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@debtorsfolly
#debtorsfolly independent, selective & mutuals only roleplay blog for RAPHAEL from baldur's gate iii. sensitive content will be present & tagged. 21+ only. est feb 2025. ⛧as loved by crow. ⛧
⛧ . . . a study in - faustian bargains, exceptional cunning, quick wit, theatrical performances, and premeditated patricide (allegedly).
-> carrd. | memes. | promo cred.
In the spirit of Sexual Sunday, feel free to send 💞 + any dirty questions you may have for them on anon, and they HAVE to answer honestly!
It was the thudding tail against stone that alerted him before the snarling, the cadence eerily matching Astrophel's rising heart rate. Every beat a drum against ribs, a warring tattoo that he could not quell, even if he wanted to. That was the kicker, the thing that made this all the more terrifying: he didn't want to stop.
The fear lit him up electric, and so did the pain of his body treated as nothing more than child's ragdoll, bones and muscle protesting the too sharp movements of the impossibly strong hand that did it all by first tugging at silvery curls spilling down the nape of his neck. His scalp burned, temples throbbed, and oh gods, so did his cock. It felt as if his heart had sunk down to his groin all of a sudden, every quick pulse felt in the base of his arousal.
His hands removed themselves from his own body and pressed palm flat against Raphael's broad chest. He was struggling, squirming against the position for merely a second when he felt the hint of something thick under his ass and grew still again save for the steady rise and fall of his chest as he tried to catch his stolen breath.
Astrophel's eyes were blown wide, pupils like saucers in the lush forest of his gaze. He dared to stare directly into the infernal gaze set upon him, and further still after only a beat of hesitation, did he dare to lower his right hand to gently fist his cock again. This.
This was what he had been doing.
He was canted backward just enough to leave space between their bodies, and to give full view of the way his trembling paw stroked the sensitive shaft with a slow, deliberate twist. Astrophel's breath caught in his throat but he pressed his lips together tightly, the breathy moan turning into a muffled hum instead.
THIS WAS HIGHLY UNUSUAL, YET TITILLATING. The frenzied thrashing of the fiendish tail against stone slowly evened out with every steadying breath Astrophel took. There was a dawning realization in the hellfire glow reflecting back at him in those forest eyes. Acceptance, hunger, desperation, determination.
"Aren't you lucky?" Raphael demurred, claws settling around the crest of each pale hip hovering over his lap. His hands were large enough to swallow up the globes of Astrophel's ass and grasp him firmly.
His tail then settled into twitching like a conductor's wand, directing the pace as his fiery grasp pulled sweet little fairy against his cock in a matching tempo. Deep, hard grinds directed by his hands.
"You would be a delicious treat for my incubus." Hot lips growled against the shell of a pointed ear, breath fanning through his curls. Leaning back once more to look down at that pale hand curled around the aching, dripping length between them, Raphael's forked tongue split to sweep over either side of his lips hungrily.
"Yet I'm the one playing with you."
Time slows for a moment, and the air becomes thicker. The master of the house is coming.
Yes, like that, Astrus, such a good boy, for me. I'll miss your pretty mouth…
The memory poured over Astrophel, honeyed and far too sweet for the likes of this hellish place. With it came guilt, sorrow, and another throb of desire, each a hot knife piercing him to the bone and even still he longed to settle into the rogue memory.
It would hurt but the sting could be dulled if he gave in and recalled the night before Astarion had left him. Astrophel knew exactly how to handle an arousal such as this and his mouth remembered it well.
Saliva pooled under his tongue and one hand lifted as if he might jerk his trousers up, but suddenly he was curling his fingers around his new prick and remembering the noise Astarion made each time Astrophel's tongue lapped up a bead of oozing pre-cum.
"Ah-" his toes curled in his boots, thighs strained. "Please, can I leave?"
Why was he even asking? He signed the contract, he should be free to go. Astrophel remained rooted in place, fist still around his cock as it drooled fat droplets of slick over his knuckles.
He was just beginning to feel truly scared, too, that he had done something really wrong here.
