She chastised herself for going today, irritated that she didn’t just wait until tomorrow morning.

Sticking to the main road, Tav hurried her step through the emptying streets. The end of a tenday, people looking for a rowdy night out were trickling into every space they could get drunk. Irrationality kicked in, everyone became an enemy, and no one had even noticed her yet. She repeated in her mind: Tav, get yourself together, you fought an elder brain. You can take anything a mere civilian can hit you with. Just walk.

Halfway home, things were normal. Everyone ignored her, and she felt her shoulders begin to calm as she neared her destination. The sky grew dark, only the light of the crescent moon peering behind the overcast lit her way. Little droplets of rain began to dot her face, she lifted her cape hood for shelter. Right as heavy footsteps trailed behind. The jungle of buckled boots and a person at least twice her size, she could discern that without even looking.

“The hero of Baldur’s Gate! Walking about these parts alone at night. Guess you don’t need brains to be a saviour, huh?” The voice behind her said. A man with a gravelly voice, slurred with drunkenness and malice.

Tav tried to ignore him, swallowing her fear as she kept walking at a brisk stride. One or two minutes and she’d be home. Counting the seconds, in tandem with the footsteps continuing to pursue her. Now in a quiet street, no one was around to help or witness whatever the man behind her had planned.

“Don’t run off so quick, sweet one! Sing me one of those ballads made about you! Bet it’ll sound sweet gurgling out of your throat when I cut it!” He chided, a growl so feral within him she could mistake him for a wild animal.

Another voice poked through an alleyway she passed, another men bumping her with his shoulder, rough enough to send her steps back against a wall. He said, “Father will love this at his temple doorstep, brother.”

Bhaalists. She should’ve known the ones to keep pestering her after all this time would be them. Likely a worse nightmare than anyone else, given their propensity for insane, maniacal violence. Were they even drunk? Or was that a farce to blend in with the city?

“Leave me be! I’ve killed more than you for less,” she said, sucking in her frightened breath.

Both of them cornered her, trudging towards her and beginning to push her around between the two. Smaller than both of them, she struggled to fight back as her basket of dyes shattered to the ground. Catching them off guard just quick enough for her to throw a punch in the face of one. He fell back, grunting in pain as the other smacked Tav against the brick wall. A sharp ache ran across her spine, the wind knocked out of her to completion when the one she punched slammed his fist into her stomach.

Gasping for breath, they let her collapse to the ground. Holding her abdomen tight, the roof of her mouth dryer than sand. Catching impossible air as the two paced around her, predators toying with their prey. That hit to her stomach so hard that she couldn’t find the strength to get up let alone fight back. Gods, was she really done in so quickly? Had she softened so much in just a year?

Most of the time, they were four at least. Now, she was one. And defeated in a matter of minutes. Dye stained her clothing as she twitched around the ground, feeling a harsh sting of hands clawing at her hair, pulling her back.

“Not so heroic now, are you?” The one that held her hair teased, giggles oozing with evil.

“Enough dawdling,” said the other, sheathing out a sharp, shining knife. “Tie her up to take her to the temple.”

Right when they began to tie the rope around her, a swing of a longsword sliced across one’s throat. Tav didn’t see all of it, still reeling from the punch. But the second one began to fight against her rescuer. Behind her writhing body, the sound of punching, stabbing and armour sliding against leather permeated the air.

And then nothing. Quiet air mixing with laboured breath, a few growling sighs to follow. Ones she recognized after a few seconds. A calming but assertive tone that used to excite her beyond belief.

“Z—,” she tried to say his name, but coughed instead. Recovering from the punch to the gut, breathless all the same.

Warm arms wrapped around her, lifted into an embrace healing her in seconds. Heat coursing within each injured vein, the tender flesh of a tiefling’s hold. Her head hung back against his arm, aching stomach muscles jolting. But the rest of her soul eased with the shelter of safety, letting him take her wherever he deemed right.

It could’ve been minutes. Or hours. Awakening in a soft bed covered in thick furs and clean sheets. Glowing candlelight against stone walls and the blurry flame of a burning fireplace. Sparks flew across the mantle as a broad shouldered, tailed man threw another log in. Trickling liquid poured from a clay pot, steaming scents of green tea and lemon soothing her into full awareness. No more pain, other than a small ache in her abdomen. For a second, she wondered if she’d died.

Tav shifted on the mattress, wincing from her sore muscles. At the corner of her eye were her dye-soaked clothes, hanging to dry after being washed. Bare arms and legs slid around the linen fabric of her ivory slip. Hair swept back from her face in a loose, well done braid.

“Am I dead?” She whispered, groaning out remnants of her voice as if she’d forgotten she had one.

The man turned from the fireplace, rushing to the bedside. Seating himself on the stool directly next to her, she could clearly make out the weathered, handsome features of Zevlor. Pouring tea like an old friend, not someone who’d been silent for a year.

“Not dead, Tav. You can’t imagine how glad I am that you’re awake. After those mongrels attacked you…I feared the worst,” he said, handing her the small cup as she sat up. Zevlor outstretched his hand as she winced, but pulled back before he could touch her.

