#Thorne? thorme? fuck
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Got so into painting this piece that I missed a doctors appointment pls reblog
#my art#baldur's gate spoilers#baldurs gate#baldurs gate 3#dame aylin#isobel thorm#Thorne? thorme? fuck#bg3
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anyway, durge having weird ritual blood sex with gortash. Shout out to @angrelysimpping who sent the prompt from the sex magic book they were reading because we're both insane.
characters. lord enver gortash :3
content warning. dark urge reader. pre-tadpole era. gortash being viciously down bad, because he's very willing to have sex with durge while they're covered in blood and being watched by the cultists. exhibitionism. blood play. gore mention, along with murder. 2.6k words.
"Howerever, he also added a powerful dose of Tantrism by suggesting that magical work should be conducted in the nude, with the ritual use of a flail, and that rites should be led by a High Priest and High Priestess who would literally or symbolically couple at the climax of certain rituals." The Book Of English Magic, Carr-Gomm. P.
Gortash was not one to be summoned. Summoned, sent for, demanded to show up with haste at the whim of someone else. While he might schmooze with the Duke and hastily head over when Ravengard demands him to come talk, he is a man not to be controlled and demanded things of.
But you always were such a delicious thorn in his side. While others, like Thorm, would try to pry it out, getting their fingers bloodied as they struggled to grip onto it, Gortash relished the sting that came with every movement. The ache, the soreness of the skin struggling to reject the barb, the trickle of blood leaking down his side. He adored it. The cushy life he led in Baldur’s Gate had softened his skin, despite the sulfur of the hells soaked into it. You were refreshing. A tinge of pain that was inflicted on him in the House of Hope by the boatload, except this time, the claws that had raked down his back as a punishment had turned into something deeply pleasurable for him.
So when you sent for him, he’d never dream of keeping you waiting. Your letter mentioned something about needing his help with a ritual of Bhaal’s, so while he was looking forward to seeing you, he was quietly hoping that you weren’t about to blood sacrifice him or something. It would put a damper on the plans you two shared.
Gortash knows the path down to Bhaal’s temple well enough by now. He almost basked in it, enjoying the looks the other worshippers would shoot him as he made his way down, some questioning, some openly hostile and a select few viciously jealous. But this journey down was different. No stray cultists, whispering about guts and garroting. No weird little butler scuttling after him.
Nothing.
Except when the chanting reaches his ears.
The low, rhythmic voices, all whispering, all culminating into something strange, something wrong, something that makes the hair on his neck stand up on end. Gods, he really hopes he isn’t a sacrificial lamb here. He refuses to spurn an invitation from you, so he continues down, down, down, the chanting getting louder, louder, louder.
Entering the main sanctum, he finally sees all. Bhaalists crowding all the stairs leading down to the platform with the sacrificial altar, with no sign of you. Just a deep, dark, pool of blood, big enough for someone to swim in. Even more worrying.
His presence didn’t go unnoticed. The cultists were already parting for him to make his way through, and closing in behind him, barring him from exiting. The whispers quietened for just a second before resuming, even louder as he was prodded, like cattle to continue down. Before too long he stood on the platform, his palms itching. Just when he was about to demand answers, the chanting stopped, the disconcerting whispers cutting off into dead silence immediately.
The blood in the pool quivered and a body breached the liquid, coated in a deep, slippery crimson.
Fuck.
Gortash always knew you were sublime in red. But you were completely covered. Dripping blood as you step out of the pool, you don’t even push away the blood painting your face, not when you open your eyes and focus on him.
The entire room seemed to drink you in, your naked form, glazed with the very essence your father urged you to spill. It was only a few seconds of silence before the chanting resumed, but it was different this time. As if the previous whispering had been a chorus of begging, for you to emerge, but now? It was a demand, for the ritual to resume, for it to be completed, to taint the room further.
All the air in Gortash’s lungs had stilled, but when you came closer, it rushed out all at once. Your naked form was always deeply divine to him, no matter how many times he bedded it. While he paid for his whores and some married ladies adorned his bed, he often got tired of them, seeing them as run through, and no longer exciting. But you? Fuck. Hells, even your bloodied, nude form was already getting him hard.
“Sorry for the vague invitation.” You murmur, as if you two were at a soiree that he just got the invitation for. “Needed someone for this and I don’t think Thorm can get it up at his age.”
Gortash’s lips twitch, but your bloodied fingers curling around his wrist silenced his snarky retort. Nothing to say, not when you lead him to the altar.