WHAT A DELIGHTFUL COCKTAIL FILTERING FROM THOSE SWEET PORES. It would almost be a shame to lose him when the contract ended. (If it ended.) That hunger played so deliciously with the guilt, the panic, the dread, the pain. Wrapped around it like a pretty bow there was shame, and that - well, that was that. The devil was well and truly interested in the pale moonlight spilling over his desk, its cock in hand.
Raphael's knuckles dropped away from his lips, clawed fingertips settling in his lap to adjust his own ever-growing interest subtly. His hips shifted in his chair, tail lashing with more insistence than ever before at his back. A moment's shuffling and lip curling realization that his interest was far too insistent to maintain a collected image settled over the devil.
A growl clawed its way up his throat, loud enough to startle and chillingly inhuman. In under a second he was leaning forward over his desk with his clawed fingers fisted in Astrophel's snowy waves of hair to twist him around to face him. Forcibly.
Their gazes locked, and Raphael was distantly aware that Astrophel's fingers had slipped on his cock as he was turned - the slightest stroke, purely by accident.
"You can leave." The cambion purred, his tone none of the fire and brimstone held in his ravenous gaze. "But may you?"
The elf was dragged over the surface of the desk, trousers completely ripped away when they caught on an ornament attached to the ornately carved side. The lithe creature's bare body slid over wood and scattered papers until he limply hung from dark-clawed and clenched fingertips by the scalp.
"No."
With that, Raphael sat heavily back in his desk chair, depositing Astrophel on his lap.
"Show me what you were doing in my office with your new toy, pet."
You could test it right here, right now. That voice, was it really his? Silky against his inner ear, a whisper of temptation that only served to make the situation worse. Before, he could hide the physical proof of his arousal with ease. It didn't mean the sensations were as easy to control but at least for the most part it didn't matter how wet he became, no one could tell. But this he could not hide. It wasn't as if he were gifted something too big, though it also wasn't as small as others he had seen before, either. He attempted to tie himself back up, but that required awkwardly letting his fingers dip down and lightly push the erection to a more comfortable position. This was a near impossible task as every little touch only made him harder. How the hells did men deal with this shit?! Exasperation had Astrophel huffing softly as he attempted instead to let his cock sit upward, curved just the smallest bit against his groin and belly. "I know what I am meant to do, I can do.. th-" oh, fuck. As if knock-kneed, Astrophel stumbled from his own wayward touch, the back of his legs striking the desk. A hand reached behind himself to catch the edge of the desk, the other following suit on the other side. His trousers, too loose to stay up, shifted down his thighs and awkwardly Astrophel was now biting back a whimper of a moan. He hadn't meant to man-handle himself into weeping pre-cum but there it was and it was honestly turning into a nightmare.
"H-how the hells do you get it to go down?!" he gasped. "Is this your doing?!"
OH HOW THE IVORY TOWER FALLS. On coltish legs the elf was stumbling about his office with poorly laced trousers and heady arousal perfuming the air. Not normally a scent that filled this office, Raphael mused idly, but Haarlep had solicited him in far less suitable venues than this and left behind far more substantial messes than Astrophel could possibly make with the pathetic thing now hanging between his thighs.
This wasn't his first time giving someone something they were missing. Dark amusement passed over the devil's face, though no laughter broke through the prison of his grinning teeth. He had far more decorum than that.
"Sensitive isn't it?" Raphael jeered, head tilting to watch the way Astrophel's body arced against the surface of his desk, those hungry hands scrabbling for any purchase they could find and tragically dislodging several quills and pots of ink.
"It's never been touched before. How have you gotten another man's to go down, little elf? You aren't an innocent little virgin, are you? I can hardly imagine your wedding dress was white…" The next words left in a low, rumbling growl. There was ink settling into his rug. He'd had that specially made. "When you were thirty-nine."
Not here, he chastised himself.
Fingers hovered for a moment longer, barely touching the laces, then curled inward until the bite of his nails left pink crescent moon welts in their wake. Astrophel's knuckles were bone white from the clench of his fists.
