#infernal journey | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

galeorderbride · 2 months ago

Text

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.”

#bg3 #baldur's gate 3 #bg3 fanfic #bg3 fanfiction #baldurs gate 3 #zevlor #zevlor fanfic #zevlor x tav #bg3 fic #bg3 smut #baldurs gate 3 fanfiction #baldurs gate 3 smut #bg3 zevlor #baldurs gate 3 zevlor #zevlor smut

163 notes · View notes

whisper-in-the-night · 5 months ago

Text

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.

#slashers x male reader #slashers x y/n #slashers x you #slashers x reader #slashers #thomas hewitt x male reader #thomas hewitt x y/n #thomas hewitt x you #thomas hewitt x reader #thomas hewitt

205 notes · View notes

dorianpavus · 1 year ago

Text

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!

#baldur's gate #baldur's gate 3 #bg3 spoilers #there be some spoilers here! i tried not to include stuff from gameplay #long post #phew that was a doozy

1K notes · View notes

reallyhatethiswebsite · 6 months ago

Text

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’.

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

203 notes · View notes

underdark-dreams · 1 year ago

Note

Rolan putting Tav in their place? But like….in a frisky way 👀🔥

Rolan x fem!Tav

Master

"Sit still and behave." She's feeling impatient for some attention from the Master of Ramazith's Tower. She decides he needs to let off some steam; Rolan decides to teach her some proper respect.

Tags: Obedience, Praise Kink, Soft Dom, Explicit Sexual Content | Word Count: 3,875 [Read on AO3]

“Did they even do the readings? Half of these are wrong…I’ll have to regive all the illusory lectures…”

Rolan’s brow furrowed deeper as he read down the page. Frustration practically radiated from the way he hunched over his desk, and she wished for the umpteenth time that he would just take a break.

“I’m sure they’ll get it with time,” she told him, gently rubbing his shoulders.

Inwardly, she found it difficult to feel concerned about his students’ grades at the moment. She was far too busy admiring how good Rolan looked when he was a bit disheveled.

It was a rare sight; he preferred to keep his appearance clean and tidy at all times, his robes neatly pressed and hair half-pulled back to keep it out of his eyes.

Right now, this was about as unkempt as she’d ever seen Rolan outside their bedroom. His hair was loose from its tie. As he worked, one lock swung forward between his horns, and he impatiently swept it away with the feather of his quill. He had pushed the sleeves of his underrobe up to his elbows. She watched the sinews of his forearm flex under his crimson skin as he scrawled a severe note on his student's parchment.

She knew his state was a testament to the stress he’d been under lately. Beyond her love for the petulant wizard seated in front of her, she didn’t have much personal experience with wizardry. But Rolan had said enough to impress upon her how important these upcoming exams were for his young pupils. For the oldest of them, their results could mean the difference between continuing their studies or finding another vocation. Rolan took the task of preparing them quite seriously.

Perhaps too seriously, she thought to herself, watching the muscle of his jaw flex with concentration. The candles standing beside his desk were burned down to dripping puddles of wax.

He needed a good distraction, and that she could help with. She crossed forearms along the back of his chair and perched her chin on his shoulder.

“Come to bed?” She asked him. “You’ve been grading for hours.”

Rolan hardly seemed to hear her. "In a moment," he murmured.

It wasn't his usual response to a proposition. Teasing or enthusiasm she was used to, but flat out disinterest was new. It stung a little more than it had a right to.

She knew she should respect his work at hand. If he didn't look so downright frazzled, she might have.

Instead, she gave into the temptation to take advantage of his concentration. She slid one arm down around Rolan's shoulders and leaned in to tuck the curtain of his hair back behind one long red ear.

Then she kissed along the line of it from lobe to pointed tip. She'd always been fond of Rolan's Infernal gifts, particularly his sharply tapered ears—even more so as one of the few people allowed to appreciate them. His usual style kept them tucked and hidden behind his hair.

Rolan sighed slowly as her lips made their soft journey, just enough to satisfy her that she was getting to him. She knew she was being a nuisance, but it had been days since she had him to herself. Rolan was passionate about his work—she couldn’t help selfishly wanting a little of it for herself tonight.

“You’ve been sleeping at your desk too much lately,” she murmured against the shell of his ear.

“Can’t be helped,” Rolan replied, although the fingers of his free hand raised to the arm she had curled over his collar. “These exams are the most consequential step in an apprenticeship. I’d be a worthless archmage if I let my students arrive at Blackstaff unprepared.”

“Rolan, there’s no way that would happen.” She broke away slightly to look at the thick stack of assignments he was grading. “Don’t you think…maybe you’re overworking them? You’re definitely overworking yourself.”

“I’m fine,” Rolan said a bit sharply, turning to the next student’s parchment. “I can certainly handle a little paperwork.”

She pouted slightly at the back of his head, then leaned in to place a kiss under his ear. “That’s not what I meant.”

