#abdirak fanfiction

[childofyuggoth]

Are you upset that you didn't get more of Abdirak? Thirsty for our beloved priest of pain?

I present to you some fluff and smut that I wrote for our follower of Loviatar.

(( AO3 link for anyone who wants it: https://archiveofourown.org/works/50565967 ))

My writing, please don't steal, I'm insecure enough about my work as it is. 😅

TW: Bondage, whipping, blood. Obviously.

----

Life had been unkind lately. No, you thought as you took another large gulp of watered-down beer from a dirty mug. Life has been absolutely terrible. Your struggling business had finally gone under, killed by some new policies that Lord stick-up-his-ass Gortash had implemented. Then the bank had repossessed your house, because you no longer had the money to make your payments. And now there was apparently a fucking army of deranged cultists about to march on the city, just to top it all off.

Which was why you found yourself trying unsuccessfully to drink your sorrows away in this filthy Lower City bar. You'd normally never set foot in a place like this, but nevertheless, you found yourself perched on a bar stool, elbows-deep in your cups and feeling very sorry for yourself. It was a waste of the last of your money, but what else could you do? You spent your days hunting for jobs, but everything was either something you weren't qualified for, or illegal. At this rate, you were half-tempted to apply at Sharess's Caress.

The rest of the patrons had largely ignored you, having their own business to conduct in ill-lit corners. Bawdy ballads rang in your ears, along with the sound of clinking money and drunken slurring. You grimaced into your mug. The alcohol had done nothing except depress you more. All that was left was to go collapse in the flophouse where'd you taken up residence and resume your fruitless job search in the morning.

You ground your teeth in frustration before tipping the last of the sour ale into your throat.

As you took a last look around the bar, a flash of snow white-hair against black caught your eye. A man at the opposite end of the bar, his hand on a glass of dark red wine. Black cloth and leather robes that looked almost clerical fell from his waist to to his ankles. His muscled chest and upper body were bare, except for ornate black pauldrons, spiked and wickedly sharp. They connected across his collarbone by a radiating pattern of twisting black wire, barbed and jagged.

All of this you took in quickly, your eyes lingering for a moment on the scars and cuts that graced his skin like little red prayers.

His face was what held you. Half of his head was shaved, but snow grey hair fell softly over the other half. He was human, from what you could tell, but there was an almost elf-likequality to his face that made it impossible to tell how old he was. His cheekbones were high and dangerously sharp above slightly sunken cheeks, with a straight grecian nose that curved slightly at the end above a generous mouth.

As if he could sense your gaze, he turned slightly to meet your look with a calm, slightly quizzical expression. His eyes were the most incredible shade of light grey. They seemed to catch and scatter the dim light of the room with a dazzling brilliance, boring into you with an intensity that rooted you to the spot. Your trapped breath fluttered in your lungs like a butterfly between caged fingers.

He extended a large hand and crooked a finger at you.

Like a fish on a hook, you jerked forward, the alcohol removing your inhibitions. You made your way down the bar and slowly sank onto the stool next to him, your heart pounding in your ears.

What in the nine hells were you doing? You didn't do things like this. Meeting strange men in bars was decidedly not your normal activity. The rational part of your brain buzzed at you distantly, but it was easy to ignore. The alcohol and, more intensely, the strange gravity of this man had a hold on you that you couldn't quite explain.

"You seem troubled." His voice was startling. It was deep, and warm. His tone made you feel protected. Safe. Before you could stop yourself, you were telling him everything. Your name. Your hopes, your fears. All of your recent tragedies rolled off of your tongue, your hands twisting in your lap, unable to tear your eyes from his. You were drowning in crystal grey hues.

He gave you his whole attention. Listening raptly, drinking in every word with an intensity bordering on manic. Nodding at all the right places, tipping his head to the side in sympathy, even smiling gently at some of your self-deprecating jokes.

It all poured out of you, every terrible event of the last year. The shop becoming your sole responsibility after the death of your parents. Your partner leaving for someone else. Losing the shop. Losing your home. The pain and the loneliness and the sorrow washing over you like a flood. Your utter despair right now.

When you finally finished, he gave you a long, searching look. "Such pain. Dear child, you have known incredible sorrow." He smiled. "I am Father Abdirak. I serve Loviatar, the Maiden of Pain."

You stiffened, fear souring your fascination. Loviatar. You weren't well-versed on religion or gods, but she did not have a good reputation. The few stories you'd heard told of a cruel, sadistic order dedicated to torture and brutality.

Abdirak frowned slightly as you pulled away, your body language going from open trust to quite the opposite in the time it took him to draw breath. You sat back, folded your arms over your chest, and crossed your legs. Internally, you tried to quell your rising panic. You'd just spilled your guts to the priest of an evil god. Made yourself vulnerable. Your instinct was to bolt, but fear held you to the sticky half-broken bar stool. And, if you were completely honest with yourself, some of your former fascination was mixed with that trepidation. There was a dark allure to him that still tugged gently at you, against your better judgment.

"Peace, dear one. I mean you no harm." The earnest way he spoke had you almost believing him, and the affectionate moniker made your cheeks flush. It had been a long time since anyone had addressed you with such care.

"But..." You bit your lip, eyeing him like an enchantingly beautiful viper. "She's the Goddess of Pain. Torture." You fumbled your words, the alcohol making it difficult for you to find the right ones. "I mean, those aren't... good things." A frustrated sigh fell from you as you uncrossed your arms and ran a hand through your hair.

Abdirak nodded assent at your first sentence. "Without pain, how do we know pleasure? And there can be release in pain. A surrender of all your sorrows at Her altar as you lose yourself in the sensations." Those carved smoky quartz eyes met yours again, sending a not-unpleasant shiver through you.

"I do not do anything without consent, nor do I push a body beyond its breaking point." A delicious smile pulled at the corner of his mouth, and his eyes narrowed in pleasure. "And I am very good at what I do, dear one."

By the Gods, was this... arousing you? Your fingernails were digging into your palms, and your breath came rapidly, as if you couldn't get quite enough air. Between your legs, there was a pulse beginning, deep, slow, hot and hungry. You couldn't tell whether it was because you were attracted to Abdirak, or intrigued by the things he was suggesting, or both.

In the intervening silence as you wrestled with yourself, he finished his glass of wine and laid a few silver on the bar.

"If you want to receive my ministrations and surrender your pain to the Maiden, you are most welcome." He gave you directions to a part of the Lower City you were vaguely familiar with. Not the worst part, but definitely somewhere you would want to approach during the daytime.

You received these instructions mutely, still caught in his dark presence like a fly in silk-soft webbing.

Then he was gone, out the door into the night. You stared after him for what seemed like minutes, the sounds of the bar falling unnoticed on your ears.

You'd probably dismiss this whole notion in the morning. Obviously you were more drunk than you thought, for you to even be thinking about taking Abdirak up on his offer. To be thinking about those piercing grey eyes staring at you from inches away, muscled chest pressed tight to yours. Absolutely ridiculous to even linger on the idea of that sweet, deep caring voice telling you what a good girl you were being for him as his breath hitched in pleasure...

You shook your head firmly, standing up from the stool as if by doing so you could leave those thoughts on the cracked wooden surface, and headed back to your room.

---

Morning came, but distressingly, you still found yourself mulling over the possibility of seeking out the Priest of Loviatar. He'd left an indelible mark on your mind, a dark and jagged thing that nevertheless promised comfort at a time when you had none.

You laid there, staring at the beams of the ceiling above you. They were dusty and filled with cobwebs. A sudden ache filled your chest at the thought that this was your future. That you would wake to the sight of innumerable hostels and flophouses for the rest of your days until your money ran out, and then-

Stop. You scolded yourself. It wasn't that bad.

Still, though. It wouldn't hurt to see what exactly Abdirak was offering, would it? He'd said he didn't do anything without consent. A wry chuckle left your lips as you reflected that, honestly, job hunting was far more torturous than anything he could dream up anyway.

So you got out of bed. You felt more yourself than you had in weeks. This was something new, something that broke the monotony of misery you'd been stuck in. And as much as you hated to admit it, you were intrigued by the strange man's offer.

It was a wet, cold day. A storm was rolling up the coast, soaking everything in a freezing mist and darkening the sky so that the streets were almost as shadowed as they were at night. But you pressed on, navigating the increasingly narrow streets and alleys until you came to a dead end near the docks.

You stood in the cold and rain, your cloak drawn tightly around your shivering form, and stared at the shabby wooden door before you. A single lantern hung overhead, swinging in the storm, its dull orange glow doing little to penetrate the dark grey around you.

Did you have the wrong address? There was nothing to mark this as the home of a Priest of Loviatar. Then you looked closer. There, on the wooden beam across the top of the door. The carved image of a barbed flail, small but deep.

You hesitated, rocking on the soles of your feet, and almost turned around. But the thought of going back, of laying in your dingy rented room or pacing the streets looking for work was so abhorrent that you swallowed your fear and knocked.

There was a short wait, where the wind wailed in your ears like a thousand souls in torment and lightning lashed the sky.

Then Abdirak answered the door. Seeing him again forced your breath from your lungs like you were a blushing maiden on her first date, only the feelings stirring in you were far darker. Hungrier. Gods. That muscled bare torso and those sculpted arms had your knees going weak.

His perfect grey eyes widened a fraction, as if in surprise, then he was standing aside and waving you in with a welcoming smile. The expression was tinged with just enough sinister suggestion that you blushed and looked down at your feet as you entered. Something about a smile on that face was unholy, in a way that made you feel almost feral with need. You clenched your hands and tried to compose yourself as filthy fantasies played through your mind. Luckily, what you saw inside distracted you from that base hunger.

You weren't sure what you had been expecting in his house, but this wasn't it. The room you found yourself in was small and carefully furnished. A red carpet was laid out on the wooden floor, in front of a well-used sofa and a couple of plush armchairs. A half-finished glass of wine sat on a side table, next to a oft-thumbed leather-bound book. Candles lit the small space, shutters on the windows fastened against the rain, and a cheery fire burned steady in the hearth. Closed doors lead to the other rooms.

It felt almost... cozy. You stood there for a second, slightly bewildered, before realising that your outerwear was dripping all over the carpet.

"Ah, I'm sorry!" You pulled off the cloak, which continued to deposit rainwater on the floor, and frantically looked around for somewhere to put it, your hands out in front of you, clutching the wet fabric.

Abdirak closed the door before walking over to you. A gentle chuckle emanated from him as he laid warm, scarred hands over your own cold ones. You stood still, almost petrified, as he intertwined his fingers with yours. The slow, tender touch made you shiver, your flesh tingling where your fingers met. An intimate moment passed as he looked down at you, interlocked digits tightening around yours with careful strength. A pale hunger to match your own flickered in his eyes, his jaw tightening with an unnamed emotion as his gaze burned into you.

After a beat, he prised the cloak from your grip, making sure to caress the backs of your hands with his thumbs as you reluctantly gave up the contact. He took a few steps to lay the sopping garment on the brick in front of the fire before turning back.

"Thank you." You glanced up at him sheepishly, your words stuck in your throat. What did you say now? Anything sounded far too forward in your head. Your eyes strayed to his bare chest, muscled and marked with scars. A slow heat churned in your abdomen.

"I'm glad you came, my child." He laid a hand on your shoulder, his hand warm against your shirt. You shivered slightly at the touch, but did not stir, instead losing yourself in his gaze. Flint-grey, and just as sharp.

"I..." you swallowed. "I've never done anything like this before." Your stomach was an anxious knot. Abdirak squeezed your shoulder before letting go and beckoning you to follow him.

"Leave your concerns at the door, dear one. I will instruct you in all that you must do." He went to one of the doors, unlocked it, and gestured you through. After a moment, you obeyed, mastering the sudden quiver of fear that manifested in your stomach.

This room was far more of what you had expected from a Loviatar follower, and you slowed as you entered. Instruments of pain lined the walls, all on neat hooks and shelves. Whips, flails, maces, knives, and other sharp things for which you had no name. There was a curious structure bolted onto the back wall, a large wooden X with various straps hanging from the ends of the legs and the middle. Your eyes were drawn to it, and your cheeks flared with heat.

Your heart accelerated as Abdirak closed the door and came up behind you. He stopped a hairsbreadth behind you, close enough that you could feel his body heat and taste his scent. Leather, musk, and the faintest hint of rose. You wanted to lean back into it, to lose yourself in him, and never find yourself again. The heat between your legs flamed hotter.

"Strip to your comfort." His voice was husky in your ear, going straight to your aching core. He seemed to pause, then, as if mastering some impulse, then walked over to a rack of tools and began to busy himself.

You took a deep, shuddering breath. This was it. You could tell him thank you, but you were not interested. Or, you could see where this went.

Your hands were already slipping under your clothes as the thought passed through your head. Fuck everything. You were going to give yourself over to this, to him, in every way possible.

With that in mind, you pulled everything off before slipping out of your shoes, shivering slightly as your soles met the stone floor.

Abdirak turned back to you just as you finished tossing everything into one pile of fabric. He stopped short, stormy eyes darkening as a wicked smirk stretched across his face.

"Oh, dear one." his voice dropped to a guttural purr. His gaze raked over your naked form, chest rising and falling with uneven breaths. "Such a tribute you offer to the Maiden of Pain."

"And to you." You murmured, meeting his eyes with a coy smile. A certain recklessness was coursing through your veins, fueled by the desire softly throbbing between your legs and the desperation of the past months.

The priest seemed slightly taken aback, eyebrows rising before settling down into an expression of unbridled desire that narrowed his eyes and pulled at his mouth in a delicious smirk. "Do your sins weigh heavy on you, my child?" His deep voice, so tender, so caring, contrasted and complimented perfectly with the way his knuckles whitened on the handle of the flail he held, the way he watched you with an eager violent lust. His words held a certain ritual quality to them, and you responded in kind after a beat, bowing your head.

"Yes, Father Abdirak." You spoke quietly, bowing your head and clasping your hands behind your back in a gesture of deference.

He exhaled, a deep breath that shook slightly as it left his lungs, then strode over to you. He laid a hand on your bare back, calluses rough against your skin.

"Walk." The command was deep, accompanied by a curling of his fingers into your flesh. You bit back a whimper of anticipation and let him guide you to the cross on the back wall.

He manipulated your body with deft touches, tightening restraints and adjusting the buckles with a smooth efficiency. You were facing the wall, arms and legs splayed out, your heart hammering in your chest so loudly you swore you could hear it echoing off of the stone chamber. You closed your eyes, enjoying the slight terror of not being able to see where he was or what the priest of Loviatar was doing.

Abdirak's voice sounded next to your ear in a deep growl. "You will scream for me. Let me hear it all, dear one. Beg. Plead. Whimper. If you wish for me to stop, you say 'Aboleth'." A touch caressed your back, then fingers fisted in your hair and gave it a yank that made you gasp in pain and ecstasy. "Say it."

"A-Aboleth." you half-spoke, half-moaned, the feeling going straight between your legs. This was dark, and dangerous, yet you felt somehow safe. Free to let go. Free to let him take complete control.

"Good." Lips caressed the side of your neck, placing hot, open-mouthed kisses on your skin as he relinquished his grip on your hair.

There was a few agonizing seconds of nothing but the sound of your beating heart.

Then searing stripes of pain, cruel and red-hot, carved across your back with the satisfying thwack of leather on flesh. Your body shook and your torso curved as much as it was able, ropes taut on your limbs, and a scream erupted from your opened mouth. As the pain receded, a profound sense of relaxation flooded through your veins, leaving you slumped and sobbing in your restraints.

"That's it. Surrender it all to the Goddess." Abdirak sounded delirious with delight. "Beg, child, scream for Loviatar's forgiveness!"

There was a swish, then another biting strike of the many-tailed whip. Another throat-scalding scream came from deep within you, hysterical and high-pitched, a keening noise the likes of which you had never heard from yourself before. "Please! Gods!" You were babbling as the pain faded into a dull ache, tears running down your face and dripping onto the floor. But along with that pain, there was a creeping warmth, a strange and twisted.... pleasure? You flushed, a sigh escaping your lips.

"There, yes." The priest sounded as aroused as you felt, his voice ragged and laboured. "Give in to her blessings, dear one."

"I..." you groaned, the aching heat in your back intensifying, sending jolts of pleasure that throbbed in the dripping slick of your cunt. "Fuck, I need more, please."

The growl that Abdirak responded with had you quivering. Deep. More animal than human, a dark and throbbing sound.

