Something something, referring to this, and using his chain as leverage
You’re riding Raphael, hands splayed across his plastron and curling your fingers into him because his cock is hitting so deep and he’s so big you feel like he’s settled right in your stomach
But it’s not enough and you need more
So you slide one hand up to his neck and loop a finger around the jewelry to tug him to you.
And he so easily complies, gripping your waist tighter as he sits up and meets your mouth for a sloppy kiss, helping you bounce on him while you suck each others tongues and lick into each others mouths.
He thinks it’s so fucking sexy of you to guide him like that, growling into your mouth as he fucks you harder and even gives a harsh slap to your ass.
He mumbles about how next time he’s gonna have you wear it instead
But for now he focuses on how you’re squeezing him, moaning and whining at every thrust of him
Hcs on being fwb with the 07!turtles (separately) except they're in love and you're not
Tags: 2007!tmnt x reader, friends with benefits, angst for days, reader is stupidly avoidant, gn!reader, unrequited love, guilttt, no mention of fwb activities but ykwim, not proofread
Raph
Agreeing to be more than friends but less than lovers with Raph is filled with angst. Why wouldn’t it be? Raph is on the possessive side and has an inclination towards keeping you for himself. However, the whole agreement is made before Raph gets too attached. Because of his responsibilities, lack of want of something that would tie him down when he’s busy, and inability to keep consistent contact with a significant other, the two of you agree that what you have is strictly just for the benefits and not something that needs constant maintenance. This way, Raph is more comfortable being half in and half out with his commitment at all times and you, with your equally bad commitment issues, can rest assured that you won’t need to deal with a clingy boyfriend 24/7 and only get the good sides of a relationship.
Raph is likely to start a fwb contract, be completely fine with it for the first couple months, then start to feel the nasty feelings of regret and jealousy creep in around month 5. He lasts longer than you’d think before his feelings catch up. You come to him when you want attention and physical comfort and things you can’t get from a normal friend and he starts to dislike the thought of you being close to anyone else.
He’s confusing, definitely sends a tonnn of mixed signals and gets frustrated when he can’t deal with his own feelings. Never texted you much at the start, but now he sends ‘where are you’s and ‘goodnight, thinking about you’s like a drunk ex and gets bitter and ashamed when you chastise him for not sticking to the rules you agreed to (one of them being not to text like a couple because it grosses you out).
Raph finally understands with time that he needs to sort his shit out and with that comes the understanding that he doesn’t want to be just friends with benefits with you anymore. He’s super intense at the start, but it peters out into longing stares and wistful hugs when you come over.
Little does poor Raph know, you can tell that he’s getting weirdly clingy with you and you don’t like it. You’ve always been the avoidant type, you have trouble with maintaining a moderate level of attachment to someone. There’s always the feeling of latent disgust when it comes to situations where you have to be vulnerable, but you’ve learned over time that you can control your feelings and that distance is the best way to keep things neutral on your end. Avoidance sparks up quick if you’re not careful. Raph’s clinginess makes you want to avoid him, and you very slowly start to ignore his texts and keep the more-than-friendly interactions to a minimum.
Raph lets his actual emotions slip one night on your fire escape…
“Sweetheart, listen,” Raph began before you cut him off.
“Look, I was serious when I told you not to show up. I’ve got shit to do, and my roommate’s home and you just can’t be here right now. I don’t have time for this.”
Raph ducked under the half-open window, shell knocking against the frame as he stepped into your room. You look up at him reluctantly. His face was shadowed, the rim of his shell caught the moonlight and left him with a soft white outline. His soft gaze was on your face. A hint of sadness flickered in his eyes and you wanted to avoid this altogether. “You don’t get it. I just wanna talk. No funny business, just a conversation. You can give me that, right?” Raph sounded almost pleading, but not quite. You ducked your head to break eye contact after a second.
“I already told you,” you started quietly, “I don’t have time.”
Raph frowned, taking another step closer and reaching out to touch your face. Your hand immediately flew up to hold his wrist. The two of you were held in suspense. “You been avoidin’ me.”
“No I haven’t.” You responded defensively. Raph stroked his thumb over your cheek and you pushed his hand away.
“See? You’re avoidin’ me right now. You won’t look me in the face. What, you don’t like what you see? You don’t want this anymore?”
You went to protest, but Raph cut you off. His voice got slightly more heated. “You’ve been doin’ this for weeks. Look at me, why won’t you just-“
“Raph, I need you to leave. We’ll talk later. Please don’t do this right now.”
“I can’t. You won’t respond to my fuckin’ texts.” The red turtle huffed, frowning and looking down as his tone got more frustrated. “You’ve been leavin’ me on read. What’s with that, huh? I just wanted to see you. I seem to recall us agreeing that’s allowed, right?”
“I’ll text later, okay? I will. Why do you have to push it? God.”
“Because I love you.” The sound of a passing car was all that filled the air as Raph looked at you with intent. Your eyebrows pinched together. You felt nauseous. You hadn’t wanted it to come to this. Raph had naively hoped his words you tug somewhere in your heart and get you to feel the same way about him, and he was wrong. Your fatal flaw was once you’d distanced yourself, you couldn’t undo it.
“Don’t say that. Please, don’t say that.”
Raph sighed. “Why not.” His voice was gravelly, and he took another step forward. You took a step back, looking at him with an expression he couldn’t place, but made his stomach churn uncomfortably. His worst fear had been seeing that look on your face. You steeled your expression, and the only words that left your mouth made Raph regret ever coming over. You didn’t want to hurt him, but you couldn’t give him false hope, either.
“We should end this.”
Raph sucked in a sharp breath. His expression fell and a look of bitter acceptance rolled over it. Without a word, he backed away to the fire escape and left with a single, dejected look back.
Leo
The most likely to get caught up in a fwb situation. His responsibilities as the leader give him little time to put effort into a relationship. But also, Leo’s a coward. He runs and hides from his problems and in a relationship he feels like he’d be no different. However, Leo is also very respectful and doesn’t want to lead anyone on, which leads him to the person he trusts the most when it comes to stuff like this: you. Leo is kind of annoying to decide rules for your arrangement with, because he will butt in and change stuff up and give you minimal opportunities to put your own rules down.
Leo is hot. Sometimes his attitude adds to his appeal. You and Leo find it easy to be friends with benefits, way easier than you expect and it goes on for around a year before your dynamic starts to change. Leo is probably the one that can hold out the longest before catching feelings. Instead of a gradual realisation, Leo is smacked in the face with the fact that he loves you and couldn’t imagine his life without you in it.
You’re unintentionally the best partner he could think of; you support him as a leader, you prefer your own time alone but when you’re with him you fill a hole in his heart with your actions, overall you’re ever present without suffocating him. Leo grows to love this about you and feels like if it’s with you, he could make a relationship work. You, on the other hand, are acting as you usually would with a friend (outside of your private hangouts obvi).
Leo misconstrues everything you do. He takes your affection to be reciprocating his own feelings and doesn’t stop to think that it’s just part of your arrangement as more-than-friends. Once he realises he likes you like that, he feels entitled to your time. He gets pent up and bitter over his own feelings and agonises for a long time over every little action you do. Leo makes the mistake of thinking the feeling’s mutual after he realises he likes you and that’s what undoes your arrangement.
You somehow fixed Leo’s avoidant issues, but what about yours? Things are completely fine until Leo starts getting sappy outside your designated hangout time. Leo is a little corny and wants to be all soft and sweet with you all the time, which throws you off really fast. What’re you meant to feel when he calls you ‘love’ all casual-like in front of his brothers before a mission? You pull away insanely quick. For a while you think you can handle it, that Leo will come to his senses, but it just gets worse with time.