Everything about him felt taut, tight as the strings of a violin and perhaps, unfortunately, as easily played as well. Wasn't that how these things worked? His second, his most loyal advisor among the men in his guild, had been quick to point this out. Astrophel had never meant to expose his plan to anyone but if there was one person alive that could pull a secret from him it was Vinharel.
"If you do this then you know you must be vigilant, look for the loopholes, for the ways you can be cheated."
Astrophel stepped closer to the desk, to the impressive figure sat behind it, and cocked his hip, a stance befitting of someone used to getting his way. Never mind that this version of Raphael was physically larger, was more frightening even if he were still attractive, Astrophel was good at adopting an expression of ease.
It was just too bad he had already shown his cards a moment before.
"So it works? Anatomically it is fully functioning? There are no hidden clauses on how or when it functions?" he had read the contract three times through, but still... he had to at least inspect it.
It was no different than having asked for a blade in return, or an ability to cast a particular spell. Astrophel turned his back to Raphael and took a breath before setting his fingers to working his laces loose.
Just a peek, that was all he wanted, but when he drew the waist of his trousers open the mere sight of his new appendage made something in him suddenly bloom.
Oh.
It was getting thicker, visibly, and he could feel the swell, the pulse of his blood hot and quick to sink low in his gut. Gods, why was looking at his own cock turning him on?!
IT COULDN'T WAIT UNTIL THE ELF LEFT HIS OFFICE? OF COURSE NOT. The attempts at restraint were watched with what the unobservant might think to be a quizzical eye. Amusement bloomed where once boredom made a home, causing Raphael's wings to spread wide behind him where he sat, and his thighs to shift to a more open position. Getting comfortable in his seat for the oncoming performance, no doubt.
Certainly not to make room should a naughty elf decide his own hands weren't enough to explore the boon he'd unlocked with their agreement.
Peeling his hands away from his desk to draw the knuckles of one up against his lips, breaths drawing in deep the tantalizing scents of fear and arousal flooding his office, Raphael gestured to Astrophel's back. He may not have seen what was happening, but he heard it. He can smell it. The cambion's tail lashed behind him lazily.
"The only stipulation is that to keep it, you must complete your contract." The devil reminded, his words pointedly weighted. "Which should not be difficult for an assassin of your particular skill set. I am nothing if not fair."
The weight of it was the first thing he noticed. It wasn't uncomfortable, but it was a new sort of pressure that was unexpected enough that he nearly fell back into the chair he had just stood up from.
A hand touched gingerly at the lace of his leathers. Astrophel's spring gaze remained fixed on the devil before him, but there was a flighty sort of energy to the look.
He wanted to.. no, he needed to see it, but he was nervous.
"Is it... is it done, then?" it sounded thick coming off his tongue, dumb.
@debtorsfolly
YET ANOTHER CONTRACT SIGNED, AND ANOTHER LOOSE END TIED UP. The master of the house sat - no, loomed - in his office chair on the other side of his desk, fingers curling to dismiss his new debtor's contract to his vaults in a burst of flame. A burning gaze trailed over the elf before him, watching pale fingers flutter over the apex of lean and muscular thighs. Amusement taunted the corners of Raphael's lips upwards, hands folding over the top of his desk.
"You signed. Per our agreement, you have exactly what you asked for." His voice rumbled, a brow ticking upwards. "You're welcome to see for yourself that I'm not lying. I can see you're desperate to get your hands on yourself already."
@rotblooded cont. from here.
NAUGHT STIRRED IN THE HOUSE OF HOPE, NAUGHT BUT A LITTLE MOUSE. Raphael had not expected to find anyone in his House when he'd entered his boudoir after a particularly fruitful day of contract writing. There had been not a painting nor paper out of place. No reports of an intruder or unannounced debtor paying him a visit. So color him terribly surprised when he entered to the sounds and scent of sex - Haarlep's ever familiar moans no matter the voice ringing in his ears - only to hear a dying shriek and be confronted with a vile rodent playing where he was not invited.