Rolan let out a short huff as he set down his quill. Feeling a bit smug with herself, she let his grip over her arm draw her around beside him, quite unsuspecting.

Before she could tense her relaxed muscles, Rolan’s grip jerked her down. One of her hands flew to grab the far edge of the wooden seat, but she still landed hard on his lap, her back thumping against his chest.

“After all our time together, I’d expect you to understand the duties of an archwizard,” Rolan scolded her. His voice reverberated against her back as he tucked her slightly to one of his legs so he could keep working. Then his fingers plucked up his quill, even as his other forearm wrapped tighter below her navel to keep her firmly planted.

After a week starved from his attention, the humbling position made her face grow warm. "Rolan, I do understand. I just think y—"

“Good,” Rolan cut her off. “Then sit still and behave.” He was ordering her in the same tone she sometimes heard him use with his apprentices—as if she was nothing but another naughty pupil.

She bit her lip. That could work. Oh, could it ever. “All right.”

After that, they both sat in silence. The steady scratch of quill tip against parchment was the only sound drifting through the candlelight. She kept herself perched quietly on Rolan’s thighs, watching the neat movements of his writing hand, feeling the steady beat of his heart between her shoulder blades. Of all the positions she hoped to find herself in tonight, fully clothed and trapped on his lap wasn't one of them.

But she could certainly work with it.

Carefully, as if just adjusting to a more comfortable position, she wiggled her hips up higher against his lap. She felt the muscle in Rolan’s forearm clench slightly over her, but he said nothing as he turned to another page.

Testing his patience, she scooted back toward him again. This time she pressed her palms against his thighs for balance, letting her hips bounce slightly down against him. The game was rapidly becoming unsubtle.

It wasn’t lost on her wizard. “That won't get you anything,” Rolan warned her.

But despite his words, she could already feel him stirring underneath her. Lovely heat coiled in her stomach in response. “Will from where I’m sitting,” she answered back saucily.

“Hmm.” His monotone hum reverberated against her back, but Rolan didn’t look up from the note he was scribbling. However disappointing his verbal responses, Rolan’s body gave him away the same way it always did.

It only made her braver. She leaned forward on an elbow as if to read his work. In the same motion, she nudged her hips back to press herself more firmly against the growing hardness under his robes, dragging her center across his clothed thigh at the same time. She’d prefer to make use of the lovely ridges near his knee, but that would have to wait for another night.

“Take off your clothes.”

She blinked at him over her shoulder. “What?” Surely she had misheard—Rolan’s expression was impassive, eyes still on the pages scattered over his desk.

“Take off your clothes,” he calmly repeated, still not looking at her. “Now.”

If he was calling her bluff, he wouldn’t get the satisfaction. Slowly, she leaned back against his chest. She would go along with whatever game he wanted to play.

She began with her bodice. Her fingers ran down the lacings, plucking them open like harp strings, feeling the heat already starting to pool between her thighs in anticipation. With her head leaned back over Rolan’s shoulder, she could feel the steady tickle of his breath down her collar and chest, though he was still steadfastly marking the parchment before him.

Rolan was studiously ignoring her, even as she undressed. It was new, and it made something shy and uncertain coil in her chest. When they were together normally he liked to be the one removing her clothes. He practically insisted on it.

But tonight he made no move, apparently content to let her take as much or as little time as she liked.

She favored the latter. With that thought in mind, she pressed herself forward to shuck the unlaced bodice back over her shoulders. Rolan’s arm over her loosened to allow her undershirt to follow. When both garments were discarded on the floor beside his chair, she leaned back against him, bare above the waist. She couldn’t help arching her chest up a little as Rolan’s loose hair tickled against her neck.

"Everything," Rolan directed her. His arm remained draped unmoving over her belly. He either didn't notice her body language or was choosing to ignore the invitation to grope her.

It made her feel even needier for him. Perhaps that's why she wiggled out of her pants and smallclothes so eagerly, nearly tipping sideways off Rolan’s clothed lap in the process. His palm splayed up against her sternum to catch her, and the sharp nail of his thumb pressed into one of her breasts. A small gasp escaped her.

Rolan made a noise low in his throat, and when his hand raised from her chest toward her chin, she understood his intention with eagerness.

She parted her lips to take two of his long, slender fingers into her mouth, licking and swirling her tongue to wet them completely. Her cheeks hollowed as she sucked his digits in deeper over her tongue. Rolan needed reminding of what her mouth could do, and she was pleased to feel his length twitch under her in response. She hummed in satisfaction over his fingers.

Rolan pulled them from her mouth then, and she felt a string of saliva stretch and land across her chin. Before she could wipe it away, two slickened fingertips nudged at the hot apex of her thighs.

She let out a needy groan as her head tipped back over Rolan’s shoulder; her warm cheek pressed against his. She let her thighs fall open for him. But Rolan only continued to make soft and idle circles over her folds, dragging the wetness that was already pooling there up around her entrance, not quite hitting the aching spot above. Her hips rolled forward greedily toward his palm.