Her eyes closed with the peace of green tea on the tongue. Pushing away the thoughts of the attack, burdened by yet another memory of pain. She chose another route, “You saved me. I don’t know how you found me but thank you, I owe you for such a gesture.”

With a cordial nod of a soldier, he said, “Think nothing of it. I—well, it’s a long story but I’ve made a living through private security. I was coming home from a job when I saw you in the street. Found you just in time before you slipped into that alleyway.”

She cupped the mug in her hands, resting on her cross-legged lap. A skipped beat of her heart went aflutter when she caught Zevlor’s eyes linger over her bare legs, and back to her face in a split second.

“I didn’t even know you were in the city,” she said, “It’s been so long since we’ve talked.”

Zevlor shifted, eyes darting away from her to every other corner of the room. The place was small, fit for a single man who didn’t want for much. Exactly him, melding in with the space as he paced around with his arms crossed. Keeping his distance as he always did even when they had fought together, even after the celebration…

“Certainly, I owe you an apology for that. There is still much agony in going into it but—I was in a bad way after the final battle. An injury of the mind, if you will. Times were hard, too hard to reach out to you with any confidence,” he explained.

“I expected no less, after all that happened. Only that, well I thought we’d become close. That maybe you’d find some peace through my support. But,” she trailed off as her hands shook, shock of what happened to her still dominant over her, “seems you supported me.”

Her feet hit the cold floor, trying to stand up while wobbling about. Just as her hips moved off the mattress, she stumbled downward. Zevlor strode over, hooking his arms around her, lifting her back onto the bed. In her panic, she clutched him without mercy. Holding him so close to her that he fell forward, knees landing on the bed as she lay under him. Hovering over her, he saw the quick rise and fall of her chest, struggling to properly exhale. Bringing him back to their moment alone at the Grove celebration, when he comforted her, held her as she wrestled with the fear she had to hide for her companion’s sakes. Here he was again, taking one, brave move to slide the strap of her slip back onto her shoulder.

“Zevlor…please don’t leave,” she said as she felt him move away, feeling his heart shred at the discomfort of being so close. No matter how much he craved it. Craved her.

He sighed, “You’re terrified, shocked from what happened. I don’t want to get in your way and make things worse.”

As he pulled away, she stabilized her tremored hand by grasping his wrist, “You haven’t made things worse. Remember when you sat with me at the party? When I confessed to you how afraid I was of everything? You helped me so much back then, how could now be any different?”

Zevlor faced away, staring into the firelight as Tav waited. He could not retreat from the visions of their last meeting. How she cried to him, and told him she felt safe in the comfort of his arms. Sitting in a grassy, humid corner away from the rest of the guests. Sheltered by fern leaves and flowers, he let her talk and talk about all that troubled her. Felt so touched by her vulnerability that he shared his own worries too. Two of them, absorbed in isolating fear and finding each other in the dark. Hands wandering around with each kind word, and then the arousing jolt of remembering her naked flesh against his. Tail wrapped around her ankle while they made love under the plant covered moonlight. So beautiful under him, sensations he never thought he’d experience again.

He thought of making her his again so many times after. But in between then and now, he kept failing. Falling into disorder and defeat. People dying for his mistakes. Who would want someone like that? A man so past his prime he verged on cowardice, next to the hero of Baldur’s Gate. How could that ever make sense?

“Both of us were vulnerable at that time. You’re recovering from an attack, and…well, I know you appreciate honesty. My body is so excited from the fight, and from seeing you again, that if I get close enough I might take you here and now. Even though I’d come to regret being so forceful,” he explained.

Hot shame filled every corner of his face just for saying it. Avoiding her gaze even as she took deep breaths, standing from the bed again. This time, with success. Still slow, but steady in each step closer to Zevlor by the fireplace.

“You were always so hesitant about what you wanted,” Tav said, close behind him. The glow of the fire warmed one side of her exposed arms, fingers tickling against the fabric of his cotton shirt. Brushing the tip of her nose against his spine, taking in the scent of brimstone and pine. Her strength regained with each graze of her palm against him, light and teasing.

“I venture to deserve the things I want first,” he said, head down towards the flame. Closing his eyes to the feeling of Tav’s hand sliding from the back of his arm to the top of his hand. Rested on the mantle as she gave a gentle squeeze.

“Isn’t that up to me to decide?” She asked, taking the strap he once adjusted in place and pulling it down again. “You saved my life today. And I missed you terribly, Zevlor.”

Hand in hand, she turned him to face her. Tall and soldierly in front of her, head craning up to face him in all his glory. Fire crackled before them, leading her hand guiding his to her waist. His nails craved to dig into her skin, pull her close and never let go. She tiptoed into his embrace, other arm around her back, forming a gentle, passionate hug. Feeling her skin against his again, he was happy to die that moment.