Bhaal's rodent, to be exact.
The devil's words fizzled out on his infernal tongue, eyebrows quirking in a mixture of surprise and barely contained rage. He would be forced to Cania to retrieve the little beast again, and thereby condemned to his father's judgement and scrutiny. Really, if anyone would play by the rules, none of these inconveniences would be necessary to endure.
With an angry brandishing of very human fingertips and a dramatic twist, there was a seven foot tall cambion standing opposite Zareth. His disdain for this disrespect was twisted in rage and retribution across his devilishly handsome face.
A whip-like crack sounded as Raphael's crimson tail smacked against the stone floor, infernal gaze assessing the situation spread between himself and Zareth smeared in his incubus' blood. "My, my, little mouse." He hissed, muscles tense with his aggravation. "What big teeth you just had."
The little creature fluttering into his arms as if this were merely a game had a soul so vile that the devil paused, his lips twisting in a hungry smirk. If this fool wanted to play after what he had wrought, who was he to deny him? He would have his pound of flesh. And more. Raphael held up a finger and pressed it to the tip of the little elf's nose to capture his attention.
"If we're to play games, my dear intruder, there must be rules. We wouldn't want to reach a premature end, would we?"
top/bottom/switch and why
Ascended Raphael
Stares directly at him and pushes the wine bottle off the table.
@totyranny is trying my patience.
IT HAD BEEN AMUSING THE FIRST HUNDRED TIMES. The defiance with which Enver struck out had always been so juvenile as to be laughable. The inconvenience overshadowed by the undercurrent of fear and resentment wafting from his most amusing young debtor. Damned by his parents, this child thought to defy him even when he was sick with terror over his predicament. Perhaps, Raphael thought, he'd been too lenient in his punishments. Not wanting to break such a deliciously unmarred toy, he hadn't quashed these hot streaks of rebellion. There was so much misery to be eked from one so young. It may one day be a problem.
As of now it was merely becoming a nuisance. The thousandth time was nowhere near as amusing as the first hundred. Dark claws pressed into the parchment he'd been reading - a freshly drafted contract - at the sound of the sudden crash. Raphael's lips, once calmly settled in pleasure over a recent success, twisted in a cold snarl. Tail flicking, irritable golden eyes locked on the Infernal Mason tucked in a corner of the room where they'd been sharing what he'd thought to be a pleasant dinner. The Mason jerked into action, a rag in hand.
He was first forced to bleed into the carpet, tightly grasping shards of glass as they were plucked from the rug. He wasn't allowed to keep his pain private, lips a-quiver with whimpers and senseless babble. When all of the glass was removed, the rag pressed into the growing stain to soak it up. Next, of course, he would be forced to drink from the rag...
Raphael's gaze snapped to Enver, contract lowered to the table with a quiet rustle. "Do you feel better?" It was hardly a question; more a threat. "Or did you need something?"
youre cute i wanna torture you
you'll have to kill me, then~ (from a very sassy archfey!sylverian >:3)
@feyrevelry has initiated CONFLICT.
SOMETHING WAS OUT OF PLACE WHEN HE RETURNED TO THE HOUSE. Several somethings, in fact. Destroyed dishes littered a table left as etermal temptation for debors and a welcome gift for potential ones. Soft satin robes rested in a gravy-soiled pile on a rug before the fireplace. The ward keeping the incubus contained was gone, and Haarlep was preening with charming maliciousness glinting in their eyes in the doorway to the boudoir. It would have been sorely tempting to wipe the contentedness and smeared food from their form if so many objects around the House of Hope weren't so carelessly displaced. None in his charge would do such a thing.
Raphael stayed the hand of punishment for Haarlep - the treacherous beast would receive his ire later. No, upon searching himself as if grasping for a missing coinpurse, he located the hand that dared violate his realm in the dungeons. A careless and enchanting little thing creeping around bereft of clothes and common sense. Raphael's eyebrow ticked in amusement moments before he snapped his fingers to reappear behind his nudist intruder.