Eventually, you both end up arguing…
You weren’t prepared for Leo to say what he did when he called you down to the lair. You were in the dojo with the doors locked. His brothers were asleep. It was late, and you’d only come down because Leo had begged over text, which was unusual for him even with his behaviour lately. Leo was all over you, hands set on your waist and hot breath mingling with yours as he sat with you. You leaned into the palm of his hand instinctively. He’d been normal so far. It looked like all he’d wanted was someone to be close to tonight. It was one of those rare nights off, the few times Leo was left with his own thoughts and couldn’t channel his energy into meditation or training. Everything was fine until he moved to kiss your cheek. You frowned. Then, your temple. He kissed the tip of your nose, between your eyes, and then over your closed eyelids.
“You’re pretty, know that?”
You didn’t say anything, ducking your gaze as he caressed the nape of your neck and kissed your forehead. He exhaled shakily, nudging your cheek with his snout.
“God, I love you.”
You froze the second you heard the words slip. You internally cursed. Any relief you’d felt at his previous actions dissipated. You had been fooled for a second into thinking everything was fine, that the normal, cocky, teasing Leo had been back, but then he turned into this. His softness scared you. You didn’t know how to handle it. Discomfort shot through you, crawling up your spine and jerking you away from the leader in blue. Leo looked at you in confusion.
“What’d you say?”
Leo’s eyes flickered over your face, brow furrowed.
“I love you. Is that not-“
“Leo, tell me you’re fucking with me.”
“I’m not, I’m being… serious… is there something wrong?” Leo shifted in an attempt to get closer and you backed away again, shuffling until your back hit the wall.
“You do know what we agreed on, right?”
Leo’s gaze suddenly went a little more steely and he seemed to understand what was happening. He looked conflicted, like he couldn’t quite reconcile with what was going on. “Yeah. But you’ve been giving me these signs.”
“No, I haven’t.” You looked at him with a look of what Leo could only describe as fear, like you were afraid you’d accidentally led him on. You had a good heart and had never wanted anything like this to happen, and mentally kicked yourself for not ending your arrangement the second you caught onto Leo’s odd behaviour.
“You’re telling me, what, that it was all in my head?”
“If that’s how you understand it.”
Leo stared at you, a serious, solemn look cast over his features. He bowed his head and you sighed. You needed to leave.
Mikey
Surprisingly least likely to enter a friends with benefits contract. He’s very upfront with his emotions so you’re more likely to actually wind up in a relationship with Mikey than any other kind of dynamic. He’s more boyfriend material than fwb material. However, if he gets caught up in the moment, he might find himself in the most gut wrenching, messed up, emotional situationship of all time. This sweet guy ends up in a more than friends but less than lovers position with you when he crashed at your place after working all day and woke up to you trying to pull the blanket that had fallen off the couch back over him. He ends up being too awkward to mention anything about your relationship after you both establish a fwb situation.
Mikey doesn’t necessarily like confrontation, which is why him not saying anything drags on for a month longer than he wanted it to. He realises he likes you more than he should 4 months in, and spends a month trying to figure out the best way to bring it up without messing up the dynamic you have.
You care about Mikey with your whole heart, and getting into the agreement was a spur of the moment thing after he’d pulled you in to kiss him that night on your couch. You always get caught up in the adrenaline rush you get with Mikey, but you know full well your feelings aren’t romantic. Mikey is funny and makes you smile, but you don’t think about anything more. Your obliviousness is what becomes you guys’ downfall.
Mikey tries to devise all kinds of plans on how to bring it up, and Leo has walked in on the orange turtle pacing back and forth muttering to himself about it before. Mikey doesn’t want you to abandon your friendship entirely and is stuck in a sort of decision paralysis about it.
You only notice Mikey’s change in attitude towards you when he starts acting sheepish. He tries hard to act normal, but that ends up being what gives him away. You don’t recognise that he’s being weird with you because he likes you, but when he starts casually bringing up hypothetical situations and spending more time actually lost in thought when he’s with you instead of being as carefree as he usually is, you start to suspect something.
You try to convince yourself it’s nothing and that Mikey’s just done something and is scared to tell you in case you get mad (which isn’t far off) but that leads you nowhere. Mikey’s sudden awkwardness makes you feel awkward and you begin to distance yourself before you know it. You’re a contradictory person, and showing affection was fine till now because you didn’t believe there was anything between you. The second stuff starts to get for reals, you flee.
You hang out with him in the van one evening and Mikey finally cracks…
You lounged on the passenger seat of the van, leaning against the door with your back against the window and your eyes on Mikey. Mikey was in the same position, leaning against the driver-side door and looking right back at you. You’d seen that almost bashful, playful expression a thousand times and it lessened the feeling of unease that had been churning in your stomach for a while.
“What?”
“I’m just lookin’. Got a problem?”
You snort, shaking your head as Mikey’s foot nudges your knee. “Nope. What’re we doing, though? I’m assuming you had an agenda for after you drove us back.”
The two of you had been on a late night drive. Snacks, movie in the back of the van and music on the radio. Mikey had parked down the usual alley by your apartment once the evening was over, window wipers swaying back and forth on the van’s window to swipe away the pouring rain. In retrospect, that should’ve been an indicator that thing’s weren’t going to go the way Mikey wanted. Pathetic fallacy or something.
“Uhhh, about that.” Mikey shrugged. “I have no clue, dude. Actually... Oh, ooh, I just remembered, I forgot to ask how your interview went! Yeah, let’s go with that.” He waved his hand with a flourish, indicating you should speak. You grinned, leaning an elbow against the dashboard as you launched into the story. You’d messaged Mikey a week ago about the interview and the orange turtle had somehow remembered. That, if anything, should've been a bigger indicator. You got more energetic as you explained all the details the fancy office building had, the ridiculous number of plants the interviewer had in her office, and the annoying forms you had to fill. Mikey exhaled, worry leaving his mind as he watched you talk and sketch out shapes in the air with your hands. The awkwardness left his mind completely. He had a loving look in his eyes as he looked at you. When you took a second to laugh at the absurdity of your interview and how you were better off applying somewhere else, Mikey sighed dreamily.
“I love you.”
It felt like all your blood was drained out of your body. Your stomach twisted violently and you dropped your gaze.
“Are you serious?”
Mikey seemed to realise what he’d said, and considered backtracking, but knew it was all or nothing now. “I- well- yeah. I mean it. I like you. Like-like you. Love you. It’s whatever.”
“No, it isn’t. This wasn’t meant to-“ You sighed, pinching the bridge of your nose in confusion and frustration. You hoped this would never happen. You refused to look up, not wanting to see Mikey’s expression slowly but surely turn into one of anxiety. His smile had dropped. You felt discomfort and guilt flush through your system.
“What?”
“I can’t, Mikey. We can’t. I’m gonna go, ‘kay? I’m gonna go.” With that you turned and pulled on the door handle, shouldering your bag and slamming the door shut behind you. Mikey was left to watch your figure turn into a blur in the rain, heart shattered.
Donnie
He has no idea how he got into this situation, but he’s taking it. As the mediator of his brothers, Donnie is very in tune with his emotions so you wouldn’t expect him to get swayed that quickly. Statistically, he knows that fwb arrangements usually end with one or both parties falling for the other and all kinds of drama that he is nottt about to deal with, but one look at your face and he can’t help himself.
Falls for you embarrassingly quick. It’s ridiculous how quickly he realises he’s in love with you (though that may be because he’s not as emotionally constipated as his brothers). It takes this fella 2 months to figure his shit out and he does a better job of hiding it from you at the start.
Donnie is Donnie though, and he can only handle so much without letting something slip. He starts feeling guilty and then shy and awkward and a number of other feelings he’s not prepared for. He can’t calculate the outcome if he does confess to you and he’s straight up terrified of variables he can’t control. If he thinks there’s even a minute chance of this messing up your friendship or starting drama among the team he won’t confess. But he’s emotionally mature enough to know that he can’t avoid his troubles and give up forever; he does try to throw himself into work for a while, but to no avail.