“Are you sure this is what you want tonight? It was not my intention when I took you in to do this,” he said, wondering if she heard a word he said. She pushed their faces closer, lips hovering around each other. Temptation already too difficult bear as his mouth opened to bite into her supple flesh, but stopped short. “I won’t be able to control myself if you allow me this.”

Tav’s cool breath danced along his tongue, a full body desire to sob over how much she wanted him. To do what they did last time and pretend the world didn’t exist.

“You make me feel safe, Zevlor. I’ve been on my guard ever since we parted. Do you know how wonderful it feels to just…relax? Please, I want you near me. Inside me all night. Just like at the Grove. Hold me, Zevlor,” Tav said, her voice a crescendo of emotion from whisper to yelp.

Words weren’t enough, he had to be shown. Tav ruminated that very idea ever since they last parted. How a commander of a group like the Hellriders could end up so unsure of himself. Maybe he wasn’t always like that, but he was now. And she wasn’t inclined to change a thing. She laced her fingers under the straps of her slip, letting the fabric slowly waterfall off her body. In the wake of her naked form before him, she swore she could hear his beating heart. Rapid and fiery like the burning glimmer of the room.

“Can you promise me one thing?” He asked, hands pressed against her cheeks, lifting her eyes up to him. Round and ablaze with desire, warm and cool at the same time.

“Anything,” she whispered.

“Do not leave in the morning,” he said.

“I’ll never leave if that’s what you require.”

It was a kiss like never before. A whirlwind heart attack imploding between the two of them. Zevlor’s soul rose out of his body, taken over by the beckoning ache of her open mouth, welcoming his forked tongue. Tav melted into him, relishing in the hot pleasure of pressing her bare body against his clothed one. She clawed at his belt, longing for the image of his warrior frame above her. Scarred and toned by years of combat. Tail swivelling back and forth, a supplicant tying around her supple thigh.

Their voices hummed into each other, a hymn of blossoming want. Walking in tandem to the bed as Zevlor climbed over her, shuddering at the pleasure of pushing between her legs. He sat up on his knees, stretching his flexed back muscles as he pulled off his cotton shirt. A tingling sensation spread between Tav’s legs, cool air biting at her wet, sensitive core. She couldn’t resist the urge to run her hands across his torso, savouring every scar and mark, repeating her movements when he’d moan. His belt jingled below, unclasped as the imprint of a large erection outlined his pants. He was an impressive man…everywhere.

“Pull them down slowly, I want to see,” Tav ordered, voice dark and wistful with lust.

“At your command, my beautiful goddess,” he said, a low growl vibrating from the back of his throat. Taking slow, painful time in pulling down his trousers. Tav bit her lip, the excitement almost too much. A little tuft of pubic hair opened the door to a long, thick shaft, bouncing against Zevlor’s stomach when it finally broke free. Her mouth watered, licking up the collection of desperate saliva at the top corner of her lip.

Her heart fluttered, body hot and assured unlike before. That was the spell Zevlor had her under since they’d met. Empowering her just from being close, reminding her of the strength she still had. Not a thing of the past, but something to be embraced. And now, she had a chance to stay with him for more than a night. Protect each other, and revel in their primal need to be attached.

Discarding his pants with the rest of his clothes, Zevlor lowered, kissing between her bare breasts and down to her stomach. Heartfelt, exciting tickles made her giggle with a flirtatious ring. Shivering at the scratches his nails left in their stead. Relaxing every nerve within as she lay in his embrace, letting him take the lead. She hoped he’d always give her a chance to let go this way, think about nothing other than the pleasure he’d cover her in.

Between peppered kisses and flicks of his tongue along her stomach, he whispered, “You’re mine, I’ve wanted you to be since the moment I saw you. I’ll protect you, keep you safe. Come here.”

With untold force, Zevlor swung Tav’s legs onto his shoulders, capturing her cunt in his mouth. Jolts of ecstasy wet and savoured with each slide of his tongue across her clit. Sucking, licking, moaning into her without any attempt to catch his breath. Driven each time he tasted more of her essence. Unbridled to the point where she had to hold his horns to keep balance. The temperature of his hellfire skin stimulated her even more, muscles tightening with every weakened, whimpering moan that escaped her. Assertive, but slow, gentle even as he became primal against her. Letting the rhythm take her exactly where she needed to be.

Tav’s moans fluttered like butterflies, one hand clutching his horn and the other falling over her eyes, focusing on the chase of that wonderful high. Vampiric biting down of her lip, containing her innate need to be even louder. There would be time for that. Tonight, she wanted to sink into him, fall into a calming, warm pool of passionate affection. Enjoy the sensation of his body becoming a vessel for her pleasure, moving his tongue in just the way she liked.

Between tiny gasps, Tav said, “Zevlor…you’re going to make me cum. Please don’t stop…please.”

He didn’t reply, too focused on slurping up every trickle of sex that dripped out of her. He simply moaned, muffled by the soft grind of her pussy against his face. Building up to a climax that bloomed throughout her body, arching her back as she rode out an orgasm she had no idea she craved so deeply until it happened. He’d refuse to let her stop a second early, continuing to circle his tongue around her clit until she shook with sensitivity.