You didn't even tense in anticipation as you heard the hiss of leather through air, letting your muscles go limp. The pain that came as it struck your relaxed back was heavenly, pleasurable almost the instant it hit. There were no thoughts anymore, no worries or anxieties. Just bliss. Total surrender into Abdirak's care. You writhed, screamed, and shuddered as the sensation shivered through your body.

No other god had come close to giving you this kind of ecstasy. You were begging for more the moment the stinging began to fade, your pleas hoarse and alien in your own ears. The priest complied, laying skilled strikes along your back, then across your ass and the backs of your thighs, each time a novel feeling, wrenching heartrending cries of pain and delirious pleasure from deep within you.

Time fell away. There was only blissful agony, the sound of whips on flesh, and Abdirak's voice over and through all of it. Praising you, worshiping you in a tone like honeyed leather, telling you how good you were, how penitent, how beautiful.

When the strikes began to bite too deep, when you began to shy away from the whip rather than greet it with glorious moans, he stopped. Gentle hands undid the ropes that bound you to the cross. You slumped back into his embrace, boneless and euphoric. Abdirak carried you in his arms like a child, holding you close to his chest. You nuzzled at him, burying your face into his sweat-slicked pectorals, inhaling his musk. A total sense of peace pervaded you, wrapped you in a bliss you hadn't known since you were a very small child.

He laid you on something warm and soft, then sat down next to you. Your eyes still closed, you moved towards his heat, curling up against him and pressing your face into the robes against his thigh. His hands began to work something cool and slick into your back, pressing in gentle little circles and giving attention to the deeper marks that he had left.

"You did so well for me, dear one." He murmured as he worked. You opened your eyes to see him smiling down at you. He had a kind of awe on his face, an expression that softened his eyes and made him look almost vulnerable. "Such wonderful agonies. You truly are beautiful, my sweet, penitent child."

You curled closer to him in response, craving his touch. He stroked your hair with one hand, then gently lifted you into a sitting position, your back cradled against his arm. He brought a mug up to your face, pressing it to your lips. The scent of honey and chamomile filled your nostrils, and you were suddenly aware of how dry and sore your throat was.

"Small sips, child." You obeyed meekly, the sweet warm liquid soothing as it went down. He guided you through the whole mug, holding you close and occasionally wiping a stray drop from your chin with his thumb.

By the time you were done, your eyelids felt heavy, your head full of nothing but contentment. Abdirak laid you back down on the small bed, covering you with a blanket and tucking it around you with a tender attentiveness that made you melt inside all over again.

You caught his arm as he stood, and he looked down at you with surprise. You smiled sleepily up at him. "Thank you." You murmured, trying to convey your feelings as best as you could in that simple phrase.

The priest simply smiled back, then leaned down and placed a tender kiss on your forehead. "Sleep, dear one."

You obeyed.

- - -

You awoke feeling deliciously relaxed. There was a warm throbbing in your back, but otherwise you felt good. No, better than good. Great. The best you'd felt in a very long time.

After a moment of simply luxuriating in your happiness, you sat up, wincing and smiling at the slight pains that action brought. Abdirak was nowhere in sight. The bondage cross had been wiped down, and the tools he'd used on you had been put away.

You idly wondered how many others he had brought this pleasure to. Not out of jealousy, but curiosity. He was so skilled, and you felt honored to have received his attentions. Still, you wanted more. Gods, did you want more. The way he had made you feel, you could become hopelessly infatuated with him. The pain. The gentleness. All of it together.

You stood, the blanket falling with a soft thwump to the floor, and went to the door, opening it to peer into the main room of the small house.

Abdirak had fallen asleep on the couch, his head resting back on an arm of the faded piece of furniture, a book on his chest. It was opened to a particularly gruesome diagram of torture methods. You hesitated, watching the steady rise and fall of his breath. There was a slight frown on his face, and his brow was furrowed. He looked vulnerable, almost sad.

You leaned against the doorframe, lost in thought. How had he come to Loviatar, you wondered? There must have been a great amount of pain and tragedy in his life for him to turn to the Maiden of Pain. Had he been like you, a lost soul who had been taken in by a fellow follower? How many of his scars were from the worship of his Goddess, and how many were from some terrible past?

These thoughts swept through you, stirring a profound sense of tenderness for the sleeping priest. You closed the door carefully behind you, and walked up to the couch on noiseless unshod feet before kneeling beside him.

He shifted slightly, mumbling something in his dreams. A wince passed over his face, pulling his mouth into a quick expression of sorrow and terror. It made him look so much younger, and the soft, sweet feeling in your heart swelled. Tentatively, you reached forward and brushed the lick of white hair back from his brow.

The gentle touch stirred him, and he opened his eyes, blinking slowly. A smile touched his lips as he saw you.

"Dear one." He caught your hand in his, sitting up to look down at you with fondness in his eyes. "How are you feeling?" You smiled from where you knelt, and he squeezed your hand, his thumb rubbing slow circles on your palm.

"I..." You paused. How were you feeling? "I feel better than I have in a very long time. That was... incredible."

A genuine look of happiness lit up Abdirak's face, light dancing in his grey eyes like sunshine on deep water.

"It was my pleasure." A slight innuendo darkened his voice at the word, and a blush crept onto your cheeks. He paused. "If you wish, perhaps I could continue to instruct you in the Maiden's ways." The statement was tentative, as if he wasn't sure how you would respond. After all, you had very recently professed profound alarm at the very idea of Loviatar.

You furrowed your brow, speaking slowly. "I... I think I'd like that. This... isn't what I had imagined. I think I'd like to learn more."

Abdirak smiled again, the sincerity of the expression taking your breath away, and he guided you up beside him onto the couch.

"Not now, of course, you must heal first. Mustn't be greedy, my child." He chided with half a laugh in his voice.

You nodded your assent, and a comfortable silence stretched between you. Abdirak glanced over at you, his eyes raking over your naked form. He seemed to be teetering on some sort of precipice, desire and something else mixing in his gaze. He wanted you, you could tell. But something held him back.

When he made to stand, you caught his arm with a frown.

"Abdirak, I..." You met his eyes, stormy with emotion. "I want to lie with you." The words made you flush, but you continued, stumbling over your profession. "I want to give you pleasure. I want to give.... I want to give everything to you."

A low groan sounded deep inside the man's bare and scarred chest, which rose and fell with a constrained want. Everything in him was tense, his muscles clenching under his skin, a hungry, almost predatory look on his face.

"Dear child, I..." he swallowed thickly before disentangling your hand from his arm. He stood, staring down at you with balled fists. It seemed to be taking everything in him to not lunge at you. To devour you completely.

"You do not know what you ask. There are others. Better men. I will happily show you Loviatar's love, but you... you deserve much better in your bed." His jaw tightened with emotion, and he looked down, refusing to meet your gaze.

"I don't want them." You spoke softly as you stood up, closing the distance between you. His chestpiece pricked at your flesh as you pressed your body against his, stinging and drawing tiny droplets of blood from your breasts. He watched, his entire form shivering with need, as little rivulets of red trickled slowly down your naked flesh. His mouth opened in a silent moan.

"I want you." Your voice dropped to a low murmur as you leaned forward to whisper in his ear.

Another deep sound, primal and hungry, rumbled inside of him. His chest rose and fell with deep, desperate, shaky breaths. The blood on your breasts smeared against his chest as you pressed against him, slick and warm between you.

"Please." You slipped your hand inside his robe to find his cock, hard and throbbing, and began to smear the dripping precum around the head of the pulsating organ.

The priest snapped.

In one moment, his mouth was on your breasts, his hands grabbing under your thighs and pulling you off the floor to hook your feet around his back. His tongue licked eagerly at the bloody streaks on your skin, head bent as he cleaned the wounds with a insane hunger.

"Dear one." He panted, turning to push your back against the wall, grinding himself against you with a ferocious need, voice muffled in the flesh of your breasts. He raised his head to lock eyes with you, his dilated pupils darkening his eyes to a stormy sea-black. A subtle streak of red ran down his lip, but was caught by his questing tongue.

You leaned your head forward in a hungry, violent kiss, teeth knocking, tongues twisting, needful noises from both of you drowned in each other's mouths. It was slick, and hot, and good, and you wrapped yourself more tightly around him, hands grasping at his back, sliding against muscled flesh.

Abdirak broke the kiss to press his forehead against yours, eyes glazed and mouth open in a half-smile of needful lust. His hips were working constantly, thrusting forward to meet you, thin cloth soaking quickly as he rutted himself against your dripping cunt. He pushed you more firmly against the wall, freeing his hands and holding you there with the weight and pressure of his body, sweaty with animal heat. He hastily undid hidden buckles and straps on his waist, shoving the clothing onto the ground as he pressed his face into the crook of your neck, teeth nipping at your flesh.

There was a desperation in his breath, in the little voiced groans as he left bruises on your neck and collarbone, that made you wonder how long it had been. He seemed almost starved, feral for touch and sex and the hot, sweaty passionate grappling of bodies. You did everything you could to sate him, moaning and pressing every part of you to him, your fingernails digging into the skin of his back.

Now naked but for his spiked pauldrons, Abdirak stepped back, cock in hand, staring at you with a crazed intensity. You straightened up as much as you were able, your back to the wall, flushed and breathing like you'd never tasted oxygen before.

"On your knees for me." His voice was ragged and dark, but a trace of tenderness softened the words, as did the gentle hand on your shoulder, guiding you down to kneel before him. You stared up, hands on your thighs, as he gave himself a few slow pumps, closing his eyes and tilting his head upwards in ecstasy. Slick drops of precum slid down his shaft just a few inches from your face, and your mouth watered in response.

Unable to contain yourself, you leaned forward and gave him a slow, wet lick along the bottom of his flushed cock, gathering the sticky fluid into your mouth and ending with an open-mouthed kiss on the head of the quivering organ.

His hips jerked forward, eyes flying open in surprise. A wicked smile played along his face as he looked down at you, your lips in an O as you wriggled your tongue into his dripping slit.

"Greedy girl." He purred, pleased as you began to slowly take him into your mouth, hollowing your cheeks and flickering your tongue along the underside of his cock. The salty, slightly bitter taste of him spurred you on until you were trying to swallow as much as you could, half-choking but not caring, your hands grasping at his hips as they rocked forward. His fingers found your hair, clutching at your scalp and twining almost lovingly in your locks, pulling you further and further until you couldn't even breathe, and everything was a mess of gagging and saliva and a hard pressure at the back of your throat. You couldn't stop, ignoring your own panic at the lack of oxygen, trying to swallow more and more and more, pre-cum trickling down your throat, a subtle ringing in your ears, you were drunk on his taste, your vision starting to go black as his hips moved more and more violently-

Abdirak forced you back, yanking your hair as you mewled in protest, sticking your tongue out in desperation as he popped out of your mouth. Long strands of saliva and precum connected you and him, and you wriggled in his grasp, eager to resume your feast.

He spoke in short, clipped phrases, as he half-carried, half-dragged you to the couch, picking you up under your arms as if you weighed no more than one of his instruments of pained delight. "I want-" He sat you on the piece of furniture, your hips on the edge, and spread your thighs with hands gripping hard enough to bruise- "-to taste you-" His eyes glinted with ravenous lust as he moved between your legs- "-dear one."

Those last words were spoken a hairsbreadth from your clit, his lips just barely caressing the wet, quivering little nub of flesh. A harsh moan grated your throat, and your hips jerked in his grasp.

His mouth opened and he slid the length of his tongue along your dripping slit, ending with a flickering across that lovely bundle of nerves hat had you squirming against him, desperately trying to move closer to the heat of his breath as a lance of searing pleasure shuddered through you.

"Abdirak!" You moaned his name like a prayer as he fastened his mouth to you and began to work with his lips and tongue as if you were the most delicious thing he had ever tasted. His tongue wormed its way inside you, stroking your sticky, quivering walls with lovely writhing twisting caresses.

His hands rubbed up and down your shaking thighs with a soothing motion as he brought you to the edge and kept you there with slow licks, his eyes narrowing as he looked up at you. You whined in protest, a shivering hot bubble of pleasure threatening to burst under the careful movement of his mouth. "Please!" Your voice was a breathy, trembling, needy thing, and a smirk crinkled at the corner of his eyes at the panting desperation in your tone.

He moved his face so that his tongue and lips were focused solely on your clit, softly kissing and lapping at that little kernel of pleasure that vibrated wetly with the stimulation. You grabbed at his head, hands tangling in his soft white hair and scraping along the shaved stubble with a choked wail of need. Slowly, gently, he slipped two fingers inside you, stroking at your walls with a touch that was melting you. A fire flamed hotter inside of you with every deliberate pump and curl of his fingers as he suckled at your clit with an even pulsing of air and breath.

"Come for me." He murmured, voice soft but still commanding, like velvet wrapped steel. He flexed his digits inside you, pressing right into your g-spot with perfect force. The very tip of his tongue wetly tickled your clit as he gave it a hard, demanding suck, lips sealing around it so that no single nerve escaped the pure bliss he forced upon it.

You obeyed, falling head-first into an orgasm that built with a slow, roaring intensity and swept through you with shuddering, ecstatic force. Your body curved back, hips pressing his mouth flush to you, thighs clamped around his head as a throbbing pleasure seized your cunt and pulsed with glorious release. Again, and again, and again, thick hot waves of sticky pleasure vibrated from your core, Abdirak working you through it even as you soaked his face in your release.

As the last shiver died down, leaving a beautiful tingling resonating in your bones, he rose, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand and staring down at you with something like reverence on his face.

"So very beautiful." He murmured. You made something approaching speech, swallowed, then tried again, your voice trembling like a leaf.

"Come here." With a herculean effort, you managed to move yourself so that you were bent over the couch, feet on the floor and hands on the back of the piece of furniture. You twisted your head around to see the priest hesitating, even though his cock was painfully erect, freely dripping precum, his scrotum high and tight against him, bulging with seed that you knew was aching to be released.

"Are you sure, dear one?" Despite his words, he moved closer behind you, hands settling to grasp your waist. You wondered why he was so reticent. It certainly wasn't from any deficiency on your part, not with the way he'd feasted on you. Not with the way he looked at you.

"Please." You tried to project every ounce of your need that burned inside you. "Abdirak, I want to give you this. I want to have you. I want to be yours."

"My child..." He murmured. "Oh, my dear, beautiful, penitent sinner." His voice sank lower with each word, until, at the last syllable, he nestled the warm head of his rock-hard cock against you, and began to push himself inside.

You tensed, pushing back against him and crying out in ecstasy. Little spasms of pleasure fluttered inside you as he worked himself in, opening your utterly sopping walls and ending with a soft thump nestled against your cervix. Your knees trembled, and he waited a moment for you to adjust before he began to move again.

You were lost the second he moved his hips. The wet, sliding, stretching motion, tearing you apart inside with every thrust, had you gasping, clenching, eyes rolling back into your skull. His hands were painfully tight on your waist now, and you could hear his panting breaths, the wet smack every time he bottomed out.

"Oh fuck!" You moaned, swirling your hips against him. "Fuck, Abdirak!" He didn't reply, but instead began to set a punishing pace, his self-control falling to pieces. He was forcing you further and further into the couch with powerful, bruising strokes that slammed against your g-spot. Low groans emanated from his chest as he chased his own end with an increasing desperation.

His thrusts were so rapid you could barely breathe, the constant sliding, grinding, pounding pleasure on every inch of your walls pulling you forcefully towards another orgasm. Your arms gave out, and your face sank into the cushions, the fabric muffling your desperate, degenerate noises of ecstasy. His hips stuttered, and you clenched as hard as you could, wanting to give him his release, but he stopped short, breathing raggedly.

"Not... without..." He rasped, then moved his hands, sliding them up your body and pulling you up against him, your back flush against his chest. With one of his hands he grasped at a breast, kneading at it with bruising force, fingers pinching your nipple with a pain that had you writhing against him, scoring your back with the jagged wires on his collarbone, biting back cries of the agony and the pleasure of it.

His other hand came down between your legs, slipping in the wet mess to begin stroking at your over-sensitized clit. You choked out a moan as he began to move his cock again, keeping you close against him as he set a desperate pace, matching his hips and hands so that the swirling of his fingers against your aching nub was sending you down a spiral of pleasure. Your walls spasmed around him, your clit shivering sweetly, nipple burning with the squeezing of his fingers. White-hot oblivion flickered just out of reach, beckoning with every savage thrust of his hips into yours.

