#young Raphael bg3

[wellthebardsdead]

Okay- so I hate the anti aging/wrinkle removing mods, like all of them. But.

Jesus Christ I’m grateful for this one. Don’t get me wrong I love my handsome devil as he is~ but he was CUTE!

Then my dm pointed out something important-

A cambion of Raphael’s heritage and status, is effectively immortal and ageless. He’d mature to a certain point and simply stop. He can alter his appearance absolutely, his fathers done so plenty of times and it’s no doubt a talent Raphael possesses too.

But. My dm pointed out Haarleps stark age difference between his appearance and Raphael… Either he got Haarlep sometime ago and refuses to let him use his current form. Or-

That’s what he actually looks like in his cambion form. Meaning- This is what he may very well actually look like in a completely relaxed state.

Meaning.

He makes himself look more mature to be taken seriously.

And honestly I hope that’s true because it’s fucking hilarious.

Remember Haarlep can make himself an exact copy of whoever’s body he’s got a hold of. So either he’s deliberately making himself appear as a younger Raphael or- that’s what Raphael truely looks like and Haarlep wrung it out of him beneath the sheets.

Either way he looks cute as a 20 something year old and cute as he is in game~ my poor little meow meow.

[kawareo]

DOOMED detected, and caught

so my roommate started playing Doom Eternal this week, and do you remember how Raphael has that room with portals to different realms?

[inaconstantstateofchange]

don't come crying - a young!Raphael fic

An incredible rendition of young!Raphael by @shahs1221, here: please go check her out and give her some well-deserved adoration for it!

A/N: I'm gonna be so honest, I have no idea how to tag this in a comprehensible way, relationship-wise. Suffice to say, the Mephisto-lovers are... probably going to appreciate this more than I wish you would, and if you too are fifty leagues down the Niche Forgotten Realms Characters™ rabbit hole, you may also be enticed by the Baalphegor inclusion. 18+, please and thank you.

Summary:

Raphael blinks, attempting to reason past the howling fury within him. He has never before felt so truly attuned to his more fiendish instincts, working in concert with his mortal ones in a truly dangerous storm. He swore when he first came to this wretched plane that he would be its master one day, and he’ll be damned – well and truly – if he fails here. Or: Centuries prior to the events of the game, Raphael's return from a routine fetch quest on Mephistopheles's orders is interrupted by a summons to the throne room. His father has a lesson to impart to him, and he's going to ensure it sticks.

This is part of an ongoing story I've had in the back of my mind for several weeks now. Rather than another WIP longfic, I'll be posting additional segments from this 'verse in a series if/when I add more. If @sky-kiss has any say in it, I'm sure I will.

The only background info you really need is:

All characters are drawn from actual Forgotten Realms lore.

Raphael has recently been plucked from the Material Plane to join his father's court on Cania, in the Nine Hells.

Due to Raphael's stunted development, and an unwillingness to be shamed by his spawn's weakness, Mephistopheles has placed Raphael under the purview of his consort, Baalphegor.

Baalphegor's body is able to produce an empowering draught, too weak to hold much significance to true fiends, but sufficient to bolster Raphael's growth.

Finally, it is a pet headcanon I've incorporated into this 'verse that Baalphegor is the same individual later know as Haarlep, but you are welcome to use your own interpretation.

Raphael stumbles through the extravagant entrance doors to Mephistar, the flesh-shearing winds of Cania grabbing after him as he ducks behind the solid, enchanted stone. He’s done his best to cover all exposed skin, but there is always some that escapes his notice, leaving him bleeding out strength he can ill afford to lose. He loathes these “errands” his father sends him on, tasks purported to test his skill, devotion, and cunning. In reality, it feels more like busywork designed to keep him weak and subservient, reminding him of his contentious existence in the hierarchy and reinforcing his dependence on his father’s dubious goodwill.

The desiccated parchment that proved the focus of this most recent quest crinkles slightly, as he shifts his gaze up, the slight sound echoing across the cavernous hall as he looks with certainty for the being he knows to be waiting for his return, just as always. But — they’re not there.

He furrows his brow, an agitated and disquieting anger growing within his gut. He strides across the marble floor on frostbitten feet he can barely feel, shoving the parchment at the lone figure of Mephistopheles’s chamberlain Barbas, standing at attention at his post, and wearing his habitual sneer as he looks down at Raphael. Raphael ignores it for now, as ever, but files the snub away with all the other insults he will one day be strong enough to return tenfold.

“Where is m—the Lady Baalphegor?” He demands imperiously. They are almost always waiting for him upon his return to bestow his reward. That is the deal, the entire reason he engages in these banal fetch quests even though they are entirely beneath his rank and status. He pushes sharply at the errant thought of the pretty fiction it makes, knowing all the while that his true choice is to bow to his father’s whims or perish. True or not, it does no good to dwell on such matters, not when he will be changing them just as soon as he can manage.