She melted into the bed, a thin veneer of sweat combining with the dripping warmth between her legs as Zevlor took his mouth off. Positively beautiful over her, muscular back bent in a perfect curve when he began to suckle and kiss around her neck and collarbone. Travelling downward in a desperate need to cover every inch. Landing with satisfaction on her nipples, laughing for the first time in years, lost in the joy of her.

Zevlor stopped for a moment, lifting his head to face her below him. Tranquil and drunk with sinful pleasure, cheeks filled with rosy blush and eyes glazed over. Arms splayed out like the wings of a celestial Aasimar. He loathed the past, for so many reasons, but mostly because she wasn’t there with him. In her infinite beauty, a plush and wanton solace before him. How did he ever stomach being away from her since they’d met?

“I’m sorry for leaving you after that night. Forgive me?” He asked.

Tav laughed, spellbound to the point of forgetting she was ever upset. As if he’d never left. She said, “You may need to convince me a little more, hellrider.”

Something switched off within him, a zealous need to have her succumb to him. Forgive him for his misgivings. Praying to a new goddess and asking for redemption. Offering himself to her by inching his cock deep inside her, feeling the pull of her soft walls lock him in. Driven to eternal admiration from the sound of her shocked, euphoric moan, submitting to the stretch of him. An addictive sting, exposed to every synapse erupting within her sensitive, yearning cunt. She bit her bottom lip with a smile, shivering at the comforting wrap of his tail around her waist to keep her in place. No escaping the loving, dominant thrust of his hips deep into her.

“Forgive me,” he said, “Forgive me. Forgive me!” A passionate, hard thrust into her pussy each time he said it.

The might of him rendered her eyes at the back of her head, nearly unable to reply as he begged for her forgiveness. Her slick smacking against his pubic bone, gushing onto his cock in a lustful mess of an orgasm begging to come back. Tav snaked her arms across Zevlor’s shoulders for dear life, brought to the edge with his heavy grunts in her ear. She tightened around him, rocking back and forth on the bed, closer and closer to release.

He felt the contracting of her around him, unfulfilled by her silence on forgiveness. Just as she was about to finish, he pulled out of her, smacking the tip of his cock against her clit repeatedly. Listening to her whine and whimper, threatening tears. Then, before she knew it, he thrusted back in, hard and unmerciful. Pulling out again, repeating that pattern.

“Have I earned your forgiveness? Or shall I deny you until you use your words all night? Tell me, am I absolved, goddess?” He growled, voice husky and feral, the militant part of him revealing just enough of itself to command her to his whim.

By the fourth thrust and pull, she wailed, “Yes, gods above, I forgive you! There’s nothing to forgive, just make love to me!”

He pushed inside her fully, smashing his lips against hers at the same time. Holding her hips in line to use his infernal ridges as friction against her swollen clit. Locking his hand into hers, supported above her head while he thrusted and thrusted with reckless abandon. Both of them grunting in tandem, overcome with delayed pleasure. Tav found her footing quickly, edged so deliciously that her orgasm ripped through her with little effort, squeezing onto his cock. Her nails dug into his knuckles, mouth hanging open in awe over the intensity of her second climax.

Pulling from the kiss, he struggled against his own release. Mourning for the eventual time when he’d have to leave her cunt. Comfortable, warm and wet, a shelter from all harm. He couldn’t stand it yet, and used his tail around her waist to flip her onto her side, like fresh sand in the palm of his hand.

“Let me lie next to you,” he said, moving his body in a spoon position, chest pressed against her back, “I want to cum with you in my arms.”

Tav mustered a whisper thin ‘please’ under her breath, running her hands through his hair as he snuggled in behind her. The curve of her spine angled just right for him to sheathe himself inside her once more. Pumping slowly this time, arms and tail curled across her body like ivy against an ancient wall. Kissing the side of her neck, an endless waterfall of tenderness mixed with the possessive thrust of his cock. She was completely enveloped, safe and sound in his embrace, floating in the paradise he gave her.

“You’re with me, now. Right here, safe. Does that feel good? Am I pleasing you, goddess? Might I cum inside you?” He whispered in her ear, low and gruff. Intense bravado oozing from every part.

She was awash with sensual energy, captivated by him just like the first time. Although that was much quieter, fearing someone might hear them. Now, she felt as if they were sharing a home. In the privacy of their own dwelling, even if that was a fantasy.

“Oh, yes, you are perfect. I want your everything, Zevlor. Please, give me everything,” she replied, taking care to run her tongue up and down his bottom lip before she pushed them into a wet, feverish kiss. Flicking her tongue against his teeth, relishing in the sharp edge.

Their mouths were open to each other when he felt the stirrings of his climax. Languishing movements lost rhythm as he climbed ever forward into that much desired sensation. Possessed by the supple flesh of her lips and everything else. Hips, breasts, stomach, ass, everything. Falling into her deep, insane at the ache of his cock inside her. He breathed out a hard, rapturous moan before he let himself spill, soaking her cunt with the cum that twitched out of him. Dribbling out of the side as she lay before him with a wide, calm smile. Their muscles relaxed together, fusing into the bed.