Abdirak trembled against you, leaning down to bite your shoulder as his hips began to shake, his cock twitching deep inside. The sinking of his teeth into the meat of your muscle undid you, and you came apart with him. To be orgasming on his cock was pure bliss. You could feel the thick, hot ropes of cum splattering inside you, the waves of pleasure that had you screaming and milking every drop from him with a powerful clenching and squeezing ecstasy. Your clit spasmed and shuddered under his fingers, the thick fluid of your own release gushing and coating his hand as he coaxed every little murmur of pleasure from the organ.

Teeth-clenchingly slowly, the delicious throbbing waves of your orgasms swept through you both in concert, until all that was left were spent muscles and limbs wrapped loosely around each other, sweat and semen and release covering the pair of you.

You ended up tangled together on the couch, Abdirak still buried inside of you, the slow softening of his cock permitting a slow sticky flow of your mixed release to slide down your inner thigh. You were curled up, your back against his chest, his arms tightly wrapped around you and his face in your shoulder. A happy glow suffused you, golden and warm.

"Abdirak?" You murmured. He stirred behind you, pressing a gentle kiss to the back of your neck in answer.

"Why..." You hesitated. You didn't want to kill the mood, but you had to know. "You made me come so hard. You gave me the best damn orgasms of my life." You took a breath and snuggled back into him, not caring that his chestpiece continued to scratch your back. "But you were so reluctant to let me pleasure you. To take your own release. Why?" There was a long silence where he simply held you, breathing against your neck. You almost thought he'd fallen asleep when he answered, so quiet you had to strain to hear his words, even though they were spoken inches from your ear.

"A story for another time, dear one." He hesitated, pressing another kiss to your shoulder. "Suffice it to say that I have served others, then Loviatar, for so long, that to take anything for myself..." He trailed off, his tone distant, almost sad.

You moved slightly, turning to meet his eyes. He smiled and moved a hand to cup your cheek. "Please, Abdirak." You touched your forehead to his. "Let me be here for you. I... I want to stay." You swallowed. "If you'll have me."

Clear grey eyes widened inches in front of your own in a mix of astonishment and fondness. "Dear one..." An expression passed over his face, something almost like pain. "You would stay for me?"

You smiled and bent forward to kiss him. "Yes. Until whatever end may come."

Then there was only bliss, and later, the slow peaceful dreams that come with sleep in another's arms.

#baldur's gate 3 #bg3 #abdirak #abdirak bg3 #fanfic #bg3 fanfiction #abdirak fanfiction #smut #bg3 smut

[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.

#baldur's gate 3 #baldur's gate #bg3 #baldur's gate oc #baldur's gate tav #named tav #named oc #oc #original character #abdirak #bg3 abdirak #abdirak x tav #abdirak x oc #abdirak x named tav #abdirak x named oc #abdirak ff #abdirak smut #abdirak fanfiction #bg3 fanfiction #bg3 ff #baldur's gate 3 fanfiction

[thecampjuicebox]

Baldur's Gate 3 Fanfic Masterlist

Decided I should probably create a masterlist of everything I've written so far because, let's be real, I'm not stopping anytime soon. I'll continue to update as I write more. All fics are 18+ and requests are still open!! Just send me a message (anon or not) and I'll whip something up for you. I have a ko-fi if you'd like to tip for any requests.

I will ABSOLUTELY NOT write anything on the topic of incest, rape, adult x minor, minor x minor, urine, or feces. If I see any of this in my inbox/comments, you'll be blocked. If I write about a pairing or topic you don't agree with, keep it moving. You're not forced to read what I post at any point.

Tav/Reader x Gale:

Aching for you (nsfw)

Breakfast (nsfw)

Third Degree

Worship You (nsfw)

Purple (nsfw)

Someone To Live For

Tav/Reader x Astarion x Gale:

To have and to hold Pt. 1 (nsfw)

To have and to hold Pt. 2

To have and to hold Pt. 3 (nsfw)

Tav/Reader x Astarion:

Hunger (nsfw)

Little Love

Aeterna Amantes

Protector (nsfw)

The Monastery

Tav/Reader x Halsin:

Just as nature intended (nsfw)

Tav/Reader x Karlach:

Reverence and Hellsfire (nsfw)

Tav/Reader x Raphael/Haarlep:

The Deal (nsfw)

The Devil You Do (nsfw)

The Little Serpent

Persuasion (nsfw)

Inferno Pt.1

Inferno Pt.2

Wrapped With a Bow (nsfw)

Toy Mouse (nsfw)

A Dangerous Game (nsfw)

Tav/Reader x Side Character:

Glorious Suffering - Tav x Abdirak x Astarion (nsfw) Glorious Suffering Pt. 2 - Tav x Abdirak x Astarion x Shadowheart (nsfw)

Companion x Companion:

Your Choice (Astarion x Halsin)

Ask Requested Ficlets and Drabbles:

Tav duels a cambion after negotiations go awry in the House of Hope

Raphael shows up unannounced to Tav's home and finds a surprise

Raphael returns home after a meeting with mouse, Haarlep makes an interesting proposal

#bg3 fanfic #bg3 fanfiction #gale of waterdeep #astarion #halsin #fanfic masterlist #baldurs gate 3 #baldurs gate fanfiction #astarion romance #astarion x tav #gale x tav #halsin x tav #abdirak x tav #raphael x tav #haarlep x tav

[tavyliasin]

Call this one an experiment in a little something different, darlings~

We all have hard days, and some harder than most. So, perhaps a few words of comfort from some of our most beloved characters.

I may expand on these later to be fuller pieces of comfort, but only if that's something people feel they'd wish to see. So do let me know if it should go on my list, for more with these characters and additions of other favourites too~ I can probably so a short piece from anyone, given a little time to get under their skin and find their motivation/voice.

There's going to be some mild tw/cw for mental health, mention of scars, and subtle implications of pain/hurt/etc.

Astarion: "Darling, look into my eyes. That's right, keep your focus right here. Listen to my voice, breathe slowly. No more tears alone, love, you are a light in my endless night and I shall not let your flame burn low. You and I, we are more than the scars we never should have earned, and we are certainly far stronger than any blade or bow that has ever tried to take us down. You still do not believe it? You are here, living and breathing, despite all of your worst days.  Now, one day at a time, darling, one foot in front of the other. No stumble can erase how far you have come." 

---

Halsin: "I am here, my heart, what do you need? No shadow curse or vile beast can reach you from within my arms, no force of nature can tear you from them either. Take all the time you need, my love, I will not leave. Your tears are your strength, not your shame. Let me teach you of all I see within you, your boundless potential proving the acorn can become the oak. I see how you shelter others with your leaves, so let us - let me - hold you through the storm. Your boughs may bend but they will not break." 

---

Abdirak: "You endure your pain so well Dear One, but you must stop believing you deserve it. Pain is a gift, it can be loving, and deliver that love to Loviatar. But it must never break, it must not be delivered without purpose. Do not be so foolish as to believe your own hand is purpose enough. Let me show you the right pains, Dear One, the pain that can heal you. No others shall be permitted to taint the art that is you with sullied brushes." 

---

Raphael: "Little Mouse, you have set quite the trap for yourself, haven't you? Need I remind you exactly who you made a deal with? No. I shall not permit our agreement to be tainted, not by any insignificant insect that would dare to sting my prey. Do not look so forlorn, Little Mouse, your nickname is not an insult. You might be in the presence of a cat, and you would do well to remember that little fact, but a mouse can be swift, cunning, and survive against impossible odds. That is why I trust you, and no other, to bring me what I want most. It is why I offer you a deal that is almost entirely in your favour - no other could expect such generosity, Little Mouse, so keep that in mind. You are my favourite client, and I shall let none break you. Not even yourself."

---

Haarlep: "Ah my Little Thief, you wish to steal yourself away? No, I shall not have that. How bold you were to look me in the eye and to broker your own deal! I could have killed you the moment you stepped into my abode uninvited, but that, Little Thief, would have been such a terrible waste. You noticed, did you not? When I saw you, when I truly saw you, that I did not see just a body stood brazenly staring me down without a scrap of cloth to cover you. I saw potential, so very much delicious potential. Come now, lie back, tell your dear Haarlep what troubles you, and I shall erase every last one from your mind."

---

A bonus, from Tavylia Sin, to one and all.

Tavylia: "Hello, darling. I see you, I really do. I can see how tightly you hold on, how easily the little hope you cling to can slip through your fingers. I know you may never read this, I know you may never hear it, but perhaps someone else like you will read this instead and that will be enough. You are too unkind to yourself, even as you show endless understanding and patience to those around you. They love you, darling, they cherish you even when you don't hear it. I know you need to hear it , though, and I don't begrudge you the comfort of soft words. Just...remember them, love. Remember every moment you were heard, every time you were adored just the way you are, and know those feelings are still there. A heart of love is not emptied by a single moment of you not believing in yourself, your worth is not measured by what you provide. Your worth is within yourself. I see it, others do too. Take comfort, darling, you are never ever alone. I am with you, near or far, and my love for you will not fade. If you cannot believe in yourself for now, trust that we believe in you. Rest, love, the dawn brings a new day and you are always a pleasant part of mine."

#hurt/comfort #x reader #baldurs gate 3 #bg3 fanfiction #short comfort #astarion #halsin #abdirak #haarlep #raphael #something to brighten a dark day #hold on darlings it will get better #you are never alone #you are loved #you are heard #you are worth more than your bad days #we can all support each other #coping with depression #fiction as a coping mechanism #character comforts

[vacantvisage]

New fic !

Ordination Abdirak/Loviataran High Priest Explicit, 4300 words

TAGS: BDSM, Needles, Dom/sub, Dominance, Submission, Piercings, Cock Piercing, Rope Bondage, Sounding, Priest Kink, Religion Kink, hierophilia, Stabbing, Scars, Wound Fucking, needleplay, Painplay, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Aftercare, POV Third Person

SUMMARY:

Prior to the events of BG3, Abdirak is an initiate of Loviatar ready to undergo an ordination rite to become a Pain Priest. The High Whipmaster bestows punishment and pleasure both as an endurance test. The Whipmaster has no pronouns but the titles of Priest and Master are much more masc-leaning. Every "he" should be exclusive to Abdirak. The main defining qualities for the Whipmaster include being as tall or taller than Abdirak and being at least somewhat muscular.

NOTES:

As the summary says, I did my best to make the Whipmaster as non-specific as possible besides "average" humanoid size and clerical strength. I wasn't sure if I should include this in the F/M category considering Priest and Master are still masc-leaning terms. I did a mild amount of research into Loviataran clergy, but I mostly wanted to write self indulgent BDSM again. Apologies in advanced for any missed errors. I was asked a couple times for a sequel to Tolerance but unfortunately my mind said No. Fortunately, my mind Did say Yes to a pre-game prequel. Hope you enjoy !

#bg3 #abdirak #bg3 fanfic #baldurs gate 3 #baldur's gate 3 #baldurs gate #bg3 fanfiction #baldur's gate 3 fanfiction #my fics #fanfiction #fanfic

[galesleftearring]

How sweet agony can be

Abdirak x Tav, Gale x Tav (no relationship, just yearning) VERY 18+

Larkspur, a half elf cleric of Ilmater, wants to explore the connections of her religion and the worship of Loviatar, two gods long established as enemies but with some very similar characteristics. Meeting Abdirak in the Goblin Camp gives her an opportunity to explore this dynamic in ways she couldn't quite anticipate. But back at camp, there's someone she can't totally get off of her mind... someone she can't help but compare this experience to, wondering how he would touch her instead.

Content Warning: bdsm (all of this with verbal and negotiated consent!!!!), physical restraint, whipping, nipple/clit torture, mentions of birth control, alcohol, sadomasochism, religious discussion as foreplay (and much more), m!dom f!sub, mixed feelings after sex, exploring kink and sex isn't always completely fun and that's okay!, casual sex/hookup, emotionless/loveless sex, injuries/bruising after sex, if I missed anything else please let me know!

Larkspur was no stranger to pain. As a cleric of Ilmater, her worship had involved a fair share of pain, both her own and that of others. She was no stranger to worshippers of Loviatar, and their cruel practices. She was no stranger to the divine rivalry between the two gods and their orders to undermine the work of the other, in whatever way necessary. Still, she was fascinated by Loviatar worshippers, fascinated by their love of pain and devotion to it. In a strange way, it felt like a perversion of her own devotion to alleviating pain. Perhaps the two gods needed each other for balance, for order. At the very least, they needed each other to continue their respective holy missions.

Meeting Abdirak in the goblin camp had been a surprise, but not an unwelcome one. She had long wished to speak in depth to a worshipper of the pain goddess, hoping for an intellectual discussion of their respective religions and an attempt to find some common ground. Abdirak was more than willing to share his knowledge and experience with Loviatar with the party, though Karlach and Odile were less interested than Larkspur herself. Karlach laughed, excited to see the spectacle, but did not offer up her own body. Not that Larkspur would have allowed her to. Gale... Gale seemed a bit horrified, if fascinated. "Your hide, your choice," he shrugged. "Not quite my cup of tea though." He always relished an opportunity to learn. Larkspur did too--she liked that about him. He seemed like a kindred spirit, though he was still closed off in many ways.

Larkspur knew that she was the only member of the party who would be willing to suffer at Abdirak's hands. Not only that, but she felt it was her duty to do so; no other member of her party would feel the pain if she could take it upon herself. Ilmater guide her, but she hoped this exercise would draw her closer to her God--or at least closer to an enlightened understanding of Loviatar. Each swing of Abdirak's mace fell harder on her back. The pain was almost unbearable, only made bearable through the whispered prayers she offered to Ilmater with each shuddering breath. She moaned, she whimpered, she cried out--but she did not move. The mace slammed into her three times, and Abdirak's swings were accompanied by praise. Praise to Loviatar, yes, but also praise to Larkspur herself. If she didn't know any better, he almost sounded... aroused. With the third strike, she felt as if she would pass out, her silent prayers turning from a deliberate recitation to an unintelligible plea. Abdirak stopped, and she turned to look at him as he offered her pain to his goddess.

"Sweet child," he purred, "you bore that pain like a true believer."

Larkspur's body shook, her mind frantically grasping at his words. It is my duty, she thought, though the words wouldn't come.

"Loviatar herself found your performance.... Inspiring. She has deemed you worthy of her blessing," he continued, and Larkspur felt a sudden peace as the goddess's blessing settled onto her shoulders. She could still feel the pain, certainly, but it was almost pleasant. There was an eroticism to the dizziness, the sparks of pain tingling at the end of every nerve. Her body was aching, exhausted, but undeniably alive. Abdirak seemed to sense her sudden calm. He smiled discreetly, as though the others were not in the room. "And on a personal note, thank you. That was positively divine." The words were almost a whisper, but they rang in Larkspur's ears like a bell toll.

Her head swam. Her heart thudded. She felt inspired, certainly, but not sated in her discovery. She hoped to ask Abdirak more questions, but he was already busy, cleaning his weapons and talking to one of the goblins. She would have to come back, she realized, and she would have to come back alone. Ordinarily, this would have terrified her, but Abdirak seemed safe enough. Odd really, but what could he do to her that would be worse than what she had just endured?

It wasn't long before the party decided to make camp for the night, exhausted from their exploration and hoping to stave off combat for as long as possible. Fighting could wait until after a good meal and a long sleep. Well, a long sleep for the others. Larkspur had a feeling she and Abdirak would be talking late into the night, if he would be willing to discuss their divine differences.

Gale made a delicious potato soup for dinner, rich and creamy despite their somewhat limited ingredients. Odile had suggested that perhaps he was using magic to augment their meals, and Larkspur thought they were probably right. Either way, the food was delicious. She made a mental note to ask him for the recipe--if they made it to Baldur's Gate alive, Larkspur would want to recreate the dish once everyone had parted ways. The thought was bittersweet, but she pushed it aside. Now is hardly the ideal time to get more attached to your companions. We are all on death's door at every moment. Do not make their loss harder on yourself than it already will be.

The richness of the soup settled into everyone's bellies as sleepiness took them one by one. Karlach and Odile were laughing quietly with Lae'zel, who seemed frustrated that she didn't get whatever the joke was. Shadowheart had already gone to sleep, and Astarion and Wyll were taking turns throwing Scratch's ball. Or rather, Wyll was throwing it while Astarion heckled him. Gale was cleaning up his cookware when Larkspur stood up and stretched, but began to head to the entrance of camp instead of her tent.