Barbas’s sneer gouges even deeper into his face, growing a biting and nearly gleeful edge as he answers Raphael, “Well, young lord, as your august presence must surely have ascertained, the Lady is certainly not here.”

Raphael can feel his face going blotchy and red, and curses his mortal heritage once again for its constant betrayals. The ice-blue crystals in the eye sockets of the chamberlain harden and glint with glee at the sight. Raphael spins on his heel, marching furiously away, the parchment crumpling further within his fist. Barbas’s mocking voice rings out behind him, “Don’t forget to report to His Grace, little lord! He insisted it be done immediately upon your return.”

Raphael almost turns again to berate him, but manages to stop himself at the last moment, lest he lose even more face from the encounter. He’ll make his report as quickly as possible, then hunt down his wayward… Baalphegor, and claim his rightful recompense. The brilliant halls of Mephistar blur around him as he storms through them, focusing only on making his way to his father’s great hall with haste.

He doesn’t wait to be announced, merely pushes firmly on the doors, both with his physical form and, in a manner only recently attained, with the lashings of his own metaphysical aspect. They creak open, the sound like distant screams even on the well-kept mechanisms, and he steps through without hesitation, words of complaint already springing to his lips, when he stops dead in his tracks.

He’s found Baalphegor.

The succubus – and they are in full succubus form in this moment – is perched indolently on his father’s lap, where he sits on his ostentatious throne. But not just perched, no — impaled, as he finds when, with stricken eyes, he watches them move their body in a smooth, undulating motion up, degree by degree, before dropping back down, brilliant hair falling around them and catching the flickering hellfire-light as it glints off their red-brown skin. Soft, melodious moans are driven from their throat with each movement, as if pushed out by the — by the member within them. Their round breasts shift with the motion, the revitalizing milk within them welling up and dripping down their chest, squandered and disregarded.

He swallows, throat dry, his eyes and chest burning in stark opposition with one another.

His father casts an apathetic glance across the hall, and his eyes alight on Raphael, a cruel smirk curling at his lips. “Ah, the returning triumphant! What have you brought me this time?” His voice is nothing but mocking, no attempt made to couch his disregard for his unwanted and unloved spawn.

Raphael blinks, attempting to reason past the howling fury within him. He has never before felt so truly attuned to his more fiendish instincts, working in concert with his mortal ones in a truly dangerous storm. Everything within him is raging at the broken contract, even as it boils with jealousy at the manhandling of something that is his, and it is only the barest dregs of his staunch self-preservation that manage to keep him from attempting something truly foolish. He swore when he first came to this wretched plane that he would be its master one day, and he’ll be damned – well and truly – if he fails here.

He holds the parchment, now looking rather worse for wear, out before him on a finely trembling hand. He searches for the words he needs in a mind nearly whited out by rage.

“I… your cult in Waterdeep sends their obeisance, y–your Grace.” He curses his tongue for its fumbling, driving home further how well his father’s ploy is working to discomfit him.

“Oh,” Mephistopheles waves a careless hand. “That collection of rabble. You will leave it with my steward.”

Raphael ducks his head a bare inch, keeping his eyes away from Baalphegor as much as he can, and turns to leave.

His father’s voice rings out after him before he has completed even half his turn, sharpening with the first warning edges of his infamous temper. “Where do you think you are going, whelp? You have not yet been dismissed.”

Raphael turns back to face him, slow and careful, as the true danger of the situation sets in. He has rarely found himself in the presence of his father when these moods strike, and never without at least the tenuous support of Baalphegor behind him. And yet… he meets their gaze now, searching, and the barest fraction desperate, but there is nothing. Their red eyes meet his without flinching, cold as Cania’s glaciers. Trickles of the subtly shimmering draught spilling from their breasts have reached down to their hips now, soaking into the thatch of hair between their legs.

He tears his eyes away and forces his attention back to the far greater threat, scrambling for an answer that will satisfy his father.

“My apologies, your Grace.” The epithet comes easier this time, its passage eased by his awareness of his own precarious position. “I misunderstood your direction, and wished only to carry out your will with utmost alacrity.”

Mephistopheles rests his chin insouciantly on his hand, elbow propped against the arm of his throne. His voice, when he speaks, is sardonic and shows no signs of the ongoing actions of the succubus on his lap. “Oh very nicely salvaged, whelp. My wishes, however, are for you to remain just where you are, and appreciate the lesson I’ve prepared for you.”

Raphael swallows, the boiling heat within him growing fiercer, rage intertwined with other, less-savory feelings.

With little warning, Mephistopheles moves his hand to entangle within Baalphegor’s tresses, pulling the succubus fiercely down onto him as he wrenches their head back against his shoulder. A tremulous cry breaks from their throat, and Raphael only barely keeps himself from starting forward at the sound.

