#abdirak x oc

[circledemptiness]

Full Bloom

Fandom: Baldur's Gate 3 Pairing: Abdirak x Reader Rating: Explicit +18 Tags: Overstimulation, squirting, oral, anal, aftercare, pleasure dom Abdirak

✦ Part 2 of Red Petals ✦ Read on AO3

A night spent with Abdirak, where your lover challenges your endurance and unravels the depths of your limits, bringing you closer to the edge of both pleasure and vulnerability.

You're not sure how much time has passed. All that exists is the fierce, relentless spasm of your muscles, like infernal eels writhing beneath your skin, the tight tension twisting in your stomach, rolling with a rhythmic intensity as if lightning surged through your entire being, and the raw wounds on your back searing as they press against the linens of the mattress, drenched in blood, sweat, and other fluids.

Abdirak finds your suffering and endurance particularly majestic, witnessing your growing evolution with each passing day. For months, since you left your hometown to follow him, he has shaped you, honing your endurance with a steadfast, almost ascetic dedication befitting a Priest of Loviatar. Throughout, he has been your guide, nurturing your faith with unwavering patience and kindness.

Each time a ritual concludes and euphoria pulses through your veins, Abdirak's role, fulfilled in the name of Loviatar, transforms into something more primal. He revels in the view of your strained, bloodied and marked body, never missing an opportunity to tell you how alluring you are in your state of exhaustion after your perfect offering to your Goddess, his eyes brimming with a now familiar hunger. His praise spills from his lips, warm and fervent, as his mouth claims yours, his mind burning with a singular desire to hold you not as a priest guiding a follower, but as a man embracing his lover.

Sometimes, your intimacy is tender, a soft union between two souls seeking to merge as one, driven by mutual desire and shared sentiment. But more often, his appetite for consensual pain and the dark edges of pleasure bleed in your shared existence. You’ve come to embrace this side of yourself; a facet that had been dormant, waiting to be awakened under his influence.

Abdirak takes pride in the changes he witnesses, the way your body learns to endure, bending but never breaking under his meticulous hand. He expertly navigates the edge of your limits, knowing precisely how far he can push without overstepping. Lately, you’ve begun to explore his boundaries as well, tentatively, still constrained by inexperience. Yet his patience and devotion make him a willing partner in your experiments, guiding you with the same fervor he uses to lead you through rituals.

But tonight, like so many before, he’s the one guiding the exploration. In the intimate clutch of the night, after another ritual that left your back laced with the sting of a harsh flogging, he claims your body in a way only he is allowed to, enraptured by your shared surrender.

For hours, your clitoris has remained taut, the flushed pearl throbbing in agony as overstimulated nerves send sharp, repeated waves coursing through your body. Abdirak's thumb keeps tracing relentless circles over it, pausing his motion only occasionally to spit, offering a thin, fleeting hint of lubrication –an inadequate imitation of true pleasure.

But the worst part of this exquisite torture might be having your stuffed cunt being mercilessly and repeatedly penetrated, for what feels like an eternity, each thrust bringing a searing pain and an intense burning sensation within your swollen core. The glass cylinder, embedded with delicate bumps and ridges that drags along your walls, pumps in and out at a steady, unyielding pace despite the guttural groans and ragged noises spilling from your parched throat. Abdirak’s grip remains unwavering, maintaining control with unrelenting care.

You can feel the puffiness and swelling of your tormented insides, even as the relentless blend of pain and pleasure from the instrument overwhelms your senses. Thick, creamy juices seep from your overstimulated entrance, trickling down your ass and smearing over the cylinder. Each thrust coats Abdirak's hand, his knuckles pressing firmly against your folds as he bottoms out.

You’ve lost count of how many times you’ve climaxed; you only know the searing ache that courses through your body as every nerve twitches and tightens. Your muscles tremble and weaken, your cries echo in the room as sweat drenches your skin, and your eyes roll in the back of your skull with the sheer intensity of your orgasm. 

You begged him to stop, but he doesn’t; not until you use the word you agreed on for when your intimate moments get out of hand. Your body is succumbing to the relentless pressure and overstimulation, each wave of pleasure breaking you further. Your insides tense under the onslaught of shattering ecstasy, and you feel yourself gush a warm stream of liquid, soaking the mattress, his arm, and sometimes even reaching his stomach, now glistening with what you might consider your defeat –what he would call your success.

Abdirak stifles a groan when he discovers the fountain within you, murmuring tender praises as he leans in to press a kiss against your forehead, a gesture of pure adoration.

"You’re enduring so beautifully, my lamb." His words are gentle and warm, and you could almost come once more with how reverent he sounds, but your fractured brain can barely process anything anymore. Instead, you sob pathetically, your body too drained to even resist, trembling violently as you let his torment stretch on... and on. 

Meanwhile, Abdirak coos soft, coaxing words as he tenderly nips at the pulse point of your neck, a striking contrast to the relentless pace of his fingers on your clit and the unforgiving thrust of his cruel instrument inside your violated hole. Your vision blurs as exhaustion takes over; saliva drips from your parted lips, and your body shudders uncontrollably, reduced to silent tears and ragged sobs. Overstimulated, worn out, and in searing pain, you can only wonder, Maiden –how long has it been?

Another orgasm, one of many, crashes through you, drawing an explosive cry from your lips. Abdirak quickly shifts, carefully withdrawing his torture device from your swollen core before lowering himself and pressing his mouth to your puffy, flushed cunt. The flat of his tongue traces slow, deliberate strokes over your flushed slit, guiding  the rhythm of your climax as your body spills like a fountain. The warmth and softness of his tongue feel almost merciful against your tortured hole; he swallows every drop of your release with a reverence that borders on devotion, his half-lidded eyes gazing up at you with such tender, worshipful infatuation that it nearly makes you forget the hours of torment you've endured at the hands of your lover.

Finally, his thumb leaves your sensitive pearl, and a fleeting sense of relief spreads through your strained nerves. Abdirak continues to lap tenderly at your folds and entrance; not with force, but with the gentleness of an animal tending to a wound. Your entire body quivers, and a sob escapes you, raw and uncontrollable, as exhaustion washes over you and pushes you to your limits. You don’t need to use your safe word to prompt him to stop his caresses; he senses it instinctively. Abdirak hushes you softly, placing tender kisses along the soft curls of your mound, up your tensed stomach, and across your sweat-slicked breasts. His lips eventually reach your face, trailing a series of feather-light kisses over your cheeks, jawline, nose, and forehead, calming your frayed nerves with each touch.

“My perfect lamb,” he murmurs, his voice warm and calm, grounding you as he brushes gentle kisses across your tear-streaked cheeks. His blue eyes shine in the dimly lit room, where the candlelight casts delicate silhouettes of your entwined bodies. A weak whine escapes you as you turn your head, seeking his mouth, yearning for the solace of his tenderness. A satisfied hum vibrates through him as he meets your lips, pressing soft kisses over and over, capturing your sobs until they dissolve into soft, trembling whimpers.

Soon, his hips instinctively rock against your stomach, his heavy length pressing into your heated skin as the metal beads adorning his shaft trace along your curves. His smooth, velvety flesh is slick with precum, seeping from his pierced and angry tip, needy and demanding. His breath comes in shallow, controlled bursts, having not found the release he craved during your torment.

“Can you endure just a little bit more, my lamb?” His question is genuine, each word a reassurance. You know he will do nothing without your consent, this secure cocoon he’s wrapped around you easing your tension. His words lingers, and you weigh your response, though the persistent ache of your swollen cunt clouds your thoughts. Panting, your breath skirting the edge of a wheeze, your eyes find his, searching those brilliant, familiar depths. A painful warmth flickers to life within you again; a heated desire to feel him, not just the touch of his tools, a desire to feel your souls merge together. You’re in awe of how he can stir such fierce emotions with such ease; how, despite your exhaustion, your mind still yearns for him with unwavering passion.

Your fingers gently trace your sensitive folds, assessing the extent of the soreness. A sharp hiss escapes your lips as the sizzling pain confirms that fully savoring your union will be impossible under these conditions. Determined, you slide your fingers through your slick arousal, lifting your hips as much as you can manage, and, with careful circles, you tease the delicate rim of your puckered hole. The soft caress sparks a new wave of genuine pleasure, and for the first time in the last couple of hours, you feel your body react pleasantly, letting your assaulted cunt bear all the pain instead.

“Here– I want you here,” you whisper, your voice trembling as you present your tight, eager hole to Abdirak. His eyes glimmer with dark, smoldering desire as he leans in to press a tender kiss to your dry lips. After coating his fingers in your creamy release, his digits soon trace the sensitive rim, coaxing you into relaxing fully as you surrender, collapsing onto the mattress, entrusting him wholly with your pleasure.

Your muscles are almost entirely relaxed now, offering little resistance as Abdirak slowly breaches your hole with a single finger, pumping in and out with a gentle rhythm. His eyes remain fixed on your face, observing each subtle expression as your exhaustion gives way to a delicate, fragile pleasure. Soon, he introduces a second finger, nudging alongside the first, stuffing you deliciously; the exquisite pressure in your tight entrance stirs a warmth that is free from the pain and harshness that your sex feels right now.

Instead of ragged cries, your voice releases soft moans as you surrender to his practiced touch, while he works you open for him. The walls of your sex flutter around nothing, wincing slightly at the phantom pain of the earlier ache from his glass device. Abdirak’s gaze, filled with an enraptured desire, lingers on your body as he gently fucks your ass with his long fingers, glancing at your ruined hole with tenderness

"You look like a beautiful flower, my lamb, with your flushed and engorged petals. You're still so open, I could easily slip inside of you and fecund you," he muses, the weight of his words fanning the flames of his own desire as his fingers scissors your asshole open. Basking in his loving, praising words, sweet sounds bubble from your lips.

"But tonight, I will be filling and breeding this beautiful hole. You love it here so much, don't you, my love?" he asks almost teasingly, pressing soft kisses along your jaw. You nod eagerly, a needy whimper escaping as a third finger slides smoothly into your silken warmth, thrusting with an intensifying rhythm that pulls deep moans from your throat.

"Abdirak..." you whimper, your voice still strained from the rawness in your throat. Your legs curl tentatively around his thighs in a silent plea, and he hums in response, satisfied and content. His lips find yours once again, kissing you passionately; his tongue eagerly meets yours, feeding you his taste and warmth, while you greedily suck on the red appendage. Your teeth graze his bottom lip before biting down fiercely until you can taste blood, and you hear him moan in pleasure. He slowly pulls his fingers from your quivering hole, then wraps his hand around his hardened length, pumping it to full mast. He guides the slick, adorned tip to your throbbing entrance, the anticipation building.

The metal ring of his pierced cockhead feels almost cold, despite the warmth of his silky flesh, the sensation delicious as it stretches your asshole open. Your body collapses onto the mattress, your hips bending so your thighs are drawn as close to your chest as possible, offering a deeper angle as Abdirak slowly penetrates your velvety walls. The movement is agonizingly slow, so deliciously so that you feel the metal beads adorning his length drag against your puckered hole, pulling blissful moans from you.

Abdirak sighs deeply, his eyelids fluttering shut as he sheathes himself fully inside your soft warmth. His face reflects sweet relief and devotion as he finally indulges in his own pleasure. You whimper, feeling your body cling to the last remnants of desire, your empty cunt throbbing painfully as your stomach feels deliciously full of him. You take in his pleasured expression, half-shaven hair falling over his eye, parted lips panting softly, a slight flush staining his scarred face, while you become a shuddering mess, slick with sweat, drool, and tears.

Your body aches, caught between discomfort, sharp pain, and a deep, euphoric pleasure as Abdirak slowly drags his cock out of your pulsating hole, each movement deliberate, before pushing back inside with equal care. A low, guttural moan escapes him, and in this moment, he looks breathtaking, lost in the exquisite pleasure you give him. Soft gasps and gentle hums spill from his lips, each sound rich and velvety as he moves with a careful, deliberate rhythm.

You whimper, your trembling hands finding his shoulders as you desperately search for something to anchor yourself to. Your mind feels as if it’s fracturing under the overwhelming pleasure you didn’t think you were still capable of feeling tonight. Every nerve in your body is ablaze, disoriented; but when Abdirak sets a slow, deliberate pace, rolling his hips sensually as he deeply fucks your asshole, his balls merely caressing your cleft, it’s as if your body remembers how to respond properly –how to surrender to the pleasure, to the body of your lover.

"More," you whine, lifting your hips as much as your aching body allows, contorting yourself despite the searing pain of your flogged back. You rock your hips, needy and demanding, though pathetically. Your plea draws his attention; his eyes flicker open, a playful smile curling at his split lip. But then his gaze darkens, and he hums dangerously.

The first brutal thrust of his hips makes you cry out in surprise before he sets a punishing pace, his pierced cock sending exquisite sensations through your pulsating walls. Bracing himself on his elbows, Abdirak cups your face, his mouth finding your neck as he continues to thrust deep inside your stomach, his movements wild and untamed as squelching noises fill the room. Your loud moans blend with his passionate growls, his pleasured voice sending shivers down your spine.

Your swollen, empty cunt rubs against the taut skin of his stomach, your folds screaming in pleasured agony as Abdirak fills your ass with his iron-like cock, his balls slapping against your heated and wet skin. You pant heavily, your breath raw and primal, more beast than human, as you feel him so deep inside of you it’s like he’s spearing you, splitting your guts in half, reaching a cavernous depth that makes you howl and cry out in response

The tension tightening in your gut and burning behind your navel becomes unbearable, the muscles still raw from your earlier torment. A grunt escapes you as tears threaten to spill from the corners of your eyes, and you instinctively clench viciously around his shaft. Abdirak cries out deliciously, his cock stilling for a brief instant in your velvety clutch before resuming his feral pace. 

“Can you give me one more, lamb?” His voice is thick with lust, dark and primal, as you feel the slick heat of his back under your fingertips. You're not sure if your body can endure another orgasm, or rather you’re terrified that it might, twisting uncomfortably on the bed. Your insides scream in protest, desperately pleading for relief. You sob, feeling your empty cunt drool, your flushed asshole swallowing Abdirak’s pierced cock, while his teeth nibble playfully at the pulse point behind your ear. You know he wants to ravage you, to bite, to push you further into pain and suffering, but he senses your limits have been reached. So, he lets you set the pace, following your desires, only pumping harder inside of you if you demand it. 