You also start to figure it out when Donnie figures his own feelings out. You didn’t notice a thing at first and you had no problem being touchy and affectionate with him, but the second his gaze got a little too soft and he got a little too touchy in front of the others you knew something was up.
You don’t want to distance yourself, but Donnie of all people feeling something for you freaks you out because you don’t want this to go wrong. You don’t like him the way you suspect he likes you and you had gone into this on the assumption that Donnie would be more proficient with controlling his own emotions. Clearly not. You have to lie to yourself and tell yourself you’re just imagining things for you to be able to keep up your arrangement.
Donnie stalks your every move. He knows he’s being weird and acting out, and the fact that he’s monitoring you tells him his feelings are deeper than he’d suspected, but he can’t stop himself. He assesses your typing speed, the frequency of emojis you use in each text thread, how dilated your pupils get when you’re alone with him, your heartbeat when you both hang out, the inflection in your voice, how often you contact him first and anything else he can, all to try to get the best possible assessment of whether you like him back or not.
You’re in the lab with him when he finally confirms your fears…
You sat in Donnie’s lap, back flush with his plastron as you mindlessly scrolled on your phone. The purple turtle had pulled you onto his lap the second he locked the lab door and had you alone. His forearm was strapped around your middle. He wasn’t usually so decisive with his actions, but tonight it looked like he was stressed and decided he needed the physical contact. You heard his heavy sigh and turned your head as best you could.
“Don? Need help?”
Donnie hummed lowly as though considering your offer, before nodding. He kissed the junction where your shoulder met your neck and you shivered at the unexpected contact. He let you slip off his lap, standing up himself to stretch his legs and sort through his schematics. He handed you a screwdriver and dragged over a stool for you to sit on. He sat back down on his own chair, facing you and holding the piece of tech he was working on between his knees to hold it steady. You sat down on the stool, facing him expectantly.
“I just need you to unscrew that screw there. My hands keep bumping the opening. I think yours should be able to reach...”
“Gotcha. This one?”
“Yeah. It’s fiddly.”
Donnie watched your face morph into one of intense focus as you found the minuscule screw Donnie had been referring to and the way your other hand brushed his as you stabilised yourself and angled the screwdriver. Your lashes cast shadows on your cheeks and he found himself lost in the moment. He didn’t mean to whisper his feelings the way he did, but regardless, as he looked at you, he couldn’t stop himself.
“I love you.”
You paused. Your hand knocked the sharp corner of the opening in the machine Donnie was holding still and you hissed, retracting your hand and dropping the screwdriver with a clatter to the floor. Your hand stung and you suddenly felt sick. “What’re you saying? Fuck, Donnie, don’t do this to me right now.”
Donnie immediately tried to backtrack. “I- I wasn’t- I didn’t mean to say that. Well, I did, I do mean it, but I wasn’t planning on telling you like that. Is your hand hurt? I’m sorry, let me see, please.“
You pulled your hand away from his outstretched one and abruptly stood up. Donnie faltered. He knew he shouldn’t have said anything. You gave him a look that squeezed the muscle of his heart and dropped it down into his stomach.
“Are you insane? We agreed no feelings. No feelings, Donnie! What happened to ‘I don’t like you like that’?”
Donnie stared at you. He was starting to grasp the gravity of the error he’d just made. Your tone was full of stress, it was evident you were freaking out over his words. You had been under the impression you could trust him not to pull anything like this when you agreed on being friends with benefits, but it looked like that wasn’t happening. You hated hurting feelings. With one last look at Donnie and a shake of your head, you turned and marched out of the lab.
A/N Lil angst to get you through the week. The 15-something-k Bay Donnie fic is so close to being done and I'm lowkey procrastinating everything else while I finish that one but here's this!
Taglist: @symbiosae
Hiii saw requests were open, could we have 2012 raph x reader with reader showing up to his room one day because they’re close and need emotional support? (Mind you he’s never been good at that) Thanks in advance hope you’re doing well!
Calm After the Storm
a/n: hey anon! sorry this took me so INCREDIBLY long... I was having so much trouble figuring out how I wanted to end this.... but I DID IT!!! YAY!!!
warnings: none really? mild angst/hurt i guess?
this work has been cross-posted to Ao3
You shielded yourself from the rain that poured out of the sky with your jacket, barely holding back unshed tears as you trekked through the wet concrete jungle. You'd just had probably one of the worst days of your life.
Every little thing that could've gone wrong did, and on top of that you were exhausted and achey. You decided, right as a car drove by and splashed water all over you, that you were done living in a cliche tragedy movie. You needed a distraction.
You entered the lair. It always smelt pretty bad in here, but the people occupying the space made the stench worth dealing with.
You climbed up and down stairs, finding your way to Raph's room and knocking on the door. You stared at the stop sign pasted to the door. After a moment you heard a sigh, and a call from inside. “Come in…”
You pushed open the door, eyes downcast before you lifted them up to look around. Raph was setting down a dumbbell on the floor of his room, glancing back at you and looking you up and down. “Wow… You look terrible.”
“Yeah, thanks.” You sighed, the tone of your voice less playful than you meant it to be. You almost missed the shift in his expression.
You shrugged off your soaked jacket and slipped off your shoes, before walking over to his bed and flopping down onto it. He stood there staring at you for a moment, as if unsure what to do with himself, before stepping closer and hesitantly sitting down on the edge of his bed, facing away from you slightly.
“...What's got you like a wet blanket?” He asked.
“Rough day.”
“Oh.”
It was quiet again. You didn't really think anything of it, but to Raph it was maddening.
“So… Uh…” He started, patting his thighs restlessly, “...You wanna punch somethin’...?”
You turned your head to look up at him, a confused and questioning look on your face. “What…?”
“I dunno. Usually helps me when I’m havin’ a rough day.”
You stared at him silently for a moment. “...No… I just…” your voice cracked. You sucked in some air, burying your face back into the covers of his bed, ignoring how doing so made it hard to breathe. “I just… I-I need a hug.”
He stared at you again. The way your voice trembled with the effort it took to keep yourself from breaking down made something twist in his chest. God, he was terrible with this kind of thing. He didn’t know what to say. “Uhm… Alright.” He shifted, facing more towards you and patting your shoulder, a bit nervously—unsure. “C’mere…”
You looked back up at him, his figure blurry through the tears that found their way into your eyes. You sat up, scooting over to him and collapsing against him. You buried your face into his shoulder, feeling his arms carefully wrap around you, and allowed yourself to finally cry. He stroked your back as you sobbed, his movements a bit sloppy and uncoordinated, but you couldn’t care less.
He awkwardly carded his fingers through your hair (If you have any. Y’know.), blankly staring at the wall. He was so bad at this. So incredibly, embarrassingly, miraculously bad at this.
He was… okay at comfort. Okay in the ‘hit you over the head and tell you to get over yourself’ way. But this was different. He had to be… gentler. It was weird, made him feel weird. So weird.
He’d practiced! He’d practiced being softer. Gentler. Just for you. It was weird and out of his element, but he tried to treat it as if he was taking care of Spike. It was just like that, wasn’t it? It was easy to be gentle with Spike, so surely it would be easy to be gentle with other people when they needed it, too… right?
Of course not. Of course it was nothing like that. People were so much different, and it was so, so hard to be gentle with them sometimes. And by sometimes I mean a lot of the time. But anyways, he was tough. He could manage. He could totally manage. Totally.
He wasn’t at all having any doubts or worries whatsoever right now. Not a single one. Not one about if he was doing this whole comfort thing right, not one about if you deserved better, not one about if you were with anyone else right now, they could probably do a much better job than he was doing. Nope. He was tough. He didn’t worry. Ever.