"Going somewhere?" he inquired, surprising her. Larkspur hadn't felt his eyes on her back.

"Yes," she responded, "I-uh, I have something I need to do. Something I need to understand." It wasn't a lie, but she felt her cheeks flush as though it was.

His brow furrowed slightly. "Ah, I see. Well, be careful. I trust your judgement but I... but we will need you again come morning. I doubt our coming battles will be easily won, especially without your healing prowess."

Larkspur nodded. "Thank you, Gale. I'll-- I'll see you in the morning." It was a promise she fully intended to keep.

When she left the camp, she found Abdirak's corner of the desecrated temple with ease. She had hoped he would still be there, and as luck would have it he was. And as luck--or Ilmater, or Loviatar--would have it, he was alone. Larkspur hesitated slightly at the entrance, shivering in the drafty air. She had not replaced her armor after dinner, and her thin camp clothes were not enough to stave off the chill. Her lack of armor was a peace offering, to ensure that Abdirak knew she was not a threat. Larkspur hadn't come to hunt a heretic, and she did not want him to think she had. Unarmed, she stood in the archway outside of his altar. She felt suddenly shy, unsure of what to say to draw his attention away from his table of weaponry.

Possibly he had heard her footsteps, or possibly he had sensed that she would have more to say. Either way, he turned to her before she had the chance to say anything. "Welcome back, dear one. I did enjoy our prayers earlier." His tone was completely sincere, no trace of irony or double entendre.

"What drew you to Loviatar worship?" Larkspur blurted out before she could come up with a less direct question.

Abdirak shrugged. "What drew you to Ilmater? Probably much the same. There was suffering in my life which I could not control. The pain was becoming unbearable. I wished to learn how to bear it."

Larkspur nodded. "I believe the two gods have more in common than others might at first suspect."

Abdirak smiled, delighted by the prospect of someone to discuss esoteric topics with who was not an Absolute cultist. "As do I," he drawled, "without Loviatar, Ilmater would have nothing to repair. Without Ilmater, Loviatar would have no reason for her destruction."

"Precisely. Each views pain and suffering as a tool, just with opposite implications."

Abdirak nodded slowly. "This is, I believe, why you did so well for me earlier today. Why you did so well for Loviatar. You truly understand the nature of pain, the depths of it. The comfort that it can bring, even if you derive that comfort from the alleviation thereof."

The two continued talking in hushed tones for a few moments, comparing rites and practices within their respective sects. The conversation was undoubtedly refreshing for each of them, not only because of their similar viewpoints but because neither of them had been able to engage in any kind of deep theological debate since the rise of the Absolute, if not before that. Larkspur couldn't remember the last time she'd been able to intellectually spar with someone in such sacred territory, and she was grateful for the opportunity. Thank you Ilmater, thank you Loviatar, she offered silently.

Abdirak pulled a bottle of wine from under his table, offering Larkspur a swig. She took it gladly, feeling its warmth splash down her throat and settle in her belly. "My sweet child," Abdirak looked at her as her lips wrapped around the bottleneck, "surely this conversation made you want to...pray... again? Attempt to apply the knowledge we have gained in worship?" His eyes glistened with hunger, but he held still and maintained the distance between them.

Larkspur nodded assent. "We owe it to our gods to take advantage of an opportunity to commune with them both. Perhaps our breakthroughs may grant their guidance to other worshippers, if the gods approve of our actions."

Abdirak stood, his broad chest flexing. "We will have no audience this time except for our gods. What a splendid offering we shall make. Are you prepared to give yourself completely in that pursuit?"

Larkspur had suspected that this would be the nature of their prayer. Rising from her seated position on the ground, she unlaced her shirt and tossed it aside. "If it pleases Ilmater, I will pray in whatever way he will hear me."

"In that case, dear one, do not stop there. Undress."

Larkspur shivered slightly, more anticipation of what was to come than the cold. It seemed the goblins had largely gone to sleep as well, so there was little risk of being seen by anyone other than Abdirak himself--not that that mattered as much to her as she would have expected. First she stepped out of her boots, then her pants. She peeled off her socks and slid out of her small clothes, leaving her standing in front of the altar fully exposed.

Abdirak's eyes raked over her, trailing from the tattoo on her throat to her breasts, nipples pricking with cold and arousal, to the soft curve of her stomach, and finally to the fold between her legs. "Good girl," he whispered, "Loviatar will surely be pleased with your offering."

Larkspur breathed once, twice, silently dedicating their actions to their gods, before turning to face the wall once more. "I am ready. Pray with me."

Abdirak needed no more encouragement. Selecting a whip from his table of instruments, he began to brush it across Larkspur's thighs and buttocks, picking up speed and force with each swing of his hand. The audible sting of the whip left Larkspur grinding her teeth, fighting the urge to whimper. She did not want to give in so early; she suspected this would be a long night and wanted to savour every moment. Whether that was for her god's benefit or her own, she was unsure.

When the pink stripes along her legs began to purple in the candlelight, Abdirak put the whip back on the table. "You were so quiet," he said with distaste. "Our gods will hardly be able to hear our prayer if you maintain such stoicism. Let yourself enjoy the act. Get lost in it. Only then can Loviatar find you."

Larkspur turned to face him. "Ilmater blesses those who suffer silently," she murmured, pupils wide. The warmth in her core was certainly not divine in origin. The wet growing between her thighs was undeniably mortal.

A low growl rumbled from Abdirak's throat. "Does he not bless those who suffer willingly? Does he not bless those who relish in that pain?"

Larkspur's breath caught. "Teach me to relish it, then. Show me how sweet agony can be."

His hands were on her waist before she had finished her sentence. Abdirak pressed his full weight against her, pinning her to the wall. He was much larger than she was, and fully dressed except for his exposed chest. She felt her nipples rubbing against his taught abdomen, felt his erection pressed into her soft thigh. Wordlessly, he pulled her hands up by the wrists until they were above her head, the stone rough and cool against her bare flesh. Taking a cord from around his waist, he tied them to a hook she had not realized was there a moment before. He wedged a knee between her thighs, forcing them to spread as he raked his nails down the tender undersides of her arms and down her torso. When he got to her hips, he continued to pull her legs apart until she was spread as wide as she could be against the wall, shackling her ankles in place.

Holding up the key to her chains, Abdirak took her chin into his other hand. "Listen, devoted one. If at any moment you wish our worship to stop, you have only to ask me for this key. Do you understand?"

Larkspur nodded, dazed somewhat, her thighs and back still aching from his prior ministrations.

"Answer me. Let Loviatar and Ilmater hear your consent. Let them know we devote this sweet moment to them," he ordered. His voice was heavy with anticipation, clearly holding himself back.

"Yes, yes, please, yes," Larkspur whined, sounding much more pitiful than she intended to.

Abdirak picked the whip up once more and began flicking it across the front of her thighs, moving higher, its sting biting at her pelvis, her stomach, her breasts. As the pain moved from her thighs up to infinitely more sensitive places on her skin, she felt herself writhe against her bindings. No release came from behind her, however--only the scrape of rough stone along her back. The pain was starting to blur into pleasure, and she offered it to her god. "Ilmater--bless this pain! Hear my prayer!" she wailed. In response, Abdirak flicked the whip directly across her nipples. A mewling sound burst from her lips as she arched her back into the sensation? Away from it?

Abdirak groaned, raising his voice to the heavens. "Loviatar, take this offering, grant us your understanding!" He put the whip down, removing his cloak and placing it beside his instruments of worship. Larkspur hung from the wall, panting, her cunt slick and her legs aching. "Shall we continue, my sweet supplicant? Or do you want me to let you down?" Abdirak's hand traced Larkspur's cheek.

Larkspur knew that the pain she had experienced so far was only one small fraction of what Abdirak could do to her. She knew that if she asked, he would let her down without question. But she also knew that the gnawing in her core would not be satisfied with just a whipping, that her prayers could be much more enthusiastic. "More," she pleaded.

Abdirak drew his hand back and slapped her across the face, hard. "Good girl," he praised, drawing his hand again across her other cheek. Larkspur gasped. No lover had ever dared use such force before in her limited range of experience, and she was unsure if she liked it or not. "Good girl," he repeated. "Our gods are so pleased with your performance. They will be thrilled with an encore."

His hands travelled down, pinching and twisting her nipples until she was once more arching her back and moaning. He slapped each breast for good measure, drawing louder and louder keening from her lips. When he was satisfied, his rough hands tugged her hips as far off of the wall as he could. With one hand he supported the arch of her back, while with the other he began to smack her pussy. She couldn't squirm away, couldn't do anything to stop the burning sting of his palm against her throbbing clit. The agony was ecstatic, and she heard herself screaming.

"YES, YES! LET ILMATER HEAR YOUR CRIES, DEAR ONE! LET LOVIATAR BLESS OUR OFFERING!" Abdirak roared, his words rising above her scream. Then, as soon as it had begun, he stopped touching her. Larkspur lay against the wall, dripping in sweat, shaking with pain and pleasure and religious fervor. His lack of touch almost hurt more than the torture she had been so willingly taking from him.

Abdirak had broken contact so abruptly in order to remove his pants, revealing a long cock already twitching with want. "If I spill in you, can we be sure that no unwanted consequences will come from this?"

Larkspur nodded, squirming again. She was on fire, painfully aware of the bruising stripes across her legs, the scraped flesh of her back, the emptiness within her cunt, now suddenly twitching and contracting around nothing. It was horrible, it was wonderful, it was confusing and overwhelming and an experience that made her glad she had a charm preventing pregnancy.

He waited for confirmation, then grabbed her hips once more to line up with her entrance. He was not gentle. From the first thrust, he was pounding into her, each push scraping her already torn flesh against the stone once more. Burying his face in her neck, he bit a line from her ear to her shoulder. She half expected him to draw blood. Each time his teeth met her skin, Larkspur squealed, rolling her hips up into Abdirak's.

"Loviatar, take her pain," he chanted between thrusts, "Ilmater, take her pain."

Larkspur was beyond the point of forming words. A high, desperate wail was turning to sobs when Abdirak came, grunting and pounding into her with damn near impossible speed. She felt his cock twitch and pulse inside her and knew with the stuttering of his prayer that he had reached orgasm.

Abdirak pulled out, taking a clean rag from a chest and pouring water from a carafe onto it. Gently, he slipped it between Larkspur's folds, catching his dripping cum before unshackling her ankles and untying her wrists. He wet a second rag and rubbed her scraped back, gently cleaning the sweat and blood before moving to wipe her limbs and torso. He looked her over, assessing her injuries with a pleased expression. "What a beautiful sacrifice you made, sweet one," he hummed into her ear. "Can you make one last offering before I send you on your way?"

He slipped one, two calloused fingers into her slit, tracing a circle on her clit with the index finger of his other hand. Larkspur was still shaking into his hand, and it took little stimulation from Abdirak for her to follow him into orgasm with a soft howl. He held her steady in his lap for a moment, waiting for her to come down before helping her rise to her feet.

"Surely our gods will be pleased with the prayers we raised up tonight. I know I was," he smiled warmly. "If you ever wish to pray again, you know where to find me. I enjoyed exploring the divinity of agony with you."

Larkspur smiled weakly. The experience had been a unique one, certainly, and not unpleasant, but she was unlikely to seek out such intimate brutality again.

Feeling suddenly very small and alone as Abdirak walked into the darkness of the temple, Larkspur pulled her small clothes on, wincing with every touch of the cloth on her battered skin. Lacing her breeches, pulling her shirt over her head, Larkspur felt a deep exhaustion settle into her bones. She didn't even fully lace up her boots before stumbling out of the altar to Loviatar and trudging back to camp. Every fiber of her being ached, and she couldn't decide if she was stifling cries of joy or misery as she reached the campfire and her warm tent. She couldn't quite decide if she had enjoyed her experience, or if her deity had. Still, even in her dazed and overstimulated state, she couldn't help but notice that a small light, as if from a candle, was snuffed out in Gale's tent as she opened the flap of her tent. He waited for me to come back, she thought sluggishly, or is that just a coincidence?

Her eyes fluttered closed and sleep washed over her. The loneliness has dissipated slightly at the sight of that candlelight. Whether Gale had been quietly waiting to be sure she got back safely or simply reading late into the night, the knowledge of his presence was comforting. She knew she would be unbearably sore come morning, and that the mouth-shaped bruising on her neck would not be easily explained away as battle wounds. Odile would certainly ask questions, smirking all the while. Karlach would probably congratulate her on getting some with a hearty slap on the back, which would hardly make the bruising and scabbing along her spine heal faster. Astarion would be disgusted, or jealous, each in an effort to disguise some truer feeling. Whether he would be jealous that Abdirak got to ravish her or that she got to be ravished Larkspur couldn't anticipate. Lae'zel and Shadowheart would sniff in disapproval if they knew how she had spent her night, viewing such activities as a waste of time in such a dire situation. Wyll would be too tactful to say anything, a true gentleman. But Gale... How would Gale respond to the knowledge of what she had experienced? The intimate bruising, the loving ministrations of pain made private. She didn't feel shame, exactly, but she did feel a soft sadness descend on her. Ilmater's will be done she murmured, but why do I feel so empty?

Her sleepy, lust-tainted thoughts wandered to Gale. Gale's beautiful hands, such long fingers... How would they feel buried inside her as Abdirak's had been? Gale's voice, low and sensual in her ear... Would he ever say such praise to her as Abdirak had whispered? Gale's intelligence, his interest in all things arcane or intellectual... Could she have such electrically charged conversations with him? Gale's eyes, so sad but so warm... Larkspur couldn't imagine him being so harsh with his hands, so rough with his hips. Part of her wanted him to be, but most of her wanted him to be soft and gentle. Above all, she just wanted him to touch her. Since pulling him from that portal, the feel of his hands had been traced into her memory. He had shown little to no interest in her so far beyond the platonic, and that was probably for the best, but GODS did Larkspur want him to want her as badly as she wanted him.

She drifted into sleep, wishing that Abdirak's rough hands had been Gale's tender ones, wishing that her bedroll was warm with his body heat rather than cold with the absence of the lover she had shared her night with. Her last thought before sleep claimed her was Ilmater, forgive me. Loviatar's suffering should have been a gift. I am grateful. But still, the emptiness in her core betrayed her lie.

#mine #abdirak #abdirak x tav #gale x tav #yearning #larkspur #baldur's gate #baldur's gate 3 #baldur's gate fanfiction #can't always be romantic sometimes you need some filth

[midnightlitterateur]

Our Lady of the Lash

Pairing - Abdirak/oc m/f

Summary - A late night confession gets a little out of hand.

Warnings - bdsm, whipping, restraints, oral sex (fem receiving), penetration, voyeurism, bleeding, aftercare.

18 +

“Do you have a moment,” an uncharacteristically nervous Leah asked as she lingered in the doorway of the Pains makeshift chapel. The wreck of a room was sparsely lit with candles, just enough to make out the face of the priest of Loviatar.

“Of course, I have time for all of the penitent. Come child, sit.” He shifted over on his bunk and made room for her to sit beside him, brushing the blanket clean and placing down the book that he had been reading. “You are a true soul, yes?”

Leah nodded and took the offered seat beside him, “I was here earlier and I heard what you said to Tav about…”

Abdirak nodded sagely “I remember. Our eyes met briefly but I saw your pain. Your need for the lady's grace,” his voice was soft and it invited her to trust. “Unburden yourself.”

Leah cleared her throat and tried to find the right words and once she found her voice they began to tumble out, “I was…I gave myself to someone because I thought that I would die if I didn’t. That this person would kill me…They took me - roughly. At the time I was disgusted with myself for letting it happen but I couldn’t stop thinking about it - about him… I went back for more - I mean, they told me to…the things I let him do to me…things I would never have thought that I could…It’s almost as if I was - am, frozen, like I couldn’t feel anything unless it was with him. I think about him - a lot. I know I should hate him but I don’t. I want to but I just can’t. And that’s it really I just can’t feel anything.”

The priest placed his hand on her shoulder, a look of concern clouding his features. “Oh, my dear. I will gift to you the kiss of the lash, child. It has a way of releasing those…emotions that we have trouble giving voice to. As we offer our pain to our lady of the lash so she releases us from it”

She understood his meaning entirely. It was similar to what she had shared with Gortash. After the cruelty, after the sex, it left her bare and she had sobbed openly into Gortashs hairy chest and he had held her close until she fell asleep. It was what she needed, it was what she missed. “What do I need to do?”