A trembling hand reaches between your drenched bodies for your tortured clit and you already wince at the sensation, but instead of truly circling it, you merely graze it, giving your nerves just enough stimulation to build a restrained desire while avoiding too much pain. Abdirak shivers at your willingness, kissing your cheek tenderly.

“That’s it, just like that. Give me one more, just one more, my beautiful, perfect lamb,” he purrs in your ear, his hips rolling sensually, pushing deeper inside your welcoming hole, and you can guess by the way his hips stutter that he’s nearing his own orgasm.

Your hand viciously grips the back of his half-shaven hair with a fierce tug, and Abdirak snarls, propping himself up on his elbows to meet your gaze with lust-filled eyes, pistoning inside of you while your other hand keeps coaxing your desire.

“And you will fill me, won’t you, my love?” Your voice is soft yet commanding, drawing a low moan from his throat as you feel him thrust into you erratically, his movements wild with abandon. He nods eagerly, soft whimpers bubbling from his lips.

“Anything– Maiden!– anything you desire, my lamb,” he pants loudly, succumbing to the intoxicating sensations of desire and pleasure. Your fingers find the perfect rhythm, the right pressure, and you feel your eyes flutter shut as a string of high-pitched moans escapes your parted lips, soon followed by deep, guttural moans from Abdirak’s throat.

Your stomach flips and contorts as your muscles and nerve work one last time to bring you to a painful, shattering completion, your cunt spasming and clenching around nothing as Abdirak buries his hard cock deeply inside of your pulsating asshole. A few thrusts more and you can feel his warm cum filling your insides as he cries out his own pleasure. 

You pant as his hips stutter to a halt, pressing his forehead against yours, eyes closed, his face and expression softening. You wince, tears welling up and slipping down your cheeks, your body wracked with agony as every nerve burns painfully, twisting and squirming. Abdirak pulls away slowly, careful not to hurt you, and you feel his come spill from your flushed hole. A soft sob escapes you, overwhelmed, overstimulated, and now, as your orgasm subsides, uncomfortable. Vulnerable and raw, you whimper uncontrollably as Abdirak gently caresses your hair, shushing you tenderly.

“You’ve done so well, my sun. You are perfect.” His whispers are soft, soothing, full of praise that wraps around you like a warm embrace. You cling to his words, each one a balm to your raw soul, desperately seeking comfort as he places gentle kisses across your face, each one more tender and reassuring than the other.

“I’ll fetch some warm water so we can take a bath. Would you like that?” he asks, his voice filled with care. You nod weakly, your form shivering, already mourning the loss of his warmth as he slowly peels himself from your body. He drapes the blanket over you, his hands lingering just a moment longer, ensuring you’re cocooned in warmth before he slips away.

He returns shortly, guiding a maid to the inn’s room, and you lie still on the now-soiled bed, your body still trembling, a mixture of exhaustion and the lingering aftermath of everything that came before.

When the linens are changed and the tub is filled with warm water, you sink into the soothing embrace of the bath, your body melting against his as he pulls you close. His arms are around you, solid and comforting, grounding you in the moment. The water, warm and gentle, calms your nerves and loosens the tension in your muscles. His lips press softly against the top of your head, and his fingers, light as feathers, trace the curve of your back, each caress a silent promise of care.

As his whispered prayer to Loviatar fills the quiet air, you close your eyes, surrendering to the peace and safety in his arms. In this moment, there is nothing but tenderness, and you feel secure, cherished, as though nothing could harm you while he holds you close.

[ilya-thewarlock]

Pain with a purpose.

AbdirakxNamed!Tav

Smut || NSFW || BDSM || Kinda PWP || Mention of blood and wounds || Very kinky || Knife play || Chains and shackles || Everything Abdirak did multiplied || Inappropriate use of the hilt of a dagger || MLM || Anal || Handjob || I mean it's... It's a lot || 3.7k words

(I said it once and I'll say it again, English is not my first language)

˜˜˜˜˜˜˜˜˜˜˜˜

The heels of his boots slightly echoed as he walked into the chamber. Everything was made out of stone, from the walls to the floor, a couple of pillars close to the entrance and two more on the other side, right where a small altar stood. Beyond that an alcove in the wall, just like the one back in the Shattered Sanctum.  The only difference where two chains, one on each side, with shackles at the end.

He swallowed a gulp.

The monk was standing right in front of him, his back turned like the first time they met. As the door behind them closed on itself, the noise of rusty hinges echoed lowdly then his steps, making the priest aware of his presence. He smiled.

<< I knew you’d be back, dear one... >>

Abdirak turned around to face him, still smiling, his eyes fixing on his more casual form, different from the first time they’ve met, in that dirty, dusty goblin camp, a defiled and abandoned Selune’s temple. This chamber, on the other hand, was rather modest, with some benches, a slightly worn burgundy carpet going from the main door to the altar. There were torches all around the walls, a couple standing on each side of the altar, some located on the pillars, but the back of the room was darker. The symbol of Loviatar was displaced in a couple of banners, as well as on a cloth adorning the altar.

Orion didn’t spoke, just smiled at the priest, slightly fidgeting with his fingers, still too embarrassed, too... Shy. He was exploring the hidden parts of the lower city with the rest of the companions, searching for clues about Orin and the temple of Bhaal, when a mislead and a poor sense of direction in a city he barely knew, led the young warlock to the sacred temple of Loviatar. They met again, him and Abdirak, where he asked to come and visit him again.

And that’s what he did.

It was the middle of the night, the rest of the party was sleeping in their camp, when he left to see him again. Something was drawing Orion to Abdirak once more, the same, hidden connection that made him turn his head that day, getting to meet him.

<< Still shy, I see... Dear one there’s nothing to be ashamed of. Your presence here is pleasing our dear Goddess Loviatar. She just wants to help, and so am I. >>

Abdirak moved forward, stepping slowly to get closer to him, and Orion caught himself staring, mesmerised, watching his figure with his mouth slightly agape. He was fascinating...

The man’s hand gently reached the young warlock’s face, tilting his chin just to see him better, as the hood of his cape fell from his raven hair.

<< We both know why you’re here... >>

He kept talking in the smoothest voice, dark, vibrating in his ears, like a purring cat, as his thumb slightly caressed his chin, before withdrawing once more.

<< You already know what to do... >>

He said, as he gestured to the alcove in the back with one hand, and to his form with the other, looking at him from head to toe, back to his eyes.

Again, without a word, Orion moved, unlacing the knot of his cape, letting it fall to the ground, exposing him in his modest camp clothes: a simple pair of trousers and a violet shirt, unbuttoned on his chest, revealing some dark chest hair. The more his hand moved to undress him, the more the embarrassment left his body, leaving him with needs, with trepidation.

His shirt was gone, falling right on top of the dark cloak he used to hide his form on his way from the camp to the temple. With a small kick, each of his shoes where discarded, as he started to open the laces of his trousers.

Abdirak’s breath caught in his throat.

Orion let his trousers down his long, toned legs, a slightly swing of hips and knees to help him, before moving them out of his feet with another kick to the side. His underwear following soon after.

He raised his head, naked, his pallid skin adorned with some scars, the dark red tattoo on his neck even more prominent.

<< Beautiful... >>

Abdirak whispered and Orion couldn't contain a proud smile, before walking to where the priest instructed. From the main part of the temple, that area was unlit, darker and not much visible, hidden from the stone altar. He could now see two small wooden tables: one with potions, oils and vials of all kinds, mostly for healing; the other one had a dagger, a mace, a whip and an axe. More detailed, beautiful version of the ritual weapons Abdirak brought with him to meet the goblins.

The man came behind him, a hand gently caressing his left arm, slightly tilting his head closer to his hair and shoulder. Orion slowly closed his eyes, feeling the sensation of his cold, rugged hands on his delicate skin, letting the man do anything he wanted and needed.

<< Don’t worry, dear one. Me and Loviatar will take great care of you... >>

He spoke softly, as he raised his left arm first, reaching the chain and adjusting them to his height, before closing the shackle around his wrist, tight. Orion hissed and winched, a reaction Abdirak appreciated.

Pain.

The priest shifted, moving to his right side, raising his arm and locking in the same way with the other, hearing another hiss from the warlock. He then stepped back, admiring his work, as the young man in front of him stood completely naked, his own shadow projecting on the white skin of his bare back.

<< Oh, dear one... You look simply divine... >>

His hand was on him again, a feathered touch on three new scars he recognised a bit too well; he made them, when he entered the room driven by curiosity, when his eyes flickered with interest, when he expressed his desire to learn...

He could still see clearly that moment, the smell of his sweet, dark blood as his dagger flashed on his pale skin. The way he took each strike, the way he winched but tested him, taunting him, tempting him to do more, using that slightly intimidating tone no one would think could come out from such an angelic face. Oh, what a challenge he was! He laughed as he almost insulted him, saying a child would’ve done better. It was driving him crazy.

<< Would you like the usual, dear one? I promise this time I’ll be better. >>

He wanted him to pick up the dagger so bad, he wanted to see if he could actually break him, hear him cry, now that they were alone. No filthy goblins on sight, no sarcastic comments from his noisy companions, making fun of him for choosing to pursue such experience. How dare they...

<< Yes... >>

He simply said, his first word spoken since the moment he entered his temple, and it was nothing but a whisper, a tremble betraying him.

Abdirak smiled, almost greedy. He was not as bold...

<< A perfect choice, dear one... >>

He talked again like he was purring as he moved to take the dagger. The metal glistened in the dark, the silver blade adorned with darker incisions, as nine ramifications decorated the hilt, resuming the symbol of Loviatar. A dark ruby was sitting right on top, creating a small curve.

Abdirak smiled again, moving to stand right behind his back.

<< Now close your eyes, dear one, and let Loviatar’s love flows through you... >>

In the complete silence around them, Orion could almost hear the vibrations coming from the blade being lifted in the hair, as he closed the eyes with trepidation, waiting for the moment the man would strike. He was expecting a strong, steady slash, but that never came. Instead, the sharp point of the blade was on his skin, tracing intricated design, starting from the base of his neck, down his shoulder blades. Rivets of blood started to form on his pale skin, as a burning sensation followed the cold silver. He stiffened, hissed and gritted his teeth, before a choked moans left his mouth. But Abdirak didn’t stopped, the blade was notw back to his shoulders, before moving to one arm, up to the elbow, as the blood kept staining him and the dagger, a couple of rivets falling on Abdirak’s fingers.

Orion moaned, as the burning sensation grew from his wounded skin to his entire body, pain and pleasure starting to mix together.

<< Do not resist, my dear... Let me hear your pretty voice. Let Loviatar hear your call. >>

He pressed the dagger oh so slightly, causing the skin to open more. Orion raised his head, his eyes closed shut, his whimpers growing louder into mewls and moans. The priest smiled again, proud, satisfied, as he descended with the blade down his spine. The shackles rattled as a small spam went through the half-elf's body, his moans now echoing in the chamber.

Abdirak chuckled, his noise pure music to his ears.

<< Thats, it, dear one... >>

They were alone, no one in sight, no one close to hear them. He could’ve screamed, encouraging him like he did the first time. Yet he stayed terribly closed to his ear, moving occasionally, just to admire his own work of art, and he kept whispering, kept his voice so low, so intimate.

Orion shivered, he was feeling warm, too warm, as the man stood so close he could feel the leather details of his collar touching the back of his neck, his hot breath fanning over his shoulder.

And that’s where it striked, the first slash on his side, caught him totally by surprise. He yelped, screamed, his eyes wide open, his breath now short and quick, his heart beating fast.

Pain.

The man behind him laughed, pure bliss in his face, as he pressed his free hand on his new wound, coating his fingers with some of his warm blood.

<< More, give me more. >>

He almost growled, as the blade was back to draw random designs, this time on his lower back, going down his rear, before coming up again to slice the skin on his left shoulder blade in a flash movement.

Orion contorted, arched his back as he gripped the chains. The scream louder than the others, as the pain was quickly followed by the pleasure. His own body was reacting in ways he didn’t knew it was possible, as he felt a warm sensation at his lower abdomen. He looked down, trying to catch his breath, still moaning, as his cock slightly twitched between his legs.

He was hard.

Abdirak stepped back, giving some time to the warlock, letting him catch his breath, while devouring his naked, bloodied form with his own eyes, tasting the blood on his hand. It was absolutely delicious, sweet, tainted.

<< You’re a sight to behold, dear one. How lucky I get to witness this. To create this. >>

He growled once again, getting closer to the man, who was now a whimpering mess. His nose slightly touched his shoulder, as the free hand gently caressed his skin, smudging blood all over his back. He inhaled his scent, blood and sweat mixing together with a touch of musk, the smell of a dark, eerie forest. He could’ve gone high on that.

And when he opened his eyes, the sight in front of him was so damn tempting.

A chuckled left his mouth, stifled by the man’s shoulder where his lips involuntarily laid on. His eyes darkening in desire.

<< Dear one, you’re doing so good for Loviatar. And me. >>

He whispered, as the dagger moved down his body, reaching his rear once more, his eyes now fixating on the stiffed member of the man still shivering.

<< You want more, dear one? Tell me, and I will provide. >>

Another whimper left Orion’s mouth, his head dripping low, his body turned mush, barely hold by the chains and tight shackles around his wrists.

<< Yes. >> He breathed out. << Give me more >>

The priest was too eager, too excited to waste time. That’s all he needed to hear. He smiled, wicked, dark, and he flipped his dagger into his hand with an expertly move, the hilt now tracing the bottom of his partner.

<< You're amazing, dear one. >>

The next thing Orion felt was the ruby adorning the hilt of the dagger pressed between his buttocks. His own brain started to fight with his body, as panic started to grow in his stomach, but his legs instantly slid on the concrete, spreading more in front of Abdirak, who couldn’t help but smile again. He moved the hilt from left to right, enough to help the warlock, before pressing the cold gem right on his tight hole.

Orion gripped the chains once again, looking at the man with the corner of his eyes, then back to the wall and down to his cock desperately twitching. That sight alone should've embarrassed him, but his brain went shut as the man urged the hilt inside.

Pain.

He felt the first inches stretched him roughly, burning, tearing his delicate skin, bruising it. He yelled, head tilted to the ceiling, Abdirak’s free hand still caressing his back, fingers now dirty with blood.

The man behind also moaned, as he pressed the hilt again.

There was pain, and there was pleasure. Orion’s head started to spin, his eyes watering, as he couldn’t control himself anymore. The hilt wasn’t as big as a normal dagger, but it was rock hard, and the ridges of the decoration around it were scraping his walls. He definitely wasn’t used to this, but he couldn't care less. He was there to feel that. The pain with a purpose.