Mephistopheles brings his free hand forward and toys with Baalphegor’s breasts, pushed forward into the air from their current position. He twists pitilessly at them, prompting yet more cries as the liquid inside spills out in greater quantities, splashing, wasted, against the smooth skin of Baalphegor’s stomach. It runs in rivulets onto the throne, and down, to collect into puddles on the floor of the grand hall.

Raphael feels his stomach turn even as his mouth, well-trained by association, waters, unhindered by every other horrible aspect of this waking nightmare.

Mephistopheles wipes his hand dismissively on Baalphegor’s hair, leaving behind silvery streaks, then draws them up by their hair and hip, beginning to move within them in earnest as he continues his reproach. Raphael wants to close his eyes, his ears, every one of his senses, but knows such an admission of weakness would be worse than his undoing.

“You’ve prevailed enough upon my largess, and I am no longer willing to indulge your weakness.” Mephistopheles sneers. “You’ve proven more fortunate than any other cambion within the Hells, but from now on you will make your own way, or fail. Such is the way of Baator.”

The fires around the hall burn fiercer in alignment with their lord as he looks down at his unloved progeny. “Should you find yourself desperate for one last taste to stay your appetites, however, you may lap it from the floor like the whelp you are, and thank me for the concession.”

Raphael feels like he is become hellfire himself, the hatred he knew within him for his progenitor stoked to dizzyingly fierce new heights. Jaw aching with the effort of withholding the flood of vitriol within him, he grits out, “My thanks for your… beneficence. I would not dream of prevailing upon it further.”

Mephistopheles snorts, dismissive, then turns his attentions back to Baalphegor, by all accounts having forgotten Raphael’s entire existence.

Raphael stands, Baalphegor’s unfeeling eyes burning into his, until he is finally – finally – dismissed. All the while, the ambitions within him, already cast in carbon, are pressurized further and further, until they are as fearsome diamond, reflecting the blood and fire around him.

He will not remain his father’s lesser for long. He will see him deposed, and make him suffer for these indignities heaped upon his person.

By Asmodeus, he swears it.

[sauronpilled]

i made a bg3 characters list but based on "succession characters i associate them with."

[luniidae]

~ A BIT OF ~

KINDNESS

Chapter IV

Note: Yay young Gortash !

Hi everyone! Here is a... Kind of a chill chapter ? To be honest, I wrote it to join two chapters together 🫣

____________________________________

Raphael didn't seem to be mad at Luvia. Anyways, he continued to treat her just the way he used to. He kept teaching her a whole bunch of things, from the history of the Hells to that of her disappeared people, and even poetry. Korilla (who was in charge of teaching her the practice of magic) sometimes took pleasure in teasing Raphael about it.

"Is everything alright with Luvia ?", the dwarf asked.

"Assuredly. She's very perceptive and attentive. I must admit that I look forward to see how things will be going", the devil replied, his voice slightly filled with satisfaction and excitement.

Korilla chuckled and the cambion raised an eyebrow, looking at her.

"What is so funny, Korilla ?", he asked.

"It seems like you've grown attached to her over time."

His eyes widened, as if he didn't want to admit it.

"Don't be ridiculous....", then he paused for a few seconds before adding, "How did you make this conclusion though ?"

He was staring at her, a hand leaning on a piece of his desk, the other on his hip, waiting for her explanation.

"I didn't know poetry was useful to conquer the Hells", she said with a grin. 

Raphael was keeping his eyes on her, expressionless, as if he was looking for a proper answer he eventually didn't find. He took a deep breath and turned on his heels without saying a word, vexed.

Korilla chuckled.

"You'd be surprised by the power of the words...", he finally said. 

"Oh I have no doubt"

Meanwhile, in the corridors....

For his part, Enver had recovered from his lynching session, as he always did.... But it wasn't that bad thanks to Luvia. That wouldn't stop Nubaldin from beating him again, but at least this time she maybe had avoided him the worst.

Luvia didn't approach him anymore, but he could briefly see her from the corner of his eyes from time to time, observing him from a distance. She may thought he didn't notice her... He missed their little interactions though. The food she used to bring him was always more than welcome, but most of all, he eventually got used to her presence.

He wondered why she was there though, in this so-called "House of Hope". Was she really Raphael's daughter ? It was strange to him as the cambion seemed to love no one but himself.

But he didn't plan to stay long enough to find out. Enver was smart; "too" smart according to his parents, those very same who had not hesitated to sell him to the devil. He would pay them a visit someday.... All he had to do was to find a way out. 

The young boy already had the occasion to see the mirrors room. He had observed them and had seen the worlds through them.

Waterdeep, Neverwinter, Luskan..... And of course.... Baldur's Gate. This is where he once lived, and he was determined to get back there. He would prove to the entire city, and the world, that you wouldn't get rid of him that easily.

Enver smirked at this thought, thinking about his escape, imagining his parent's face when he'd come back. All of this sounded fabulous. 

But he had not the time to think any further about it since he noticed someone 3 meters away from him: Luvia. She was standing there, facing him without a word or expression, but her scarlet eyes looked friendly, almost compassionate. 