“What-”
You hushed him, pressing a finger against his lips and leaving a crimson mark in its wake.
“Don’t worry. Just a ritual for each decade that passes. Better me than Sarevok, believe me, even if he has run out of his own spawn to give daughters to.” You roll your eyes but push him back, against the altar, forcing him down as you straddle him, staining his clothes.
He’ll never throw them out.
The altar was no soft bed, and while he wasn’t a squeamish man, the strong smell of blood was clouding his head. It was at this angle, that he noticed the cuts along your side, looking like marks made by a flail, even though the blood you were drenched in weren’t from your own injuries. Even the dozens of eyes trained on the two of you, there was a delicious string of excitement, pulling his spine taut and tight.
Gortash was no Bhaalist, not when he followed Bane, so while he was no stranger to certain rituals, he was unused to ones of this… Variety. He made a note to himself that he should read up on them, just in case he was about to have a Bhaalspawn of his own somehow. Not that there has never been an attempt to baby trap him in the past, but this was… Different.
You, naked and bloodied, on top of him with wild, dark eyes, the chanting of some, excuse his phrasing, cultist weirdos echoing in his ears. The only thought his mind could form as you dragged your hand over his lips, down his throat, was that if this was a ritual purely for Bhaal, he did hope He wasn’t aware that he was the one getting hard underneath his favorite spawn.
But that seemed to be the point. You gave him a dangerous smile, blood slipping in between your lips and staining your teeth, similar to when you’d bite him during sex and come away with crimson painting your tongue. As per usual, you had no patience for his belt, instead opting to barely loosen it and slip his trousers down enough for his cock to spring free. Thank the Gods he had, a self admittedly fat, “pretty” cock. Though, he doubts if he didn’t, you wouldn’t have bothered with him beyond your first tryst. But being humiliated in front of the dagger happy zealots was not high on his list of priorities.
His busy mind screeched to a halt as you slowly began to pump his cock, even as he was hard as hells. Your touch, even just a nudge or your fingers brushing, felt like lightning, like something otherworldly was deigning to caress his very mortal skin. Your eyes, so delicious and darkened drank in his expression, his slow, shallow breaths as you continued to practically fucking play with him, like a mouse under your claw.
“Don’t tease me.” He murmured, low and throaty, just for the two of you and you just smiled your wicked grin.
Instead of heeding his request, you leaned down, as if to press a kiss to his chapped lips, and he raised his head to meet your kiss, but instead of something soft, he felt your teeth bite down. Splitting his bottom lip and letting his own blood trickle into your mouth. Even with just a few seconds of your lips against his even with the pain of being bitten, he missed it the second you pulled away. You firmly pushed him back down, but the ache from slamming his head against the stone altar was muted, when you refused to let up on massaging his cock, the pleasure seeping into his veins like poison.
“Fuck.” He hissed through his teeth, wanting to lean his head back and shut his eyes, but there was something deeply magnetic lingering in your eyes that made it impossible for him to ever look away.
You yourself slowly grinded against his thigh, enjoying the way the Chosen of Bane squirmed like a rodent caught in a trap. Shame he was such a charming rodent, one that nosed against your ear and chittered oh so invitingly. Your older brother hated the scurrying little things so, he used to take you aside as a child, and whisper to you exactly how to catch them, and then make them squeal. But this rodent, with his nice dark coat and fiendish eyes, the one who squirms so nice in your hand? He seems a bit too cute to crush.
Especially with the way he was panting low and hard, his tongue dragging over his teeth. Blood smeared over his mouth and chin, and his clothes were stained similarly. Delicious.
“Just let me fuck you already.” He gritted his teeth, his fingers digging into your bare, bloodied thighs.
“Oh, that’s cute.” You murmured, low and heady in the way he adores so, at least in his room with the servants sent home for the day. You felt his cock twitch in your hand at the tone. “This is about restraint. Submission.”
Gortash hissed through his teeth again, but said nothing, just drank the sight of you in. You finally took pity, with his hungry, desperate eyes that you usually only saw at the meetings, with maps strewn across the table, as he talked about the plans for the future. It’s also a look that he used to give you when you two first met. Raising your hands to his lips and kissing the knuckles, eyes boring into you. It’s a look that grew in intensity each time you met, until the night he got you alone finally, dragging his hand greedily over your side as he leaned in to kiss your throat. You’d thought it would end up diminishing but it never did. It quietened at times, but he had the look of an addict waiting for his next fix.