<< Yes, dear one. Yes! >>

Abdirak started moving the object inside of him, guided by the divine noises coming from Orion’s mouth, in and out, watching the man squirm, scream, shiver. His own cock twitched, forming a tent on his robe.

Orion’s mind was clouded as well as his own sight, screaming in pain and pleasure, his legs wobbling and his mouth open, noises coming out uncontrollably, his cock painfully twitching in desperation. He was a mess.

<< Do you like it, my dear? >>

Oh, how he liked being called his.

He couldn't even breath properly, so he nodded in response. The man behind smiled satisfied, as his free, dirty hand sneaked from behind, gently touching his hips, the opposite of what the other hand was doing. It was now on his abdomen, getting lower, caressing his body hair, before reaching further down, taking his aching cock in his hand.

Orion yelped, his eyes widened, and a different noise came out of his throat as a shock shot through his body.

Abdirak started pumping his hand, coating his length with his own blood, moving faster, oh so swiftly. He never stopped with the hilt, as it was now fully stretching him, only the hand of the man stopping it, as he was holding two fingers on each side of the hilt, while the rest of the hand was around his blade, cutting through the skin. Orion could hear the slap his own bare back was doing against his hand, around the object as he instinctively moved his hips with it

The warlock’s throat burned, as well as the rest of his body, as he screamed uncontrollably, abandoning himself to the attention of the priest, feeling his head spin, his legs wobble. It was too much and he was close, so dangerously close.

<< Ab-.. Ah!... >>

He couldn’t speak, couldn’t think, so he let his body do anything it wanted, as he came undone, white cum falling on the wall in front of him and on the ground. His own knees started to buck, the sensation of his high rushing through like a storm, while the man behind him didn’t stop, letting him come on his hand, making sure every single drop was out. A breathed laugh left Abdirak’s mouth, looking at the mess, his cock tinted now in red.

Once satisfied, the priest slowed down and then stopped, freeing his cock from his grasp and slowly removing the hilt from his hole, resulting in another, delicious moan.

Abdirak threw the dagger on the table, not even caring to see if it landed correctly, too busy admiring his own work, both catching their breath. Tears where now drying on Orion’s cheeks, his head dropped low, only the shackles keeping him in place, as the priest’s hand gently touched his hips, sweetly and caring holding them. He lowered his forehead, letting it rest on the young man’s shoulder, still catching his breath. They stayed there for a moment; the silence broken by their huffed pants.

Abdirak moved closely, his hips pressed against Orion’s back, his eyes closed.

He could still feel it, behind the only piece of fabric creating a barrier between them; his own cock was now stiff, hard, begging for a release.

Orion was still coming down his high, head still clouded and spinning; the state he was in let him move without even thinking, as he bent slightly back, feeling the shape of his length pressing against his still aching rear.

The priest moaned, tilting his heads up before laughing.

<< Oh, dear one. You really are Loviatar’s favourite... >>

He whispered, gently pressing a skin on his shoulder, letting him move closer, guiding him with his hands sill on his hips.

For the first time since being inside that chamber, Orion felt proud of himself and smiled, turning his head as much as we could, to see him. He was red, his hair messy, some locks attached to his forehead and sides due to the sweat. And Abdirak loved him that way.

<< Do it, please... >>

For a moment, the priest of Loviatar was gone, only a man, terribly attracted to this creature, was looking back at him, in need of release, wanting to give up on the temptation.

And he smiled, hungrily.

He didn’t need to hear it twice, as he moved away the skirt of his robe, his cock popping out from the slit of it.

Of course he wasn’t wearing anything underneath.

<< My dear, you’ll be the death of me. >>

The man growled, moving his hips back as he guided his length to his entrance. With a swift, fluid movement, he could feel his cock stretching him. He winched in pain, still sore from the previous activity, but the sensation brought by his cock was divine as he moaned deeply.

The hand on his hips were gently yet rough, as he started to move, slowly raising the speed, being guided by those delicious noise once again, this time only because of him, of his cock. He was so warm around him, clenching oh so sweetly, sending him into an orbit of pleasure as the pace quickened. Orion moaned loudly each time the man pressed the head in the deepest part of him, bottoming him out. Despite everything, the pain was now almost gone, and pure pleasure cursed through his body, moving now with the man, his hips meeting his.

One of Abdirak’s hand reached up, taking a handful of hair into his fingers and pulling roughly, tilting his head back, earning another blissfully moan. He other hand squeezed his cheek, grabbing it until red was tinting the delicate skin, together with all the cuts. Orion could feel the skin of his hips slapping against is bare, sore back, his movement rough and desperate, rhythmic.

Pure bliss, pure pleasure, after the pain he inflicted on the man, and the one of himself, for having resisted for so long. He wanted him, desperately. Like a starving man in front of a feast.

He moved closer to his shoulder, biting and kissing the skin, moaning against it.

<< You’re mine, dear one. >>

Orion moaned in response, letting the man do everything he wanted, claiming him as his. Yes, he was his. His dear one.

Abdirak’s movement became erratic, irregular, feeling his own high coming. His hand left his hair, just to sneak in front and grab his chin, tilting the man’s head closer to his, breathing and moaning into his pointed ear, while the other circled his hips, holding him closer as much as he could, grabbing his cock again, pumping it quickly. Orion almost shouted, his hips still coming to meet his.

<< Dear one, dear one... >>

The priest chanted as he released himself inside the warlock, white hot shot filling him and coating his hot, stretched and bruised walls. Orion came soon after, screaming his name loudly, letting it echo in that chamber.

It was perfect. He was perfect.

Abdirak slowly stopped, resting his head on his shoulder once again as he tried to catch his breath.

He was now holding Orion, one arm around his shoulders and the other around his abdomen, his hot skin against his.

The young man was trembling, his legs threatening to give up in any moment. The hot semen now dripping down his deliciously abused hole.

The priest raised his head, looking at him for a moment, before helping him out with the shackles, opening one, then the other. The warlock almost fell on him, but he was quick to hold him, slowly getting to sit on the ground on his knees, bringing him down, close to his chest. His lips gently pressed a kiss on his forehead.

<< You’re simply amazing, dear one... >>

He whispered holding that dearly mess in his arms, blood and sweat covering his perfect skin, now scarred and marked by his own work.

His.

Orion moved his head to the side, resting peacefully and tired on his chest, as his eyes slowly closed, catching his breath.

He needed to go back, but he wouldn’t mind staying there, just for a little while.

[m-u-n-c-h-y]

"I want your quiet, your screaming and thrashing The salt on your lips and the hands that God gave you And I want your violence, your silent sedation Your moon eyes, your telescope, morbid fixation"

[shewhowas39]

sneak peek of chapter 31: "S&M"

chapter 31 of Juniper & Starlight should be up later today! but here's a sneak peek.

***

“Greetings, children,’ the heavily scarred man says. “I’ve met few aside from goblins here.” He pauses, gray eyes scanning the small group. “Ah! Are you also here to assist with the prisoner?”

“Prisoner?” June asks.

“The gentleman next door,” he explains. “My…acquaintance is working on him, I believe.” He grimaces, clearly disgusted. “While I was thrilled to be invited here, I must confess I find the goblins and their methods crude and, ugh, primitive. Pain without purpose is a terrible thing, wouldn’t you agree?”

Before June can say something absurdly saccharine about all pain being bad or something along those lines, Astarion cuts in with an emphatic nod. “Oh, yes. I certainly agree. And these goblins have no concept of true, proper torture.”

When he looks to the half elves, he can see that June is glancing toward the other door, beyond which the sounds of a man’s cries and goblin jeers can now be heard. Dread and exasperation fill him. Yet another stranger June is likely going to insist on saving. 

But Shadowheart is on top of it. “I’ll go handle the prisoner,” she says. “I’ll show the goblins the most effective way to get answers.”

“Best of luck to you, my child,” the man says. “I do hope they listen to you more than they did to me.” As Shadowheart leaves the room to go next door, he turns back to June and Astarion. “The one administering the torture next door claims to be a master of pain, but…No. No, pain should be intimate and loving.”

Astarion feels the grin stretching across his face. Oh, this man is an absolute freak. How delightful! He leans into it, both because they are meant to be blending in, but also - and mostly - because it’s funny.

“Absolutely,” Astarion says, lowering his voice to a growl as he tries to match this man’s rather horny energy. “Pain should be passionate.”

“Yes! Yes!” the man shouts. “You must be a true believer!”

Astarion has no idea what he’s meant to truly believe in, but that doesn’t stop him from giving this man an enthusiastic nod. “Of course.”

“What a relief, to find fellow devotees among these uncivilized creatures,” he says. “My apologies. I have not introduced myself. I am Abdirak, and you…” He trails off as his eyes come to rest on June, who has - perhaps wisely - remained quiet throughout this exchange. “Forgive me, child, but that look in your eyes… Something terrible has happened to you.” 

“Oh, um, no. I’m fine,” June says, and as usual, it’s not at all a convincing lie.

“There is no need to disguise your suffering, child,” Abdirak says. “You have nothing to be ashamed of.”

“I ain’t so sure that’s true,” June murmurs. 

[ellekhen]

Hand, Hearth, and Home

Chapter 12 - The Voice

Chapter Summary: The party makes it to the goblin camp ready to wield their authority as “True Souls” if necessary. However, just steps away from the camp, they only just begin to understand the sheer scale of what they’re facing. Church sees an opportunity for a boon and takes it, with mixed results.

Pairing(s): Astarion x Male Tav (Main); Past OC x Male Tav Rating: Explicit

Excerpt below:

The cleric’s face splits into a toothy smile. “Simply bare your back, face the wall, and we can begin.” Astarion watches in amazement as the tiefling nods, stepping to the side as he self-consciously begins to unfasten his padded armor. “Darling, I never imagined you were into this sort of thing,” the rogue remarks curiously. “Perhaps I’m speaking too soon, but… count me impressed.” “I’m not trying to impress — nevermind,” Church groans, turning back around as he sheds his jerkin. “I’ve read into Loviatar’s teachings. Her followers worship through pain… especially their own. If I endure this ritual, her blessing will make me stronger — something I’m sure we could all benefit from. This is something I’m choosing to do for purely practical reasons, not enjoy—!” “I’m not judging, darling,” Astarion says airily. “But I hope you don’t mind if I watch.” Church’s cheeks color.  “...or me,” Shadowheart pipes up from nearby. “Or me!” Karlach chortles. “You’re a crazy bastard. Knew I liked you.”

The three of them fall silent as Church reproachfully, self-consciously strips off his damp shirt. Astarion has to marvel a bit at the sight. Despite primarily being a spellcaster, the lithe warlock is surprisingly muscular beneath his clothing — as if from years of climbing. The elf’s eyes indulgently trace those fascinating contours and ridges of him, accented by the room’s candlelight.  “What?” the warlock blinks at their surprised faces. “Just enjoying the view, darling,” Astarion drawls, smirking at Karlach and Shadowheart’s stunned silence. “Face the wall, my child,” Abdirak commands the warlock, to all of their relief.  Church sets his freckled shoulders and approaches the wall.  “Yes…” Abdirak purrs. “This will do nicely. The pain you suffer will cleanse you! Do not fight it!” As Church rolls his shoulders, the vestigial wings upon his back flex hypnotically, to the point that when Abdirak finally strikes, it takes Astarion by surprise.  THUD! Astarion hardly expects Church to run away in cowardice, but at most he expects him to remain stoic against the pain — maybe grit his teeth and grunt a little.  What he doesn’t expect is the warlock to unleash a positively ardent, ecstatic cry of catharsis, pain, and… Astarion glances at Abdirak’s blissful face.  …oh.  Pleasure. 

Read more on Ao3!

...or, start from the beginning!

[rinwellisathing]

Paint The Lines, Cut the Flesh: Part 2

“Wake up, mijo.” A soft voice chided as a gently hand clad in polished metal, cool to the touch, brushed Sentry's cheek, soothing over the prominent burn scar. His mismatched eyes fluttered open and he gazed up at a tall, beautiful old woman. Her warm brown skin lined with age, smile lines around her lips, which curled into a kind, loving expression as her honey-gold eyes gazed down on him. He took her hand and allowed himself to be guided to his feet beside her. “Hullo, mum.” He smiled. “You're lucky I got to you just in time, sweet boy, you were beginning to change.” Her voice was gentle, patient, but tinged with concern. “That tadpole in your brain will not go away any time soon, I'm afraid, but I can keep it dormant.” “Thanks...You know, it's weird, but somehow...even with everything I've forgotten, I know you...I remember you, and you watching over me just makes sense.” Sentry gave a small, happy smile. “Gods, I've missed you.” The old woman gave a serene smile and nodded her head. “I have missed you too, Sentry. But for now, listen, what I have to tell you is very important. So far you've found a few other tadpoles, ones from the minds of these 'true souls'....They can help you, child. Imbue you with power.” Sentry nodded his head thoughtfully. “I...guess that makes sense..But won't it hurt to have more of that corruption in me?” Evagria gently took him in her arms, holding him there softly and patting his pale hair. “Oh sweet boy, but think of how it will help to protect your friends if you take these powers? What's a little suffering in the service of the greater good? Father Lorgan and I always taught you that.” Sentry frowned a moment, calculating inside his mind, trying to grasp what didn't seem quite right about this. “But...didn't you also always say not to seek out suffering, only to bear it if I had to to help others?”

“Well, you hardly sought it out, mijo…trouble just found you, it seems. So why not make the best of it?” Her eyes shifted towards shimmering shapes in the sky behind her. “I have to go for now, sweet boy…But think about what I said…Remember your training…” “Wait!” Sentry reached out after her, only to be engulfed in bright light as his eyes fluttered open and he was greeted with a warm, wet tongue across his face and the scent of dog breath. “Oh, hey Scratch. Good morning.” He gave a small smile and ruffled the dog's fur before slowly sitting up. As Octavia began to bring bowls and dishes to Gale so breakfast could be served, the party gathered around, sitting together as they began their morning routines. Jaina brushed her long golden hair with a comb that looked like it must be made from some sort of sea shell. Kroger took inventory of the party's reagents and began mixing the healing potions for the day. Wyll stood back a bit, stretching and performing some small exercises by his tent, cautiously taking into account the weight of his new horns. Karlach carefully placed a well loved stuffed bear back amongst her blankets inside her tent. Lae'zel began to sharpen the weapons that would need it for the day. Astarion sauntered neatly over to Sentry, sitting by his side and grinning. He did certainly seem healthier since Sentry had made the offer to sustain him each night. “So, did anyone else have a really weird dream?” Sentry broke the silence as Octavia handed him a bowl of warm...porridge? He guessed that was what it was. “You know, I did! A very handsome man appeared to talk to me about our predicament...” Jaina replied, setting down her hair brush and taking out a carefully wrapped shell, opening it and beginning to apply the lotion inside to her strange, greyish blue skin. “The same happened to me.” Wyll nodded in agreement as he walked over. “I think we should be careful whose advice we trust, though...” “Okay, you're not gonna believe this, but me too! The gorgeous woman told me about all these powers the tadpoles could give us...because that's not suspicious at all.” Karlach laughed. “No good can come of using Ghaik powers. I wouldn't be surprised if these dreams were a side effect of the tadpoles themselves.” Kroger shook his head. “You would do well to ignore them.” “Yeah...I dunno....my visitor was someone I trust pretty well...and the more power we have, the easier this journey should be, right?” Sentry spoke up, raising a brow.