…If he wore pants, they’d be so on fire right now.
He stayed like that, holding you in silence, zoning out as he got lost in his own thoughts. He didn’t even notice you had started crying until he felt your body tremble with the force of one of your sobs. He froze, looking down at you, unsure of what to do. He decided to just keep petting your head, figuring it was the only thing he could really do, here.
If he knew just what exactly had made you so upset, he may have been able to actually give you some advice, or words of reassurance. But he didn't know a damn thing about what caused you to be so teary today. Would you even want him to say anything? Should he… ask…? (Yes, ask, you idiot!)
He looked back down at you. You'd calmed down a little, now just quietly tearing up against his plastron. He cleared his throat.
“So… uhm… you wanna tell me what, uh, happened…?”
You sniffled, burying your face further against him. The feeling and sight of it made his heart flutter a little.
“I… I don't know, I just,” another sniffle, “It seems like… every little thing has been going wrong today…”
His brow ridges pinched together in worry. “Really…? Like what?”
“Well… I mean… this morning I missed the bus, so- I had to… walk to school… and so that made me late… and I was unprepared for a quiz in one of my classes… I-I tripped over myself during lunch and spilt my food everywhere… and after school it started raining so my clothes and backpack got all soaked- and I think some of my homework is ruined now… and I have this book report due and—”
He cut off your getting-increasingly-more-distressed rambling, patting you on the head.
“Hey… hey, calm down, yeah? You're stressin' yourself out even more.”
You sniffled, yet again, taking a deep breath. “S-sorry… I'm just… exhausted…
He hummed thoughtfully, “...you wanna take a nap?” he asked.
You nodded, leaning a little more of your weight against him. “Yeah, that… I think I need that…”
“Alright.” He nodded, scooping you up and laying back on his bed.
You shifted, making yourself comfortable against him. You let out a sigh, your cheek pressing up against his plastron.
“Thanks, Raph…” you mumbled, your eyes fluttering shut as you allowed yourself to drift off, the exhaustion of the entire day finally fully catching up with you.
“...Anytime…” he whispered back, unusually soft. Unusual… but nice.
The last thing you felt before falling into unconsciousness was the soft brush of a beak on the top of your head, and gentle strokes of a three fingered hand on your back.
No clue where this came from but my writing playlist has smth to do with it. Guess who😚
You were just coming down to the lair to drop something off. You hadn’t planned on getting to this point. It was supposed to be a couple innocent kisses, you’d never allowed yourself much more before this, and yet you found yourself crushed under the heavy weight of him. His hands had slipped to your waist, having the audacity to rub little circles on them as he pressed you down without effort. His mouth moved against yours, hot breathy exhales between every kiss; he’d settled his weight between your thighs and refused to move an inch. His tongue moved with yours. Your hands were clutching at him, nails digging into his rounded, muscular shoulders as your little sounds were once more muffled by the sleepy insistence of his kisses. You panted. Your eyes were half lidded and you pulled away, lips pouty and spit soaked, hiding your face in the warm, comforting junction where his shoulder met his neck.
“I- can’t,” you whined, clinging and burning with a mixture of desire and embarrassment. He just chuckled, taking a second to catch his breath, gently pulling you away so he could move down to your neck.
“Aw. C’mon baby. I got you.” A warm, lazy kiss was pressed to your throat and you shivered despite the heat of him.
“Sweetheart,” he coaxed, crooning at the way you looked so flushed and overwhelmed from just a few kisses. His own brow was furrowed, a helpless, lovestruck, wanton expression all over his face. He trailed up to your jaw, over your eyelids. You caressed his face, nudging your cold nose to his cheek and kissing over the scar by his mouth. You reached up to kiss him again, grazing your nails along the back of his neck, on his shell, hearing him groan and feeling the vibration run through you, the warmth of the mattress and blankets and the heat of him between your legs. The song playing through his speakers in the background was an instigator. Since when had he added this to his playlist? He moved a large, rough hand to your face, stopping just to press slow kisses to your temple and cheek while your eyes fluttered closed.
“Pretty girl. So fuckin’ pretty. My pretty baby.”
“You’re so warm,” you mumbled, missing your target in your haze and planting your lips right next to his before trapping him back into the rhythm of kissing you senseless. You whispered ‘I love you’s when you broke apart for air, letting out soft gasps when he pulled back from a kiss to bite ever so gently at your bottom lip. He kissed the hollow of your throat in reverence, nuzzling against you. You hadn’t known until then you could be put to sleep with kisses, but the next minute the two of you were knocked out, his comforting weight half crushing you, the two of you completely dead to the world.
It's here! It's finally here~! The first chapter of the series! I hope everyone else loves this as much as I do!
Warnings: No pronouns or descriptions used for Reader/Tav other than you have wings, They/Them pronouns used for Reader/Tav and for Haarlep Not proof-read we die like tadpoles.
Words: 4.5k
Masterlist
Loving a Devil: Preface, Part 1 (you are here)
Loving Raphael was different than what you had expected. He was still prideful, possessive. He wanted you within his sight and within his House of Hope. But he was also gentle, considerate of your needs. When he held you, you were the most important person in the world. He did not view you as a possession or a symbol. You were a person. His person.
He was very vocal about how much he disliked you being on the prime. Being outside his realm of influence while fighting the absolute. And every chance he had, he brought you right back to him. It worried your friends and companions how attached he was to you. They worried that he was lying or trying to use you. But, after some time, they realized his devotion to you. Even if Astarion could not help but tease you about having 'tamed' the devil himself.
Now that the Absolute was defeated, the elderbrain destroyed, what was keeping you on the prime and away from him? He still could not understand why you chose this little cottage in the country side near Baldur's Gate. Why you would chose a life of such simplicity when you could have everything you could ever want. A life of silk, gold, luxury. But even then he still loved you. Loved you as you chose the prime over his House of Hope.
You were used to the visits of your friends and comrades to your little cottage. Used to seeing them walk through the garden gate and to your front door. They knew that your door was always open to them if they so wished; just knock and they could enter.
It was warm summer's day. The heat hung in the air as you tended to the small garden you grew, ripping up the offending weeds with steady hands. The creaking of your gate — one with hinges that you should really oil at some point — alerted you to a visitor entering your home. Looking up as you wiped sweat from your brow, you found Lae'zel standing there with that ever stern look upon her face. Even so, you gave her your gentle smile as you rose to your feet with your wings drooping slightly behind you without dragging in the dirt.
"Ah. Lae'zel. Please come inside and out of this heat." Something akin to affection crossed her eyes before hardening again and falling in step beside you as you both entered the modest home. With what gold you and the others had received from your adventures, you could have bought a house anywhere; one bigger, flashier, worthy of status. But you always were the simple sort.
Lae'zel's eyes flittered around the room, giving a nod of approval upon seeing your sword at an easy position if you ever find a need to defend yourself.
"Your dwelling is adequate. You have a well defensible home." You knew well enough that was as close to a compliment you were going to get from the githyanki on the state of your home. It was a nice sentiment at the very least. You gave her another smile before getting her a cooling glass of water and handing it to her before sitting down on one of the stools that were at your table.
"Thank you, Lae'zel. What honor do I have for this visit?" While you could expect random visits from Astarion, Shadowheart, or Gale permitting his teaching schedule, you almost never received a visit from the Gith unless there was something she viewed of the utmost importance to be discussed.
So what did she think needed to be discussed now?
Lae'zel looked at you for a moment before taking a drink and setting the wooden cup onto the table top. She had this look on her face, a look of deep contemplation, before looking back up at you with her sharp eyes meeting yours.
"He is fond of you." It was a simple statement. And one that needed no explanation on who <i>he</i> was. A simple statement of what she already knew to be a fact. You slowly nodded your head, folding your hands into your lap as you continued to watch her.