Enver didn't know how long she's been there, but he said nothing. It's been about two weeks since what happened in the prison..

But something had changed since their last encounter. She looked confident, or resigned.

After a few seconds, Enver decided to break the silence.

"You're supposed to stay away from me"

She seemed about to say something, but instead, she assuredly headed towards him and took him in her arms. The young girl couldn't believe she was doing that, but she didn't have the occasion to apologize for what happened to him because of her. And maybe she would never have the opportunity to do it. 

Enver's breath got cutted by surprise. He didn't give the hug back, but it didn't stop her from holding him tight against her.

"I am sorry", she finally whispered in his ear.

That was the first time he heard her voice. It was soft and calm, and so different from what he used to hear. Enver was usually surrounded by the Eternal debtors and his jailor. Between the cries of despair or madness from ones and the barks from the other, there was no place for kindness and yet....

It was also pleasant to feel another kind of "grip" for once, he thought. 

Luvia could sense his bones through his clothes, and he could feel her little heart beating against him. That sounded weird to him.... He wasn't used to that kind of proximity with anyone. Even with his parents. 

Suddenly, she took a step back when she heard Nubaldin in the distance. She didn't want Enver to be punished because of her again... She was scared of the gnome, but she hated him more. She hadn't forgotten his expression while he was beating the young boy before her, how he seemed to have enjoyed it more than he should have. She was hoping to make him pay someday...

The jailor arrived in Enver's back, barking as always. 

"Hey shithead, you...", the gnome stopped himself and talked in a softer tone, which surprised his prisoner as it was very unusual from him, "Oh, Milady", he made a little bow, "My apologies, I hope you haven't been bothered by this...", he was looking for the right words but didn't find anything correct to say,".... Anyway, it won't happen again"

"You're the only one who's bothering me right now", she cutted him sharply. 

Enver and Nubaldin both looked at her with astonishment. None of them was expecting her to say that... And to be honest, Luvia didn't either. 

She happened to hear Raphael talking like this sometimes, and she had noticed the effect it had on people. She wanted to try it too.

Nubaldin went pale, "Of course Milady, I beg your pardon"

The young girl restreinted herself from smiling whereas she felt a pleasant feeling. She could almost understand Raphael, it gave her a sensation of.... Power ? Authority. That was a somewhat vague subject to her but it seemed to work somehow. 

But.... What was next ? What was she supposed to say after that ? Her brief moment of glory quickly vanished at this question. 

Luvia did her best to keep her calm and started to look for something to say.

"Aren't you able to speak to him without yelling ?", she asked rethorically.

"I.... Well, yes, I suppose...", he answered, frustrated and looking at Enver from the corner of his eyes, "But, you know... I'm not but a servent to my Lord and Raphael gave me specifical instructions for.."

"Does it imploy to be as noisy as possible ?", she continued.

Nubaldin looked annoyed. He didn't like Luvia. Not only because she was another child to handle, but mostly because of her sufficient look. He didn't understand why she was so important to his master. To him, she was nothing but another arrogant little brat.

"Should I report to Raphael that his beloved daughter disobeyed him again ?"

"What do you mean ? I was on my way to my chamber", she said, frowning. 

"Maybe....", he said shrugging his shoulders, "Or maybe not. After all, I just arrived and you two were here.... Together. And if I remember well, Raphael wasn't really happy about it the last time". 

Nubaldin knew that Luvia admired his boss as much as she was scared of his wrath. 

Enver could sense her frustration. She gritted her teeth and clenched her fists. Her eyes even began to glow for a moment, but she remained inflexible.

"That's what I thought", he added with a satisfied grin, then he looked at the boy, "You, with me. I'm not done with you yet, you bastard".

Enver wanted to fight back, he couldn't bear to be treated like that by this idiot. But he needed to keep a low profil if he wanted to have a chance to escape. He couldn't risk having his surveillance reinforced because of a misstep, so he followed the gnome without any protest. 

Luvia wanted to smile at him, to make him know he wasn't alone, that she cared. She really did. But her anger towards Nubaldin was so strong she couldn't feel anything else at this very moment.

She looked at him go without a word and ended up losing sight of them. 

She stayed in the corridors for a few seconds, thinking about what just happened, and what could happen to the young boy.

Anyways, she looked forward to grow up to show Nubaldin who he was dealing with...

To be continued....

Bonus:

[je-suis-problematique]

– Astarion

[mossy-rossy]

I've connected the dots...

[friendly-traveler]

This is what autism looks like

[unreadpoppy]

i got my surname butchered but at least got the question answered!

[novalin]

YES! FINALLY! The only Baldurs Gate 3 cover I care about! Raphael's Final Act (Metal!) \m/ (with Jonathan Young!! Peak bliss!)

[wellthebardsdead]

Young Raphael, half human.