Tav shivered, the slide of his cock pulling out sending a shock in her spine. Imbued with comfort immediately as Zevlor pulled a thin sheet over her. Tucking her into the blankets and the warm hold of him. Snuggling tight into her, yearning to find a way to fuse his body with hers. Kissing the top of her head, lingering to take in her scent.

“You did not smell of rosemary when we last saw each other,” he said, “That’s always been a favourite of mine. Rosemary.”

Tav grinned, turning to face him. A much needed distraction to keep her heavy eyelids from shutting for the night. To see him once more, maybe twice. Absorb all she missed in the year past. His handsome, aged face glowing under firelight. Sandy hair, messy and dotted with sweat. Strong hands stuck tight to her hips. All she imagined came to life.

Zevlor held her hand, kissing each knuckle, down to the bottom of her palm. A touch so ethereal, he could have been giving healing magic. Rescuing her both outside and in, cleansing her soul of all evil and wrongdoing endured before.

“We’ll replenish your lost supplies tomorrow,” he said, her hand close to his face, “If you’ll allow me to accompany you?”

She smiled, containing its ever widening stretch. “Well, we do have a great deal to catch up on.”

[ymiwritesstuff]

Not really smutty (though it could lead into it) but how about tav helping halsin brush and braid his hair? This man deserves to be pampered and have someone care for him as much as he does for everyone else

WOWOWOWOWOW I LOVE THIS IDEA!!! This was so much fun to write thank you Anon!! I hope this turned out the way you were hoping!! Halsin deserves all the pampering!!! Enjoy!

A Moment Together

Baldur's Gate 3

Halsin x Tav!Reader

Summary: After a long day of hard work and battle, you and Halsin decide to spend the remaining hours of the day in each other's company during which you are eager to make sure he feels as relaxed as possible.

Notes: Fluff (so much that it's disgusting lol), hair brushing, no spoilers, just good vibes :)

“Alright, that should be enough.”

The heavy pieces of firewood you had spent almost the entirety of the day gathering fell on the ground with a loud thud, the positive exclamations of gratitude from the others soon following. It was always a rather tedious task, but it proved to be one of the most rewarding. No one could sleep or relax after a hard day in the coldness of the night unless you happened to have an infernal engine for a heart. Karlach was lucky in that aspect, you thought.

The sun still peaked through the thick trees of the forest, though it would not take long until it would retreat behind the horizon. Looking around the camp, everyone seemed just about ready to shed the weight and responsibilities of working to find a solution to your parasite issue and enjoy some much needed rest. The tents were put up, the bedrolls were set around the campfire and the heavy pieces of gear and armor were abandoned in favor of something more comfortable.

You ought to do the same soon.

However, your mind soon wandered when a certain druid entered your vision. A smile crept up to your lips. You were reminded of something you had said earlier in the day, a promise of a moment for just the two of you. Halsin was quick to relax his gaze as he looked over the camp and noticed how everyone seemed content. Should there have been an issue, he would have most likely been the first one to volunteer and offer his help, being the kindhearted druid he was. The thought only made you smile more.

As soon as his eyes found you, you were quick to point to the edge of the camp with a tilt of your head, your feet slowly carrying towards the direction. You were inviting him for a stroll, as you had discussed previously, and he certainly hadn’t forgotten, as he quickly followed you.

The camp slowly disappeared behind you and once it did, Halsin was quick to intertwine his large hand with yours, a gesture he often did when you shared a moment together. You were sure the rest of the camp was privy to the way you two shared glances, some of them were rather… perceptive, and secrecy wasn’t something either of you desired. Perhaps it merely felt more natural when there weren’t others present. Halsin certainly seemed more at ease like this.

“You seemed quite busy today,” you commented, remembering how you hadn’t seen him much all day. It was not terribly unusual, but to say you did not miss him would be a lie. He hummed.

“There was a shortage of potions and other healing items. So I made a longer journey to find a merchant.” You nodded as you listened, but also frowned your brows.

“We do have you and Shadowheart with us…” If you were honest, you were not sure why spend the effort to gather potions when your group consisted of more than one healer. Your thoughtful muttering reached his pointed ears and he was quick to let out a hearty chuckle.

“That may be so. But it does not hurt to be resourceful. We do journey separately at times, after all.”

“That’s true.”

You could not help but smile. Halsin had always been looking over everyone, making sure to offer his help whenever it may have been needed. His kindness was admirable, and in truth, it was needed during times like these.

You continued to walk by his side, his larger stature perfectly framed by the setting sun that continued to seep through the branches and leaves. To not look at him would have been a crime, so you allowed your eyes to wander, taking in his utter beauty as you walked. He had a small but fulfilled smile upon his lips, and his eyes idly looked around ever so slightly, marveling at the grace of nature.