"Yes." She did not nod her head or acknowledge your affirmation, continuing to stare at you.
"You are fond of him. Despite how unwise it would be." Her words were not an accusation. Just a simple statement of truth. You hesitated for a moment before nodding your head.
"Yes. I am."
"This is very unwise." A soft sigh escaped you, your wings tensing slightly.
"I know. But still, I love him." Her eyes narrowed slightly, her mouth moving into a hint of a frown.
"Does he love you?" The question caught you off guard. You felt that he loved you. The way he looked at you. The way his eyes softened just a fraction or the honeyed words he would whisper in your ear when you were in his arms. Raphael loved you. You could not bring yourself to doubt it.
"Yes." This time she nodded her head, as if she was accepting your observation, but her eyes remained intense as they met yours.
"You have been wise. Strong. You led us well against all forms of treachery that we faced in our travels. If you believe him honest, then I will not stop nor speak against you. I simply state that you should exercise caution." Lae'zel saying such things was such a high honor. To have her praise your leadership. This is how you knew she cared for you, even if the Gith herself would not admit it in as many words. So, you smiled and nodded your head.
"Thank you, my friend." She did not correct you, calling her your friend. Instead she gave a short bow of her head in acknowledgement before looking out at the sun as it made its slow decent across the sky towards the horizon.
"I must leave. May you find the path you were meant to follow." She placed a strong hand on your shoulder before leaving your small home, disappearing into the warmth of the summer night. And you couldn't help but sit there at your table, window open as the slight breeze made the curtains dance , and your thoughts turning towards Raphael.
I don't want to ruin this.
The next time you found yourself within the House of Hope it was not Raphael himself who greeted you but instead Haarlep. You and the incubus had formed a - what you would call - a tentative friendship. They did tease you. About your bleeding heart, your angelic nature, your obvious care for Raphael. But they never doubted your loyalty to him. They never questioned why you were there. It was almost unnerving how they seemed to see right through you.
"Ah, the little dove has come once again to grace us with their presence. What a great honor." Their teasing was only accentuated by the grin on their face as they made an exaggerated bow. And you found yourself returning their smile with one of your own.
"Hello, Haarlep. Is Raphael not here right now?" They hesitated for a moment - very unlike them you noted in the back of your mind — before answering you.
"Our dear Proprietor finds himself called away by Mephistopheles. But he wanted to make sure I was here to greet you and reassure you of his quick return. Mephistopheles, Lord of the Eight. And as you knew, the father of Raphael. Another reason why this was unwise, becoming involved with him. But then again you had your own parentage that you had yet to divulge to him.
He knew you were angel-kin. Aasimar. But you were more than that. A direct child of Raziel. Known as the Crusader and Firestar. An archon of Mount Celestia itself. You feared how he would respond when he would find out. Would he abandon you? Or worse, would he stop seeing you and only see a tool against the heavens?
You must not have hidden your concern well enough this time, Haarlep tilting their head like a curious cat.
"Now, now little dove. Something is weighing heavily on your mind." They, almost gentle and tender, wrapped one of their bat-like wings around you and urged you forward through the winding halls of the House of Hope. They did not press, did not pry as you walked through the unusually quiet halls. If you had the mind to think about it, the halls had started to become more quiet in your recent visits. But at the moment that was only something that lingered in the back of your thoughts.
It was Raphael's personal room they brought you to. A large room with his equally as large bed pressed against the back wall, large windows lining the far wall and showing out into Avernus, a fire place and his writing desk. The room even smelled of Raphael, of spiced wine and something darker underneath, but you shouldn't have been surprised. Haarlep led you to a plush couch, the fabric a deep red just like everything else in the room, urging you to sit down while they poured a glass of wine for the both of you. They silently passed you the glass before sitting down themselves, lounging back with an ankle crossed over their knee and swirling the wine in the crystal they held in their hand, watching you with those piercing gold eyes.
"Come, dove. You can freely with me. I may serve our dear Raphael but I do know how to keep a secret." Their words were smooth and sweet as you stared down at the glass in your hands, the wine a dark red that if you couldn't smell the sweet spice it could be mistaken for something else much darker.
"I am more than he realizes. I could ruin everything." Since when did your voice sound so small? You who faced cultists, illithids, dark gods themselves. You had faced fear head on daily. Why did you flinch now?
Haarlep looked surprised at your little remarks, their eyebrows raising as they gave you that curious head tilt again, sipping at their wine.
"Do tell, little dove. Raphael looks at you as if you bring the sun to rise and the moon to fall. What could be so dark to ruin that?" They <i>were</i> curious. They couldn't help it. This little mortal, this little mortal with a heart that seemed to bleed for all those they could not save and beat for those they could, was who their master had falling completely in love with. Haarlep had watched it happen. First slowly and then all at once.
They had first thought it was simple curiosity. Not every day you find angel-touched mortals walking around with a holy weapon on their hip. Then they thought Raphael simply wanted the honor of corrupting them. But somewhere along the way, they watched as Raphael grew soft, not in ways anyone on the outside would see, but in ways that they could see. He no longer tortured when bored or angry. No, he sought out his little dove. He no longer flew into rages at the smallest provocation. He looked at his dove not as an item to be procured, but as something precious. Haarlep has served Raphael for a long time. They had never seen him look at anyone like that.
So what did this little one think was so heavy that it would ruin it?
"Dove?" Haarlep's voice was coaxing, gentle in a way that was dangerous. It made you want to rip open your chest and spill out ever secret you kept hidden. But… you couldn't. You couldn't risk it. Risk what happiness you had found with Raphael.
Even if you knew it would be worse in the end.
So you shook your head and took a long drink of your wine before turning to look at the incubus. No. You wouldn't say a thing. Not yet.
"It is nothing. Please forget I said anything." Your voice remained soft as your eyes pleaded with them. Oh, those eyes. Those eyes that Haarlep had seen both be sharp in battle and gentle in quiet moments. Those eyes that made them want to believe that nothing was weighing heavily in your heart.
But they knew better. They knew the little ticks and tells you hid so well. Even so, they would not force you to share. It wasn't their place. When — and if — you were ready to share, then you would share.
So with a shrug Haarlep raised their glass of wine to their lips, sipping at the dark liquid.
"As you wish, Dove." The time between them stretched, filled with idle chatter that Haarlep was so good at. They were good at talking about nothing of importance; of the current gossip of the Hells, how the crystal glasses changed from Wexford to Massena — "Can you believe it, Dove?! We are supposed to have class." —, or a similar menagerie of topics. It helped honestly. To just sit and listen as you nursed on the wine. It helped you almost forget — almost.
It was in a flash of fire and ash that you saw Raphael appear in the doorway, face twisted in annoyance and shoulders tense. But none of that mattered to you as your face lit up and you placed the glass of wine down on the small side table.
"Raphael!" Your voice rang out as his eyes found yours; the anger, the tension, the rage all melting away as he walked to your side. You rose to your feet to meet him, his hand cradling your cheek in his hand. His eyes traced over your face, as if committing every tiny detail to memory before he pressed his forehead to yours.
"Hello, my Dove." The sweet moment was not broken as Haarlep could not help but smile. Yes. This is what they meant when they said Raphael had changed. That he had grown soft for his dove. But they would never say it out loud. Haarlep rose to their feet and quietly slipped out of the room, careful not to disturb the peaceful scene between the two of you.
"I missed you, Dove." Raphael's voice was rough and barely above a whisper as his free hand came to your waist, pulling you close. You could feel his warmth radiating from his body as he slowly pulled you onto the couch. He pulled you onto his lap, your head resting on his chest as he was careful to avoid any harm to those wings of yours. Beautiful and pristine. He wouldn't dare to even think of causing them harm. He held you with gentleness that would be defined as so uncharacteristic of the cambion, uncharacteristic with anyone other than you. With you he would be gentle, he would be kind.