Abdirak bade her to stand and disrobe, “we must come to our lady Loviatar naked and willing, dear one.” she did as she was told and allowed him to shackle her raised arms, elongating her lithe body. “Yes, just like that,” he positioned her body as he whispered and murmured to his goddess, covering her naked back in blessed oils he began to pray. When he had finished he took Leah's hips in his skilled hands and pulled her close, “are you ready?” he whispered, his warm breath tickling her ear.

“Yes,” she breathed, steeling herself for what was to come.

Leah sucked in a gasp as she almost jumped out of her skin at the first lash of the flail. She knew he was holding back, testing her tolerance for the pain but this was not her first joust - so to speak.

“Breath deeply, child! Let her love wash over you like a cleansing wave.” His eyes lit up with religious fervour as he delivered the willing penitent to his goddess.

He struck again and this time she cried out, the sting of the nine tails igniting the same arousal that Gortash was able to inspire. Sweat broke out on her pale skin and she moaned as she felt the next lash of the whip. It was far more savage than the last, it made her scream and sob in agony, it lit a raging fire between her thighs, “Again, yes! Again” she wailed.

“Yes! Yes! Sing her hymns my child! Offer yourself to the maiden!” The final lash of the flail was the fastest. It made his penitent shake the chains that she hung from as she screamed her devotion. He noticed with an erotic satisfaction that her skin had broken and thin stripes of crimson began to appear. The blood began to flow in narrow rivulets down her toned back and his balls tightened. She was utterly impressive and the shudder that ran through him told of his goddess favour.

Leah was so ready to be fucked into the middle of next tensday. Usually Gortash would take her further at a slower pace but the priest had given her what she wanted and now she needed to be finished off. She felt his hands slide down her ribcage and grasp her hips. As he spun her around to face him her erect nipples scraped torturously across his flail ornamented chest. “Praise the goddess,” she sighed and smiled at the skilled torturer.

“Oh you are a pious little treat, aren’t you?”he remarked as he held her close. She could feel his cock through his robes, it poked insistently into her in her belly. He was incredibly aroused and of course so was she.

“I am so wet right now,” she whined, begging him to use it. Her gaze flicked between his eyes and his lips as she leaned in to claim them.

“Sex is not how this ends, sweet one.” He made no move to extricate himself from her willing body though.

“You’re solid as a fucking rock, priest. Don’t tell me you don’t want it.” Leah moved her body, using it to provoke a reaction.

Confliction clouded his features but he tried to remain stoic “keen arousal is often a by product of worship but we must not give in to the temptations of Sune,” he swallowed, passing a dry tongue across his lips as he stood captivated by her heaving breasts. His actions however, belied his words as his clammy hands cupped her generous tits, weighing them approvingly in his palms. Seemingly making up his mind he leaned in.

His mouth covered her pink nipple, drawing it into his mouth. Sensually devouring them each in turn as his penitent gasped in pleasure. “Oh, sweet child,” he breathed “you are a gift, surely.” The Lovite met her lidded gaze and sank down to his knees beneath the beauty of her naked form. He parted her folds with his thumbs and pressed his face to her cunt. Placing a chaste kiss to her swollen bud and inhaling her perfume deep into his lungs.

“Mmmm” she hummed as he suckled on her clit, her teeth grazing her bicep as she nuzzled her skin, losing herself in his tender ministrations when he began to lap at her vulva. Fervently exploring her with his tongue he let the delicious tang of her juices cover it.

Leah gripped the chain above her head and arched her neck, “Uhh, so good,” she sighed and gasped with untold pleasure as he worshipped her cunt. Using her body as a profane altar to sinful delight he held her hips and lifted her onto his face with ease, forcing his tongue inside of her. Eliciting a guttural groan of pure lust as the Pain tongue fucked her hole. It jabbed and swirled within her, making her hips buck as she rode his long, sinuous oral digit to a raging climax.

Leah couldn’t take much more, “I need your cock, priest.” She loudly gasped, desperately needing to be filled by his rigid dick. She whimpered pathetically as his hot mouth left her aching cunt. “Fuck me…please,” she wailed, as she watched the priest stand to shed the robes of his order.

His naked body scarred by years of worship pressed against hers as he cupped her cheeks reverently, his grey eyes searing his desire into hers. They panted heavily against each other’s mouths but he denied her the taste of his lips, letting her wait before he plundered her mouth the same way he had done her cunt. Their tongues glided and danced over each other in an erotic frenzy, sloppily licking open mouthed in a filthy display of explicit profanity. It was disturbingly beautiful to watch. When he tried to pull away Leah bit his lip hard before she let him go, licking his blood from her lips.

He lifted her thigh and held it against his hip, letting her feel the slippery head of his cock against her before he gripped it in his fist and shoved himself in, wasting no time in finding his stride. He set a savage pace but it was nothing she couldn’t handle, she simply wrapped her legs around him and met his every thrust. Moaning in bliss as he bottomed out inside her. He was good - so good she forgot where she was and let herself go. Cursing and screaming her intense pleasure, howling profanitys between deep passionate kisses and bites.

Abdirak himself was not given to loud displays of sexual pleasure but he matched her volume and more as he ploughed her mercilessly, so much so that they had drawn an audience.

“Yeah, go on priest! Give her one!” The small crowd of goblins gathered at the door followed their mouthy leaders' cue and began to catcall the illicit couple. At the back Astarion and Shadowheart were gawking open mouthed as they enjoyed the pornographic tableau before them.

Leah was too far gone to care as was Abdirak. Their cheers only spurred him on as he fucked his captive lover with wild abandon. She screamed for him over and over, into the cold air of the ruin and into the heat of his mouth until he approached his own peak “Out,” he commanded breathlessly to the small pack of onlookers and he cast darkness upon them. This moment was not for their eyes but for hers. “Look at me, dear one” he asked, desperately trying to hold off until she unscrewed her eyes. Those sad, beautiful eyes that had caught him so off guard earlier that day. Her eyes flickered open and she smiled triumphantly, watching him pull out and spray his seed over her belly with exquisite intensity, grunting with every pump of his cock.

Gently he unshackled her wrists and put her down carefully, making sure that he was steady on his feet before he scooped her up in his arms and placed her on the narrow bunk. Leah's arms wrapped around his neck as he lay beside her and she quietly sobbed into the crook of his neck.

“Let it out, dear one,” he crooned as he stroked her damp hair, “Let it all out, you are safe here in her glory.” As he spoke he bestowed upon her the full blessing of his goddess, hard earned and well deserved.

“Thank you,” Leah sniffed, “for everything.” Abdirak smiled benevolently and kissed her sweetly on her forehead, “The pleasure was all mine,” he whispered.That night she slept safe and sound in the Pain of Loviatars warm embrace.

#abdirak #abdirak bg3 #loviatar #fanfiction #fanfic #ao3 #archive of our own #baldur’s gate 3 #bg3 #smut #my writing

[spacenut334]

Shadowheart's Capture

Summary: Captured by Minthara in the temple of Selune, Shadowheart must please Minthara and Rugan until help arrives

Pairing: Shadowheart x Rugan x Minthara

Rating: 18+ Minors DNI, Dub Con

POV: 3rd Person

Words: 5400

Notes: Inspired by this artwork by Poar Art

Read On AO3

“Run!” Tav was shouting as they rounded the corner. Tav had a frantic look in their eyes and the party stirred from their hiding places at the sound. 

Goblins began spilling around the corner behind tav, four, ten, fifteen, Shadowheart lost count but there were easily thirty in the group. 

“Ruuun!!” Everyone prepared their weapons, and reached for their packs frantically, preparing for an escape. 

Laezel quickly notched and loosed an arrow. A whiz, plunk, and scream let her know it had found its mark in the leading goblin. But there weren’t enough arrows or enough time to stop them all. 

Shadowheart said a brief prayer and channeled her energy towards the now nearest goblin to Tav. Its eyes widened as its skin sizzled then burst into flame. “May Shar bless and keep you!” 

Gale had quickly flipped through his spellbook, found what he was looking for, and after some terse muttering and hand waving, a series of magic missiles erupted from his fingertips, shooting towards Tav, then flowing around them like water. Each missile found its mark center mass in six different goblins. They were bowled over, but quickly replaced by more. 

Tav was almost to them, but the goblins continued to gain ground. There was no way they were going to make it out of this camp and into the wilderness like this.

Everyone’s packs were on now and they ran through the winding passageways to the exit of the temple. A light pain in her hand made Shadowheart wince, but it was the least of her worries. She had nearly forgotten her weapon in the rush, but quickly grabbed the bladed mace and fell in behind Tav, Laezel, and Gale. 

They had decided to only bring a small scouting party to avoid attention, but Shadowheart was missing the huge flaming barbarian and her warlock companion right now. They ran slower than her and would provide one more chance at escape. 

The goblins had bows and throwing weapons but were showing remarkable restraint in not using them. Likely their orders were to capture alive if possible. It seemed they were anxious for any information leading to the grove. 

The exit doors were still open and they came closer and closer to freedom. If they could get out and shut the doors, Gale would be able to magically lock it and buy them the time they needed to get scarce. 

Gale was first out, then Laezel, and Shadowheart close behind. Tav’s foot caught on a rock they went careening into the ground just short of the door. Shadowheart’s first instinct was to leave them behind, but the device had chosen Tav, and she couldn’t allow it to fall into the hands of the goblins. 

A rock whizzed by her head as she ran back to Tav to help them up. There was no time, the goblins were too close. She grabbed Tav by the neckline and belt-loops and tossed them through the opening. She slammed the heavy metal door and shouted at Gale to lock it, before turning to face the coming mob. 

Tav screamed at Gale to stop and re-open the door, but Shadowheart could already see the faint magic lines and the clicking of the ancient locking mechanisms by unseen hands. 

“You’d better come back for me!” There was a muffled yell from the other side, but she couldn’t tell what they said. 

When she turned around the goblins were upon her. A crude wooden club bounced off her plate armor, she replied with her mace. There was a satisfying crunch where metal met bone. No time to savor it though, another wooden club hit her shield. She crouched to absorb the blow and swept at the legs. Breaking ankles and tearing tendons. 

The smell of burning hair hit her nostrils as a familiar burnt goblin rushed at her with a dagger. Clearly their restraint only extended so far. In a quick upswing, mace met groin and goblin met ground. 

The goblins hesitated, clearly expecting less of a fight from the slight pale half-elf. Shar didn’t raise a weakling, and they would pay in blood for their underestimation.

The tunnel provided a perfect chokepoint, as perfect as one cleric versus dozens of goblins can be. Four goblins gathered in a semicircle a few steps away. A slightly larger goblin with a gashed scar across its milky eye motioned to the group and in a guttural voice said: “aw’right ye gobbos! Let’s do this all at once! She can’t take us all!”

The hollow sound of a horn blew, there was a brief moment of silence and then they rushed at her. Her mace met one head-on, spraying black blood on its friends, but the others had closed the distance. 

She felt a club meet her thigh and dropped down, putting the weight on her other leg and holding her shield high to protect her head. Blows rained down on her shield, numbing her arm and distracting her from the scarred goblin’s carefully aimed blow at her sternum. Her vision blacked out briefly as she gasped for air, dropping her arms to recover. 

Two pairs of small but muscled arms grabbed her shield, two more her mace. She struggled but could hold them off no longer. The shield and mace were tossed aside as goblins moved in to subdue her. 

Wrong move. As one reached out to take her by the shoulder, she lurched in and met its soft pointed nose with her hard forehead, resulting in squeals blood flow. 

“Careful now! She’s still dangerous and the drow wants her INTACT!” 

The scorched goblin was standing up again, holding the shattered remains of his manhood in one hand and his knife in the other. 

“Tell that to my shattered knob!” He screeched. 

Shadowheart whispered one last prayer to Shar and the goblin went from a toasty brown to charred black. A scream caught in his throat, and face twisted in shock at the final moments of his life. 

She could feel she was drained now, and would not be able to pull that off again, at least not until she had time to meditate and recover. “Seems like your friend needs to cool off.” She uttered dryly. 

Apparently the humor was lost on the scarred goblin, she saw a mailed fist come for her temple and then blackness. 

As Shadowheart came to she felt rough rope bindings tying her wrists behind her back. Leather collar was being put around her neck and a rope weaved through. 

“Did the gods’ favorite little princess have a nice nap?” The scarred goblin sneered, and then yanked her to her knees with the rope. “Get up! The boss will want to see you”

Shadowheart stood and followed the goblin down the crowded hallway. Keeping her eye out for any opportunity to affect an escape. None presented itself though. 

The hallway spilled into a large open room with vaulted ceilings and Selunite iconography everywhere. There was dirt smeared on every statue and artwork from goblin head-height down. At least the goblins have some taste, she thought. She felt fear starting to work its way into her throat and she pushed it down. They needed her, and a high value prisoner with information would be treated with respect as long as she cooperated. 

Most of the group split off and watched some obscene branding ritual happening in the center of the hall, but a decent sized detachment of guards stayed with her to continue the journey. She felt a yank at her throat, she had slowed down to view the ceremony, but the goblins were still moving. 

Shadowheart saw a beaten and bloody man being pulled down from a metal torture device, they passed by a room with a pale man gently self-flagellating with a leather lash. Tight knots were at each end of the lash, and there was a lifetime of fresh wounds and old scarring. She recognized some images belonging to Loviatar, The Maiden of Pain. 

They passed by a skinny man in a cage getting slapped around by a very entertained female goblin, and then a series of tunnels leading to a library. Shadowheart spotted a thin yet regal female drow leaning over a pile of maps and documents and a goblin was whispering in her ear. 

“Apparently his body gave out before his mind.” She said in a low husky tone. “Brave, but foolish.” The Drow turned to shadowheart. “Is this the one?” 

“Aye mistress, she put up quite a fight. A few of our best are down because of her and her friends.” The scarred goblin said in an as deferent of a tone as he could muster. This drow terrified him. 

“Saying ‘some of the best goblins’ is like saying some of the smartest dung beatles, nothing of value was lost and I’m sure your kind are already replacing them.” Her tone was mocking, but there was a surface of icy death running beneath it. 

“Yes mistress.”

“Get out of my sight, I can handle this from here.” She motioned for the group to leave, after a brief moment of hesitation they did. 

“I am Minthara of House Baenre, I doubt that means anything to you, but just know I am exceedingly important and hold your life in my hand. And you are?..” The icy undercurrents were still there and Shadowheart chose her words with great care. 

“Shadowheart, just Shadowheart, I would shake your hand but…” She made a motion towards her tied wrists. 

“Ahh! An unfortunate but necessary arrangement for now. Now tell me just Shadowheart what brings you to us on this wretchedly sunny day?” 

Shadowheart shifted her weight from one leg to the other, testing the strength of her bindings before saying, “I haven’t the foggiest, I must have taken a wrong turn-”

A slap stung her cheek and she saw stars. “Do. Not. Waste. My. Time. Elf, tell me what you know about a druid grove, or a small hexagonal device, and mark me, I know when someone is lying.” 

Shadowheart hesitated, why should she care about some druids or tieflings? but a deep pang of guilt built in her throat when she thought of giving them up. I may lose the artifact if they find Tav in the grove, she thought. There was more to it than that, but Shadowheart didn’t have time to dig into the feeling. 

“I haven’t the foggiest.” She put on her most dismissive tone, and tried to look hurt that she’d be asked such a question. 

Minthara’s eyes narrowed. “I see you’ve chosen the hard way.” A smile curled at the edge of her lips. “Know this, just Shadowheart, I will take my time, I will enjoy this. You will know awesome pleasure, and extreme pain, but in the end, you WILL tell me what you know.”

Shadowheart could tell that Minthara believed every single word she said, a flutter of fear tickled her stomach again, Tav is already planning a rescue, I just need to hold out a little while longer.

Minthara Led Shadowheart by the neck back to the cleric of Loviatar. “Abdirak!” The cleric looked up, “I have a new toy! I may need you to keep her alive, she knows something and I don’t want a repeat of last time. I’m bringing the Zhentarim trader with me.

A tall human clad in leathers, and a yellow and green tunic stepped out from the shadows. His hair was pulled back tightly and fastened with a small leather band. He looked young but signs of stress and battle marked his features. He had piercing blue eyes, almost too kind to be with this group. 

“Rugan, at your service.” He reached out a hand to the one Minthara called Abdirak. The cleric sneered at the hand. “Ahh, Rugan at your service” This time he reached towards Shadowheart, but removed his hand awkwardly, noticing the bindings. 