"Well, well..." His voice carried in a dark drawl, filling the flame-heated air of the dungeons with his physical presence. The prey had its face pressed between the bars containing a disobedient warlock, one contracted to him long before taking a golden fey patron. "You have plundered the den and reveled in what is not yours. What is a dragon to do when its hoard has been so thoroughly violated?"
A sharp yelp followed his malevolent introduction, followed swiftly by a near deafening metallic hum when a prety golden head slammed into the bars in its haste to whip around to see Raphael mere feet away. Blue eyes flashed wide, dark pupils rapidly shrinking in fear. Sylverian did not physically cow - no, he grinned in unearned confidence, but the air reeked of fear. The cambion before him breathed it in like sweet perfume, clawed fingers passing between his impressive crown of horns to smooth already perfect hair.
"You'll have to kill me then~." The little elf's cocky response was laughable. It was clear he was terrified of the seven foot tall beast now pinning him in a blazing golden glare.
Raphael's responding laugh and the speed with which he had Sylverian by the throat with the heat of hellfire licking just beneath the surface and heating his palm to a near unbearable temperature were dichotomously chilling. The audacity of this little creature had his fangs bared, claw-tips drawing blood against pale skin marred by his incubus' love marks. It thought it got the dignity of death? There was so much worse waiting for him.
"Perhaps." The devil snapped, twisting Sylverian's head roughly enough to cause whiplash to gaze at the warlock dripping blood in a trough at the back of the cell he'd been gazing so longingly into. "But then I would never know what possessed you to wander naked into my dungeon after raiding my home. Come now."
Crimson fingers clenched harder, choking the breath from that delicate neck for just a moment before loosening. Jerking the diminutive fey up against the blazing heat of his chest, Raphael growled. "Fess up, why don't you?"
,-'^'~-.,,.-~ 🎀 𝒴🌺𝓊 𝒸𝒶𝓃'𝓉 𝓇𝑒𝓈𝒾𝓈𝓉 𝓂𝑒 💓 🎀 ~-.,,.-~'^'-,
@dvilsdesire is naughty, naughty.
CRIMSON CLAWS DUG INTO THE TENDER BRIDGE OF HIS NOSE. Raphael was, of course, used to these antics from Haarlep. Even so they succeeded in exasperating him. It may have been a handwritten note, but he knew the incubus was listening. Intently, as he always was.
"Have you already grown bored of your other toys?" His sigh was as dramatic and overblown as his gesture for the doorway. "Why don't you go find him ( @fiendishfinesse ), hm? I'm more than occupied at the moment."
i already think this dramatic ass narcissistic devil is going to be the death of me.
My, my. Finally, someone worth my time. Tell me, dear, do you taste as divine as I imagine?
@fiendishfinesse is such a handsome devil.
THIS INTOXICATING VOICE WAS NOT HAARLEP. Haarlep's words were honeyed, dancing like enchanted letters into the ear of any who dared to listen. The incubus he could resist... from time to time. These words were decidedly not that. There was a delicious edge to them, sharp and cunning, that only ever made a grand exit from Raphael's powerful maw. This he could not resist. This was the soul binding sound of his own voice.
How this had come to be hardly mattered to him. Not when he rounded to find himself face to face with his own flawless visage. No, not a lascivious thing wearing his face as a distraction, and not a mirror either. This was a perfect copy of himself. Flesh and blood with the same eyes and devilishly charming smile. There was no concealing the pleasure curling this Raphael's lips as he appraised his most welcome guest with an unquenchable appetite already settling low and achingly ravenous in the gut.
What joy to see himself, and for it to be no farce, no game, just a handsome devil who shared his name.
"Look at you." Raphael purred, one worshipful hand producing itself before him in a generous flourish, held out in simultaneous invitation and temptation. "And look at me." The other pressed over his own sternum, fingertips curled as if he wished to wrap them around his own infernal heart in delight.
"Not even my own imagination is a match for this. What a grand experiment it'll be - to taste myself, to be tasted by me."