“I told you, sit still.” How could he possibly have the nerve to keep writing at a moment like this? She did her best to obey his command, but the way Rolan’s breath had quickened behind her made it difficult.

“Rolan…” His name left her in another groan, this time almost begging. She arched her back to curl an arm around behind him. Her fingers found the curve of one of his horns, and her grip tugged up and down the hard ridged length of it—wishing it was the hard ridged length nudging up against her backside.

In one movement, Rolan’s writing hand swept up the stack of papers from the desk in front of them and deposited them on the floor.

His grip on her arms was rougher than she was used to as he jerked their connected bodies upright, but it was somehow exactly what she craved. She heard his chair clatter to the floor behind them—her hands flew to the now-empty desk for balance as she landed on her feet.

“I’m a very busy man, you know,” Rolan hissed into her ear; he kept her facing away with nails dimpling against the flesh of her hips. “I don't have time for these games.”

“Sorry,” she lied, breathless. “Let me make it up to you?” She reached eagerly back for him, wanting to pull him closer by his robes, before something drew her palms together behind her back.

Rolan’s tail coiled around her wrists in a makeshift binding. Its soft ridges rubbed over her skin, the sudden friction causing her to freeze in place.

"You can tell me to stop.”

Rolan’s voice was suddenly low, and she glanced back over her shoulder to his face. His eyes burned molten gold, but she caught hesitation beneath and realized what he was looking for. She nodded her head yes.

Then the palm of Rolan’s hand settled between her shoulder blades, and steadily, he pushed down.

Her body bent at the waist over the hard surface, goosebumps tickling her skin where her bare chest met the cool wood. She shivered from the cold, and more so from the delicious uncertainty of whatever he was planning to do with her. The firm coil of Rolan’s tail trailed from her wrists across the bare skin of her back.

"Do you know how infuriating you can be?" Rolan's voice chided behind her, even as his hands on her ass massaged and spread her apart for him. "I have a great deal of work to do, yet you insist on interrupting."

"Why don't you give me something to shut me up, then?" She did her best to tease back, but she could only imagine the view Rolan had of her slick folds as his hands pulled to expose her. She ached for his fingers and mouth and cock—for any part of him to touch her again and provide release.

"Always so greedy for my attention," Rolan said, as if he could read her thoughts. "High time you learned a little discipline."

The warmth of one hand left her. Then, without warning, his palm reconnected with a stinging slap against her ass. The shock lurched her body forward, grinding the ache between her legs against the hard edge of his desk. A shameless mewl escaped her throat.

“Hush,” Rolan tutted softly from behind. “I run a reputable business here, you know. Unless you want everyone below to learn what a state you’re in?”

“Oh yes—” From her prone position, she still tried to crane her neck back at him. “I’m sure your patrons would love to know that the new mage of Ramazith’s Tower is a perverted little—”

His palm smacked against her a second and third time, once on either side, the lewd sounds echoing all around the cavernous room and causing her words to stutter into an incoherent moan. She just barely bit it back this time.

“Good girl,” Rolan hummed in approval, and she couldn’t ignore the way her insides quivered from the praise. He smoothed both hands over the heated skin on her flanks as if rewarding her obedience. “Now spread for me.”

Incredible how four little words could make her throb and drip for him. It was vulgar and irresistible, and she obeyed wordlessly, shifting her bare feet further apart to expose herself more fully to him. The rush of cool air between her legs was almost too much to bear.

There was the soft rustle of movement behind her—she could practically feel Rolan’s body heat moving closer. In the next moment the length underneath his robes pressed firmly in between her legs.

She dug teeth into her lower lip to restrain another wanton groan. He was so hard already—was it all from this little game? Sweet hells, if only she'd tried his patience like this before. She couldn’t spare a thought to wonder, could only fixate on the anticipation of Rolan filling her. Her cunt throbbed against the fabric between them at the thought.

She heard Rolan inhale through his teeth. "So desperate even now. Gods, you're shameless." But his hands traveled up the arch of her back, his softly filed nails whispering against the skin under her bound arms from her ass to her shoulder blades, as if relishing the position he had her in.

Then his grip cupped down over each of her hip bones, and he ground her back against his hardness.

The gesture dragged the bare front of her against the cool wood surface, and a shuddering exhale fell from her lips. “Fuck, Rolan—”

“Is this not what you wanted?” Rolan asked her, calling down patience from gods knew where. “Tell me, then.”

"I want you to fuck me,” she gasped out, ready to be done with the teasing. The words formed a heated fog across the wood surface underneath her.

"Ask nicely, then." One of Rolan’s thumbs pulled at her flesh, no doubt giving himself another view of her wet slit, teasing her open again without touching her where she needed it most.

“Please—” Maybe she'd never been more desperate for him; or maybe she'd always known he would love it. "Master Rolan, please fuck me—"

Rolan's hands were gone from her in a flash, and she heard and felt them working on the laces of his pants.