“I’m Shadowheart, and I will be the last person you see before you die, if you lay a single hand on me.” 

Rugan’s eyes narrowed and hardened. “Don’t think because you’re a beautiful woman that I have qualms about this task.” 

Her heart skipped a beat, maybe this one isn’t too kind after all. 

Minthara pulled Shadowheart at the neck to the room with the torture device. She saw Shadowheart eyeing it, “Oh don’t worry, we’re not ready for that quite yet.” 

“Let’s get rid of this worthless armor.” Minthara motioned again to Rugan. 

This was the armor gifted to her from her dark mother, Shadowheart swore under her breath a few threats if the armor was misplaced. 

Rugan approached, Shadowheart feigned helplessness, when he was within arms reach, she aimed a fast kick right between the legs. Like a flash he caught the foot and lept to the side chuckling. “I expected as much.” 

He slipped behind her and one by one various clasps, knots, and buttons keeping her hefty armor on were undone, un-knotted, and unbuttoned. With a resonant clang her breastplate fell to the floor. 

When the first layer of armor was off he went to Minthara and whispered in her ear. She smiled and shouted. “Skrag! Bring some of your boys over, we need a hand!” 

The scarred goblin, Skrag, came around the corner with eight companions.

“Strip her!” 

For the first time since being captured Shadowheart felt the reality of the situation slowly sink in. Tav wasn’t coming, she was in the middle of enemy territory, and there was no escape. 

The goblins licked their lips and approached. She was wrestled to the ground as rough clawed hands pinned her arms and legs. She struggled against the arms but there were too many. One boot was torn off, then the other. 

A flurry of hands grabbed her mail and pulled it over her head. Shadowheart was now only in her torn camp clothes, skin tight leather trousers and a leather shirt with a plunging neckline she was beginning to regret more and more. 

The hands stopped. 

Minthara looked down at her. “I told you to strip her did I not?” 

A look of lust and delight filled the circle of goblin faces. “Yes, Mistress.” 

“Strip ALL of her!”

Shadowheart strained, “You filthy wretches!” 

They didn’t remove so much as tear apart her shirt. Two sets of hands on either side tore the shirt from the neckline to the waist, pulling away and revealing the milky white skin and her tender swollen breasts. A deep purple bruise was left where Skrag had knocked her over.

Claws dug into the legs of her trousers and the goblins yanked down, exposing a bounty of thigh and calf. Shadowheart held her knees together to prevent the trousers from proceeding further, but green hands grabbed her knees and thighs, pulling them apart and allowing the trousers to be pulled off. 

Shadowheart felt her last bits of dignity torn away as one of the goblins ripped off her smallclothes. 

She was completely naked, the goblins pulled apart her legs to show off the soft pink lips beneath. She felt herself lifted and more hands spreading her ass and the snickering and sneering as goblin, human, and drow viewed her most intimate spaces.  She felt hands pawing at her breasts, saw tented trousers and more hands working their way across her rump. She felt fingers moving towards her cunt and tried to roll away- 

“That’s ENOUGH!” Minthara’s voice cut through the lustful growls. The goblins looked almost pained, from Minthara, to Shadowheart’s exposed body, and back. But their will to live was stronger than their desire to fuck, and they quickly backed away as Minthara went to grab her wrists. 

“Goblins, such blunt instruments, but I use what the absolute provides. Why waste a fine wine on a common rabble?” With one hand Minthara held Shadowheart’s wrists behind her back, and with the other she slowly traced her breasts in concentric circles to the nipples before leading her hand down towards the space between her legs. Minthara circled her entrance, as Rugan watched. 

Shadowheart stifled a moan, and tensed as she grew wet. 

Minthara quickly removed her hand, bringing her fingers to her lips. Shadowheart felt herself being led by her wrists.

“We have all the time in the world, and I want to savor you. Or you could tell me what I want to know, and you can leave now with your dignity… mostly intact.” 

Shadowheart held her head high “Do your worst! I am the chosen one of Shar! Scum like you are unworthy of even looking at me!” 

“Defiant even now?” Minthara chuckled. “Well we will do much more than look.” Minthara and Rugan were both looking now. Shadowheart was unable to cover herself. 

I can’t show weakness, they can’t think they’re winning. She stood tall and proud. She would escape, she would return, and she would slaughter everyone here who had wronged her. 

Minthara produced more of the silk rope. She bound Shadowheart’s with a silken harness, looping and curving, over her shoulders, around her breasts, arms, stomach, and looping twice on her inner thighs, on either side of her cunt, leaving the impression of wearing clothes that covered none of the pieces they were supposed to.

Minthara threw a loop of rope over a hook above. “I’m not an unreasonable woman, I believe in the carrot and the stick. We shall begin with the carrot, and if you still prove to be unreasonable, then I will have to get.. Unreasonable” Minthara’s eyes cast over the metal torture device, and fiery bowl filled with red hot weapons. 

A small cloaked goblin rapidly approached Minthara, and she bent over to hear the message. 

“I must leave for now, but don’t get too comfortable.” She spun around and quickly walked back towards her quarters with the goblin trailing behind her. 

Rugan smiled and settled into a nearby chair, “I guess we wait.” 

Rugan stared at Shadowheart, naked, helpless, her soft supple breasts bound tightly by the rope. Shadowheart saw the length in his pants grow. “Don’t look at me!” Her face and chest flushed, but Rugan had already stood up and began to pull down his trousers. 

Rugan had his cock in his hand and was slowly stroking it while circling Shadowheart. She strained to keep him in view but he made his way behind her, and  she could feel his eyes on ass and her spread hole. She felt herself growing wet from the attention. 

Tav would never have looked at her the way Rugan was. She was a purely sexual object to Rugan, and the thought of that excited her to slickness.

Rugan was in front of her again,  Cock at eye level and twitching. Shadowheart’s curiosity got the best of her and she leaned out towards him. He met her mouth halfway and slowly swirled his head against her soft lips. 

She could bite it off, but Rugan saw the desire in her eyes and knew that wasn’t going to happen. He leaned down and rubbed himself against her erect nipples, pulling her breasts together with both hands and sliding his length between them. 

Shadowheart let a long bead of saliva drip down from her tongue to help lubricate the process and her insides hummed at the thought of being used by this man. Rugan brought himself back to her mouth, and she opened. He slid his length against her lips and tongue and she brought him in.

Rugan gripped Shadowheart’s hair and began gently thrusting, Shadowheart gagged initially but then slowed her breathing through her nose and accepted his length. She was a receptacle for pleasure. Rugan’s breathing grew ragged and his knees began to buck. 

He let out a sharp groan and Shadowheart felt a spew of hot salty seed covering her lips and tongue. She opened her mouth wide, catching as much as she could. She looked Rugan in the eyes and swallowed. She suckled on his tip, gathering the last bits of seed before he shuddered and dismounted. She felt, helplessly, as his hot liquid dripped down her chin and onto her chest. 

Rugan pulled up his trousers and returned to the chair. Leaving Shadowheart gasping. He pulled his cloak over his head and leaned back, feigning sleep, but Shadowheart could see the glimmer of eyes from underneath and knew she was still being watched. 

Shadowheart pouted silently, as her cunt pulsed with unsated desire.

Shadowheart felt the minutes pass to hours. The sun was gone, and broken beams of moonlight came in through the shattered rafters of the temple. She felt moonlight pass across her naked skin, and her hand began to sting again. 

Even Seluna has come to mock me, she thought bitterly. A cool breeze passed over her and goose pimples formed across chest, back, and legs. The heat of a nearby fire pushed back the cold though. There were jagged and sharp instruments amongst the coals, waiting to singe flesh and break bone. Shadowheart prayed that Tav would return before things got that bad. 

The sharp echo of approaching footsteps on stone brought Shadowheart to attention from her stupor. From the confident gait she could tell it was Minthara even before she had rounded the corner. 

“You should be pleased to know we’ve found your friends.” Minthara waited for a response that Shadowheart refused to give before carrying on. “One of our scouts spotted their fire and I dispatched a company to eliminate them. After all, why would I need them if I have you.” Minthara’s words were laced with venom, but her eyes were unabashedly exploring Shadowheart while she spoke. 

Shadowheart felt her face flush and hoped Minthara interpreted that as anger. She remained silent. 

“What’s the use of continuing to hold out? No one is coming, and the only one who can show you mercy… is me.” After more silence Minthara sighed, “Very well, let’s begin.” 

Abdirak emerged from the shadows with his leather flail in hand. “Mistress may I?” Minthara nodded and he approached cautiously. “We’re not so different, you and I, after all the Maiden of Pain and Mother of Shadows are kin.” 

Shadowheart felt as Abdirak slowly reached and dragged the leather lashes across her skin. She tensed where every knot met skin. She felt as he moved each individual lash across her breasts, tensing on her nipple and then passing over, they grew erect and sensitive at the pale human’s deft touch. Shadowheart felt herself flush again and Abdirak noticed. An amused look passed over his face as he continued. 

The cool leather moved down her abdomen and she tensed, body rippling in the moonlight. He lowered it further, past her curls, passing from thigh to thigh and rolling over her exposed lips with each pass. Shadowheart felt herself trying to move in, trying to feel more, the urge to fill her emptiness grew. 

Abdirak kept teasing, moving back to her chest and then down again. Shadoweart felt the blood rushing to her face and to her clit, and shivered from an equal mix of cold and anticipation. She felt herself leaking and running down one leg. Minthara and Rugan saw, and seemed  to grow anxious, or maybe aroused. They weren’t immune to desire themselves. 

Abdirak flipped the whip over and brought the hard handle down to Shadoweart’s knees. Slowly bringing it up and meeting at the apex. He moved the leather handle around her folds, and Shadowheart ground against it. She needed this, despite Minthara and Rugan being in the room, maybe because they were here. 

Minthara had moved her hand inside the breast of her plunging neckline shirt as she watched Abdirak preparing Shadowheart. Such a body blessed to a non-drow. What a shame. 

Shadowheart continued to grind on the leather handle, trying to introduce her bud to the gentle vibrations of the whip, but Abdirak knew that’s what she wanted and deftly moved to avoid the one spot she wanted touched most. 

She shook with frustration letting out a small whine, “Please?” Abdirak chuckled but continued to deny her. 

“Step aside” Minthara motioned Abdirak away, he pouted like a puppy having its toy taken away but conceded and stepped back, whip in hand. 

“Rugan, hold her for me” The rogue stepped behind Shadowheart, lifting by the thighs and spreading her legs to the awaiting Drow. “good boy.” Shadowheart felt Rugan’s hard bulge jutting into her back, and wished it could fill the growing pulsating emptiness inside her. 

Minthara drew some loose strands of silver hair behind her ears as she knelt down to offer a prayer to Shadowheart’s quivering folds. 

Shadowheart drew in a sharp breath as warm tongue met aching lips. Minthara was slow but deliberate and quickly moved to Shadowheart’s dripping clit. Shadowheart couldn’t hold it back, “Fuck!” She moaned as the drow drew her in, sucking, and swirling her tongue. 

Shadowheart felt the pressure inside her building like a pot about to blow over, “Stop, if you don’t stop I’ll-” The drow sucked harder and Shadowheart burst. Her body was wracked with spasms of pleasure and the drow refused to stop, Shadowheart was dripping down her chin. The waves continued and Shadowheart let out a scream. “FUUUUUUCK!!!” The goblins in the center of the building stopped to stare at the scene unfolding. 

With a few last weak spasms, Shadowheart went limp, the drow stood and pulled her into a kiss, “Taste yourself, pathetic human.” Minthara grabbed the Shadowheart’s hair tightly and forced her mouth open, going in for a fierce kiss. Shadowheart tasted the sweet musk of her pleasure on the drow’s lips. Lightly spasming once more. 

“What do you think, Rugan, would you like a turn?” Shadowheart felt him twitching against her, he was an uncontrolled fire on the inside, but outside he just said: 

“If you wish, mistress.” 

“I do.” 

Shadowheart hung like a ragdoll from the rope as Rugan let her down and started unlacing his leather jerkin. Minthara moved in and  led Shadowheart to a table where she was roughly pushed down by Minthara. 

Rugan had flung aside his leathers now and pulled his tunic over his head. He had broad tightly muscled shoulders. A faint scar ran across his abdomen, and he had light curly hair running from his chest and trailing to his tented trousers. Shadowheart bit her lip in anticipation.

Rugan looped his thumbs in his trousers and pulled them down. He was already hard at the sight of her, and the friction of Minthara’s actions. Shadowheart traced his length with her eyes, beckoning him to come closer. 

“Gods you are beautiful.” He nearly moaned.

“I know.” was her only reply. 

Rugan slowly pulled on his cock while he looked from Shadowheart’s eyes, to her heaving ample breasts, to her dripping  cunt. He stepped forward, wrapping one arm around Shadowheart’s back, and the other he reached around to grab a healthy handful of rump. Rugan pulled Shadowheart to his waist and she felt his hardness throbbing against her. 

She ached to be felt, to be seen, to be filled, Rugan could do all of this at once, and she wanted him. Rugan rocked back and forth, coating himself in her juices and using his hand to swirl the head of his cock against her folds. Shadowheart gently moaned, and felt her face flush again. 

Rugan held his member and worked himself slowly inside. Shadowheart gasped, and scooched in to meet him. He throbbed inside her and held for what felt like an eternity before thrusting. Stars twinkled in Shadowheart’s vision and she moaned again, desperate for him. 

Rugan had both hands on her ass now, gripping so hard she thought it may draw blood, and ramming into her again and again. Shadowheart arched her back, grinding her pelvis against him. Rugan’s breathing grew ragged as he kept up the pace. 

Shadowheart’s attention had been so focused on Rugan that she didn’t see Minthara had stripped down. Her lavender cheeks were flushed and her small breasts rose and fell heavily. She had her legs spread gently and was feeling herself as she watched Rugan entering Shadowheart. 

Shadowheart welcomed the attention, and gave Minthara a look that said, come hither. Minthara approached, one hand still on herself as she walked. Rugan kept his tempo, but was flushed from the effort of holding back. Minthara reached in and caught Shadowheart’s mouth in hers. They breathed eachothers ragged breath. 

Shadowheart felt the heat from Minthara’s lips, and the previously unfelt desperation to have and be had. Minthara tapped Rugan motioning to switch places, and Rugan complied. Minthara moved in and mounted her thigh, cunt spread and already soaking wet. Shadowheart felt her knee and thigh slicken as Minthara rode her, then Soft fingers plunged into her darkness, and they both grew closer to Climax. 

Rugan came to the side of the table. He cock was slick with Shadowheart, and it was twitching from uncompleted pleasure. As he stood next to her, Shadowheart shifted positions and caught him in her mouth. Rugan groaned in pleasure, it was met by a groan of Shadowheart’s as the drow introduced a new finger and a deeper push. 

Shadowheart brushed her tongue against him, sucking and drawing Rugan’s length further in. He wanted to thrust but she toyed with him. Pulling back to prevent it. She still had a little control of the situation after all. Shadowheart swirled her tongue right at the base, and felt the small bundle of nerves contract and his member engorge even more. She tasted drops of his salty pleasure, but held him on the edge until she had hers. 

Minthara’s pace lost its pattern, as she began to spasm to completion. Shadowheart was close behind. Her walls closed in around Mintharas fingers and she arched her back more. Minthara’s vibrations became her vibrations. 

Minthara slid off, one hand still on herself, and Rugan took the opportunity to go back between Shadowheart’s thighs. Rugan’s desperate cock entering her sent renewed vibrations of pleasure through her body, he thrust desperately for only a few strokes. 

Shadowheart felt as Rugan exploded inside her, his hot sticky seed filling her and moans of “You’re beautiful.” On his lips. She felt him leaking out of her and onto the table below. 

She panted back: “I Know.”

Minthara hooked Shadowheart’s leash over a hook in the ceiling and left her there, limp. Rugan’s seed slowly drained from her dripping wet cunt. 

While she bathed in the afterglow, another goblin had approached Rugan, something about a delivery. Rugan made his excuses, but quickly redressed himself. He gave Shadoweart’s bare body one last longing look and then hurried away.

Minthara walked over to the now much more subdued Shadowheart. “First a taste of pleasure, then a taste of pain. I have you here as long as I need-”

There was a commotion coming from further in the temple and unmistakable roar of an enraged animal. A bloodied goblin came sprinting in and shouted. “It’s the adventurers, they escaped our patrol and freed Halsin.” 

Shadowheart saw Minthara go pale, and without a word sprinted, still naked out of the temple in the opposite direction of the approaching clatter. 