“I mean, I think Sentry has a point. Shouldn't we use every advantage we're offered? You're dismissing it out of hand without even considering the benefits.” Astarion nodded his agreement.

“Tchk....” Lae'zel rolled her eyes as she walked over to Kroger and placed a hand on his shoulder. “There is no reasoning with these Istik, kin. The sooner we reach a creche and find a Zaithisk the better.” “Well...I know what we've been taught, but maybe we should see this as an opportunity to study. After all, if we could use the Ghaik's own power against them, wouldn't that be a very welcome advantage?” Octavia spoke up, earning a look of horror from her brother and a glare from her sister. “I mean, if we only accepted these powers little by little, we could test what the limit is? I just think we shouldn't rule it out...”

--- The painting looked different today, Enver noticed. It was a subtle difference, but hard to miss when one spent as much time studying at as he did. He noticed just the subtle hint of decay around the chest and face, where skin was exposed. The rich light brown of his flesh giving way to the red meat beneath. It was beautiful in its morbid strangeness, he had to admit. Did Sentry intend this? In this new room, the painting wasn't protected from sunlight entirely the way it had been in the home Sentry had painted it in, but still... He got to his feet and poured himself a drink with a sigh, only looking up when footsteps approached and a voice behind him cleared their throat, making themselves known. He turned to face a tall, slim tiefling woman with violet skin and rich black hair, her red eyes regarding him with respect. She was dressed in stylish, subtly Banite clothing and a black hand shaped brooch pinned her cloak in place. “Yes, Valda?” Enver asked. “I found what you were looking for. He'll be up presently.” The woman replied, bowing respectfully. “Thanks, Miss Everett, whatever would I do without you?” Enver gave an exhausted smile and raised his glass to her. “To start with, you would need to book your own entertainment, my lord.” The woman smirked before bowing out of the room. When she left, another person entered. Enver could see that Valda had done her best, the young man was around Sentry's height, give or take a few inches, the same silver hair, the same pale flesh. The tattoos were different and the eyes, well, no one ever had the right eyes. His were both pale violet, but not the electric purple of Sentry's left eye and no trace of the pale blue of his right eye. He was pretty enough, though. “I'm at your service, Lord Gortash. It is truly an honor.” The young man bowed. Enver rolled his eyes and took a long sip of his drink. This simpering little sycophant was really the best Sharess' Caress could offer? Sentry would never have groveled like this. “Hells, boy, show some defiance, tell me, do you have a single thought of your own in that pretty head of yours?” “I...” The tiefling blinked in confusion. “If you want me to?” He asked uncertainly. Enver approached him, gripping him by the chin and pulling him close enough to smell the booze on his breath. “Tonight, your name is Sentry Ojeda. You're a clever, malicious little brat and you intend to make me work for whatever I take from you. Is that clear?”

The young man opened and closed his mouth like a fish gasping for air for a moment before managing to stammer out. “I...I think so?” “Good. And do try to adhere to that. Imagine the consequences if you fail to satisfy me after all.” Enver took another sip of his drink before tossing the glass aside and turning his full attention to the pale imitation he'd hired for the night.

----

The goblin camp was exactly as Sentry had expected. Raucous, filthy, and crowded. Well, it WAS crowded at least. The party had stepped just past the gate way to the courtyard where some sort of celebration was taking place. His memory was a little fuzzy, but near as he could remember, Jaina started to make some suggestion, and then he'd seen a little frightened owlbear cub, clearly bullied by these goblins. His attention had been fixated on that and only that and he missed whatever Jaina had been saying, he'd completely ignored anything else going on around him, and now he was standing in the middle of the courtyard covered in blood and viscera, his companions just sheathing their weapons as they looked at him with expressions ranging from abject horror to annoyance. “What in the hells was that about!?” Astarion snapped, staring incredulously up at Sentry. “Was a modicum of subtlety too much to ask?” Jaina frowned and bit her lip. “I do hate resorting to violence, but...in all fairness, thinning the herd probably works in our favor...and as annoying as that bard fellow is, they WERE tormenting the poor man.” She nodded towards the still shaking blue clad figure who was fumbling with a potion bottle near the gate. “Those goblins were more trouble for the refugees back at the grove, it was the right thing to do.” Wyll placed a hand on Sentry's shoulder and gave him a reassuring nod. “I'd have made the same decision if I'd been at the front of the pack.” “Well, you're in charge...so...” Sentry shrugged. “At any rate, think there's still a chance for stealth inside? Like maybe the ones in the temple didn't hear the commotion?” He asked hopefully, his expression somewhat put out at Astarion's annoyance with him. “It's worth a try. We should try and rescue as many captives in one piece as we can. After all, they can answer more questions alive than dead.” Kroger frowned, his expression troubled for a moment. “And this druid who can possibly cure us? I don't suppose they'd keep him alive if they clocked us as reinforcements. We should tread carefully.” Jaina agreed. --- Treading carefully worked well enough, it seemed, as the party made their way into the ruined temple. The place seemed huge and Jaina could sense powerful magic within. She was sure Gale and Octavia were picking up on it too. She noticed Shadowheart wrinkle her nose and shudder a bit. “Huh...the architecture's Selunite.” Sentry mused, eyes fixed on the ceiling and walls. “See, if you look close you can see the moon phases cut in and a lot of the lines are crescent.” He blinked as he noticed everyone's eyes on him in disbelief. “No, really, I read this book once and the detective was hunting down a werewolf and it turned out there was this Selunite faction that became werewolves as a ritual to worship her. It was a really good book, actually.” “Hmmph...typical. And yet everyone would dismiss it as fiction because it slanders their precious Moon Maiden.” Shadowheart rolled her eyes. “You should read it, I'll see if it's in my pack, I was pretty pleasantly surprised how many books were in it when I found it on that nautiloid.” Sentry grinned. “I'll hand it over when we're back at camp. It goes great with a glass of wine.”

“Much as I'm glad to hear the idea of a book club is so popular, perhaps we should focus on the matter at hand.” Gale stepped in. “We need to find this druid and if possible, learn more about this 'Absolute'.” “I say we split up, this place is enormous and it'll take ages to search every part of it all together, not to mention we're more conspicuous that way.” Astarion suggested. “I'll go with Sentry.” “I'll join you both, don't take this the wrong way, but you need supervision.” Jaina offered, taking a step closer. “Count me in as well, then.” Wyll's smile was so eager as he stepped up beside Jaina, she found herself blushing and sneaking a shy glance at him. “Eh, what the hells. Seems like you're the fun group.” Karlach shrugged, walking over to the party. The group made their way towards the sounds of screaming, the logical thought being that a torture chamber was the most likely place to keep a captive druid. Sentry peeked his head into a little alcove at the top of the steps and noticed a man inside, deep in prayer. The tiefling started to enter the room quietly, when the man stood up and turned to face him. His face was scarred and lined, pale eyes meeting Sentry's dual colored gaze. “You have the look of someone who is haunted, dear one.” The man pointed at Sentry. Sentry blinked, color draining from his face. “Oh, me? N...No, I'm....I'm just a simple paladin in the service of Ilmater.” He gripped his tail anxiously, twisting it in his hands. “There is no need to hide it, I see it in your eyes, you are intimately familiar with suffering.” The priest continued, examining Sentry intently. “My mistress, Loviatar, hears your cries, dear one. She knows that to feel pain is to be alive.” Sentry felt a stirring between his legs at that thought, sharp metal fingernails digging into his shoulders and hips, his horns being gripped and held down as both holes were spread in turn further than he imagined he could handle, those dark emerald eyes gazing down approvingly as he drooled and panted. His mind was a tumble of those thoughts, intertwined with his own teeth and claws digging into that light brown skin, tasting the salty sweat and coppery blood, the sensation of his tail wrapped around the stubbled throat and squeezing. He was only just now aware that he was biting his lip and squirming a little in the present, his face flushed bright red, eyes cast down with embarassment. “Please don't be ashamed of your desires, child, you should revel in them! In fact, if you like, we can worship together, perhaps Loviatar may even offer her blessing if you please her.” The priest patted Sentry's shoulder. “Mmm...I'd like to see that.” Astarion chuckled. “Really, just right in front of the rest of us?” Jaina quirked a brow, folding her arms across her chest. “Well, Ilmater DOES teach that suffering is necessary to help others, I would be a pretty poor servant of his if I didn't do this.” Sentry hurriedly replied, slowly beginning to strip out of his armor, leaving him clad only in a pair of simple black cotton underpants. The priest inhaled deeply with an eager smile as he took in the sight of the scars that crossed Sentry's supple flesh, watching eagerly as the tiefling faced the wall, pressing his hands to it and expertly arching his back. The first blow caused the paladin to cry out loudly, head tossed back. “By the Goddess, it's like the yearly rum festival back home.” Jaina pressed a hand to her forehead shaking her head. “All we need now are some naked drunks running around. “Do the goblins count?” Karlach asked, jabbing a thumb back towards the outside corridor where a few goblin soldiers hurried back and forth.

“Well, um....good to expand your horizons, I guess.” Wyll shrugged.

“Oh fuck!” Sentry cried out, mouth open wide, teeth glinting in the dim light. “Yes! Let her hear you, dear one! You are doing so well!” The priest exclaimed, bringing the mace down across Sentry's back again, causing the tiefling's tail to curl eagerly with pleasure.

“Careful with all that blood, I'll still need some for later.” Astarion smirked, eyes moving over Sentry's body. Finally, the last blow struck and Sentry slowly sank to his knees, panting heavily, a small trail of drool tracing down his chin, his expression satisfied and vacant in the after glow. He grinned widely, tail wagging slightly as he looked absently at the priest's hand, extended to him. “Oh...yeah...thanks...that was...like...really good.” Sentry purred, accepting his hand and letting the other man help him to his feet. “My lady Loviatar enjoyed it as well, dear one. And on a personal note, so did I. You were perfect.” The priest kissed Sentry on the forehead before turning and kneeling, going back to his meditations. “Well, that was certainly interesting.” Wyll broke the somewhat awkward silence as the group made their way out of the room.

“You know? I actually feel pretty good.” Sentry replied with a jaunty grin. “And I think it helped jog my memory a bit too! I was into that stuff, apparently! Who knew?” “I mean...it was a pretty solid guess.” Karlach chuckled. “It just seems like your kinda thing. Plus, the whole 'broken god' thing.” “At any rate...the druid?” Jaina prompted with an exaggerated shrugging gesture, looking to the various different paths that led to the different parts of the prison. “Because those giant spiders we passed earlier don't seem too personable, I'd hate to find out he's been in there with them.” “I didn't see him when we passed that cage, um...maybe that corridor?” Karlach suggested, jabbing a thumb towards a winding corridor ahead of them. “Worth a look.” Wyll agreed, starting towards it, Sentry and the others following behind him. Through the door at the end of the corridor, the party found themselves in a large kennel with two cages set against the back wall. In one cage, a bear groaned and snorted in pain as two goblin children pelted it with rocks. Sentry's expression darkened and his nostrils flared, slowly beginning to approach, his mind growing blank and red as voices whispered in his ears to show them what real violence was. A pale greyish blue arm shot out, pressing him back by the chest and he felt his mind swim back into focus as Jaina's pale blue eyes stared up at him sternly and she shook her head. “Whoa, easy there big guy...Let me.” He was taken aback, but his mind was calmed at least briefly by the surprise of the situation, so he watched as Jaina drew herself up to her full height, though fairly small she still seemed to command authority. “Um, excuse me! No thank you, children! That is not a kind way to treat our animal friends.” She spoked in a clear, stern voice, hands on her hips as she approached. “We was makin' it make noises, miss!” One child chirped. “Yeah! Watch!” The other giggled. “What's it to you, devil?” An older female goblin sneered, glaring up at Jaina with her beady little eyes.

“Oh dear...it's poor parenting then...Well, at this age that's fixable.” She extended a hand back towards the children, blue and green sinews of magic forming in the air accompanied by a haunting melody and the children slid down against the wall in the corner, fast asleep. The older woman glared at Jaina and opened her mouth to speak, when suddenly an irritated groan, almost a roar, echoed from the cage and the bars pitched forward under the weight of the bear, crushing the goblin before she could respond. “Not what I had in mind, but...we can improvise.” Jaina sighed, drawing her staff as she watched Sentry and Karlach rush the approaching reinforcements, axes raised. Wyll was at her side, blade drawn, within a moment, and she supposed it spoke to Astarion's skill that she wasn't sure where he had gotten to. The fight didn't take long at all between the five skilled adventurers and the bear fighting by their side. The party regrouped, Wyll and Jaina discreetly glancing at one another, hoping neither was hurt in the scuffle. Sentry immediately ran over to the bear. “Aww, hey little buddy...are you alright? I'm sorry those little ankle biters were hurting you.” He knelt and began to scratch gently behind the bear's ears, giving it a look of sympathy and adoration. Such a huge creature with such powerful claws and teeth, worthy of love and respect. He didn't notice the glowing light around it until he found himself kneeling in front of a very tall, very muscular elf, blushing a bit at finding himself in that compromising position, Sentry quickly scrambled to his feet. “You have my thanks.” The older man inclined his head gratefully to the party. “I apologize for the bloodshed, I would normally have tried to resolve things peacefully, however...” “There were children here, you know.” Jaina frowned, arms folded across her chest. “You're lucky they didn't get hurt!” “I....am sorry, sometimes when I am in wildshape, the nature of the beast takes me. I'm glad the children are unharmed.” The druid seemed taken aback by the woman's response. “I mean, in complete fairness, they were kind of a couple of little shits anyway, abusing animals like that. You know most copper dreadful writers agree that's the first sign of a serial killer.” Sentry interjected. “Anyway, would you be the druid Halsin?” “That I am, then I take it you've come from the grove?” He bowed politely. “Oh! Then another thing, your second in command nearly murdered a refugee child for practically no reason!” Jaina glared openly now.