She’d never been more ready for him. Shamefully eager, she craned her head as best she could from her bent and bound position to watch him reach through the slits in his robe to unfasten his pants. Then his beautiful red cock sprang free from the fabric, deliciously hard and lined with those angled, concentric ridges that she knew could make her see stars. Her mouth watered at the sight of him.

She must look positively desperate for it, because Rolan was watching her face with a dark glint of approval in his eyes. As he did, one of his elegant hands closed around his cock and pumped lazily. She squirmed with impatience.

"Say it again." Rolan's dark-set eyes watched her with something like anticipation, his baritone husky with desire.

Her mind was so addled from the delicious sight of him stroking himself that it took a moment to grasp what he was requesting.

"You like that?" She asked suddenly, licking her lips. "When I call you Master?”

Rolan's hips bucked forward into his own grip, almost involuntary. Despite her position naked and prone on his desk, she felt a kind of power tip back into her hands.

“Because that's what you are, Rolan…” She looked back at him from under her lashes, wanting to see what the words might do to him. “Master of this tower, Master of the Weave—Master of me—”

Rolan's face was flushing burgundy, his eyes smoldering into her as if hanging on every word. His tail unwound from her wrists to shudder and flick behind him in a motion she’d grown to recognize as pure desire.

“Just look at what you do to me,” she breathed. Wetness leaked down her inner thighs as she spoke. “No one else fucks me like you. You're so good—so powerful—fuck, just please Rolan, I need you—”

With a guttural sound, Rolan pressed and sheathed himself in her completely.

The abrupt stretch between her legs made her cry out and clutch at the far edge of his desk. Rolan hadn't readied her with his fingers the way he usually did—very little about tonight was usual. His ridges were hot and tight against her walls, but the ache was exactly what she craved.

Before she had fully adjusted, Rolan pulled out from her almost completely, and then his hips snapped back into her a second and third time. The pressure almost made her sob in relief.

Rolan’s hands landed on either side of hers, sharp nails digging into the wood underneath them as his body pressed down over her. He was truly, finally fucking her; she felt the silk of his robes drag against her overheated skin with each thrust, and then the shift of his body hit a new angle inside her.

His tip abruptly met with that deep and sensitive spot, pounding into the aching nerves there again and again. Her eyes rolled back with an unrestrained moan.

"Again," he panted, his face close behind her ear. The control in his voice was fading with each jerk of his hips.

Her skin was on fire; all she could concentrate on was the ridged length of him rapidly filling and stretching her, each quick thrust grinding and rocking her clit against the smooth wood under their bodies.

"Master Rolan, plea-se—" The last word was jerked in two by the force of him fucking her into his desk—"just like this, fuck, I’ve wanted this for weeks—you’re so—so fucking good—”

The words were babbling incoherently from her, but they seemed to be what he needed. Rolan let out a broken groan into the skin of her back as he twitched and spilled inside her. But he didn’t slow his rhythm. Instead his hands gripped either side of her hips, sharp nails digging into her skin, fucking his spend deep into her with driving force.

It was possessive and raw and hot and the feeling made her own orgasm crash down around her, her walls spasming and clutching around him as if to keep him there. She felt the gush of heat from her center leaking out all around him and spilling down her legs.

Her arms and legs trembled weakly; she was grateful for the support of Rolan’s desk holding her up, hard and cold though it was. She gathered enough strength to glance back at him as he straightened and pulled out of her, just in time to catch Rolan admiring the way his come dripped from her opening.

“I love you,” she panted up at him. “That was…gods, Rolan.”

He looked just as dazed as she felt as he stood with hands still resting on her hips for balance. But Rolan said nothing in response, only drew one of her limp hands from the desk up to his lips. Then he shook his shoulders slightly as if to rouse his senses, tucking himself back into his pants.

Dipping a hand to the floor, Rolan thrust a bundle of her clothes unceremoniously toward her. “Clean yourself up. I have more work to do.”

She would have laughed if she wasn’t so spent. He was being intentionally brusque; perhaps embarrassed by how far he’d let himself go. The lingering flush on his cheeks and the way his outstretched arm shook both undercut the attempt slightly.

She straightened up on wobbling legs to pluck the clothes from him. Despite his rudeness, she felt satisfied with the knowledge that the heavy smell of sex and the image of her spread open for him on that very desk would make concentrating on his menial paperwork a near-impossible task.

Before he’d let go of her wrinkled garments, she pulled him by them into a quick kiss. “Come to bed soon,” she told him firmly. “Or else I’ll come back and carry you there.”

Rolan exhaled through his nose, the bare hint of a smile tugging at his lips. “Give me an hour.”

An unthinkable wait after the lay he’d just given her. But she made no complaints as she turned—it wouldn’t do to let him have too much power.

“Fine,” she called over her shoulder. She put a little sway in her hips as she sauntered toward the bedroom staircase, strongly suspecting that his eyes were following her. “But this time, Master Rolan, I’m getting you naked.”