Young Falûne: mother was a half devil half high elf and father a full high elf. Mephistopheles cursed him to be born a full devil.

Same face, just more elven and devilish features, and the same big doe like eyes

[robinrolledaone]

Some people haven't heard these covers and frankly it shows

[poetryvampire]

Well, I feel like utter trash tonight so

Rating BG3 men on how well they'd take care of you on your period

This is dumb and not well thought out and probably a bit bias let's gooo

Gale 🔮 Sweetheart cannot read the room bless him. Is so ready to help easy the pain, he's cracking open dusty books, going through all his herbs, spends all day trying to craft the best potion for your needs. Very sweet but honestly Tara sitting on your lap is doing a fine job. Once you get him to cuddle you're golden 6/10

Wyll ⚔️ Cmon. Are you kidding me? He's got you babe. Need something picked up? Done. Craving something? Made. Just want to lay around in bed all day? Hell yeah he's right there with you, you couldn't get out of his arms if you wanted to.Also a fan of romance novels? Wyll would 100% read to you. Like voices and everything, really amps up the mellow drama. He's happy to keep you laughing or get sultry with it. Makes a great opening act to spicy times. 10/10

Halsin 🐻 Woof. Very happy to help chase away those cramps by some good old fashioned pounding you into the earth. You're not gonna be able to feel anything after he gets his paws on you. Not put off by blood that's nature ba-by. Also pls consider bear sized teddy cuddles. 7/10

Astarion 🍷 👀👀👀👀👀👀👀👀👀👀👀👀👀👀👀👀👀👀👀👀👀👀👀👀👀 9/10

Rolan ✨️ As usual baby boy is too awkward to live. Not like super knowledgeable about them but wants to help you the best he can. Won't ask you directly though. Is a very quick study and takes note of what you need and like. If you need space or want to be glued to him hes already in place.If you're the kind of person that's laid up with cramps for a day or two he just happens to have those days off to be with you. You'll go for a hot water bottle and the kettle is already on. Honestly after awhile he knows your cycle better than you do. 8/10

Zevlor 🔥 If there's one thing this man knows it's being sore. It just comes with being a swordsman and an older gentleman. He is a god of working out sore muscles. Feeling achy? He goes all the way. Expect a long bath with a full body massage. He's gonna work out every inch of you and praise you like his personal god. Very patient really gonna go for the slow burn from sensual to sexual. Doesn't even expect anything back just wants to make you feel good. Will turn a downer day into a wildly romantic night. 11/10

Haarlep 😈 Couldnt give less of a shit. It's not that he's put off by it, he's had lots of experience with them but it doesn't do anything for him either. As for your suffering? He's a little empathetic, poor mortal with your poor weak body. That being said he does like you and to cuddle once in awhile so if you need some comfort he'll be there. 3/10

Raphael 👿 Jfc listen, he's waaaaay into it but will Not admit. In fact goes out of his way to let you know how off putting it is. He'll tell you how its nice to know you could still bare his young, like if he let's you. Loves the thought of breeding you and just the simple humanity of it that gets him. He cannot keep his hands off you but again will not admit why and will get mad about it. Like, how dare you look so good now of all times it's so rude. Guess I have to fuck you even though your pathetic little body keeps getting blood on my sheets smh -3/10

[fatale-distraction]

BG3 NPC Social Media Headcanons

This is the final part, but I might do a part 4 if I get requests for other NPCs!

~~~

Barcus - King of tutorial vids. He has tutorials for everything. He's so smart but so humble and makes things so easy to understand. Almost no selfies, but he has a few with Tav if they're dating.

Rolan - even more pretentious than Gale. They're social media rivals. Constantly making response vids to each other "well actually-ing." Lots of selfies. He's pretty and he knows it. Sibling shenanigans. Lifestyle king. Selfies with Tav if they're dating that are surprisingly sweet and tender. His siblings tease him endlessly. Lots of vomit and eggplant emojis from them. For how smart he is, he can't figure out how to delete them or block them.

Kar'niss - Horror king. Super weird content. Heavy metal and punk music. Fashion advice for drider. Anti-drow propaganda and drider advocacy. Unintelligible comments. If he's dating Tav, there's a LOT of solo Tav pics, mostly candid. He also has the advantage of 8 extra legs so he gets a lot of awesome angles for selfies. Captions are disturbingly devoted, really verging on creepy. Also a million fibre-craft videos and pictures. He goes through a sweater phase three times a year. It's strangely wholesome compared to everything else.

Raphael - OnlyFans. That's it.

Orin - body horror. Constantly being suspended for TOS violations and harassing people with weirdly sexual threats.

Gortash - Worse than Gale, Astarion, and Rolan COMBINED. MLM (multi-level marketing, you animals) mastermind.

Ketheric - exclusively passive-aggressive "parent of a no-contact child" memes.

Aylin and Isobel - That weird couple that shares social media accounts. Just the most disgustingly adorable coupley posts. Everyone hates them but is also super jealous. Power-couple goals.

Mol - She's too young to even have a social media account but somehow has one and it's a thriving online business????????????????? How?????? Go play outside.

The Emperor - Only MLM content. Occassional weird thirst traps. Mindflayer advocacy but make it toxic af.

Nere - he has one follower and its his mom.

Withers - the weirdest shit you've ever seen. All caps grandpa poster. He's the WORST at selfies. None of his pictures are in focus or centered. Constantly trashing on the Dead Three and responds to criticism with "get thee good" or some archaic bullshit.

Volo - tabloid central. Nothing he says can be trusted, yet he has a million followers who all believe his word to be gospel.

Elminster - total foodie blogger, especially cheese. He has an entire video series dedicated to cheese. Wrecks Gale at every opportunity. Shockingly good at photo-editing, will occasionally leave comments on other people's pictures of the SAME picture, but touched up better. It would be more insulting if he weren't actually really good.