Halsin's expression darkened. “I see...Obviously as I wasn't there, I was unaware of this. But rest assured I will deal with her when the danger has passed.” “Can you perhaps stop antagonizing the person who might be able to fix our little problem, Jaina? Please?” Sentry hissed through gritted teeth before giving Halsin an apologetic look. “I'm sorry, she's just a bit moody, you know, we've been through a lot...we...” He blinked as Halsin gently pressed a hand to his forehead. For a moment, the room around him flickered. A woman's face stared at him instead, dressed in Myrkulite garb and gazing at him with a cruel sense of lust. Pain shot through his head. His eyes widened and he yelped, lashing out and staggering back. “Don't touch me!” Halsin stepped back slightly, hands raised apologetically. “I am sorry, you've been through a lot, haven't you, child?” He breathed deeply. “Unfortunately, the tadpole in your head is protected by a powerful magic....I have been studying them, but so far there's nothing I can do in the way of extraction that wouldn't harm you irreparably in the process.” “Great....Wonderful...” Sentry muttered, pressing a hand to his forehead. “With that being said, I've managed to track the source of this magic to a place called Moonrise Tower.” Halsin explained. “Okay...so that's good then at least...can you take us there?” Jaina asked, expression softening a bit. “I would gladly take you there, but right now my priorities lie with my grove. As long as these creatures threaten it, I cannot leave.” The arch druid replied sternly. “Okay, well, lucky for you, one thing I DO know about myself is I am very good at killing things. Point me in the right direction and I'll take care of your pest control problem.” Sentry offered, stretching casually. “If you are able to dispatch their leaders, the goblins will likely scatter. A few raiding parties here and there would be far easier to handle than a full horde.” Halsin began. “They are led by Priestess Gut, the hobgoblin Dror Ragzlin, and the cruel drow, Minthara.” “Right, well, we'll be back when we've taken them out then.” Sentry nodded. “Besides, the way I see it, it solves good old Zevvy's problems too.” “Please don't call him that.” Jaina winced. “Please just use his name normally.” “What is your hang up with Zevlor? He's such a good guy.” Karlach gave Jaina a look of confusion. “Yes, a very good guy, a very good guy who my father may or may not have had 'beautiful season of paladinic brotherhood' with in his youth that I am very acutely aware of from accounts of it in his personal journals.” Jaina groaned. “Well, I think we all learn some time that our parents' personal writings are perhaps things we're better off not prying into...I know I learned that lesson young as well.” Wyll gave a nostalgic laugh, a wistful smile bringing him back to snooping through his own father's office in his youth. Sentry was only half aware of that conversation, however, as his mind continued to return to that image that had entered it when Halsin had touched his forehead. He felt cold, trapped, like a frightened animal as the memory danced through his mind. He felt the sensation of fingers wrapping around his innards, pulling at his guts. The terror of trying to latch onto a thought and failing to grasp at it, the sticky wetness of blood, saliva, who knew what else, coating his body as pain racked every inch of him. He shuddered convulsively and picked up his pace, he certainly needed to kill something.

[fan-tav-stic]

Day 9: Meeting Abdirak (SFWish) - Silas

Characters: Silas (M!Tav), Abdirak, Astarion (briefly), Wyll (mentioned once)

Tags: implied/referenced abuse, implied/referenced torture, light bdsm

Summary:

A strange man makes Silas confront a bit of his past

Day 10: Tearful kiss before battle (SFW) + First time after a love confession (NSFW) - GrumpyCat

Characters: Rolan + Sorren (M!OC), Tav (briefly), Lorroakan (briefly), Dame Aylin (briefly + non-speaking), Shadowheart (mentioned once)

Tags: blood, animal endangerment/injury (wild-shaped druid), crying, death, wound care, love confessions, oral sex, anal sex, tender/gentle sex/making love

Summary:

Before and after the fight with Lorroakan, Rolan and Sorren deal with all of their pent-up feelings for one another.

---

Happy valentines day everyone! You get not one but TWO updates. there may be more but they're currently being written and WILL be dropped the moment Larian releases the new patch lmao

I have priorities and they take the shape of Halsin's lips on Kairius' forehead

[unreadpoppy]

Fic recs

In light of some stuff I saw, I decided to make this post to briefly talk about some fics I really like and recommend them. All are BG3 related and most are Raphael. Also, there's some authors that write a lot of great fics, I'll try to keep one fic per author or else we'll be here forever (but definetly go check everyone and their other works out!)

...

Cheerful Oblivion by @sassyandsodone - Read the tags before reading this but Love me dark stuff, the writing is amazing (legitimetly gasped at a few points) and the mix of Tav not remembering what happened and the dehumanization aspects were the cherry on top. It

I Don't Think About You Anymore (But I don't think about you any less) by @sky-kiss - This fic put me in a lot of different feels, ESPECIALLY SAD (which i do like, love when stuff makes me feel) and the ending was unexpected to me but it made it all worth it. Shed a tear or two

Devil's Debauchery by ChildofYugotth - One of the first fics I read on the Raphael tag, the first chapter lives in my mind rent free for many, many days, and I really like how the three chapters kinda go like regular raphael, haarlep and then ascended fiend, like a progression. Also read the tags.

Fallen in Flame by @cambion-companion - Love the dynamic between the two characters and how their relationship developed and the conflicting feeling that Tav has of like, being an aasimar and dealing with a devil

The Devil that knows you by @timesthatneverwere - Cat!Tav was not something I knew I needed before reading this. The relationship between Tav, Raphael and even Haarlep in this one is VERY interesting to me (and has lowkey inspired me some times) and I love seeing Raphael keeping secrets and manipulating people (also i have to mention, this fic gave us the mephisto fuck chamber)

Let the dream begin by DiscordsMuse - POTO inspired, this has hit me in the feels with relating to Morrigans struggles of feeling rejected, and honestly, Raphael as the Phantom was amazing.

finirà bene by @inaconstantstateofchange - A Halsin/Astarion/Tav one for a change, this is such an interesting and heartbreaking concept, but there's also this sense of mystery that I think is really well done. Also, beware the ANGST

Her soul will burn all the way down by khapikat222 - Read the tags, another dark fic that I loved, and this one had this manipulation and fucking with someone's fears that I really liked. Also, props to the author for making the lullaby fit, it was a great cherry on top.

Baldur's gate 3 infernal oneshots by @hrefna-the-raven - chapters 1-4 are a little story between Raphael and Tav that I really liked. The dynamic of raphael being more protective and the cat and mouse analogies were really fun!

The Intimacy of Pain by @bearhugsandshrugs - This is an Abdirak/Tav fic which I found so delightfully good, like the descriptions of how Tav was feeling and the mix of pleasure and pain were really well done

The Devil's Hour by @adarlingwrites - Also one of the first fics in the tag that I read, and what made me like OC x Canon, love the complicated but also interesting to read relationship between Fortune and Raphael, and another aspect that I really liked was Fortune's relationship with art and her parents being brought up like (like idk why but those two things really stuck with me)

Sweetening the Deal by @adevilyoudo - I have to admit that I'm a bit behind on some chapters BUT it's a great work, love seeing this side of Raphael of trying to convince Tav to take this deal (and in a way, almost confusing her even more) and I loved to see the side of the Emperor constantly being in Tav's head, I think it really conveyed well how that feels like when playing the game

The Devil You Share a Room with by @djmorn - Really fun concept and the shennanigans between the two in the beggining, when Tav is reluctant to share a room with Raphael, was a delight to read and really really fun.

Damaged by @dark-and-kawaii - This is a Rolan/Tav one, it's dark but it also tugged at my heart in a sad way, with Rolan feeling all these things and doing what he does because of the abuse he suffered and Tav also trying to understand that. Like aaaa it just, it's some good stuff this fic

Who's the Daddy by Follyfall - This fic is the definition of fun and a good time, I legitimetly laughed a lot while reading it. The writing is fun, the concept is hilarious and the relationship between Raphael, Tav, Haarlep, the baby and Wyll is really really fun.

...

Also, keep in mind that there's A LOT of amazing writers in the bg3 community and i haven't read every single written work in the tags ever, so feel free to also reblog and add reccomendations of your own, or make your own post!

[aristenfromwarsaw]

Hello! Welcome on my blog 💜

Links to pics: ~~ Karlach ~~ Astarion ~~ Minthara ~~

I like taking screenshots from Baldur's Gate 3, frequently with Astarion but sometimes I doing other characters. Also I taking shots from Dragon Age: The Veilguard.

If you posting my screenshots on other platforms e.t.c. , mention my Tumblr - thank you :) . My modlist ~~ My Ko-fi ☕~~ Twitter ~~Bluesky~~ Instagram (BG3 and some of my photography) ~~ Pinterest ~~

If you want some nice shots of your Tav or Tav x Lover, I have open commissions:

Designed by Freepik

If you are already on my waiting list, I will take screenshots for you according to the old rules, so don't worry, I always keep my word.

Locations Catalogue

My GIFs

List of my screenshots from BG3:

Astarion - color

Astarion - black and white

Astarion with glasses

Astarion x My Tav/Dark Urge

Abdirak

Couple requests 💜

Dammon

Gale

Gortash

Halsin

Jaheira

Karlach

Kar'niss

Lae'zel

Minsc

Minthara

Mystra

Orin

Raphael

Shadowheart

Tara

Tav requests 💜

Wyll

Animals from BG3

My Tav OC: ~ Aristen ~ Devana/Dziewanna List of my screenshots from Dragon Age: Link

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Link to pic

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If you want download an original png file for better quality (e.g. for wallpaper) I give a link to my google drive :) .

Link

If you don't see an image that you want, send me a message - sometimes I can forget to upload the file to my google drive.

Links to pics: ~~ SH ~~ Astarion ~~ Halsin ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Other things:

Some beautiful drawings/blenders about BG3/DA and great Astarion analysis from other users.

Links to pics: ~~ Orin ~~ Astarion ~~ Lae'zel

[psalacanthea]

Looking for something to read this fine Sunday to undo any godliness you may have accidentally accrued? Can I interest you in...

Some Daedra fucking?

Ronja and the Huntsman- f!nord x hircine the hunter (skyrim)

Durge getting the crazy temporarily tortured out of them?

Scarlet Petals- f!dark urge x abdirak (baldur's gate 3)

Ascended Astarion driving his un-spawned consort insane?

Killing His Darling- f!tav x ascended astarion (bg3)

Excerpts from an in-universe romance novel written by Lavellan?

Taming the Trickster- f!dalish oc x the dread wolf (Dragon Age)

[circledemptiness]

Red Petals

Fandom: Baldur's Gate 3 Pairing: Abdirak x Reader Rating: Explicit +18 Tags: Wounds & Blood, Praise Kink, Abdirak is the Consent King, Masochism

✦ Part 1 of Red Petals ✦ Read on AO3

When you hear of a Priest of Loviatar performing rituals near your village, curiosity takes hold. But your experience with him unveils an aspect of your being you never knew existed.

Crack!

Body glistening under a crimson veil, twisting inhumanly as muscles roll and tense beneath the cruel bite of the leather. A scream shatters the silence, raw and ragged, filled with the beautiful emotions of their torment. The sound steals the breath from your lungs, your eyes wide and shining, twin moons transfixed as you sit reverently in the corner of the room.

Crack!

The leather tendrils of the whip fan out with each strike, slicing the air in a practiced dance before recoiling gracefully, leaving torn flesh in their wake. Beads of blood bloom like stars in the dim, sweat-drenched place, the rancid scent of salt and tears soaking the air. Your nostrils flare as anticipation coils through you, every muscle tightening just before the next blow lands on this lucky soul.

Crack!

Abdirak’s body beams, the thin layer of sweat turning his muscles into something divinely alluring. Crimson splatters against his taut skin, the contrast stark against the marble pallor of his flesh. Tendons roll and ripple tantalizingly beneath his toned arms and strong wrists, the whip rising high over his shoulder before slicing down in one swift, practiced and elegant arc. Securely caught between your teeth, your lower lip trembles in adoration and excitement, as your eyes cling to his beautifully scarred face, his giant eyes that you are so fond of, the inspired curve of his smile.

The Priest of Loviatar understands the limits of the human soul like no other, can easily discern the subtle signs of the mind breaking free from the chains of pain, the threshold where suffering transforms into divine enlightenment. He revels in the raw, primal screams that accompany his sacred rituals, knowing they will eventually give way to a true, organic offering, a song worthy of his –and your– Goddess Loviatar.

With a sudden motion, Abdirak throws his head back, his hair slicing through the heavy air with a graceful sweep as beads of sweat float in the atmosphere. He turns briefly, his fervent eyes seeking yours. When your gazes meet, his smile broadens, making your heart swell with pride and tenderness, bringing you back to the day that reshaped your entire being.

✦ ✦ ✦

You first heard the news like a whisper threading its way through town. An itinerant priest of Loviatar had arrived, temporarily sojourning to perform rituals and spread the teachings of his faith in a secluded spot, hidden from prying eyes and sensitive ears. Of the Goddess of Pain and Endurance, you knew little, and even less about her followers. Yet, the allure of the unknown had always been irresistible to you, fueled by an unquenchable thirst for knowledge.

What began innocently enough, asking a few casual questions about the priest and his Goddess, soon turned into an obsession. You inquired if anyone had seen visitors approaching his cabin in the forest or heard strange sounds from that direction. To those around you, your questions must have seemed like idle curiosity, perhaps even a touch morbid. And perhaps they were. Deep down, you knew you couldn’t resist the temptation to witness, firsthand, the rites performed by the mysterious Painbringer whose name was still unknown to you. In your quiet, monotonous village, such a presence was a rare diversion that only piqued your most ardent interest.

One night, tinged with a mixture of shame and barely contained excitement, you resolved to meet the priest. His arrival was undoubtedly the most thrilling event in your otherwise orderly, calm and, dare you say, boring life; and to your knowledge, he posed no danger or threat. With your cloak hood drawn up to conceal your identity, you left your home, hands shaking and heart racing almost giddily, curiosity overwhelming any hesitation.

Finding the place people were whispering about was no trouble for you; you knew the forest paths better than anyone else in your village. It stood secluded, deep among the trees, far from the village's watchful eyes and comfortably sheltered in the secrecy of the woods. 