He pressed his face into the crown of your hair, breathing in your comforting scent as you felt his heart beat under your cheek. A comforting silence fell between you both — there was no need for words. no need for anything other than your presence. His heart beat was a comforting song as your eyes slowly drooped and closed, your body relaxed against his and enveloped by the warmth of him. You wished this moment could last forever. Wished that nothing could reach you within the halls of his House of Hope. But all peace must come to an end, no matter how much your heart yearned for otherwise.
"Are you alright?" Your voice was soft, slightly muffled by being pressed into his chest. You could feel his arms tighten around you as the muscles in his jaw tensed.
Mephistopheles. His progenitor was not known for being understanding or forgiving. He expected unquestioning loyalty and for his orders to be followed without question. Every time Raphael was called into his court he came back angry. He couldn't help it. If he had the chance he would rip Mephistopheles from his throne and throw him at Raphael's feet.
A soft hiss escaped him as he nuzzled into the crook of your neck, forcing himself to calm down. None of it mattered. His father would not interfere as long as Raphael didn't get in his way. As long as his machinations did not cross with Mephistopheles'.
"He was unreasonable. Do not worry yourself, Dove." You recognized it when Raphael did not want to talk about something, when he did not want to elaborate to you — though if it was for your benefit or for his you were not always sure. You pulled away slightly, just enough for you to angle your face to look upwards at him. He looked down at you curiously before you reached up and cupped his face in your gentle hands, running your thumbs over his cheekbones. You gave him that smile, that smile that he would destroy whole planes for if you so asked for it. Rip apart the Hells and tear down the Heavens — you just need ask.
"My handsome devil." The soft statement, that quiet claim. It made his heart beat in a way he would never have thought possible for one of a devil's persuasion. For what is there for a devil to love?
An angel, apparently.
Raphael relaxed into your hands, his own hand reaching and cradling your wrist in his hand as he softly ran his thumb over your wrist.
Yours. He was yours.
He did not stop you as you leaned forward, pressing your lips against his in a gentle kiss, a kiss that made all of time stop. A kiss that made all sound fade other than the crackling of the fire place and the soft breathing of your both. His hands slowly came to rest on the plush of your hips, his nails — sharp as talons but never a danger to you — digging slightly into the cloth of your clothes. In a fluid motion he gripped your thighs and stood up, holding you with ease as if you weighted nothing to him. A soft gasp of surprise escaped you which only caused him to quietly chuckle, making his way over to his bed.
The bed was large, larger than any one you would have thought practical but Raphael always did have an eye for luxury. It was plush and soft, the comforter and pillows a deep red much like everything else in the House of Hope. He laid you down upon the soft bed as if you were made of glass, his touch careful and delicate as he stared down upon your face. His eyes gleamed and glowed like molten gold before he slowly lowered himself onto the bed as well. With the utmost care he rested his head on your chest, careful of his horns as his arms snaked their way around your waist. Your own arms wrapped themselves over his shoulders, one hand resting between his shoulder blades while gently running your fingers through his hair. Your heartbeat was a soft comfort, even and constant against his ear. He could feel the weight of the day starting to wane from his shoulders. The heaviness that bore down on him slowly lessening as your chest started to vibrate with a soft hum.
A small smile crossed your face as you continued to hum — just a little song, one that you only had the faintest memories of your mother singing to you as a child. But you still sang it to him. Still offered him this comfort and this peace where nothing could touch you both within these four walls. His eyes slowly closing in time with the song as he felt your soft body under his.
Oh, if you would stay here. He could treat you like the divine being you truly were.
He slowly opened his eyes and tilted his head up, lips finding the skin of your neck and placing feather-light kisses as his hands slipped under your shirt. Your warm skin under his hands, your warmth.
You belonged here.
"Stay, Dove. Stay with me." His voice was quiet, mutterings in the silence between you as you let out a soft gasp and tilted your head back. Your eyes closed as he continued to speak, his nails dragging ever so slightly across your skin.
"You could. You could stay. You would want for nothing. I would give you everything." Your breath caught in your throat — his words, his touch — it made your mind hazy, made you believe for a moment that yes, you could stay.
But you knew better. You knew you couldn't. That realization ran like ice down your spine, like it did every time he asked — begged — you to stay. You knew he would do anything for you to stay with him. It was how he was. It was how much he loved you. He would defy the Hells, the Heavens, and everything in-between for you. But that didn't change that you couldn't stay.
Your hands found his cheeks, gently pulling him back to look up at you. Your eyes met his burning gold, your brow furrowed and a heavy heart.
"Raphael… love.. I… I can't…" He didn't like your words. Instead he growled, his tail twitching and flicking as he leaned forward, pressing kisses and nipping at your skin with his teeth.
"Yes you can. You could be pampered and cared for. The elder brain is defeated. Your tadpole is gone. The absolute is no more. You could, Dove." A shaky breath escaped you as you shook your head, reaching for his chin and forcing him to look up at you. Your eyes met his as you shook your head again.
"I… I just can't, Raphael."
You watched as the soft look on his face slowly morphed, morphed from gentle to annoyed then settled on angry as he let out a quiet snarl. He stood up, his tail lashing back and forth with his shirt half undone and his eyes pinning you to where you laid on his bed.
"Why? Why, Dove?" Your mouth opened and closed several times as you tried to find the words — the right words — to explain. But they would not come. How could you tell the man you loved that you were the child of an angel? The child of the enemy of his father? Your silence and inability to answer him only seemed to agitate him more as he began to pace along the edge of the bed. He moved like a tiger, shoulders tense and steps heavy while keeping his eyes on you.
"Answer me! Tell me why? I can give you anything! Everything!" His demands would not find an answer with you. You just could not find one to give him. You couldn't lie to him — no, you never lied to him — but you couldn't tell him the truth. The only option was silence. And that came with it's own consequences. Your eyes did not leave his as you gave him a gentle but sad smile, slowly standing up and righting your clothes. Raphael looked confused, his tail continuing to flick back and forth as he took a step towards you.
"Where are you going?" His question was harsh, demanding. And all you could do was shake your head.
"I… am going back to Baldur's Gate." For a moment it looked like Raphael was going to stop you, to reach forward and grab your arm as you made your way to the large doors. But he stopped himself. You didn't know if you were happy that he was letting you go or sad he didn't stop you. It was all too much. Too complicated. You glanced back at him once last time, your hand resting on the door before you walked out, closing the door with a thunk behind you.
Raphael could hear your footsteps retreating, could hear you getting farther and farther away till he could no longer discern your steps from the rest of the noise at the House of Hope.
And he hated it.
His blood pounded in his ears as he felt the burn of rage and a heaviness that he didn't want to name in his chest. He wanted to chase after you. Wanted to find something — anything — to get you to stay. But his pride, his wounded pride, would not allow him to do so. Raphael, son of Mephistopheles, did not beg. But yet he still found his feet carrying him towards the door, stopping beside his desk as his nails dug into the wood. He didn't care for the deep gouges he was leaving, didn't care that the expensive lacquer was going to be ruined. None of it mattered. None of it mattered because it wasn't you.
A roar escaped him, his arm swinging across his desk and sending the contents flying through the air and across the floor. The crystal decanter of wine shattered upon the marble floor; the deep red of the wine and the glittering of the crystal reflecting in the low firelight.
You walked through the dark halls of the House of Hope, walking through the portal like you had time and time again to appear at the gate of your small cottage. If you were to look to the horizon you would see the soft twinkling lights of the city but that was not where your attention laid at this time. Instead your eyes were fixated on the dark windows; everything seemed so empty, so cold compared to the warmth you had just experienced with Raphael in his arms. You forced yourself to step through the creaking garden gate and through your front door, finding yourself standing in the doorway as the moonlight spilled in behind you as your shadow cast long across the floor.