#nsft #spicy #rolan x tav #tav x rolan #bg3 rolan #rolan bg3 #rolan #bg3 fanfiction #bg3 smut #bg3 fic #this one took me forever #rewrote it about 4 times #but omg i love this look for him

372 notes · View notes

ymiwritesstuff · 11 months ago

Note

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 sat 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.

Feel free to support me on ko-fi!❤️

#baldur's gate #bg3 #baldur's gate 3 #halsin #bg3 halsin #baldur's gate 3 halsin #bg3 x reader #baldur's gate imagines #baldur's gate 3 x reader #halsin x reader #bg3 halsin x reader #Halsin x tav #baldur's gate 3 halsin x reader #fluff #reader insert

342 notes · View notes

jessilynallendilla · 1 month ago

Text

Charlastor/Radiobelle AlastorXCharlie

Home Post

The Taxidermist (EX)

It's strange how things happen sometimes. Only three words are needed to ensure that a curious person does exactly what you expect them to. These three simple words will never fail you: Don't do it. It happened. She did it. And she was too late.

Smiling Man (EX 387,376)

Moving to New Orleans to start up her rehabilitation hotel for criminals hasn't been all berries for Charlie, especially if everybody thinks you're some Dumb Dora with a complete horseshit plan. And it's another jam that she's starting to get stuck on Alastor, the charming yet eccentric radio host next door who's never fully dressed without a smile. But she's all smiles too, and that's made her out to be quite the dish to Alastor - in all senses of the word - and boy, was he ready to be entertained.

Heaven Hell and Earth (T)

A girl born of Heaven and Earth, a boy born of Hell and Earth, two hybrids raised in a secret organization that defends mankind from paranormal dangers. Both unaware that they were prophesied to bring about the world's end even though they have spent years protecting it. Which raises the question: Who decides their fate? And will the loving bond they share with each other and those around them be able to overcome the terrible hardships they must face?

Nightshade Manor (M)

Charlie Morningstar only wrote to novelist Rosie Parish, to ask for advice on writing her own book. But instead she was invited to spend a few days at the historic Nightshade Manor. An elegant but mysterious estate located in an equally mysterious town. When she arrives it isn't long before she suspects that the town hides a very big secret. That the manor is occupied by something unspeakably evil. And that the master of the household, Alastor Nightshade has certain plans for her. If she hopes to get herself and her friends out of this situation alive then she must use clues from the past and messages from the dead to break a devil's curse. But the irresistible pull of forbidden love may or may not seal her to a doomed fate.

A Horrific Fantasy (T)

Once upon a time there was a lonely girl who much preferred to live in a fantasy than in reality. One day she was drawn into a world of extraordinary imagination, where anything is possible and things are not always what they seem. At first she thinks it's a dream come true but she eventually learns that a fantasy is not always sunshine and rainbows. That there is a dark, more horrific side to it that threatens her and her loved ones. Now she must use faith and her own creativity to outsmart the evil that rules this world and rely on the aid of a strange boy who only wants to give her his heart.

The Devil Take The Hindmost (EX)

Alastor Doucet’s ambition drives him to summon an infernal fiend, ready to enter a binding pact in exchange for arcane powers. But the Devil he summons isn’t very interested in his soul. She is determined to find an alternative to the brutal mass extermination of her people. In a desperate bid to prove that redemption is both possible and worthwhile, she journeys to the mortal realm to redeem sinners straight from the source. This tale features dark magic, jazz, the economic crash of 1929, Louisiana, a serial-killing radio host, and the blossoming trust between two very unlikely allies during desperate times.

Beneath The Mask (EX) SERIES

For every trial, for every task, there is a corresponding mask. A frown, a smirk, a pout, a grin, They shield the soul contained therein. But masks and faces, and manners too, disguise the single face that’s true. The face that’s under the facade, the one the foolish, charmed and awed, profess to see, to claim to know, although they’ve never seen it show. And so they pry through charm and guile, in hopes to see what’s ‘neath that smile. However, they are unaware, that mask and face are not a pair. For those that pry soon come to find they don’t like what’s hiding behind, because the face once locked within, might not be that charming grin. And thus the wise are dread to ask to see what’s there beneath the mask.

You’ll Never Find Me (M)

New Orleans - early 1920's - Right after the sunset and the moonlight shines above the city, a radio host crosses paths with a young woman who has just arrived. She seems lost and has no place to stay. The man kindly offers his help. They thought they would never see each other again, but their paths keep crossing each other's. Time makes them connect to each other, but little do they know they are more alike than they believe: Both of them have their own dark secrets, but it gets harder to hide as they keep getting closer. Maybe it's destiny, maybe it's meant to be, either way, the cards have been played and now they have to fight against the rules of both of their worlds.

Penance (EX)

“I’m interviewing you to see if you’d be a potential candidate for my rehabilitation idea. If you don’t live under a rock, you’d know that Hell is overpopulated—specifically the Pride Ring with Sinner demons. And the exterminations are… brutal,” she bit out, “senseless murder… these are my people. Some of them find a new life down here, some of them start families and make friends. I want to give them the opportunity to better themselves, and find a way out of this ring. It’s not fair.”