Tav had come back, and the whole crew was there this time. There was a chorus of screams, grunts, cracking bones, and cries for mercy, they were always cut short by a roar and then crunch. 

A heat and smell of sulfur grew stronger before Karlach poked her head in the room. 

“What the everflaming fuck happened here?!” She gripped the rope above Shadowheart’s head and it fell to pieces from her raging fire. Shadowheart had to quickly step back to avoid being scorched. 

She quickly gathered her scattered belongings while the flaming giant stood guard by the door

Shadowheart was dressed and hurried out the door to find Tav and company finishing off the last screaming goblin. A huge bear stood beside them and then shrank slowly into the form of a large elven man. 

She ran up to give Tav a hug and gently mouthed, “Thank you.” Tav nodded, and the group began scrounging for whatever loot they could carry back to the grove.  Karlach didn’t say the state she had found Shadowheart in and neither did Shadowheart.. Karlach because she thought Shadowheart was traumatized, but Shadowheart stayed silent because thinking of what had happened in that cell sent chills of pleasure down her spine, best not make Tav jealous. She still thought of Rugan and Minthara inside her and thought to herself I will repay this indignity and more quietly with a fuck they’ll never forget.

#bg3 shadowheart #shadowheart #shadowheart bg3 #bg3 rugan #bg3 abdirak #bg3 minthara #minthara #shadowheart x rugan #shadowheart x minthara #shadowheart x minthara x rugan #bg3 #baldur's gate 3 #baldurs gate 3 #bg3 fanfiction #fanfic

[likethelightfromorionabove]

In Loviatar's Name

Pairing: Abdirak/ Unnamed Fem!Tav

SPICE Rating: 5/5 Content

Warnings: Untraditional Penetration, Painplay, Crops and Canes, Edging and Denial

Smut below the cut dolls! Enter at your own risk!

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“The Maiden of Pain is so very impressed,” Abdirak purred into her ear, the crop sliding up her thigh. She tried to steady her breathing, preparing for the next blow. But it didn’t come. Instead a hand encircled her throat, thumb pressing softly to her windpipe.

“But I think you can take more, dear one.”

A swift kick brings her to her knees with a yelp. The burn of the stone on her knees and the grip of the hand on her throat sends a small shiver down her spine. She feels the boot between her knees again, delivering another kick to separate them further. Is this what he meant by advanced devotions?  The crop runs down her spine, taunting another strike. But again there’s no sting across her flesh. Abdirak makes her wait, teasing along her thighs and back. Her breath becomes shaky, just barely able to mask her whimpers. 

And then it comes. A swift sting between her legs. Another across the back of her thighs. Against her ass. She leans into each blow, crying out and making a fuss. But Abdirak remains unimpressed by her performance. She could do better. And she would. 

His grip on her throat tightened as he joined her on the floor. His legs bracketed hers, pressing her back to his chest. She could feel his length hardening against her ass and attempted to shift so she could press against it. Abdirak tightened his grip on her throat so hard she could feel his nails breaking the skin. “Patience, my dear. It is a virtue.” he hissed. His fingers flitted between her legs, barely enough to count as touching her. But enough to elicit a pained moan as her head rolled back into his shoulder. 

She heard a hoarse chuckle as he did it again, his finger just barely brushing her clit. She tried to strain towards him again and received a slap between her legs in return. The sudden contact caused her to cry out, a louder cry than she meant it to be. “Yes,” Abdirak growled, “Let Loviatar hear your worship.” This was accompanied by another strike, followed by his finger tracing a long, lingering stroke between her folds. She whimpered as his strokes aggravated the feeling knotting in her stomach. His hand inched towards her entrance, tracing her opening without sliding in. She briefly wrestled with the urge to shift, to force his fingers inside her. 

But as soon as she had started to act on the thought, his hand was gone. Leaving behind a burning ache and earning him a frustrated growl. He laughed again, taunting her. This was pain, delivered by a loving hand. As she wiggled beneath him, desperate for some stimulation, she felt something press against her entrance. Without stopping to think of what it was she sank back on it, relishing the feeling of finally being filled. And as Abdirak pushed it harder inside her, his weapon of choice became clear. She pressed back on the handle of the crop, letting it stretch her as Abdirak’s skilled hand pumped it inside her. He steadily increased his pace, releasing her neck in favor of rubbing rough circles around her clit. She began to cry and plead as his pace picked up and slowed with her cries. 

“Abdirak…please…I-I need-” She was close, so, so close. And then she heard him chuckle again.

 “Oh no, dear one. This is a lesson in pain.”

 He unceremoniously ripped the crop from inside her, removing his hands from her entirely. She crumpled to the floor with a frustrated scream, the pain of her emptying shooting through her body. After a few strangled sobs, she managed to look back at him standing over her. His face was transcendent, the bliss of Loviatar’s love flowing over him  “Thank you. That was positively divine.”

#baldurs gate #bg3 fanfiction #abdirak #abdirak x tav #abdirak smut

[hydropyro]

Webs of Fate Teaser

Minor spoilers

Bonus points if anyone can guess what he’s planning

#baldur’s gate 3 #baldurs gate 3 #bg3 #webs of fate #fanfiction #fan fic snippets #fanfic #abdirak #bg3 tav #astarion #Gale

[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!

#bg3 fanfic #churchstarion #bg3 fanfiction #baldur’s gate fanfiction #bg3 oc #bg3 warlock #bg3 astarion #tav x astarion #oc x astarion #bg3 abdirak #abdirak #astarion #hand hearth and home

[discordsmuse]

Abdirak fic :)

#abdirak #bg3 #bg3 abdirak #baldur's gate 3 #fanfiction

[sweetmage]

⛓️ Read It On Ao3!

Hey babe, new Abbystarion smut fic just dropped :)

#bg3 #baldur's gate 3 #abdirak #astarion #abbystarion #jun fics #nsft text #bg3 fanfiction #bg3 fic

[thecampjuicebox]

Glorious Suffering Pt. 2

Pairing: Abdirak x Tav(f) x Astarion x Shadowheart

Rating: 18+ NSFW, Minors DNI

POV: 2nd person

Warnings: SMUT, sadomasochism, blood, choking, bruising, spanking, biting, voyeurism/exhibitionism, orgasm denial, oral, fingering, p in v penetration, minor game spoilers, multiple partners

**If you missed it, you can read Part 1. here!**

"You thought we were going to let you cum? Little love.. How naïve."

His words sting like bees. Little Love. The degradation should upset you. Should ruin whatever arousal you have left. But it doesn't. If anything, it adds oil to the fire. You're more wet than ever. Heat rises in your ears and the tips turn a bright red, your fists balling up behind you in frustration as you try and wiggle out of his grasp. Through gritted teeth, you growl. A pathetic performance, on your part. Abdirak stands before you and circles his index finger over both of your nipples, smirking at you with half lidded eyes as each one perks up.

The half elf across the room giggles in amusement.

"Positively cruel."

"Patience, dear one.. You'll meet your end soon enough."

Every nerve ending on your body burns - Sizzles and crackles like a freshly lit torch, a beacon of light illuminating your discomfort. It hurts. Gods, it hurts. You can barely hold yourself up now, your legs and ankles weak from your climax being so cruelly ripped away from you. Tears sting the corners of your eyes and you let go, waterfalls of salty fluid making streaks through the splatters of blood and smears of dirt along your cheeks. A pathetic display. The "fearless leader" showing so much weakness. Shadowheart huffs in the distance and you can almost make out the faint shuffle of clothing sliding off of her soft skin. The way the fabric and armor hits the floor. Her careful footsteps. Then the warmth of her hands on your aching back, her soft breath against your ear.

"You sweet wounded bird.."

She licks a hot stripe against your cheek and it's enough to earn a groan from your raw throat. The gentle touches to your overstimulated flesh are somewhat comforting. So soft, so sweet, so very unlike Shadowheart. Astarion grins at the sight and cards a hand up through your hair to yank your head back, forcefully straightening your soiled back against him, his sticky seed covering the front of his tunic now.

"Mm. I've made quite the mess, haven't I?"

"I think we could get messier." Shadowheart purrs, moving to the front of your trembling body now.

She slides to her knees before you and stares up with her piercing green eyes, almost asking for permission. For what, you have no idea. A slight nod gives her the go ahead, not from you, but from Astarion and your breath catches in your throat. You squeeze your eyes shut and wait. Wait for whatever sensation Shadowheart decides to bestow upon you. Sharp nails dig themselves into the plush meat of your thighs and your mouth falls agape with a yelp. After what seems like hours of waiting - agonizing waiting - hot breath coasts along your pulsating mound and your knees buckle beneath you. Astarion tuts behind you with amusement. He's so cruel. This is all so cruel. Beneath you, the raven haired half-elf moves her warm tongue over the nearly gushing slit between your thighs and a breathy moan escapes your parted lips.

If you could burst into flames in this very moment, you damned well would. Body, mind, and soul, all igniting with waves of white hot pleasure that wrack your body with uncontrollable trembles and whines as Shadowheart dips her tongue further. She's much more skilled than you'd anticipated; a lovely surprise you'd thank Shar herself for. A hungry moan slips past Shadowheart's lips as she begins to ravish every inch of your soaked cunt with her mouth - tongue, teeth, and lips all working together to drag you toward the precipice of earth shattering ecstasy. She looks so pretty on her knees beneath you. In any other circumstance, you'd be the one on your knees at her feet. Serving her. Sighs of amusement break through the strained whines and whimpers that force themselves from your tired throat, the two men still watching every move. Astarion keeps a firm grip on your arms to keep you upright while Abdirak palms at himself through his garb, the rough fabric scraping back and forth over his skin with each pass of his hand. "Such a good girl.. Making me so hard again."

Astarion coos in your ear as a cold hand moves itself skillfully around your side to your stomach, each muscle contracting and shuddering from the frigidity of his skin. He digs his nails into the flesh there to earn a sweet yelp from your swollen, parted lips. It's too much.. Yet, it's not enough. Your cunt aches to be filled again and again and again, the stimulation against your clit simply not enough to get you there. You want to scream. Want to sob and cry and beg for something, anything, anyone. Shadowheart's tongue moves in mind numbing circles around your entrance and you keen at the sensation, mouth hung open as you pant heavily. Air evades your lungs. You can't breathe, can't see, only feel. Every sensation heightened by the echo of disgusting noises ringing all around you in the small stone-brick room you stand exposed in. Astarion's coos and praise, Abdirak's grunts of pleasure as he works himself to his own end only to deny himself just as his knees give out and he topples to the ground before you. Shadowheart's little slurps and whines at your taste raise goosebumps on your skin by the millions. A symphony of vile sounds and sights that would make any normal person recoil. Not you.. Gods, not you.

The tadpole nestled comfortably behind your eye wriggles with excitement as your deepest desires are projected loud and clear to your lovers, Abdirak excluded of course. Something clicks and the vampire spawn stares down at the half-elf over your shoulder, both exchanging a single nod before Shadowheart moves herself away from you, leaving you whining loudly. Instead, she takes up a spot next to you against the wall - hip to hip. She places her hands firmly against the brick and taps her fingers there, feet spread to match your stance. Astarion releases your arms and instructs you to place your hands beside Shadowheart's. You obey, side pressed tightly to Shadowheart's to absorb any warmth you possibly can from her, every limb trembling. "The two of you look so lovely for us.." He mumbles, helping Abdirak back to his feet. "Your choice, human. Pick one."

Abdirak eyes the two of you for a moment, fingers tracing over the globes of Shadowheart's ass and across to yours, earning a wince as his fingertips graze over the still agitated bruises and cuts from his previous assault. He purrs with elation as his fingers pass back over your cuts and your back arches inward at the burning sensation.

"P-Please.." You whine.

"I choose her. She'll cry so beautifully for me, just as she did before."

Abdirak moves behind you and presses himself firmly against your ass, a careful and skilled hand crawling its way up your back and into your hair. You can feel the steel firm erection hidden beneath his garb and Gods, he's larger than you anticipated. Your hole aches to be filled by him in that very moment. Now. Now, I need it now! It's as if Abdirak can hear your silent please to be stuffed full, for without warning he slips his index and middle finger deep inside of you and wiggles them around, spreading them to stretch you open. To prepare you for what's to come. He, himself, lets out a strained grunt at just how wet you are; By the Gods, you're dripping. Abdirak's name slips past your lips like a prayer, over and over and over until it no longer sounds like a real word. From your side, Shadowheart giggles at your desperation, a sweet symphony of her own moans echoing through the chamber as Astarion kneels behind her and works his tongue into her soaked cunt.

A gentle hand slides over the rough brick and on top of yours, fingers intertwining at the back of yours to both hold you against the brick and to keep herself steady. The sounds she makes.. The way her back arches and her chest heaves as Astarion's tongue plays her like the finest harp.. She's heavenly. The princess of darkness glowing in the dim lanternlight of the dilapidated Selunite Outpost; how ironic is that? You can't help but grin at her as you watch her fall apart at your side.

"You sing so well for me, Princess."

Astarion moves to his feet again and lands a loud smack to Shadowheart's ass, an immediate handprint raising on the pale flesh. A trophy. A reward for her beautiful noises and how well she behaved as Astarion devoured her where she stands. The display beside you only makes you yearn for more. Yearn to be filled and pressed into the brick until you're a sobbing, drooling mess. To test the waters, you push your ass back against Abdirak and wait for his reaction. He responds with a smack of his own, much louder and most definitely harder than Astarion's, a soft sob forcing itself from your lips from the painful sting. Another follows, and then another, and another, until you've lost count and your skin is numb to the touch; bruised and begging to be kissed and nursed back to its normal pallid tone, not the alarming hues of reds, blues, and purples it exhibits now.

"Such a masterpiece of blood and bruises, you are. Loviatar is so proud of you, dear one. Let her hear you one more time, hm? Surely you can handle more."

Your mind screams "No more!', but your body gives you away. You ache for more. More pain. More Abdirak. The vampire spawn and the half-elf can see it in the way you rock your hips from side to side for him, putting yourself on display to coax him to ruin you again and again. Abdirak's hands find their way to your hips and give you an affirming squeeze, nails digging into your skin as a simple little way to inflict yet more pain. His cock throbs against your backside now and a sudden wave of confidence (more like desperation) wills you to grind yourself back against him, earning the softest and sweetest moans from the human's lips. Astarion growls at the sight and lines himself up with Shadowheart. With wine colored eyes locked on you, he slides his cock agonizingly slow into her ready and willing cunt, his tongue laving out over his dry lips to wet them and taste the remnants of Shadowheart's slick. She lets out a sigh of relief at the stretch and gives your hand another gentle squeeze before Astarion is ravenously thrusting into her.

Abdirak groans and lines himself up with you next, cock swiping back and forth to collect some of your slick before he eases it inside of you with a heavy sigh and a firmer grip on your hip. The half-elf to your side grunts and pants with each thrust of the vampire spawn behind her and you can't help but watch as her body is jostled around with the pure force of Astarion's movements. Her cheek presses firmly to the brick and she flashes you a drunken grin. Abdirak slides a hand back into your hair and grips it tightly, pushing your face against the wall to match Shadowheart's stance, a low chuckle rumbling in his chest as he matches Astarion's speed. The filthy sounds of skin slapping against skin echo all around you, moans and soft squelching overwhelming your senses as both you and Shadowheart are fucked senseless. Normally you'd be appalled by the conditions you're allowing yourself be exposed to. The dirt. The grime. The blood and gore scattered around you. But now.. Now there's nothing else to focus on but your building climax and the pretty woman beside you whose lips utter your name even though you have no hand in her pleasure.

"Tav.. Tav.. Tav.." She mutters, and it almost sounds as if it's right in your ear. So close, so gentle, so.. Intimate.

Abdirak's unyielding thrusts continue and that very familiar knot begins to tangle itself in your belly. Shadowheart pulls her hand away from yours and walks her fingers down your torso and thigh, reaching between your thighs to give some much needed attention to your swollen and aching clit. The sound that slips out of you is almost startling, pressure building and building in your abdomen as she circles her fingers skillfully. "Oh god.. Oh fuck!" You cry, tears stinging in your eyes again as you're held just at the edge of your orgasm. A loud sob escapes you and Abdirak groans in response, his thrusts only getting faster and harder. Harder. Harder. Harder. Shadowheart's fingers work themselves toward your entrance where Abdirak and you meet and she slips one inside beside him, reaching carefully so that her palm still works against your clit.