As you drew closer, faint sounds began to puncture the stillness of the night; screams that sent a shiver racing down your spine. They grew louder, twisting your stomach with dread and filling your mind with morbid questions and gnawing doubt. You gripped your cloak tightly, remaining immobile for a moment, listening as more shrieks echoed in the thick and dark forest, each followed by the distinct crack of something striking flesh.

Your heartbeat thundered in your chest, a cacophony of horror, fear, and mounting anxiety. For a fleeting moment, you considered turning back. What madness had driven you here? Swallowing the lump in your throat, you felt curiosity overpower your fear, compelling you forward. Your trembling hand rose to knock, weakly tapping the thick wooden door. The screaming halted for a beat, replaced by a voice, soft, elegant, and unexpectedly warm.

“Please, do come in.”

The gentleness of the invitation shouldn’t have made the hair on the back of your neck stand up, but you most definitely hadn’t expected such tenderness from behind these walls. Summoning a final surge of courage, you pushed open the door, your whole body quivering. The sight that met you left you frozen in the doorway, breath caught in your chest, teetering on the edge of collapse.

A man knelt on the floor, his upper body exposed and marked by ferocious crimson welts, his torn flesh glistening under a thick veil of blood that pooled onto the ground beneath him. His body trembled, and he panted heavily, each breath ragged and desperate, like a wounded animal. Beside him stood a tall figure, exuding an air of humble pride, one hand resting immobile on the man's shoulder. The imposing figure wore a shoulder piece of rough, leathery material, adorned with a symbol that stretched across his chest. Sharp, metallic arrows pressed against his skin, not piercing it, but appearing uncomfortably close. His attire was completed by a leather skirt, stained and mottled with dark patches that unmistakably resembled old blood splatters.

His bare torso gleamed with a thin layer of sweat, accentuating the defined contours of his muscles, which were adorned with vicious scars extending up to his face. Despite these gnarly marks, his features held an unexpected softness and beauty that you found strangely endearing, you had to admit. He stood as a portrait of reverence, exuding a magnetic charisma that filled the room. Slowly, his hand curled around the tormented man's trembling fingers, guiding him to stand. You watched, half horrified and half captivated by the spectacle, realizing you were witnessing the end of a ritual.

The silence was finally broken by the Priest’s voice, soft and almost tender; the same voice you had heard through the door earlier. 

“In pain, one finds clarity. You did well tonight; the Maiden smiles upon you. Can you feel her embrace? Do you sense her gift?”

The question, aimed at the nearly sobbing man, sent a shiver down your spine. The hair at the back of your neck bristled, though you couldn’t quite say why. The Priest’s warm tone seemed to stir something uncomfortable deep inside you, a sense of unease twisting your stomach even as you found yourself transfixed by him, his words, and the unsettling devotion they implied. The man nodded, weakly whispering his thanks, and the Priest's smile deepened in response.

“It is I who thank you. Now go, my child. Embrace your new strength and wisdom.”

The Priest squeezed the man’s shoulder gently before gesturing with a subtle wave. The man gathered his scattered belongings, dressed himself, and, without a glance in your direction, walked past as you stepped aside, your eyes following him with a mix of curiosity and apprehension.

When your gaze returned to the Priest, his clear eyes locked onto yours, and a pleased smile illuminated his face. An inexplicable warmth spread through you, pooling in your core and stirring your insides. Your mouth went dry as you stood frozen, and when he extended his hand towards you, the inviting gesture shattered whatever spell held you. Without fully understanding why, you found yourself moving towards him, your own hand, cold and trembling, reaching out. His skin was warm, you noticed, his grip firm yet not suffocating. Safe.

“Good evening, and welcome, dear. Have you come to bask in the glory of Loviatar?”

Words failed you as a surge of apprehension and fear coursed through your veins. Your heart raced, thundering in your chest as you struggled to remember why you had come. What had brought you here, truly?

“I’m… unsure,” you stuttered after clearing your throat, eyes shifting away as his hand withdrew from yours. The Priest tilted his head, studying you with a gentle expression. His smile lingered, unwavering, as he hummed in quiet thought.

“Fear not, sweet lamb. Loviatar, the Maiden of Pain, offers the gifts of clarity and wisdom. She teaches that true strength lies in endurance. Here, you are safely seen and heard.”

Your heart thrummed in your chest, drawn inexplicably to every word he spoke. Despite the horrors you had just witnessed, an intense curiosity flickered within you. Was it truly possible to find such a state of mind at the hands of this man? 

Even though you were immensely intrigued by the experience he promised, you questioned whether you truly wanted to undergo such extreme treatment for the sake of… what, exactly? Discovering something new? Answering the faint call of something small and unknown until then within you? The idea alone left you teetering on the edge of intrigue and dread.

“And how… What would I need to…?” The question tumbled out clumsily, your voice faltering as you struggled to articulate your thoughts.

“Through pain, your heart and mind will feel divine enlightenment; stripping away the comfort of your flesh, you will see what lies beneath. Pain is a teacher of those who dare to listen, a blessing; to feel it is to know the touch of the Goddess herself.”

You instinctively frowned at the notion of suffering, your teeth worrying your bottom lip as you grappled with your thoughts. The erratic beat of your heart was uncomfortable, and the strange warmth coiling in your stomach unsettled you, wondering what was truly causing it. Were you seriously considering this invitation?

The brush of his knuckles against your flushed cheek jolted you from your reverie. A surge of heat rose to your face, as though already under his spell. His voice softened, as if reading the unspoken conflict and growing worries in your mind.

“Pain is not suffering; it has no malice, no cruelty. It is pure, cleansing and tempering. It demands honesty, and those who endure it, embracing it in their core, will feel blessed by insight few will ever know.”

Your mouth opened and closed before you managed a nod, acknowledging and attempting to understand his words –or at least, convincing yourself that you did. His hand remained cradling your face, thumb tracing soft circles along your cheekbone. You gazed at the man before you, contemplating the symbol he represented, your eyes sinking into his, shining like two precious diamonds. His words resonated deep within, nurturing a blossoming seed of curiosity that yearned to experience what he offered. For reasons beyond explanation, this felt right.

“Would you like to feel the Maiden’s embrace, to taste her kiss?”

Slowly, you nodded again, the weight of his words thrumming through your chest. A warm, almost shameful heat unfurled in your stomach, as if his voice had stirred something primal, awakening an ancient part of you that had always been there. The sheer force of his presence was overwhelming; you found yourself unable to look away, taking in the details of his scarred face and the faint metallic scent of blood that lingered around him. Trust, unbidden and complete, bloomed within you. The Priest’s blue eyes brightened with approval as he smiled, his hand settling gently on your shoulder.

“I shall be gentle, or I shall be harsh. The choice is yours. How much can you endure?”

“I… I’m afraid this is all new to me,” you admitted, your voice barely a whisper.

“Gentle, then? Do not worry, I will take good care of you, sweet lamb. Would you like to undress and take your place?” His hand gestured toward the wall where, just moments ago, a man had knelt in tortured devotion. You swallowed hard, fingers trembling as they found the clasp of your cloak and slid it from your shoulders.

Next to you, a table displayed an array of torture devices: whips, daggers, a mace… tools laid upon a cloth to keep blood from staining the furniture. A shiver ran through you as you imagined how he must have wielded them, the limits to which devotees pushed themselves, and whether you could bear the same. You folded your cloak carefully in an empty corner of the table, fingers moving with nervous precision, before grasping the collar of your tunic. The Priest’s expression remained unchanged; calm, soft, unjudging.

What am I doing? The question rang out in your mind as you removed your wool tunic, baring your torso to this man you barely knew. Next came your boots and slacks, leaving you standing in your undergarments, exposed to the chill of the cabin. The heat in your face flared at the Priest’s steady, gentle gaze. You took a deep breath, stepping toward the wall, the rough logs pressing against your skin as you faced them, body quivering with the fear of the unknown.

The Priest approached, inspecting you briefly, eyes assessing something indiscernible. He hummed behind you, the low sound vibrating in the air before the metallic clatter of a tool being lifted reached your ears. Your blood turned cold, a surge of instinct urging you to flee, yet you stood, breath caught in your throat, awaiting whatever came next.

His hand rested on your shoulder, warm and grounding, soothing your frayed nerves. His breath was close enough to brush your cheek, like a caress.

“Are you ready, lamb?” His voice, a soft murmur, carried an inexplicable reassurance. Despite being almost naked, vulnerable, and bracing for pain of an unknown intensity, you felt inexplicably safe with this stranger. You dared not turn your head to see the device he’d chosen, trusting him implicitly with your suffering; or perhaps it was fear that kept your gaze fixed resolutely ahead. A thick knot tightened in your throat, and before you could respond with a nod, your voice trembled more than you anticipated.

“May I… ask for your name?”

You felt his smile more than saw it.

“Abdirak.”

With a final nod of consent, you took a deep breath, straightened your back, and pressed your hands against the wall for support.

The first blow landed without warning, and you shrieked, the sound escaping before the pain fully registered, the leather straps striking the soft flesh of the back of your thigh with the ferocious intensity unlike anything you’ve ever felt before. The sensation seared through you, sharp and biting, and tears threatened to well up immediately. Another blow fell on the opposite thigh, more intense now that the shock was fading and reality was sinking in. This time, you screamed in earnest as the foreign, brutal pain devoured your senses, breaking and already devastating.

The strikes continued, relentless and rhythmic. Each impact on your assaulted thighs sent new waves of heat coursing through your body, nerves set ablaze as tears streaked down your cheeks. You squirmed and writhed under the onslaught, every fiber of your being alight with anguish. Even through the haze, part of you wondered if this was what he meant by "gentle," and a strange, thankful thought came by; that he chose a part of your body that could endure the punishment, more fleshy than bone.

His gasps between each strike were barely audible, your own cries and the fierce crack of leather dominating the room. The cacophony enclosed you, yet through it, his voice broke through, husky and strained.

“Beautiful. You scream beautifully. You’re doing so well, lamb.”

The words sent an inexplicable chaos spiraling within you, resonating in a place deeper than pain. His praise anchored you, giving you something to cling to as your mind teetered on the brink of collapse. Your heart pounded more fiercely at his encouragement than at the agony itself, a confusing heat pooling and spreading behind your navel. What is wrong with me? you thought, as your mind fractured under the weight of emotions that defied logic.

Abdirak’s ritual continued without pause, each cry wrung from your throat, each strike on your thighs making you wince anew. Pain and praise melded into one, leaving you raw, disoriented, and strangely alive.

Pain consumed you, searing through your mind and clawing its way down your throat, while tears carved jagged paths across your face. Your legs trembled, and your fingers dug into the wood with desperate ferocity. But then, something happened, something shifted deep within your being. As your vision blurred, and thoughts of death seemed almost merciful, a flicker of light emerged –a glimmer at the edge of your awareness. Your synapses opened like the petals of a flower, slow and delicate, revealing an abstract fruit nestled in the confines of your fractured mind. For a fleeting moment, you could almost taste it: warm, soothing, transcendent. The pain dissolved into nothingness, even as the leather continued to strike.

But then, a particularly fierce blow darkened your vision. The fragile petals closed in on themselves, and the only sensation left was pain once again; agonizing, all-consuming. With a final, wrenching scream, you cried out.

“Please, please stop!”

The strikes ceased instantly, without a single question. Abdirak’s eyes followed you as you collapsed to the floor, your body a shuddering mess of sobs and tears. The searing burn in your thighs made you feel as though they would simply give out beneath you. He knelt beside you, his hand smoothing over your hair tenderly, his touch soft and grounding. The contrast of his gentleness, so different from the pain that had just ended, made you long for this moment to stretch into eternity. His tender presence calmed the storm within you, dispelling the terror with each stroke.

And then the thought struck you: had he been cruel at all? Or was he, as he said, merely generous with the gifts of Loviatar? You wondered if you had shown ingratitude by begging him to stop, if you were unworthy of the offering he had bestowed. The notion twisted in your stomach, a strange mix of shame and anguish, as you tried to understand your tangled emotions. When you turned your gaze to him, there was an expression on his face that you couldn’t quite place.

“You were close, weren’t you, lamb? You’ve seen her gift for you,” he whispered, voice soft as silk. You stared at him, wide-eyed, startled that he could read you so deeply, see into the recesses of your mind. But, of course, he was a Priest of Loviatar. He understood you, saw into your soul. Slowly, you nodded, tears streaming anew as a crushing guilt and disappointment washed over you like a tide.

“I’m sorry, Abdirak…” you managed to say. He hushed you gently, his hand cupping your face, thumb sweeping away your tears. How you wished that touch would never leave, that it could remain, whether through tenderness or pain. With him touching you, you felt like you could only feel safe. And this realization made your head dizzy, wondering once more what was truly happening to you.

“You didn’t… continue, even though you knew I was close?” you asked, voice barely more than a quivering breath. He inhaled, eyes gleaming with the kind of insight that both frightened and soothed you.

“Only you can surrender yourself to pain, letting your mind peel beyond what your flesh feels.”

You nodded slowly, a frown still etched on your brow. As he extended his hands, you reached out, and he pulled you to your feet. A sharp wince escaped you as the pain flared again. But when your eyes met his, you saw more than just a man. The scars lining his face did not mar his beauty; instead, they framed it, emphasizing the warmth and safety radiating from him. He was a beacon in the storm of your emotions, a guiding presence through the chaos of your mind.

“I saw the petals opening, I saw her fruit. It was… beautiful,” you murmured, voice soft and reverent. At this, Abdirak’s smile widened, a rare show of emotion that sent a new shiver down your spine.

“Perhaps one day you will taste it, lamb. Do not give up, she is here, waiting patiently for you, until you are ready. Your desire is… magnificent.”

The weight he placed on that last word sent your heart racing. Something smoldered in his gaze, and you felt a deep crimson flush rise to your cheeks. Your eyes lingered on his split lip, and you caught yourself– what were you thinking? You blinked, forcing those thoughts away, trying to steady the whirlwind in your mind. This man had unraveled and rebuilt you in the course of a single night, and yet your pulse quickened at the mere praise and his gentleness…

His words echoed in your mind as you dressed, each movement eliciting a hiss as the fabric of your slacks rubbed against your tender skin. Abdirak moved to the far side of the cabin, rummaging through a bag. It was only then that you noticed the room’s details: a neatly made bed, a few books resting on a nightstand. The idea of the Painbringer quietly reading during his free moments made you smile. It shouldn’t have warmed your cheeks, but it did. You wondered what he read, what he was like when not performing his sacred duties. Improper thoughts nipped at the edges of your mind, but you pushed them aside.