“Fair?” A harsh scoff from the one before her, “Darling, we’re not here to be fair.”

Charlie is given a rather impossible task by her father in order to contact Heaven for her project—she has to redeem one of Hell's most unforgivable sinners.

Requiem For A Mourningstar (EX)

Paranormal Investigator Charlotte Morningstar is headed to her ancestral home to finally uncover the dark secrets her family has been hiding for generations. But past sins are not the only evils lurking on Pentagram Rock. And Charlie soon finds out there's far more hidden in the dark than she bargained for.

Oh Deer! (EX 23,040) SERIES

When rutting season brings Alastor to his breaking point, he tries to hold off on his very undignified desires. As time progresses he contains himself until Charlie’s own heat cycle is thrown off by life stress. When their seasons line up, nothing good can come of it.

The Mark Of Judgement (M)

In the aftermath of his battle with Adam, Alastor sustained a wound that refused to heal. With each passing day, the wound grows. With each wretched act, the mark upon his chest makes itself known. Alastor was being judged, not by Heaven or Hell, but something else. Something without a name. And so Charlie, in her infinite goodness and need to help, has put it upon herself to try and save Alastor’s soul while simultaneously running her hotel. But the mystery only deepens the further the duo dives. Questions of fate, uncertain feelings, and connections that neither expected, come to light as they grapple with ‘The Mark of Judgment.’

Human Hotel Field Trip (EX 26,357)

A slowish-burn of Charlie and Alastor taking a field trip topside for the "business experience." And end up experiencing a seismic shift in their relationship. Oh, and there's a 1920s bash at the hotel. Just to piss Alastor off.

Sinner And Salvation (T 83921)

In 1930's New Orleans, Alastor Bordeaux - famous radio host and undiscovered serial killer - stumbles upon a mysterious young woman deep in the Bayou. Not a charitable man by any means, but there's more to this girl than meets the eye - a power he can use for a little problem of his own... Unfortunately for him, Charlie has absolutely no memory of who or what she is! Left to pick up the pieces of a life she doesn't remember as she recovers under the kindness of a stranger, when the past comes calling will they be able to handle it or will dark secrets doom them both?

Under My Skin (EX)

The new and improved Hazbin Hotel is open for business, and with a steady flow of guests seeking redemption, Charlie couldn't be happier. But when Alastor continues to shirk his duties as the hotel's host, she has no choice but to confront him. She's shocked to find him shut away in his radio tower, slowly succumbing to his deadly angelic wound. Much to the radio demon's chagrin, she dedicates herself to his recovery. Maybe his brush with death made him sentimental. Or maybe the infection from his wound messed with his brain. Whatever the reason, Alastor finds himself not only enjoying the princess's company but yearning for it long after he's recovered. More than just her positive energy begins to creep under his skin, and as he starts to see her in a new light, he begins to question things about himself and his reasons for being at the hotel.

I Do Ms. Malveaux (EX)

Caught with a corpse between his legs, infamous serial killer Alastor Malveaux agrees to marry Charlie, the canary down at Rosie's Emporium and Speakeasy. While inconvenient, it wasn't a bad idea to get hitched to the doll, especially with her dire circumstances that pushed her to marry a murderer in the first place. Yep, Alastor could have his cake and eat it too. There were absolutely no setbacks to this plan and he could live as he wanted, unattached to his pretty little wife. His wife...Ha ha!

Your Love Is My Torment (EX)

Nothing was out of the ordinary on that Morning in January for the Radio Host , But after he fires his rifle at a unusual looking doe in woods , He discovers that there are things in this world that cannot be explained and now he and her are thrown together in an ever changing , twisting love story that eventually becomes their torment and the beginning of a bloody history between them both, that will follow them to hell and back again .

If You Like Pina Coladas! (EX)

As a rule Alastor could not be convinced to do anything that did not benefit him. Therefore the man was struggling to understand why he had agreed to this farce. Yet here he was, on Vacation in the human world with Charlie. He wondered how he had allowed himself to be talked into this.

The Riddle Of Magic (M) SERIES

Alastor and Charlie have struck a deal: He’s agreed to teach her magic; but what does he get in return? Seven spells, to understand magic’s most fundamental law. If the teacher asks, the student must answer: What is the Riddle of Magic?

Just Roll With It (M)

To get Adam to agree to another year before another extermination, Alastor and Charlie say they are getting married. To each other. It’s a problem, and they need to fix it…or Just Roll With It

A Tail Of Beignets (EX) SERIES

After finding out the extermination would be 6 months early Charlie felt she deserved an evening for feeling sorry for herself and a few bottles of wine. She told herself it was a form of self care. A mini holiday. But she didnt expect to meet Alastor making beignets in the kitchen. She also didn't realise he had a fluffy tail.