The journey led you two to a gentle stream that flowed through the forest. The water was crystal clear and the warm colors of the sun were reflected on the calmly moving surface beautifully. You were sure this same stream spread into the vast lake just next to your camp. 

Giving glances at each other, the silent decision was made to rest here and unwind after yet another long day, maybe even fall asleep. It wouldn’t have been the first time, and Halsin always made sure to keep you warmer in ways a mere campfire never could.

You carefully sat down on the ground, Halsin keeping your hand in his until you were fully seated. He then laid down, placing his weary head on your lap, looking up at you with a smile that made your heart swell. The habit of his was incredibly endearing, there was just something about this druid, built like the most durable stone wall, gently lying beneath you at the mercy of your touch.

Smiling at him, your hands immediately went to his hair, pulling it back until all of it pooled in your lap. Tilting your head, you looked at his locks, noticing how they had some woodchips and tangles in them. Not a rare sight, quite natural, even. But you frowned, though playfully.

“Shall I brush it?” You asked, making sure to not pull on the knots with your fingers. A small chuckle left his lips.

“I have my doubts you’ll let me get up if I do not accept.” The sarcasm in his tone was obvious, it made you scoff jokingly.

“Of course not. What would the others think?” You sighed and groaned dramatically. “Imagine how horrified Astarion would be!”

Halsin laughed, that pleasant sound ringing in your ears long after he stopped. His laugh was contagious, so you briefly joined him, while reaching for your pocket and pulling out a comb. You looked down at him again.

“Well, what say you?” Your smirk was once again jesting, but his smile was genuine.

“Go right ahead, my heart.”

Smiling, you carefully began running the comb through his hair, noting how he let out a deep breath at the sensation. Brushing his hair had become somewhat of a regular activity, you did it for him every time you could. He enjoyed it. To be surrounded by nature and touched by you so attentively, he could not even begin to think about any better way to forget about the harshness of reality that affected everyone.

You had always thought that Halsin was far too considerate for his own good. He often put himself before others, especially with you. Though it was an incredibly valuable trait, it often left you wondering if anyone ever did anything for him. That’s why you helped him whenever you could, that’s why you held his hands and asked if he needed anything, that’s why you brushed his hair.

Halsin’s breathing was calm and paired with the gentle trickle of the stream as the sun slowly set, you felt like all the horrid things that happened around you did not exist, even if it was for a brief moment. 

His hair was mostly rid of its previous debris and the comb flowed through it effortlessly. You were more or less done but felt like something was missing. Placing the comb down, you ran your fingers through his locks, marveling at the length. His long hair was always open, flowing freely in the wind. As nature intended, you thought.

You took a brief look at him. His eyes were closed as if he was asleep, but you doubted this was the case. Regardless, he looked peaceful and you felt a wave of satisfaction hit you. It would be a lie to claim that it didn’t feel rewarding to see this druid, so concerned for everyone else and working tirelessly to ensure safety among everyone, at ease and utterly relaxed.

Gathering his hair into your hands, you sectioned it and began interweaving them. Halsin surely felt it, as his eyebrow raised ever so slightly. You had never done this before.

“Trust the process,” you said to which he gave a humorous hum. His hand rested on his abdomen and he took a deep breath, simply enjoying the way your fingers touched and gently tugged his brown hair.

As you reached the end of the braid, you looked for something to tie it with. You spotted a flower, white petals practically glowing in the moonlight. It had already been plucked from the ground, so you did not feel bad for reusing it for the greater good. You took a small piece from the base of the stem and used it to tie the end of the braid, to ensure that it would stay put.

You looked at your work and Halsin seemed to sense that you were done, as he slowly stood up, and turned to you. And as you looked at him, you could not stop the heat that spread across your cheek.

The loose braid rested upon his broad shoulder and his large frame was illuminated by the moon, giving him an almost otherworldly aura. His fingers brushed along the braid, there was some surprise in his expression, but it quickly melted away when he noticed how you looked at him.

“I suppose I can compete with Astarion now?” Halsin chuckled as he spoke to which you couldn’t contain a smile.

“Well, almost.” Your hand reached for the flower you had used to tie his hair with and you scooted closer to him, lifting yourself so your eyes were on the same level. Even when sitting down, he towered over you. Carefully, you brushed some of his hair that framed his face behind his ear, the flower following soon after. It came to rest against his ear, giving him a look that seemed to blow you away.

You retreated from him, grinning on the outside, but screaming and squealing inside at how incredibly beautiful he looked.

“Now I’d say you have a chance.”

Halsin pulled you to him as you both laughed, holding you close. He was warm, he always was. You pulled away to look at him, the affectionate sparkle in his hazel eyes warming your heart.

“Thank you, my heart. You… Do so much for me.”

If only he realized. This was nothing compared to what he did not only for you but for everyone. You smiled for what felt like the thousandth time and kissed him, keeping your hands on the sides of his face. The night had fallen, and all possible thoughts of returning to the others faded away. Tonight, you would sleep under the stars, dozing off to the soothing sounds of the stream with him next to you before repeating the grueling routine of the day all over again.