Fully dressed, you glanced up as Abdirak approached, a small vial in hand.

“It’s a healing potion,” he said, eyes kind yet intense.

You took the vial, confusion flickering across your face. “Do you use them yourself?” you asked. He chuckled, a deep, rich sound that made your chest tighten.

“No, I haven’t needed one in a long time. But you are still delicate, my lamb. Your path may be longer, and I would not have you discouraged. You hold so much potential, so much light.”

His caring words and gentle praise made your heart flutter wildly. You looked at the vial, considering it for a moment, before meeting his gaze once more.

“I won’t be discouraged. May I visit you again tomorrow?”

The weight of your words barely registered. They felt true, as if a secret part of you had awakened and refused to be silenced. Abdirak’s head tilted slightly, his fingers closing around the vial as a smile spread across his face, eyes gleaming with happiness, intensity, and something deeper, more passionate.

“I will be waiting for you, my sweet lamb.”

✦ ✦ ✦

Back home, you winced as you peeled the sweat-drenched fabric from your body, each movement pulling at the sensitive skin beneath. A sharp hiss escaped you when your clothes finally gave way, and you stood for a moment, catching your breath. The tall mirror in your bathroom reflected the evidence of the night; dark, vivid stripes crisscrossing your thighs like jagged echoes of Abdirak’s touch. You twisted, craning your neck to get a better view. No blood; only bruises blooming like wildflowers. The thought settled heavily in your mind; Abdirak had been gentle, far more so than the man you’d first witnessed enduring this ritual.

Dipping the sponge into the basin of cool water beside you, you squeezed it over your heated skin, letting rivulets cascade down your back and thighs, soothing some of the burn. You never imagined you would willingly subject yourself to such torment, yet here you were, craving more than just the physical pain. There was something deeper, a promise hidden behind the agony, whispered by Loviatar herself. And then, there was Abdirak…

The thought of him made you pause mid-swipe, sponge hovering near your shoulder. His steady eyes, the unwavering conviction in his voice, the way he had cradled your face with such tenderness when you felt disappointed in yourself… An unexpected shiver raced through you, leaving behind a tingling warmth that unfurled slowly, winding its way through your chest and behind your navel.

You climbed into bed, carefully laying on your stomach to avoid further torment to your thighs, but no position offered relief. The sting and ache pulsed through your muscles, an incessant reminder of each strike and the strange, euphoric threshold you had crossed. As you shifted and writhed, memories of his voice, rich with praise, deep with assurance, played in your mind.

The heat rose in your cheeks, blooming into a full, insistent flush. You lifted your hips slightly, the sheets cool against your feverish skin, and let one trembling hand slip between your legs, your touch only confirming what you already knew.

You were wet.

The pain hadn’t dulled your desire; it had sharpened it. The sensations blended in your mind: the promise of Loviatar’s revelation, the raw thrill of surrendering, and Abdirak himself. His voice murmuring encouragements, his face a blend of serenity and fervor as he wielded his holy instrument, marking you with devotion. The intensity of his eyes as he looked at you, as if you were the only being in the world, sacred and complete.

Your fingers moved in rhythm with the memory, coaxing a pleasure that built and crested, accompanied by his imagined whispers. When release finally claimed you, it brought a shuddering wave that echoed the tension and relief of the night, leaving you breathless and spent. As you lay there, heart pounding and eyes unfocused, you realized that tonight had irremediably changed something within you. And tomorrow, you would seek him out again, drawn by the pull of a Goddess and the man who served her.

✦ ✦ ✦

Waking the next morning, you almost regretted declining the healing potion. Your body throbbed with soreness; muscles tensed, and your thighs screamed in protest with every movement. With a groan, you dragged yourself out of bed and caught a glimpse of your reflection in the mirror. The marks Abdirak had left were cruel and vivid, dark purple and red streaks blooming over the backs of your thighs; yet, an overwhelming, almost prideful sensation coursed through you. However, the thought that, in time, these marks would fade brought an unexpected pang of sadness. What a peculiar thought…

You replayed the events of the previous night over and over, now with a rested mind and clearer perspective. To your own surprise, your feelings had not shifted. If anything, your determination was stronger, resolute in seeking him out again. That evening, when the milky moon hung high in the sky, you wore clean clothes and hastily ate a small meal, preparing your body and mind for the ritual you intended to complete this time.

A shiver ran down your spine as you stood before the cabin, fist raised to knock. But as soon as Abdirak’s voice called out from within, inviting you inside, a strange calm settled over your nerves. It was as if just the sound of him alone could soothe the turbulence within you, taming your heart with ease.

The room was empty of others this time, just him, looking as striking and otherworldly as you remembered. He stood by the large table, tending to his array of tools with practiced care. When his eyes met yours, a smile broke across his face, warm and bright.

“You did come back, my lamb.” His voice was soft, tinged with a note of excitement. A part of you wondered if he, too, was looking for this moment, to guide you toward an awakening. Your own smile surfaced, more confident this time, as you moved closer.

“I did… I would like to try again, Abdirak.” Your voice was steady, the tremble of uncertainty from the night before gone as you laid your hand on the table, seeking his approval. His eyes lit up with unmistakable delight as his fingers found their way to your hair, tracing gentle circles at the back of your head. The touch made your heart race, an electrifying thrum begging for more, more, more…

“Beautiful. You are simply beautiful… You may undress, my sweet lamb, and I will take care of you.” His voice had dropped to a deep, velvety purr, and the world around you receded until all that remained was the pounding of your blood and the warmth in his gaze.

As you contemplated the moments to come and the form of your ritual, you slowly untied the laces of your shirt. The memory of the previous night, that fleeting connection to Loviatar, resonated within you. This time, you were determined to grasp the gift she offered. Instead of removing your pants, you took off your brassiere, exposing the length of your back. Kneeling in front of the wall where you had stood last night, you settled into position, vulnerable and prepared.

Abdirak circled you like a shadow, his eyes contemplative, a hum reverberating deep in his chest. His fingertips grazed your bare skin, sending tremors down your spine, igniting a warm, molten sensation that pooled deep within you. Almost shamefully, you felt your sensitive parts throbbing deliciously, as the soft tracing of his fingers was almost worshipful, shapes drawn like sacred symbols on your skin.

“The pain will be fierce here,” he warned, his voice thick with intensity. You turned your head, catching the weighted look in his eyes, his breath slightly uneven as his palm rested over your shoulder blades. The submissive position you held sent a rush of heat through you, each touch anchoring your breath. He was waiting for your consent, you realized, offering you a final moment to reconsider.

“I can handle it,” you whispered, though you most certainly was not certain of it. Yet, his approving nod and the tender curve of his lips held you steady. As he moved to select his tool, you felt a pang of longing when his touch left you, your eyes tracking him as he deliberated. Then, panic hit your entire being and made your heart stutter at the sight of him choosing a devilish looking cat o’ nine tails. His grip on it was reverent, practiced, his movements nearly hypnotic as your gaze couldn’t leave the way his taut muscles rolled under his skin as he prepared himself. The controlled motion of his shoulders, the measured, almost sensual way the tendons of his arm worked as his hand wrapped tightly around the tool of your undoing, was mesmerizing.

Before his gaze could find yours, you turned away, facing the wall, body trembling. You closed your eyes, forcing a steady breath, hands clenching into fists on your lap, waiting for the sharp embrace of pain.

The first lash struck, and the agony tore through you like fire. A scream ripped from your throat, immediate and raw. This was beyond what you had endured the night before. The thin skin of your back screamed in protest with each cruel strike, the ropes licking at your bones in their wake. Tears flowed freely, painting your face in tracks of pain, your voice hoarse from crying out.

Every strike built on the last, like a symphony of torment reaching its crescendo. Your back arched involuntarily, your body seeking any way to escape the relentless onslaught, nails digging into the ground. Each stroke seemed to dig deeper, wearing down the walls of your resolve.

“You are magnificent, my lamb! Let Loviatar hear you!” Abdirak encouraged you through the pain, his words acting like a beacon in the storm of your panic, a light to trust and follow. You felt something wet pooling on your skin, and it took your nearly delirious state an instant to realize that it was most probably your own blood, dripping down your back. 

When the pain peaked into an unbearable, searing heat, you almost yielded, almost begged for mercy. But you clenched your eyes shut, pushing against the barrier within your mind, sobbing uncontrollably. Just as the pain threatened to splinter your will, you felt it –the tension in your fractured mind breaking open.

A light appeared, faint but unwavering, and your perception shifted. The petals of your consciousness opened delicately, revealing a glowing core, a luminescent globe, a warmth so profound it blanketed the torment. The sensation of the blows dulled, now merely an echo in the distance. Your cries persisted, but they sounded detached, as though belonging to someone else. Wrapped in this new, transcendent state, you felt light, unburdened, your mind purged of every doubt and worry.

A strange serenity filled you, comfort blooming in the core of your being, and you realized: this was her touch, her embrace.

With one final blow, Abdirak stilled, his gaze shifting to your face. Your eyes were wide, staring blankly into the distance, lips parted as if in shock. The chill in the room gnawed at your exposed skin, and your wounds throbbed with a sharp sting, but none of it registered. What brought you back was the warmth of Abdirak’s hand, his fingers threading gently through your hair, grounding you as you released a shaky breath you hadn’t realized you were holding.

A triumphant smile spread across his face, eyes bright with the understanding that you had ascended, that Loviatar had touched your soul. Tears, unbidden and silent, slipped down your cheeks.

“You have tasted her kiss, and you have endured. The Maiden smiles upon you,” he whispered, leaning close. His words sent a rush of emotion through you, your heart nearly bursting from the weight of it all, an overwhelming wave of sensations unlike anything you’d ever known.

Your hand reached out on impulse, fingers finding the firm muscle of his thigh as you pushed yourself up on shaky knees. Before you could second-guess the urge, you wrapped an arm around his waist and pressed your face into the warmth of his stomach, nuzzling against the taut skin. Abdirak tensed, a barely restrained gasp escaping him as his body stiffened for a heartbeat. Then, his hand returned to your hair, this time with hesitant, deliberate gentleness.

A strange possession overtook you, basking in a mix of joy, fulfillment, and something deeper that simmered low in your core; a warm, insistent flame flaring behind your navel. “Thank you,” you whispered, words muffled against his skin as you looked up to meet his perplexed gaze.

“My lamb,” he murmured, a firmness underlying his soft tone, “I did nothing. This is your doing. What you feel is divine, and belongs to Loviatar.” There was caution in his voice, a subtle reminder to guard your reverence and not misplace it. His eyes held a quiet warning, tempered by understanding.

Heat rose to your cheeks, a flush of embarrassment washing over you as you released him, stepping back with a mixture of reluctance and shame. Yet, Abdirak’s hands remained open, steady, inviting you to take them as he helped you stand. Once upright, you searched his face for words, an echo of all the unnameable emotions crowding your chest.

“This was unlike anything I’ve ever experienced before,” you said softly, your voice edged with awe. A tender light softened his expression as he squeezed your hands, the hint of a smile touching his lips.

“I am delighted to count you among Loviatar’s faithful. Your resolve, your reactions… you were perfect.” His voice dropped to a near-whisper, eyes narrowing slightly as if hiding a shadow of his own conflict. There was a glimmer in his gaze, an ember that caught in the dim light, and you noticed his hand trembled in yours, just barely.

“I want to remember this moment forever,” you confessed, the words spilling out with a shy candor under his intent gaze. He hummed, eyes opening wider, a decision seeming to settle over him. Without another word, he guided you by the hand toward the large table.

As he sat down, Abdirak guided you onto his lap. Confused, you didn’t dare move, feeling the blood on your back begin to coagulate, your chest still exposed to the cool air. You watched as he rummaged in a leather pouch near his sacred instruments. His gaze was intent and knowing, while his hands trembled with a mixture of excitement and something less divine, more human.

“I can give you a gift to commemorate the day you welcomed Loviatar into your life,” he said with a gentle smile, finally revealing a glass cylinder. He opened the cap, drawing out long, thin needles. You shivered, biting your lip with an unfamiliar anticipation as you eyed the sharp instrument, then sought his face. A faint blush crept from his cheeks to his ears, and you imagined you were in an even worse state, almost panting as you squirmed in his lap, not knowing exactly what he intended but trusting him completely anyway.

His gaze flickered to your bare chest, and you felt heat rush to your face. Setting the needle on the table, he cupped your breasts with deliberate care, drawing a whimper from your lips. Your raw, honest reaction made him smile, and his hands caressed your soft flesh as he gazed at you through half-lidded eyes. His touch was warm and tender, and you couldn’t stifle the moans and sighs that escaped, your hips rocking against his lap, a rising heat flooding your veins. Abdirak exhaled as his thumbs circled your nipples, making you arch your back in a mewl to chase more of his delicious touch.

When he pinched your flushed nubs until they hardened, realization dawned on you, and a moan tore from your lips as he prepared your sensitive fruits for what was to come. His eyes, heavy with restrained hunger, lingered on you, movements languid as if savoring every one of your alluring sounds.

Holding one nipple still, he picked up the needle, positioning it at the base of your bud. His eyes met yours, seeking consent, as always, and when you nodded, the sharp point pierced your flesh. A cry of pain and surprise escaped you, quickly mingled with a heady pleasure that made you clutch his leather skirt. He worked slowly, letting you really feel each moment of burning pain until the needle pushed through the other side. A bead of blood trickled down, and Abdirak stifled a shaky moan at the sight, the boundary between ritual and desire slowly dissolving.

Breathless and trembling, you felt the needle still in place, each rise and fall of your chest sending a jolt through you, igniting a sizzling pain. The unexpected pleasure left you surprisingly wet and needy, your hips rocking harder, more insistently against his, delighted to feel him harden beneath your quivering form.

He reached for another needle, glancing at you once more for your consent. Your eager, urgent nod and needy whimper drew a sigh from him, almost a low purr of desire. When he pierced your other frigid nub, you moaned loudly, the sharp pleasure almost unbearable and yet more exquisite than anticipated. And to your utmost delight, his arousal became clear as his length twitched against you, visibly enticed by your pleasured pain. With both nipples pierced, your sweat-soaked body shivered, mind hazy with the overwhelming sensations. Abdirak’s eyes glowed darkly as he roughly cupped your assaulted breasts, moving the needles just enough to draw a pained cry from your throat.