Bernadette (M) SERIES

Charlie has enough of everything going bad in her life, her parents returning after yet another failure was the last straw, so she join forces with Alastor and took over, as they literally brought heaven to hell. Vaggie, alongside unlikely allies, needs to stop the tyranny they presented while surviving on the mess they created. Will she succeed?

Bride Of The Radio Demon (M 50,501) SERIES

A long time ago, an Overlord by the name Alastor plunged Hell into fear because of his power. The Seven Deadly Sins were able to weaken him and made him disappear to never be seen again. Seven years later, Alastor returned more powerful than ever. The only thing that would get him to stop terrorizing Hell is a few things in return. ... Including a willing bride to marry, who just so happens to be the Princess of Hell herself, Charlie Morningstar. Can she tame and melt the heart of the Radio Demon?

A Different Kind Of Hell (M)

Heaven and Hell were often cut off from one another. Word got around but otherwise there was radio silence. Until Charlie and Alastor stormed Heaven’s gates.

The Radio Songbird (T)

After not surviving a car crash, Charlie Magne finds herself in Hell. Unsure what she could have done to end up there she tries to make the most of her new situation. Making a minor agreement with the menacing but friendly radio demon. Alastor finds this new sinner quite charming, and her voice even more so. He offers her a place to live in exchange for singing on his radio show. Eventually hoping to lure the young woman into a more permanent deal, wanting to keep the little songbird under his thumb. Meanwhile Lucifer finds out someone has misplaced the Princess of Hell.

Your Sweet Radio Demon (M)

Unaware of his true intentions, Charlie begins to develop feelings for Alastor. This doesn’t go unnoticed by the faux affable demon, who intends to take full advantage of the situation for his nefarious purposes. Vaggie, the only one aware of his true intentions, bows to do whatever it takes to protect her. Unfortunately for Alastor, those aren’t the only players of his little game. Two people from his past have set their sights on him and intend to expose him for who he really is. Charlie might have to question if she can set aside her ideals for him and Alastor will be obligated to question whether he's willing to compromise for someone else

Soul Bound (M)

Charlie Morningstar has always been a curious girl with an active imagination unlike any other kid. Unfortunately, a creative mind such as hers comes with its downsides, such as lack of common sense and naivety that would often get her into strange predicaments. Luckily she has her guardian, Alastor, who has sworn to always protect her from harm for as long as she lives, but in exchange she must give her soul to him on the dawn of her 18th birthday to ensure they will be tied together for eternity. As she grows up, she begins to feel stronger feelings towards her protector. But the mysterious "friend" of hers raises concerns for her parents, who start to wonder if this imaginary friend she's made up is more than what she says...

Fantasies Unwind (T)

A collection of Charlastor works that explore other universes and fairy tales

All It Takes (M)

Sometimes, all it takes is a moment, a single reckless choice... When Charlie, with the help of her friends, decides to throw a party to support her struggling hotel, little does she know that nothing will ever be the same. A few weeks later, her life takes a dramatic turn as she finds herself pregnant. The problem? No one remembers what happened that fateful night.Caught in the tangled web of her own choices, Charlie must confront her parents, her girlfriend Vaggie, and the judgmental eyes of everyone in Hell. How will she handle taking care of the Hazbin Hotel and a child? And who is this mysterious man claiming to be the father? Amidst the chaos and tangled relationships, Charlie learns that sometimes, to find happiness, one need not chase the rainbows but simply open their eyes to the world around them.

A Lamb Astray (NR)

With his daughter on the lamb Lucifer couldn't exactly send the best Angels he had. Instead he's got some of the worst Sinners out trying to shepherd her home. Of course, what is simple in theory is seldom the same in practice especially when one shepherd is more a wolf in masquerade than anything else.

Kiss Me Through The Radio (NR)

A Series of Charlastor stories that I couldn't turn into full length fics. Enjoy the musings of my mind and prompts from my friends!

The Vacation From Hell (T)

The plan was simple: indulge the Princess of Hell in a little trip to a ‘human hotel,’ then sit back and enjoy her suffering once she realized what a farce hers truly was. That was how it was supposed to go anyway. Unfortunately for Alastor, Fate had other plans.

I’ve Got No Strings On Me (T 1,244)

Charlie quietly unstitches Alastor's smile after freeing him from his deal

Darling (EX)

When Alastor made a deal with Charlie Morningstar, he knew it was a chance for him to ascend the ranks. Now that it's been weeks since the events of the extermination battle, Alastor decides it's time to collect...what he didn't expect was to slowly fall for the Princess of Hell. But hey, a deal's, a deal.

Appetites (EX)

Charlie and Alastor have just recently established a relationship that is now more than just business partners. Now that their relationship is out in the open, the two of them begin to have several intimate and sexual in counters in various places of the Hotel... when they should be working.

A Wolf Wears Red (EX)

We all know the story of Little Red Riding Hood. But what if the wolf was the one wearing red? In that case who would be the wolf, and who is their prey?