"Oh, you filthy things.."

Astarion coos, still pumping himself roughly into Shadowheart, loud gasps for air showing that he's dangerously close to his end. You're barely hanging on now, the combination of Shadowheart's hand, Abdirak's cock, and Astarion's praises pushing you so so close. Again, Shadowheart utters your name softly, this time even closer to your ear. "Tav.. Tav.. Tav.. Tav!" With a shudder, you let out a guttural yelp. So close.. It's coming.. I'm cumming! I'm-

Your eyes shoot open, star filled sky above you in a haze as you blink the sleep from your eyes, a very confused half-elf and a very amused vampire spawn knelt by your side. You reach a hand up and wipe the beads of sweat that formed on your brow, chest heaving as you prop yourself up on your elbows, suddenly aware of your surroundings.

"Interesting dream?"

Shadowheart asks with a quirked eyebrow, Astarion sat right behind her with a hand over his mouth to stifle the laughter just ready to burst from his lungs like water behind a dam.

"Interesting is certainly a word for it."

Astarion lets out a howl of laughter, head thrown back as both hands move up to cover his face. He nearly topples backward as he cackles and Shadowheart can't help but let slip a few giggles of her own, her fingertips pressing to her lips to try and hold them back, to no avail. The air suddenly feels so thick. So heavy around you and you want nothing more than to shrivel up and disappear. Your face burns a painful shade of red and you quickly turn over onto your side, laying your head down in hopes that this was the bad dream, and you'd wake up again with no recollection of this encounter. Or maybe.. You'd wake up in Abdirak's grip again.

**I hope you guys enjoyed!!! I'm so sorry it took so long to pump out.. I've been dealing with a ton of mental health issues and my living situation isn't the best currently, but I am doing my best to get back into the swing of things! Let me know what you guys think! 🖤 **

#bg3 #baldurs gate 3 #baldur's gate 3 #bg3 fanfiction #abdirak x tav #astarion x tav #shadowheart x tav #abdirak smut

[tavyliasin]

The Abdirak Essay - Fandom, Pain, and Loviatar's Love

Another day, another Lia Essay - and if you're really really deliciously sinful my very dear darlings, I shall give you yet more when the sun rises again upon the morrow. So, today in Niche Fandom Adoration Hours, I give you:

For The Love of Loviatar: Why Discomfort Can Be Delightful, How Agony Alleviates Anguish, and All The Ways Abdirak Fans Are Also TavyliaSin's Very Favourite People (Who Also Probably Need A Hug) ((Do We Love The Long Titles?)) (((If No, Consider This Essay Title Part Of Your Penitance)))

The themes of this essay will discuss: BDSM, Kink, Chronic Pain, wounds/injury, Acute Pain, Mental Health, mentions of harmful behaviours, a discussion of psychological elements from someone with absolutely no formal training or experience, vague mentions of trauma, and the magic of friendship. So please make sure you are in a comfortable place within yourself if you feel any of the above might be difficult to read for any reason. It is ok to skip sections as each has a topic header, or you can leave at any time. Nobody is judging you for that at all. Additionally, NSFW discussion further through, so minors DNI as usual. Very little of my blog will ever be suitable for under 18s, for your safety and for mine. Editing in to add a link to the Abdirak fandom gift to chronic pain pals A Cameo from Declan (Abdirak's Performer) (Fully SFW)

All that said, the main theme of this piece is actually:

To truly understand suffering is to avoid being its cause.

So, let's understand what "Suffering" is first, shall we, Dear Ones?

The Difference between Pain and Suffering

Lia hasn't completely lost the plot darlings, the two words may seem almost interchangeable but they are not. At the very least, this is the interpretation I have and the discussion that follows will stick with it too~ Pain is the sensation itself, whether physical or mental, it is the hurt, the bruise pressed upon, the moment a heart breaks. That is pain. Suffering on the other hand, is the effect that the pain has. It is the anguish, the torment, the overwhelm and the exhaustion. So, whilst two people might have the same pain, let's say a stubbed toe for a simple example, their suffering might be very different. One might feel able to walk it off, maybe swear a little and move on. Another might need to sit immediately, feel tears in their eyes, or even become utterly overcome by misery from the intense sensation. This might sound like a difference in tolerance, but it can also be seen as taking the bigger picture into account. One brick might not feel so heavy to someone with empty hands, but added to a pile of bricks already carried it may feel as if it weighs a dozen times as much.

What about Abdirak? How does he relate to Pain and Suffering?

When I first heard Abdirak speak, I knew he understood this concept to its very core. His goddess wants pain, but in himself he does not seem to want actual suffering. He does draw a different line, with pain being physical and suffering being the mental aspect, however the principles are very close to my own. Some people might see Abdirak and judge him as cruel, as a torturer delighting in anguish, but that could not be further from the truth. When he speaks of delivering pain with a loving hand, that really is meant. When he was speaking to the player character, for a moment I felt so intensely seen when he speaks of seeing a greater suffering.

"Forgive me, but that look in your eyes - something terrible has happened to you. ...I see those same eyes when I look in the mirror, dear one."

This, to me, was such a moment. He recognises trauma easily, and we also have this chance here to either interpret this as "oh, right, the tadpole stuff, the things in the game" or we can allow our own feelings about a player character's backstory as the interpretation of what he has seen. Either way, he immediately offers to alleviate that suffering with pain, something he is familiar with, something he knows to help from personal experience. There's the important point. His motivation is not to cause hurt, but to relieve it.

How does pain make anything better?

Deep breaths loves we're getting to the heart of a few things here and it may get heavy. At the most basic broken down level, right at the bottom of everything, it's about distraction. Pain is instant, sharp, a sensation that draws our nerves tight and fires off that electricity directly into our brains. It takes our attention and focus away from whatever else is on our minds. Usually? This would be detrimental, to be unable to concentrate on something because pain is intruding. However, think back here, "delivered with a loving and measured hand." This is precise pain, sensation that is welcomed and applied with expert care in order to reach that point right between where pain is suffering and where it cuts out the thoughts. BDSM darlings will know this as similar to "subspace" which I will discuss later~ Whilst there is some short term benefit to using strong sensation to distract the mind and alleviate intense distress, if taken into real life scenarios there are a lot of things to consider, and it is far better to speak with a therapist. Though the most commonly suggested low-harm methods can be things like gripping an ice cube for a minute or two, or even something like exercise that can push the mind to focus on the body instead of the source of the distress. The element of penance is also there. Abdirak brings to the fore those thoughts of struggle and guilt, so those are the thoughts that are stripped back by the physical pain. It's intentional, careful, and taps at the other core of using pain to alleviate suffering.

Why we love Abdirak, and the importance of recognising the weight of unwarranted guilt.

Remember my little villain essay? Back then I spoke of how a love for villains can also come from the way we are prone to judge ourselves unfairly, to heap undeserved guilt at our own feet, and to believe every slight mistake to be a heinous sin. Sorry, darlings, the only heinous "sin" you are allowed to believe in is me. Name puns aside... Part of the draw is indeed right there, believing ourselves deserving of punishment it's appealing to want to submit to that and find absolution from everything we judge ourselves for. And yet, it isn't a horrific thing, it's coloured by love and affection. The Love of Loviatar from Abdirak does not ignore that first part. But I do encourage you, if you are feeling particularly called out right now, to stop seeking punishment for things that are objectively not your fault, and instead treat yourself with kindness and forgiveness. By all means continue to indulge in our beloved priest of Pain and the joy he brings, but do so without any negative self-assessment, alright? Good, I'm glad we agre- THAT MEANS ALL OF YOU. No exceptions.

And what of the Fandom?

Ahh Abdirak fandom. Small, loving, welcoming, and utterly devoted~ Similarly to villain fandom (Abdirak is obviously not a villain, but is arguably villain-coded), his fandom also draws a lot of kindness and understanding. Despite how we might see ourselves, we are remarkably free from judgement in how we treat each other. There's endless encouragement, genuine warmth, and alongside spicy takes that might make lava look like a suitable spot for ice fishing there's a profound amount of respect and consent. By which I mean, there's no shame. There's no allowance for "I hate that character you like", or "that kink is bad because I don't like it". Tags and CWs are applied to posts and works with care and nobody is treated poorly for enjoying what (or who) they enjoy in the fictional space. To go back to the quote at the start of this essay, "to truly understand suffering is to avoid being its cause." I feel the vast majority of us have that depth of insight and recognition for suffering and have the empathy required to wish to avoid it. And that is why I would perhaps feel safest in the company of Abdirak fans (and likewise Raphael fans), there's another level of connection in those tadpoles~ Which leads me neatly forwards to...

Endurance: Abdirak and Chronic Pain Sufferers

Here, loves, we're going to get a bit more personal. Those of us with chronic pain conditions may find an even deeper connection. So I'll go over a little for those who are fortunate enough to not have personal experience here: Chronic Pain - This applies to pain which is constant or frequently recurring, that lasts (and/or is expected to last) for more than 3 months. It's not like a broken bone that heals and has an end, it's not like a few headaches that come and go with little consequence, it is either always present or always on the edge of flaring up at any time. It's different to acute pain, because most conditions have no cure, many barely have any treatment so all one can do is try to endure the worst of it. The other side-symptoms can be reduction in physical ability, exhaustion, mental health difficulties (because for some odd reason constant pain is not a path to happiness), low self esteem, and of course carrying the guilt of feeling like a burden if you need help from others (you are not a burden, and anyone who says so can receive the blessing of forever feeling like there is a stone in their shoe that they cannot find). As an aside, this can apply to chronic mental health struggles too - it is still pain, only a different kind. Though I will be looking primarily at physical pain here, as that's where Abdirak's focus is. Now, where are we going with this? The difference here is in how pain is treated. Abdirak speaks of pain as a wonderful thing, as something that is sought after, that is a way of worshipping Loviatar. This is something that might feel strange to someone who is plagued by pain, but there's another quote I'd like us to remember.

"Pain without purpose is a terrible thing, wouldn't you agree?"

Chronic pain has no purpose. It's there whether by illness or injury, or some other unseen cause. It was not a choice, it doesn't bring any relief, and often it drags us right down with it.

"Please let me alleviate this pain."

And there's another line, one we wish we could hear, one we wish so very deeply in the core of our being that we could believe. That there could be someone who could bring an end to the pain even if only for a brief time, a fleeting hope of relief.

How fanworks can be a means of coping with chronic pain.

So here's the next point... What in all the hells do I mean, how can fanworks help a single thing? Well, have some personal moments. I had a deeply unpleasant flare up the other night, so I put out a brief ask to writing groups for some comforting fiction shorts. In the past, I've written a few myself - like these: Abdirak - Migraine Comfort Yurgir - Migraine Comfort Tav - General Comfort, with Audio Multi-Character Comfort Drabbles (Including Abdirak) Full AO3 fic of Abdirak x Chronic Pain Reader (Spicy, NSFW)

These are the two I received from some writers very dear to my heart who have more talent and skill than I could ever hope to aspire to in their works. Elfvamp (who does not have tumblr) (image description is attached to the image)

and this one from @morb-untamed

Darlings, when I tell you there were tears in my eyes at these, I mean it. THIS is just an example of the understanding and compassion possible in the community, the care and consideration, and the emotion that words can carry through them that make things genuinely feel more bearable in the moment of distress. Both captured something that it took me too long to realise. Perhaps what follows might sound entirely unreasonable or unhinged, but for someone like myself who has not known a single second of what "0%" feels like in over 10 years, it's beginning to seem far more sane by the moment. What if, within the confines of my mind, I try to rewrite the understanding of pain as something different. Just tell myself each new pain is an offering to some vile deity who has decided my mortal vessel is worthy of enduring, rather than one that is being punished with suffering. Breathe through it and listen to those character voices, find my own purpose to the pain. Let it become inspiration, note it down, get that visceral and intimate knowledge to the page instead. Naturally, this probably isn't a healthy coping mechanism, nor one that is infallible, but there have been moments recently where thinking that has made the moderate levels less distressing, easier to tolerate for a time. Perhaps it could do the same for you, but perhaps not, either way - it is there. Please do read through the comfort pieces too, and if you would like to see more - even ones with more specific aims and pains, please do just ask and I will make them happen. Either through my ask box, or in comments/reblogs, or any other way you wish to contact me honestly.

Alright, Tavylia, we've covered personal pain, but you promised NSFW discussion!

Oh my very dear darlings I had not forgotten this part~ You may here people talk about "good pain" and "bad pain", and wonder how/why pain can ever be good. It's not just about a physical hurt sensation or using that as a distraction. Pain can cause a rush of adrenaline, and even endorphins - similar to how people enjoy extreme sports, horror films, or theme parks, it's a pleasant feeling from something that would usually be scary, because it's safe and controlled. Falling from a high place? That's terrifying, dangerous. Parachuting safely from that same high place? It's controlled, there's no real danger, but the feeling of danger brings that adrenaline rush. There's the key. In real life BDSM there is control in the safe signal, in knowing it can and will stop when needed, that although there is someone causing pain they will stop at a moment's notice. (Anyone who does not respect a safe word/signal is not someone you should be in that situation with, if you are engaging in or want to try BDSM with real partners please PLEASE do your research on safety, that's too long a lecture to add here) In the context of fiction, we can go a lot further. Could a real person easily withstand Abdirak hitting them with an axe in their back? Obviously not, that's far too much. But this is a world with magical healing, and our fantasy and fiction is quite safe to extend where we find is interesting. So when reading - and especially writing - with pain and pain play, I encourage you to remember these links to adrenaline, endorphins, and that it isn't about harm, it's far deeper, and finding an understanding of that (even if you never wish to experience it) might be of some benefit to understanding those around you who have this intimate relationship with pain.

A title for the End

I think I've covered a lot here, but I do just want to round us off now. If you have any questions about this topic (or any of my other essay posts), please do feel free to ask - that's why my box is there, for all kinds of discussions to open up. Not just for smut and creative writing, but for all the ways we connect with fiction and characters. There is so much more than a single story being told, each of us experiences it through the lens of our own experience, we all find our connections in different ways, and I will have more character essays on this later. There's so much more to see, to learn, from all the interpretations throughout the fandom. I'm very grateful to be here to witness it, and for you being here to share in these thoughts and explore them more with me. Pain can teach us many things, about ourselves and others. Empathy, kindness, compassion - when we know how much we need them ourselves, we begin to see how much others may need it too. Much like how Abdirak sees the pain behind the player character's eyes, and feels that strong desire to help in the ways he knows how.

A Final Note for the Pain Pals

To my Chronic Pain Pals, darlings you do not always have to be strong. It's alright. It will not break you entirely to let go of that incessant need to try and quietly endure. Find those places it is safe to let it out, look for those tricks you can use on your brain to make Loviatar's Favour just a little more bearable. You are worthy of kindness, support, and compassion. The same you are likely giving of yourself to everyone else. You are not a burden, these are pains you do not choose, and you deserve something more gentle without any guilt attached to it. You are also not alone, find community, find those who understand.

Pain without purpose...but have we given it one now?

So I hope this time the pain has had a purpose in teaching, in helping us connect in new ways, to find compassion and understanding. Until next time, Dear Ones, look after yourselves.

Oh hey look I know who made that gif that came up in the search~ What an absolutely wonderful coincidence ;) (And a final final footnote, hello Abdirak fan community, you are perfect and I wish you nothing but the best in all things)

#baldurs gate 3 #bg3 #abdirak #chronic pain #fandom essay #pain #pain and pleasure #comfort in fanfiction #comfort in fiction #coping with pain #the best fandom corners can be in the most unexpected places #the lessons pain can teach #to understand suffering is to avoid being its cause

[vacantvisage]

new fic <3

Tolerance Abdirak/Astarion Explicit, 6k Words

Tags: Needles, Needle play, Shibari, Rope Bondage, Wax Play, BDSM, Priests, Priest Kink, Vampire Bites, Edgeplay, Edging, Cock & Ball Torture, Cock Bondage, Piercings, Blood, Blood Drinking, Blood Kink

Summary: Astarion visits Abdirak for a little pain-for-fun. He enjoys himself, even if some things get a little too personal. Abdirak wants to keep a professional distance, but can't help feeling a little enamored by the pretty elf.

Notes: A bit tame, but I want to try and save more bloody-gory Abdirak for hopefully Kinktober/Goretober. We'll see. Hope you like it.

#astarion #abdirak #bg3 #baldur's gate 3 #baldur's gate fanfiction #bg3 fanfiction #my fics