But it felt worth it. For moments like these, you’d do anything.

~

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[mistystepmoonbeam]

Reborn in BG3: Chapter 16

You're reborn into BG3 with only the memory of your past life. Now you're Tav's companion on his journey, and must learn about yourself as much as your new reality.

Chapter 16: There's no time to sit around and think right now, especially when you need to avoid Astarion as much as possible! Even if it means choosing to go out with Tav on the next part of the adventure.

Word count: 1.9K

A/N: This is much later than I wanted but here is 16! Work got very busy >.>

Morning comes quickly.  You’ve rewatched the memory of Astarion a hundred times, and each time it ends exactly the same; with you held in Raphael’s arms.  You were able to decipher a few things from the memory:

You’re a child.  A “young master” as Astarion had called you.

You’re at a party, probably your own home if Astarion refers to you as the young master and didn’t boot you away the second he saw you.

It’s 200 years ago, roughly, since your thoughts in the memory were about ensuring Astarion didn’t become a vampire spawn.

Raphael is there.  And you’ve made a deal with him.

You swallow nervously at that thought.  Withers had said you lived too long—maybe being his chosen came with a bonus of immortality that you couldn’t handle.  It seems as if you remembered you were in a video game, which meant your current life in Faerun was either your third life, or there was a lot of magic ensuring you could only remember very specific details of each life.

You blink bloodshot eyes as you listen to the rustling of others moving just outside your tent.  There’s no time to check the other three crystals you carry as Scratch bounds into your tent and knocks you over.  He licks your face, tail wagging furiously as someone calls your name from outside.

Once you wrestle away from Scratch you straighten your clothes and throw on your jacket.  Stepping outside you’re greeted with the entire crew eating bread and fruit for breakfast, except for Astarion.  He’s sitting on a small cushion by his tent, flipping through The Necromancy of Thay.  Upon hearing the others greet you he glances up, and you’re not subtle when your eyes immediately dart away.  

You take a seat between Karlach and Tav, their size giving you a bit of a shield against everything else.  Tav offers you a bowl of cut fruit and you take it, mind still on Astarion.  In an attempt to resist the urge to look at him you survey the area and find Withers isn’t there.

“Our new friend’s off counting,” Karlach tells you.  She thrusts a thumb over her shoulder towards the walkway above the gate.  “Do you really think he can just bring us back from the dead?”

You shove a piece of fruit in your mouth to keep yourself silent.  Should you tell them you have new information on…yourself?  Withers probably wouldn’t like being outed as a god though…nor would you like to explain everything yourself.

You’ve missed whatever theories the others have come up with while you ponder.  The fruit you’d popped into your mouth is long gone and you’re just staring into the bowl as if it would have the answers. 

“Are you okay?”

Tav’s voice is low when he whispers in your ear, but you jump anyway.  “Yes, fine.”

You grab another piece of fruit and stuff it in your mouth. 

Calm down, you tell yourself.  If anything, being Jergal’s chosen gives you an advantage.  And he basically admitted to knowing that you remember things you probably shouldn’t.  

But so did Raphael.  You groan and give your bowl back to Tav, choosing to bury your face in your hands.  

There’s shuffling around you as the group moves, and when you finally remove your hands with a sigh you’re left with Tav and Karlach.  The others have started to gather their things for the next part of the journey, and you find your eyes on the little crumbling window that leads to the Spectator.

“Something on your mind, soldier?” Karlach asks.

You turn to face her, chest glowing with her infernal engine.  Her brow furrows and even with the battle scars and muscle she still looks so innocent.  You think of her only “good” ending, if you could call it that.  

Beyond her you catch sight of Astarion, and quickly look back at her.  “Just a lot of thoughts.  And worries.”

You couldn’t show them the memory crystals without raising suspicions, especially with Astarion and Wyll.  Every one of them had warned you about not taking Raphael’s deal, and there you were, already in a deal with him.  Possibly, anyway. The fact that he hadn’t done anything, or even said anything, was a blessing.  And showing Astarion the memory crystal he resided in would likely only cause him more pain, and make you look like his enemy when he was just starting to trust you.

You find yourself chewing on your bottom lip, foot tapping the dusty ground while the others discuss their plans.

Tav wants to take you, Karlach, Gale, and Wyll towards the Spectator (not that he knows it’s there, mind you).  Lae’zel demands to go along, clearly feeling stifled at the camp, while Shadowheart seems content enough to follow orders.  Halsin watches and listens, but doesn’t try to interfere unless Tav has a question for him.

“I think it would be best if some of us stay and rest,” Wyll suggests.  He looks to you and then Shadowheart, only briefly glancing at Astarion who stands outside his tent, still observing the necromancy book.  

For the first time since you’ve joined the group, you’re not fine being told to stay put.  If you could get away from your tent, Withers (is it blasphemous to want to be away from your god?), and Astarion, the better.  Besides, you could at least lead them away from the Spectator and keep them from getting ambushed by dwarves.

“I’d like to go,” you interrupt.  You’re not sure who was talking at that moment, but Tav perks up your sudden enthusiasm.  