~~~

Part 1 here!

Part 2 here!

Part 4

[lovinglokilaufeyson]

The Devil You Don't - A.A

Pairings: Spawn!Astarion x Fem!Reader (Mephistopheles Tiefling! Raphael’s Daughter)

Warnings: 18+, Abandonment by parent, Discussion on Loss of a Parent, BG3 Spoilers (set sometime in Act 2), Mutual Pining, Fluff, Angst, SMUT (P-in-V, Fingering), Past Trauma, Not Proofread

Wordcount: 1,971

Summary: You are Raphael’s daughter, who he disowned for her good nature. You are abducted from Baldur’s Gate and receive a tadpole in your head. You have bonded with Astarion, but you are not about to let him ask your father for help. As a reminder, Tav has just revealed to Astarion that she is Raphael’s daughter.

A/N: This is part 2 of “A Devil You Know” as was originally requested in my inbox for Raphael’s daughter reader, who comes off as naïve and innocent, despite a tragic past. If you haven’t read part one, and would like some more context to the story, please feel free to do so here.

Astarion stared in absolute disbelief as you revealed this information to him. “Darling, you can’t possibly be serious” Astarion attempted to brush off your declaration to him, but the glow of your eyes and the gritting of your teeth said otherwise. For the first time, Astarion was able to sense true, deep pain surging through you. It wasn’t something that he often saw coming from you. He had just been told some of the most heinous information in his life, and yet – here he was, more worried about you, presently. If he hadn’t known any better, you looked on the verge of transforming into a dangerous creature.

“Darling, I-” Astarion began to speak, moving closer towards you subtly. “Astarion, I get it. I understand if you don’t want me here anymore, I know I’m his daughter, but you have to know that he has completely and entirely disowned me. I am fairly convinced that the only reason he is following us around is to spite me, I don’t know.” You sputtered on, with Astarion cutting you off a moment later. “Hush, my love.” He was closer to you now, allowing him to place a finger against your lips so they would purse together and mute your words. “There are no explanations needed from you on this.” He released his finger, although you yearned for the fuel of his touch once again.

“It seems to me that my making a deal with Raphael would be the equivalent of you making a deal with Cazador, and darling, I could never let you do that. I’m not usually impressed by people, but you’re stronger than I gave you credit for.” He spoke, seemingly retracting his previous statements about your naivety. “I’m so sorry, my love.” The care in his heart had grown for you substantially within the last few moments. Astarion had judged you incorrectly upon first meeting. Yes, you were a ray of sunshine for him (although without destroying him) you were also that, but in spite of all of the struggles. He admired you for that, greatly.

Astarion lifted you with ease, carrying you to his tent. Although you initially thought that he wished to bed you this evening, his mind was far from that kind of intimacy. Astarion faced away from you on the bed roll, and you traced the vampiric scars that seemingly sealed his fate, while he asked you a variety of questions about your life, and a few about the ritual too. “How did you ever end up in his hands?”

“Well, it’s quite simple, really. My mother passed away, and Raphael was there, ready to take me with him. I know now that it was more than just a mere coincidence that he was there. He wanted to collect what was ��his’ in order to render himself more powerful.”

“How did your mother die?”

“He killed her.” Astarion’s heartstrings were tugged instantaneously from the thought of you, a young girl, witnessing her mother’s death, before being scooped up by your devil father. “He wanted power and thought that his child would give him the potential for more.”

“So, why did he leave you at that orphanage? Abandon you like that…” Astarion pondered.

“Well, it’s quite simple really. I was too good for him. Too naïve, too inexperienced, too… happy. He didn’t like that I didn’t want to be evil. That I couldn’t be persuaded to be, either.” Astarion peered back at you, enjoying greatly the way that your hands played along his back. “You know, initially I didn’t like that about you either” he joked, teasingly.

“Correct, but you didn’t abandon me at an orphanage.”

“I think I underestimated you, my dear.”

“Perhaps you did, Astarion.”