“Maiden, you are perfect,” he murmured, his tongue tracing the pearls of blood trickling down, the heat of his mouth driving you wild as you cried out in painful pleasure. The point of his tongue traced the curve of your breast until it poked and nudged at the needles, more low moans bubbling from his throat as he felt you squirm and groan on his lap. His cock strained against his skirt, pressing against your core as the two of you reveled in this sadomasochistic desire, unlike anything you’ve ever felt before.

He then looked in his bag briefly, retrieving two shorter bars adorned by beads on each extremity, which could be unscrewed. With firm hands, he roughly removed the needles one by one from your flesh, the sharp pain making you scream, before sliding the bars into place. Each insertion left you a quivering mess, your body slick with sweat and tears, the blood on your back getting sticky. Abdirak's expression was enraptured as he met your desperate rocking with a grunt, his name a ragged sound in your throat as your core kept thrusting against his angry erection.

He found your ruined expression immensely alluring, grabbing your waist tightly as he met your thrusts with a low grunt. His name sounded beautifully desperate in your throat, stirring a passion in him that made him suck harshly on your freshly pierced nipple and roughly tugging at it, while his hand pinched your free nub just as viciously, the pain almost unbearable. The sensation was driving you nearly insane, and you screamed and cried out as your body entered a confused state, unable to understand if what you were feeling was pain or pleasure. So it decided both, making your cunt throb and setting all your nerves ablaze while Abdirak continued his delicious torture, sinking his teeth in your flushed buds before lapping at them greedily.

“You are anew tonight; Loviatar is embracing you,” his voice was nearly unrecognizable, low and throaty, as he panted next to your ear, rutting against your core like a mad man.

“Please, Abdirak, I need more!” you cried out, your plea driving him to pull you closer, lips brushing your ear. 

“My perfect lamb,” he groaned, his breath hot on your skin. He gripped your waist and met your movements with fierce precision, the friction bordering on painful. He buried his face in the crook of your neck, inhaling your scent deeply, a dangerous and acrid blend of tears, sweat and blood floating all around you, his tongue lapping at your sensitive flesh.

“I will give you everything,” he promised, sinking his teeth into your neck, nearly breaking the skin, making you scream as pleasure and pain blended into one. You found your body reacting in the most exquisite ways as heat flooded your stomach and your neglected cunt drooled through your undergarments. Your hand found his half-shaved hair, pulling ferociously until he snarled and met your gaze, his expression as ruined and unrestrained as yours, both of you lost in the delirium of sensations. You thought to yourself that you were done for, irremediably broken and rebuilt by this man, as you crashed your lips against his.

Your kiss mirrored the ardent urgency between you both, all teeth and tongue, passionate and hurried; as you moaned in each other’s mouth, he sucked harshly on your soft tongue, and you bit his bottom lip until it bled. 

The next moment, he shifted, lifting you with ease and sitting you on the table. Your pants were gone in a swift motion, the fabric dragging against your sensitive, still painful and marked thighs, burning with the unwanted friction. 

He bit down your neck, trailing along your collarbone as he discarded his leather skirt and freed his cock from his undergarments, pumping it quickly in his fist. You barely had the time to glance at it; the length generously pierced on both sides, his cockhead adorned with a mean metal ring that glistened in the low light. The shock of his appearance barely registered before you felt the tip nudging against your soaked folds, the metal jewelry feeling foreign and yet so exquisite. 

A flush of fear and terror washed over you as he all but forced his entire shaft inside of your unprepared hole in one devastatingly painful thrust through your clenching, tight walls. You shrieked at the sudden brutal intrusion, and he groaned, immediately setting a punishing pace that sent your mind spiraling.

You could feel his piercings rubbing against your walls, the thick ring smashing repeatedly against your cervix; and it shouldn’t have felt good, shouldn’t have felt merely pleasurable, but still you yelled and mewled, feeling your cunt throb and drool over his entire length, fluttering against his delicious, perfect, tortured cock. 

It felt overwhelming really, the foreign and extreme sensations, the way his hands were holding your thighs, slapping the cruel bruises he inflicted you yesterday, while your back was still raw and sizzling, your tormented nipples bouncing with each brutal thrusts.

You buried your face in the crook of his neck, teeth sinking in with ferocious intent, drawing a raw, guttural moan from him as your nails raked across his back, leaving stinging red trails in their wake. The need to share pain and pleasure intertwined, a language only the two of you spoke. Through the haze of euphoria and contrasting sensations, your fingers found your throbbing clit, circling it with swift, practiced precision as your body trembled and writhed against his heated, sweat-slicked frame.

“Maiden! Perfect— my perfect lamb... enduring so beautifully... Oh, I am close…” Abdirak's voice was strained, each word punctuated by deep, relentless thrusts. His cock moved more smoothly now, having carved its way into the depths of your pulsing hole, your wetness welcoming him within your velvety walls. You clenched around him, drawing a shudder from both of you as your lips met again, sealing the moment with a fervent, breathless kiss.

“Don’t stop, Abdirak, please –I need to feel you,” you gasped, voice breaking into sobs. A low, guttural groan escaped him in response as he pressed surprisingly tender kisses to your lips, only to resume his thrusts with a near-feral intensity. His hands clutched your waist for leverage, the boundary between pain and pleasure dissolving into an indistinguishable blur. Your own hand worked frantically to stimulate your pearl, nurturing the almost unnatural build of an impending orgasm deep behind your navel.

With a final, shuddering thrust, Abdirak's grip tightened like a vice around your waist as he cried out, his climax consuming him and sending waves of heat through your body as he flooded your creamy cunt with thick ropes of cum. The sensation was your undoing; a scream tore from your throat as your muscles tensed, your body thrashing against his while your walls spasmed and fluttered around his still-stuttering length.

He nearly collapsed against your sweat-drenched body, chest heaving as he pressed his forehead to your shoulder, his breath ragged and shallow. The fierce hold he had on you softened, his fingers tracing gentle paths along the curves of your body. His mouth found the delicate line of your collarbone, pressing light, reverent kisses against your damp skin. Your hands drifted to the back of his head, fingers threading through his hair and caressing the nape of his neck tenderly. The moans that once echoed in the cabin subsided into soft, contented purrs as you both basked in the shared afterglow.

As Abdirak withdrew his softening length from your abused hole, you winced, muscles sore and spent. He cradled your face gently, drawing you into a deep, tender kiss that sent a shiver down your spine. His eyes swept over your body with an expression that bordered on reverence, a soft sigh escaping him. With a deliberate motion, he unclasped his shoulder piece, leaving himself in just his undergarments before moving to the corner of the cabin to retrieve a basin of water and a sponge.

Returning to your side, he set the basin on the table and knelt before you, beginning to wash your feet with care. The cool touch of the water was a balm, soothing the ache as he moved up to your calves and thighs, pausing to inspect the bruises with a look of near adoration. His lips brushed the unmarred areas of your legs, planting soft kisses that made you gasp.

The room was filled with the quiet symphony of your breaths and the gentle splash of water as he worked, tenderly washing the sweat and strain from your body. Each caress of the damp sponge over your skin brought a sense of relief, easing the fatigue in your arms and across your stomach.

When he reached your freshly pierced nipples, his touch grew even more careful, eyes focused as he cleaned the sensitive area. From his bag, he retrieved a jar of ointment, applying it to the wounds on your back with meticulous attention. The initial burn of the cream gave way to a soothing warmth, easing the tension in your muscles. He pressed a lingering kiss to the nape of your neck before continuing to tend to you, massaging away the remnants of pain.

You knew that he didn’t have to do this; to him, pain was never cruel or unsightly, but a form of communion. Yet, the way he attended to you, the tenderness in his every motion, made his care feel as essential as the ritual itself. His attention was something you welcomed, even craved, after such an intense and raw connection.

When Abdirak finally stepped back, he looked at you with a fondness that softened the edges of the room’s dim light.

“Though I feel I should apologize for getting carried away, I cannot find the strength to do so. This felt... glorious.” His voice was gentle again, a tender murmur that warmed you from within. Without hesitation, you wrapped your arms around his shoulders and drew him into another kiss, savoring the moment.

“You’ve shown me an entirely new world, and I long to explore more of it… with you, if you’ll have me.”

He exhaled softly, his hand tracing gentle patterns along your waist. 

“But I will leave your village soon, my lamb. I cannot stay –Loviatar calls to me.”

“Then take me with you?” you said, the words spilling out without hesitation, as if they’d always been there, waiting to surface. Abdirak’s eyes widened in surprise, brows lifting as he searched your face for sincerity.

“An itinerant life, with no place to call home?” he asked, tilting his head thoughtfully. You took a moment to absorb the weight of his question but realized there was little anchoring you here; only a life that had once been monotonous and hollow. The last two days had unveiled something deep within you, and there was no going back.

“For Loviatar,” you finally whispered.

A smile curved his lips, one filled with affection and understanding. He leaned in and pressed another kiss to your mouth, sealing your fate and marking the beginning of a new life at his side.

[prpfz]

21+. She/Her. Please be 21+ to interact! I have three fandoms on my mind right now that I would love to get threads going with: Baldur's Gate 3 (BG3), Game of Thrones (GoT), and Marvel/Marvel Cinematic Universe (MCU).

I'll only be listing my main muses for each (there might be others I'm willing to try out). I'm pretty open when it comes to discussing ships. I do prefer canon x canon but canon x OC is fine too. I can do MxM, MxF, or FxF. I like incorporating NSFW/smut into threads (the plot/smut ration can be anything). If you'd rather not, please let me know from the get-go. 🌹

My Muses:

Baldur's Gate 3: Abdirak, Alfira, Astarion Ancunín, Cazador Szarr, Enver Gortash, Gale Dekarios, Ketheric Thorm, Raphael, Relonor (my male Drow Dark Urge), Rolan, Shadowheart, Zevlor

Game of Thrones: Alliser Thorne, Benjen Stark, Beric Dondarrion, Daenerys Targaryen, Jaime Lannister, Margaery Tyrell, Petyr Baelish, Robb Stark, Roose Bolton, Sansa Stark, Stannis Baratheon, Thoros, Tywin Lannister, Yoren

Marvel: Benjamin Poindexter, Billy Russo, Bruce Banner, Bucky Barnes, Carol Danvers, Frank Castle, Grant Ward, Loki Laufeyson, Nathan Summers, Andrew!Peter Parker, Phil Coulson, Ray Nadeem, Reed Richards, Tony Stark, Victor von Doom

I write on Discord or through Tumblr messages. I do not double, and it may take me a few days to reply because I work full-time during the week and may not always be available on the weekend.

If you're interested in doing something with me, I'll reach out to you when you like this post.

give a like and anon will get back to you

[m-u-n-c-h-y]

So, I ended up doing all three... Anyway, here's more Outis (and Abdirak) for y'all!

Templates by @arcandoria, which you can find on their Ko-fi page. Thank you for making them Halk! <3

[shewhowas39]

rating: E pairing: Astarion x f!durge (June)/OC fic summary: Astarion's nice simple plan crumbles when he falls for a neutral good divination wizard who may or may not be a Bhaalspawn.

chapter title: "S&M" chapter summary: in which the dream visitor arrives, the gang argues about tadpole powers, and June gets whipped! contwnt warnings: mention of cannibalism, whipping, self-harm adjacent i guess?, blood, mentions of torture

A/N: I'm back!!! i took a hiatus but we're back to the goblin camp! and this chapter is a little wild.

***

PREVIEW

Abdirak takes June to a table at the side of the room, where he has several items, including a knife, a club, and a whip. “Choose how you wish to receive Loviatar’s love,” he says. “Which you think will cause you the most pain.”

Loviatar. Astarion is only vaguely familiar with the goddess, but from what he knows of the Maiden of Pain, this all makes perfect sense.

June takes a moment before selecting the whip. Abdirak smiles at her in a way Astarion thinks is a bit too hungry - and that’s coming from a vampire - as he picks up the weapon. 

“I have something exquisite in mind,” the priest tells June. “Go face the wall, and we can begin, dear one.”

Astarion’s delight turns to unexpected fear as he watches June remove her tunic and move to face the far wall. Now, staring at the smooth, unmarred pale skin of her back, he realizes he’s actually going to watch her be lashed. To his own surprise, Astarion realizes that he doesn’t want to see June hurt.

Tied up, restrained, helpless and at his mercy? Yes, absolutely. But not hurt.

Well, except perhaps by his fangs. But that’s different. 

He’s about to step forward - to put a stop to this - but before he is able, Abdirak has already cracked the whip, and the leather has slashed into June’s skin, leaving a thick red mark where it hit her.

June barely flinches, however. Instead, she looks over at Abdirak. “Could you hit harder, please?”

[findroleplay]

21+. She/Her. Please be 21+ to interact! I have three fandoms on my mind right now that I would love to get threads going with: Baldur's Gate 3 (BG3), Game of Thrones (GoT), and Marvel/Marvel Cinematic Universe (MCU).

I'll only be listing my main muses for each (there might be others I'm willing to try out). I'm pretty open when it comes to discussing ships. I do prefer canon x canon but canon x OC is fine too. I can do MxM, MxF, or FxF. I like incorporating NSFW/smut into threads (the plot/smut ration can be anything). If you'd rather not, please let me know from the get-go. 🌹

My Muses:

Baldur's Gate 3: Abdirak, Alfira, Astarion Ancunín, Cazador Szarr, Enver Gortash, Gale Dekarios, Ketheric Thorm, Raphael, Relonor (my male Drow Dark Urge), Rolan, Shadowheart, Zevlor

Game of Thrones: Alliser Thorne, Benjen Stark, Beric Dondarrion, Daenerys Targaryen, Jaime Lannister, Margaery Tyrell, Petyr Baelish, Robb Stark, Roose Bolton, Sansa Stark, Stannis Baratheon, Thoros, Tywin Lannister, Yoren

Marvel: Benjamin Poindexter, Billy Russo, Bruce Banner, Bucky Barnes, Carol Danvers, Frank Castle, Grant Ward, Loki Laufeyson, Nathan Summers, Andrew!Peter Parker, Phil Coulson, Ray Nadeem, Reed Richards, Tony Stark, Victor von Doom

I write on Discord or through Tumblr messages. I do not double, and it may take me a few days to reply because I work full-time during the week and may not always be available on the weekend.

If you're interested in doing something with me, I'll reach out to you when you like this post.

-

[bear-durs-gate]

Used this picrew to also do my bg3 couples:

Tav/Abdirak, Tav/Minthara, and Val/Ghoul (oc x oc)

Ghoul belongs to @fangbangerghoul ☺️