“Really?” he asks.

“Yes, really?” Gale questions.  

You shoot the wizard a frown.  You point towards the broken wall.  “As long as we don’t go that way, that is.”

“What’s that way?” Karlach asks.  She nervously looks towards the opening.  “Is it really bad?  Worse than a ship of mindflayers or a devil?”

You hesitate before answering.  “Well, no, but…”

“There’s a bunch of petrified drow,” Tav mentions, so casual.  “And a dead Spectator.”

The entire group faces him, even Astarion who had not seemed to be paying attention.  Tav’s eyes dart to everyone watching him.  “What?”

“There’s a dead Spectator,” Shadowheart states.

“I might have killed it last night.  Or day?”  Tav looks around as if he didn’t just say something completely impossible.

“You killed a Spectator alone?” you ask.  “How?”

It’s not the most difficult fight in the game, but the idea that he did it alone is unbelievable.  Not to mention nobody in the camp heard it? 

Tav shrugs and scratches the back of his head with a smile.  

“No, I think we need more details.”  Astarion has finally taken himself away from the book and joined the conversation.  He stands beside you now, arms crossed as he stares down the tiefling.

Tav presses his fingertips together, still smiling at the thought of his kill.  “Well, I went exploring and found all these cool exploding mushrooms, and then the Spectator showed up, and more mushrooms blew up, and then it was dead.”

Long stares were all the group seemed able to do at his admission.  Even Wyll and Shadowheart, who always had something to say, were speechless. 

You think of last night but can’t remember anything other than what was within the memory crystals.  If there had been a series of explosions you definitely wouldn’t have heard. You peek at Astarion and quickly step towards Tav and then past him to the hole in the wall. 

“Well, let’s see if these petrified drow have anything interesting on them?  I have that basilisk oil we could use and—“

You have one foot over the crumbling stone when Karlach cuts in.  “Didn’t you say that was the bad way to go?”

You hesitate before letting your foot fall to the ground on the other side.  You look at Karlach.  “Every way is the bad way.”

The group relents and allows you to go, if only because you were already going on your own.  With the Spectator dead there isn’t much to fear, plus all of the exploding mushrooms have already been ignited.  

You can see the Spectator from atop the vines that lead you towards it.  It’s on the far end of the cliff, facing away so you can’t see its many rows of teeth.  That’s probably for the best.

“You really did kill the thing,” Karlach says.  She, Wyll, and Tav are behind you, the former two marvelling at the kill.  “Even with the worm you’re still powerful as hell!”

Tav laughs and shrugs off the compliment before jumping down to the lower ledge.  He looks back up at you with open arms.

“What?” you ask.

“Jump!  I’ll catch you.”  His grin is wide.

Heat rises to your face and you don’t dare look at Wyll or Karlach.  “I can climb down myself!”

You do just that, met with a pouting tiefling at the bottom.  Just when you were about to feel bad he held his arms open again and smiled up at Wyll and Karlach.

Neither of them accept the offer either. 

“Don’t want to burn your skin off,” Karlach says apologetically.  Wyll doesn’t have the same excuse but just shakes his head and climbs down. 

With a forlorn sigh, Tav lowers his arms and turns to take the lead.

You can feel the bodies before you see them.  Two of the drow had been unpetrified and killed; based on the scorch marks it was the Spectator that got them, not Tav.  

“You really took on a Spectator and won,” Wyll states with admiration.  If anyone doubted in Tav’s abilities they wouldn’t now.

“Wanna see?” Tav asks with a hand held to his temple.

“Yes!”  Karlach decides for them and they all wince slightly as the images are shared.  You stand there and pull the staff from your back holster, toying with it between your fingers as you wait for the epic battle to end. 

Briefly, you wonder if you can control the dead Spectator.  A tickle on the back of your neck puts you on high alert, and one of the Spectators tentacle twitches in response to your curiosity. 

“Your power is something else, Tav,” Wyll says.  The trio comes back to the present and it’s enough to distract you from the tingle of the dead.

Something else indeed, you think to yourself.  You’d say it was impossible, if your own worm hadn’t crawled out of your head.

“You shoulda woken me, soldier,” Karlach adds.  

Again, Tav only shrugs.  What he said last night comes back to you–did he think he would annoy the group if he’d asked for help?  Or did he simply know he didn’t need it?

You watch them, noting that Wylls lips downturn at Tav’s lack of enthusiasm.  But it’s quick to come back as Tav waves you all down toward the next ledge down.  Karlach and Tav each jump down while you and Wyll stand at the top and watch them run to the edge and leap onto the rock that’s precariously tied to the cliff with a few ropes.  They turn and wave their arms, eagerly waiting for you and Wyll.

You laugh, wondering how two people could be in such a dire circumstance but stay so positive.

The back of your head spikes cold, and you watch Tav and Karlach freeze, eyes wide.  They’re watching something behind you.

You and Wyll whirl to come face to teeth with the Spectator that floats only a foot away from you.

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