You switched sides now, cuddling into Astarion’s chest as his arm was wrapped around your form, tracing swirls into your arm with his delicate fingertips. You used your free hand to trace along his chest in various motions. “This is nice.” Astarion spoke suddenly, before clamping his hand over his mouth in embarrassment, his bloodless cheeks turning as red as they possibly could.

“It is nice, Astarion. I agree.” You spoke in a reassuring tone. “However, I think perhaps you’re deflecting from your issue at hand.”

“Oh, the whole, imminent death via a ritual by my evil vampiric master Cazador, that will kill me and my brothers and sisters and grant him godhood? Haven’t thought about it. Darling, he is very powerful.” Astarion spoke, a hint of sadness in his voice.

“I believe in us, more than anything, Astarion. We have overcome great things. We can overcome terrible ones, too. Cazador included.” Your hopefulness on the subject did have some effect on him, but despite that, he still felt sadness from what he had learned. Astarion was merely a pawn to Cazador, but there was a distinct difference now that he had a tadpole lodged in his cranium. He was the missing piece to Cazador’s puzzle.

And you were the missing piece to his.

You slid around, no longer facing him, but he kept his presence known, snuggling up against your backside, his torso flush against your back as he held you closer than he had ever held another. Subtly, you pressed your bum against his pelvis, ever so slightly. “Darling, are you teasing me?”

“Always.” You muttered back, pressing the slightest bit harder. “You cheeky little-” were the only words he used to respond, before nearly instantly slipping your nightgown over your butt. “No underwear either, pet? I know it’s been a while, but you truly are desperate, aren’t you?” He teased, tutting after he spoke.

“Only for you” you answered, which seemed to make Astarion quiver slightly. Only for him? He hadn’t ever had someone that was “his” before. If he was honest, he became jealous when you would stay up late studying with Gale. You said that Gale helped you perform your spells at an advanced level, and that it was for improved accuracy. Typically, these sessions with Gale would come after some sort of catastrophic failure during battle, when you would wound one of your own or the spell would fizzle out soon after casting. He also helped you maintain your concentration spells by testing you.

But confirmation that you were his? He could barely handle it.

“For me?” He spoke, with relative disbelief.

“Of course” you responded, leaving a delicate peck on Astarion’s cheek. The subtle tingling sparked by his nerves left him in awe. You two had been intimate before, but never in such a way. Astarion felt himself becoming timid, especially as the words left his lips “please, let me make love to you.” A small part of him internally cringed, but the other was proud of himself. Astarion wasn’t one to beg, but he had never wanted anything more.

You turned from your previous position so that you could face him. You brought a hand up and through his delectable pale curls, gazing longingly into his crimson irises. “I would love nothing more” you pecked his lips again, letting them linger this time, validating his wishes with your own.

You pulled away and merely nodded, ushering him to move forward. Almost hesitantly, Astarion persistent forward. You leaned upwards in order to slide your nightgown over your shoulders and across the tent, landing on the other side of the bedroll that you shared. “You look delicious, my love.” Astarion remarked, taking in the full experience of your form. He hadn’t truly realized how beautiful you were until this moment. He was so dissociated with his previous sexual escapades with you that he didn’t take the time to admire what was really in front of him.

“Darling, my Gods…” he muttered out as he nearly brought himself to pounce on you, quickly removing his own garments, kissing you feverishly. He broke the kiss a few times to undress, but he kept his eyes on yours persistently. He was with you, and he felt safe. He was so grateful for you. And as far as he was concerned, Raphael needed to watch his back. Any attempts for contact, he would regret.

Astarion focused his attention back to you now, rather than the destruction of the very man who you shared genes with. Astarion felt himself stammering around slightly, anxious to feel you around him again. Somehow, he felt like it would be different this time. His clothes were now scattered atop yours; his hard member being revealed teasingly. “Please, Astarion.” You moaned out, begging for his entrance inside of your canal.

Although he could hardly wait to be inside of you once more, he was also eager to tease. He pressed his index finger against your heat, moving it inside of you gently. He brought his thumb to flick against your clit, and you writhed in pleasure from his actions. “Fuck-“ you groaned as he flicked your nub once more, as you became even wetter than before.

“Astarion, please get inside of me” you begged. With this, he pressured his index finger in you further, and you groaned in response, looking up at him with a subtle smirk on his face. “Your dick, please.”

Astarion removed his finger now, understanding your eagerness. He took his erect member in his hand, guiding it to your vagina. At first he merely prodded the entrance, swirling his tip around it teasingly. Then, he pressed it within, and you gasped “I forgot how big you are.”

“It seems that it’s been far too long, then, my love.” With these words, he slid further in, until his tip reached the end of your canal, osculating your cervix. To this, you mewled from the pleasure. He made a similar groan in from the pleasure, as he felt your passage tighten around him. You took a breath, before he pulled out and pressed inwards again. He brought a finger downwards to play with your clitoris, hoping to provide more pleasure.