A Distant Memory (EX 4,049)

Alastor remembers the one and only being he had ever connected with but he had forgotten her and when he remembered.... It was too late

Blood Sweat And Tears (English Version) (EX)

Alesteir Doucet, or as he likes to introduce himself: Alastor, is a criminal on the verge of execution. On the other hand, in Nazi Germany, a blonde young girl has been summoned from a portal of an occult research squad. The stories of Charlotte, the princess of hell, summoned by the Nazis, and Alastor will mixed in the years leading up to WWII.

Firsts (G 6,911)

Charlie is planning Dawn's first birthday. Alastor thinks it's silly, she's only one!

In Another Life (T 20,044)

It's 1932, Alastor Barrios is a radio host, known as "The Radio Demon" in New Orleans. He leads a pretty normal life, aside from the killing, cannibalism and hunting. He develops a routine: wake up, hunt, eat, go to work, go to the speakeasy for a drink, go home, repeat and he's sick of it. That all changes, however, when he goes to the speakeasy and hears Mimzy's newest singer. Everyone in Hell wonders how Charlotte Magne is so...cheery. She doesn't act like the rest of them. For her, that means she barely has any friends and the ones she does she never sees. Earth is her only chance of escape, and if she has to be up there, she's going to perform and she's going to have a great time doing it as the Devil From Heaven.

The Golden Haired Demoness (NR 1,525)

And Alastor couldn’t help but find her absolutely breathtaking when she was covered in blood. A deep hunger in him awoke at the sight of her porcelain skin being smeared with the red thick liquid. It didn’t help that she loved to sing occasionally when they were out hunting as well. Her beautiful voice filling his ears and heart as he’d stop and stare at the tall demoness twirl around in the dead of night, without a care in the world. Or Alastor tries to summon a demon and is surprise to see that he had summoned the princess of hell herself.

Something Unspoken (M 4,075)

Alastor and Charlie have to make major adjustments to their lives after a spell gone wrong. Perhaps it's not all bad as somethings come to light...

A Small Interruption (G 571) SERIES

St. Peter just ruined a moment between the young seraphim and her secret lover

Obsess With Her Soul (M)

Her soul is like a human's: soft, caring, extremely gentle and sweet. Alastor could have been wandering around all his eternity in Hell, but he'd be damned if he wouldn't try to get her for his own personal purposes, which later would no longer make any sense.

All Of Creation (T 727)

He didn’t ask, all those months ago. Charlie just leaned on him, slowly approaching to give him the choice. She kissed him. And he let her.

Final Farewell (G 7,367)

As Alastor gets redeemed it is time to say goodbye to Charlie. What is she supposed to do when everyone she held dear is gone?

Like A Lamb To Slaughter (EX)

In seeking to deny a prophecy already written, four kings of creation inadvertently create their very demise. Now a vessel for an imprisoned god Charlie must foster a flock and guide them. But will it be in the ways of the one she serves or will she take a different path?

Eden (M 3,119)

Charlie has no memory of her past life. Alastor, on the other hand, does.

Unexpected Happenings (M)

Alastor Nightengale, the famous Radio Host is hardly the charming man everyone believes him to be. Talking up a storm into his mic during the day and hacking innocent individuals to bits in the night.... Content with how entertaining things are he couldn't even fathom the possibility of a pawn coming so easily into his hands but this, Charlie fellow is unlike anyone he's ever known...what makes her so special? She could be used but something didn't feel quite right. When they meet again in hell, that something deepens.

Dearest Little Pet (EX)

‘Interesting...’ he mused, ‘A flicker. How long can I play with her before she cracks? It’s been a while since I had a pet to play with.’ Alastor and Charlie begin their work together and the Radio Demon has found a new toy to play with while the hopeful sinners they treat bumble around. Little does he know, he may be falling into his own emotional trap as well. Denial can be a terrible thing.

The Last Petal (M)

It was the chipper year of 1933. Alastor was in his mid 20's, being a typical radio host by day..but by night he was up to no good. Due to his newfound passion for the kill, Charlie whom was in hell wanted to intervene, sure she didn't have to but she had nothing better to do due to her old project failing on her. With her own power (and her father allowing her); she Left hell and went to earth..to possibly stop Alastor and help him to ensure his redemption and ticket into heaven. She was no angel, but being the daughter of a fallen one is all it took.

To Love And To Let Go (G 1,964)

Alistair, a radio host from New Orleans with a dark past must accept the sad hand dealt to him; and find a way to keep the one he loves safe.

Push And Pull (T)

It was just business. Or at least, that's what this arrangement was supposed to be.

Radio Demon May Cry (M)

After suffering a shameful defeat at the hands of Adam. Alastor was forced to flee and recover his strength. In his pain and isolation he contemplated about a few things that has happened in his afterlife, and realized two absolute truths: that he needed more power and that Charlie is very important to him. So the question now is, how can The Radio Demon hope to protect the one he cherishes the most if he can’t even protect himself?

#hazbin hotel #charlastor #radiobelle #charlie #alastor

73 notes · View notes