You stood there for a moment before walking into the dark home, not bothering to light a lantern or a candle as you closed the door behind you. You knew ever step of this house. Every step, every crack, every inch. You were able to find your way to your bed, collapsing onto the worn quilt comforter and closing your eyes. Your wings wrapped around you in a cocoon, a meek imitation of the warmth you felt as if you were missing. You laid there was time passed, the silence and the moon peeking in through the window as your only companions before you fell into a fitful and uneasy sleep — your heart heavy in your chest.
trophy wife | raphael x reader x haarlep | NSFW | oneshot | dldr
summary: before, you were an elf with a flowershop, but now, you're raphael's favorite trophy. haarlep's not supposed to put his hands on you, but since when have raphael's rules ever stopped him from getting what he wants?
themes: tw//dubcon/noncon(!!!) and sexual harrassment(!) 3rd POV, virgin!reader, elf!reader, surprisingly-gentle!raphael, horny!haarlep, fingering, hymens, thigh fucking, male masturbation
word count: 1.5k
The flower girl was his favorite trophy.
“So beautiful, and you’ve never once laid with a man? I wouldn’t believe it, had it come from anyone other than you.”
Raphael extended the back of his finger to her cheek, running down her soft, supple skin. Her trembling was not unbeknownst to him, nor was the sweat dripping down her forehead. It was hot in the hells, but his darling’s current condition was most certainly due to nerves.
He chuckled. Flipping his palm towards her face, he slid down towards her slender neck. Her dress was modest, but those proportions she was blessed with drew their own attention. He drew his nail down towards the fabric, holding the sharp end teasingly before her neckline.
He placed a bit of pressure against the silk threads. Unexpectedly, he heard her whimper.
Raphael’s eyes shot upwards, locking onto hers. Her eyes shimmered with tears, her lips pursed tightly.
Very nice.
“Don’t worry,” he murmured to her. “I’ll be gentle.”
When his hand cupped her chin, she visibly flinched. Her lips fell open, and incoherent mumbles fell out.
“P-p-please…” she whispered eventually. “I don’t understand…what you’re doing…Raphael…”
“Oh, there’s no need to be scared, pet. I know this is all very different, but just trust me.” He grinned like the devil he was, extending his hand. “I promise to be all you’ll ever need and more.”
Her throat bobbed with a swallow.
The smell of something was thick in the air.
“You know, I just don’t get why the Duke is so obsessed with you.”
She immediately plunged herself neck deep into the water, red flushing her face. She crossed her arms over her breasts and pressed her legs together, doing her best to minimize herself. Heart beating loud in her ears, she could only feebly whisper, “Please don’t sneak up on me, Haarlep.”
An amalgamation of dark magic preceded the incubus’s appearance. As soon as the smoke faded, it left behind a very naked devil.
She averted her eyes. Why, oh why, did the only bath in the castle have to be in such a strange area? It always smelled of incense and musk, and whenever the incubus was around, strange people made strange noises from within his boudoir.
Haarlep laughed at her. He sounded just like Raphael.
That fact gave her chills.
“I mean, you are rather cute. And you have a great body. But it doesn’t seem as though you have any…special skills.”
She could hear the water sloshing as he drew nearer. She wished she could disappear into nothingness.
“That, and you’re so modest. Religious, maybe?”
“N-not really,” she muttered. “Um, you’re awfully close, though.”
“Cute as a button, really. I’d put my hands all over you if I wasn’t forbidden by the master of the house. He never said anything about watching you, though.”
She couldn’t help but glance at him. Haarlep was grinning, and in his hand—.
“Oh, my goodness,” she sputtered, quickly reaching for the marble steps. “Please stop that.”
“Ha! You really are pure, aren’t you? Even with an ass like that?”
She ignored him as she clambered out of the bath, her ears burning hot. Swiping at a towel, she was quick to cover herself to avoid Haarlep’s inappropriate jeers. She could still hear him *doing that god awful thing* behind her as he continued to make raunchy statements.
“Come on, don’t be boring!” he shouted. “Show me your breasts and help me finish!”
She ignored him, making tracks for the folding screen where her clothes were. She hadn’t gotten as complete a bath as she had been wishing, but some things would just have to wait.
She had never been touched like this before.
“You’re gorgeous. Absolutely gorgeous.”
Her fingernails dug into Raphael’s arms as his hand moved around in her panties. He touched her in places she had only ever touched herself, and it was shameful, but it felt good. Tears streamed down her cheeks as he bit her neck, and she let out a choked sob.
“Mm, you didn’t bathe fully,” Raphael purred against her skin. “You smell delightfully moist.”
He reached for her breast with his free hand, squeezing firmly. She arched her back, involuntarily pushing into him. The sensation was so foreign, she couldn’t help but shudder. Just when she thought she had had enough, Raphael pressed up against her back.
It was long, thick, and hard against her. It throbbed, and her pulse skyrocketed.
“Just a finger,” he murmured. “Perhaps just a finger.”
She didn’t understand, not until his middle finger plunged straight into her hole.
Excruciating pain sent her clapping her thighs together. Raphael’s finger had only gone up to his first knuckle, but she felt overwhelmingly full. He most certainly noticed, because he instantly whipped his hand away.
“There’s a hymen. I got so impatient, I forgot to consider that you might have one.”
He throbbed again. Raphael’s breath quivered by her ear.
“Not yet,” he said, and she couldn’t tell if he was speaking to her or to himself anymore. “There’s no rush.”
The pain faded away when Raphael began playing with her clit again. Her toes curled up, and she begged him to stop.
“I don’t know why,” he murmured, “but I love watching you cum.”
She squeezed her eyes shut.
“Maybe he likes you because you’re so inexperienced.”
She was too sore and jaded to care about Haarlep this time. She feebly lifted her arms to cover herself, but remained reclined in the hot pool. Haarlep casually slid into place next to her.
“You may not be aware of this, but the master of the house is a terrible lover. That’s why I exist—to provide for him with my fountain of expertise. Still, he’s god awful at the whole thing.”
Haarlep curled a strand of her hair around his finger as he spoke. She pursed her lips.
“What does any of that have to do with me?”
“Oh, so you do speak.” Haarlep laughed. “You’re rather cute when you’re giving me the cold shoulder, but I’ll take it.”
She ignored his provocation. “Can you just answer my question?”
“Of course, darling. Being with you clearly makes Raphael feel like he’s got the upper hand in the bedroom. He’s never worried about satisfying you, because even the slightest stimulation turns you as red as the devil himself.”
Haarlep tapped the pointed end of her elven ear. His words and actions would normally have made her flush, but she was getting awfully used to Haarlep’s mannerisms. She simply batted his hand away, procuring a chuckle from him.
“Gods, messing with you gets me so hard. I’d fuck you into next week if I could.”
Displeased, she closed her eyes. “Didn’t Raphael warn you not to talk to me like that?”
“Oh, don’t be a sourpuss. You know you love my company.”
She sighed.
He laughed again, resting his hand on her thigh. His tail was twitching around behind him, revealing just how excited the incubus truly was. Haarlep had been pushing the lines between Raphael’s rules recently, seeking out any and every loophole he could use to get as physically close to her as possible. Whenever she mentioned this, Raphael became more stern, and Haarlep became more crafty.
The rules never said anything about touching her. The rules never said anything about kissing her. The rules never said anything about sticking his tongue in her crotch. He told her this each and every time.
It was disgusting, the fact that she was getting so used to this harassment that it hardly phased her anymore. Not to mention the fact that she was starting to notice the differences between the two devils when it came to bedroom matters. Haarlep certainly wasn’t just claiming to be an incubus.