“Gods,” you pled once more, and Astarion began pumping in and out of you further, deeper, and faster than before as he felt his own climax building. You squeezed around him tightly, and he gazed down at your bouncing bosom before lifting his head upwards as his eyes rolled to the back of his head with ease from the sensation. He stared back down at you, watching as you panted, but looked back up at him with so much love and adoration in your eyes.

“How close are you, my sweet?” He pondered, and you frantically nodded back at him “so so close.”

“Me too, my love. Cum with me.” Astarion pumped in and out for a few more rounds, before the warm fluid coated your canal, with you squeezing around him, shaking, your own climax approaching steadily.

You writhed with pleasure as Astarion played with your bud still, the feeling of his juices flowing inside of you driving you over the edge. Your lips were soon met with Astarion’s, and you felt your heart flutter as he released, speaking those three little words, everyone’s favorite: “I love you.”

But he truly did mean it. He had never made love to someone before, nor feel so much for another. With you, he did. You felt the same as he did, so you repeated them back to him, “I love you, Astarion.” His name in your voice, following those words? He could’ve sworn he was starving all of his life before he met you. Like he had not truly lived.

You laid down in each other’s arms as you were before, left with slightly more marks from one another than you had previously. He brought another kiss to your lips, and you spoke after releasing “you just can’t keep your hands off of me, can you?”

“Never, my love. Not when you’re you, darling.”

[daisyofwaterdeep]

🎉🎉PREMATURE EJACULATION🎉🎉

I would leave the ask at that but I should probably clarify that I would die and go to heaven if you’d write how you think any of various bg3 boys would react to blowing their load wayyy too early <3 <3 ESPECIALLY the more experienced/older Gentlemen like Gale/Halsin/Gortash/Zevlor/Etc. !!!

now THIS is the stuff im fucking here for BLESS YOU TO THE ENDS OF THE EARTH AND BACK

I ended up doing Gale, Halsin, Gortash, Zevlor, Ketheric, and the king of one-pump-chumps, Raphael (*￣▽￣*)ブ

!NSFW!

Gale: He'll be so, so embarrassed. He'll try to keep going, pretending it didn't happen, fucking you with his overly sensitive and softening cock. When you notice that he's having...performance issues and stop him to ask what's wrong, he'll stumble out a slew of apologies and tell you that he got too excited. If you tell him that you find it incredibly erotic that he couldn't hold himself back, he'll be reassured (and also hard again in no time hghgh)

Halsin: Few things embarrass him in the bedroom, and cumming too quickly isn't one of them. As soon as he moans through his orgasm, he'll pull out and immediately replace his cock with as many fingers as he can fit in you, looking at you with love-dazed eyes as he fingerfucks his cum deeper inside of you. His agenda in the bedroom is to have you cum at least 3 times; once from his hands, once from his tongue, and once from his cock-- at the least. So he's fine letting his dick rest for awhile, because he's still got plenty he plans to do to you.

Gortash: He literally doesn't give a shit. He has no shame. He's a busy man and he doesn't have a lot of time for sex, so when he finally does get to fuck you, he doesn't try to stave off his orgasm. If he cums as soon as he slides into you, he doesn't care--he can't help that you feel so fucking good. And plus, it gives him an opportunity to eat his cum out of you, which just so happens to be one of his favorite things

Zevlor: As soon as it happens, he'll pull away. He'll try to isolate himself-- he just wants to leave. He had worried that this would happen, and it did. There's no way that an old man like him can please someone as young and energetic as yourself...But of course, you don't care in the slightest. Pull your hellrider close and lock your limbs around him so he can't escape. Tell him how you've never felt this beautiful and desired before, that perhaps you had doubts about being with him too, because he's just so handsome and clever and strong and perfect. But having him want you so much that he came almost immediately...you don't have any doubts any more. Tell him just how lucky and loved you feel in that moment, and kiss and hold him until he's ready for round two <3

Ketheric: He hasn't had sex in over a hundred years, did you really think he'd last long? Well, he's a proud man, and he thought he could still hold on for more than a few grinds of you in his lap. And he was doing a good job of it too, until you wrapped your arms around his neck and whimpered out that you loved him. Surprisingly strong arms pull you crushingly close as he jerks his hips roughly up into you, then he stills with a heavy sigh from his nose. You can sense that his pride's been wounded with the way he stays locked into place, not allowing you to move. Just hold him close, kissing anywhere you can reach as he silently works himself through his shame

Raphael: It's not his problem to deal with. He got what he wanted, and that's all that matters. A few pumps, a languid, showy moan, and he's rolling over and ready to take a nap. You can either lay there and resent him (he doesn't care, because he still got an orgasm out of it) or you can climb on top of him and make him fuck you properly (joke's on you because that's secretly what he wanted--to have you do all the work and to overstimulate him until he can't even speak). When dealing with a devil, the devil always wins.