“I promise you’ll like it,” he purred. “I’ve never had an unsatisfied customer.”
“I think your penis will vaporize if you even try.”
“So you’re thinking about it.”
“Did you even hear me…?”
He smirked, his eyes twinkling with mirth. Unexpectedly, she felt her cheeks grow warm.
“Come on, darling. Enlighten me.”
She should have predicted that Haarlep would be unable to control himself. By the fourth time he promised it would be the last time, she was covered in incubus sperm from head to toe.
“Relax, darling, relax. I’ve got your legs, you just focus on holding those thighs together. Yes, like that.”
She was breathless, but she still had the strength to do as he said. She just couldn’t tell if it was out of desire or desperation.
“Fuck,” Haarlep moaned, grinning down at her. “You’re a fucking angel, darling. I bet your cunt feels like heaven.”
She turned her head away, trying her best to ignore his words. Between her oiled thighs, Haarlep moved his thick cock in slow, hammering thrusts. His tip rubbed against her stomach, tickling her midsection with each pound.
“I’m cumming again. I just wish I could do it…inside of you.”
Hot sperm shot onto her face, soiling her chin. She winced, shutting her eye when he shot a load over it.
Haarlep relaxed, relinquishing her.
“Ah, well. Raphael won’t like it if you smell too much like me, so wash yourself up well, won’t you, darling?”
this is an old and unfinished bg3 oneshot draft. i might end up crossposting to ao3 after i give it a better read-over! if you liked it, please consider liking, reblogging, and/or commenting! (˶>⩊<˶) ♡
P.S. i am not going to write more bg3, sorry! T_T regardless, thanks for reading and i hope you enjoyed!
masterlist | ask | ao3
In this NSFW Choose Your Own Adventure, your coworker has four friends she refuses to tell you about. But what if one of them -- Raphael -- is already familiar with you and your bedsheets?
Raphael O'Neil x Reader
NSFW Choose Your Own Adventure
CW: Stalking/abduction
🔗 READ/PLAY HERE
🎮interactive fanfic "Corner Of Your Eye" by luvlylily
📖 Episode 1 of ?
Warnings: Angst, mentions of death, but also comfort!, you kiss and make up surprise surprise
--
Months, it has been months since you’ve last seen Raphael.
You still see stories about the Nightwatcher in the paper and on the news— your heart shattering somehow even more every time you see them because true to his word, he didn’t stop.
Donnie and Mikey have reached out to you, your absence in the Lair immediately becoming noticed. They tell you that Raph is more on edge now, angrier than usual. You tell them that you broke up but don’t go into detail why, saying that you felt he wasn’t giving you any time anymore.
While you hated what he was doing, it wasn’t your secret to tell.
You have to stop yourself from reaching out but god does it fucking hurt whenever you think about him. Is he okay? Is he being safe? Is he being reckless?
So many questions yet not a single answer.
You can’t help but picture the worst sometimes; him lying bloody and broken on the ground with his brothers unable to help. Sometimes when your phone pings, you fear that it’s one of them calling to tell you that they found Raphael dead. You scare yourself even more by thinking of them never finding his body, that somehow scientists got a hold of him and are doing tests and experiments on him.
You can’t recall how many nights you’ve cried yourself to sleep, how you’ve hugged your pillow to your chest and inhaled his fading scent so deep that you’ve nearly made yourself lightheaded from holding your breath. How you find yourself subconsciously glancing to your bedroom window whenever you hear a noise because you think it might be him coming.
You miss him so much and there are times when you feel incredibly guilty for what you did. Maybe you should have listened to him, given him his space and waited for him to come to you and then maybe you wouldn’t be hurting as much as you were right now.
You wonder if he’s in just as much pain as you.
It’s another late night for you, sitting on your couch and watching some t.v show that’s been marathoning all day. You have half an empty bowl of popcorn sitting on your side and a few candy wrappers littering the cushions and floor. You should clean it up but you feel that you haven’t really been able to do much of that since your breakup.
Taking a glance at your phone and seeing how late it is, you decide to call it a night. You manage to pick up the mess and turn the t.v off before dropping everything off in your kitchen. After cleaning up, you head into your bathroom to do your nightly routine and then go hit the sack.
Your room is dark when you walk in and you feel along your wall for your light switch, but you stop when you see a faint gleam at your window. You freeze up, a cold chill traveling down your spine when the shine moves a bit. There’s just enough moonlight to shine down on whatever is on your fire escape, but not enough to fully illuminate.
You see whatever it is move again and then you hear light tapping against the glass. Your breath catches in your throat, flicking on the light and seeing Raph crouched on your fire escape, an unreadable expression on his face.
You nearly run over to open your window but you compose yourself, clearing your throat before slowly heading over. You can’t take your eyes off him, not with the way his amber gaze practically burns holes into your skull. The click of the latch unlocking seems to echo through your room, adding to the irregular rapid heartbeat inside your chest. You step back as Raph pushes the window and climbs inside.
The silence is deafening, your chest heaving in on itself as you fight so desperately not to break down and cry when you take in his state.
He's tired, so so so tired and you see it in his eyes and posture.
For everything that you've been through; the tears, the laughs, the fights, the memories...
It all comes flooding back to you in this moment and you know that you can't stay angry at him any longer.
"You're an idiot." You whisper.
He nods, fingers flexing against his palms.
"I know."
And for that answer a sob bubbles through your lips, tears stream down your eyes and you finally allow yourself to fall apart and bring him into your arms.
Raph wastes no time in reciprocating, holding you a bit too tight against his plastron but you don't care. Your arms scramble to find the best position to hug him but eventually they settle around his neck, your face burying itself in the same spot as you loudly cry.
His hand moves up and down your back in soothing motions while the other clasps around the back of your head. He's missed you so god damn much, every second without you felt like pure torture and the longer he went without you the more he realized how utterly stupid he was for not trusting you with his secret.
You were-- are, the love of his fucking life and he can't throw it away just like that.
"M'so fucking sorry, sweetheart."
His voice, deep and raspy, rattles your bones. You feel it against your skull and the vibrations make you shiver because it's been months since you last heard him talk.
"I'm sorry for pushing you." You sob, "I didn't want to trap you, I just--"
He shushes you gently, pulling back to tenderly cup his hands around your face. His eyes, usually so strong, now carry so much in them as he gazes upon you.
"I should'a trusted you. I was scared and I know that's no excuse but. Fuck, sweetheart m'so sorry for what I said, I didn't mean it..." Both his thumbs wipe away the fresh tears from beneath your eyes and you swear you can see faint traces of his own eyes shining but you don't say anything.
"Can I kiss you?" He murmurs quietly, allowing himself to look at your mouth for a second before coming back to your watery eyes.
You laugh, nodding enthusiastically before another whimper sounds through.
"Yeah," You whisper, sniffling and letting more tears drip down.
"Yeah?" He repeats, smiling faintly.
And then he's leaning down to press his mouth to yours, soft at first but then he's pushing deeper, hands holding onto you tight to keep you steady. Your lips move steadily against each other, refamiliarizing yourselves with the taste and feel of the kiss you've longed for.
Before you know it he's picking you up and securing his hands beneath your thighs, taking you to your bed to lay you down and crawl over. He breaks the kiss to pepper smaller ones across your cheeks, enticing soft laughter from you and it makes his heart thud heavily in his chest.
"I love you so much, sweetheart..." He whispers against your mouth.
"I love you too, Raph."
He smiles and kisses you again, no rush whatsoever in his movements but you feel the way his hands start to touch up and down your body.
"We still gotta talk about things." You mumble, despite the fact that your hands also start to roam over his shell.
He grumbles and shifts to your neck, kisses featherlight and breath fanning over your already warm skin.
"We will. Got time to make up for first though..."
You can't argue, instead letting him show you just how much he's missed you.