Finally shifting up, you pressed his leaking cockhead against your hole. Enver could feel it slicked with blood, but his mind raced with thoughts about you getting ready for the ritual, writing out the letter inviting him down as you slowly fingered yourself, lubed up to your knuckles and imagining him. Or Thorm, since apparently he was also an option. Thank the Gods that the sight of you dipped head to toe in blood was far more arousing than that intrusive thought, otherwise he might have gone soft. No doubt if you two were ever having sex and he lost his erection, you’d butcher him right then and there.
No, just his cockhead slipping inside of you had him struggling to concentrate, the chanting beginning to rise in volume again. Gortash couldn’t even figure out the words, it just made his head spin.
You just watched him try to breathe slowly and evenly as you enjoyed the feeling of his cock twitching inside of you before you slammed your hips down, making him bottom out inside of you. His cock was your favorite, no doubt about it. Out of all the ones you’ve seen, flaccid and puckered in death as your followers stripped them of their belongings, hard and ready for the select lovers you picked out, unaware that they were bedding a spawn of Bhaal, his remained the best. Maybe it was because he was one of the few madmen ready to stick their dick in the God of Murder’s child, maybe it was because it was curved in a way that hit just right deep inside of you. Or maybe he was one of the few men that had the talent to back up their bragging mouth.
Gortash couldn’t help but thrust upwards, into you, basking in the whorish sounds of your moans. Your fingers dug into the section of his exposed chest, beginning to ride him in earnest, as if there weren't the cultists watching without heat to their eyes, as if watching you do your daily chores. Wasn’t exactly a turn on, Enver thought grimly, though if you would just let him finally take you to the brothel and allow at least the prostitutes to admire the amazing work you two put into having disgustingly dirty sex.
You rode him roughly, just watching as he struggled to look away from you, his own blunt nails digging into your thighs even more, as if trying to make sure to keep you there. Blood coated his cock as he thrusted up into you the wet slapping of skin against crimson glazed skin echoing throughout the room, the chanting drowning out your shared sighs and moans.
Fuck, it felt too good. He was dying to fondle your chest, pinch your nipples till they were all sore and puffy and so cute. The only downsides that he could only be half sure that you wouldn’t cut off his hand for touching anywhere other than your perfect fucking thighs. The blood was slowly drying on you, the glimmering sheen giving way to a dark matte look, pieces flaking off. You looked fucking perfect.
Gortash was clinging onto the edge, concentrating on not cumming before you did, but you wouldn’t be one of his favorite pieces of ass if you couldn’t see through him as if he was made of glass. With a nasty smirk, you leaned down again, mid bounce and kissed him right on the mouth, swearing the blood from his bitten lip. It was too much at that point. He was not some virgin who came from kissing, but fuck. Fuck.
He arched his back, pressing his cock deep inside of you as he came, filling you up till it began to drip out, along your bloodied thighs. You sighed, low and soft, tensing up around him to the point the poor fuck was seeing stars. The chanting slowly eased off into the casual hum of conversation, as you slowly slipped the Lord out of you, letting his cum spill out freely.
The cultists dispersed among themselves and back into the alternating halls as Gortash slowly regained his breath and sat up.
“A little head’s up would have been greatly appreciated.” He grumbled, hiking his trousers back up and tucking his softening cock away.
“And miss out on the chance of you chickening out?”
“I’d never.” He finally sat up and watched as the cum slipped down your legs to the floor, mixing with the blood to make a soft pink color. “... But if I did fail to show, any particular person you’d have picked?”
“Probably would have grabbed a random guy. Like the one who loves to skin people while they’re dying.”
Gortash quietly made a note to have that certain one jailed for some other thing as you stretched and glanced back at him.
“I need company as I bathe.”
You, of course, would never ask him to give you company as you washed yourself of all the blood and cum, but who was he to say no to such an appealing command?
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I was going through your tags and I’d love to hear more about cucking Nere with Minthara 👀👀👀
That idea lives in my brain in a fully furnished apartment.
Because can you manage being a male drow and finally breaking out of drow society to join a new one that promotes equality between everyone? Not only that but your boss is a guy too, the highest form of authority in the absolute army is a male and that makes you feel so seen.
No wonder Nere hates Minthara, she is like a constant thorn at his side that reminds him of a darker past. Both of them knows very well if this was the underdark, she'd have absolute authority over him, but now they're coworkers.
He has such an inferiority complex, he is acting like a Caricature of what a powerful drow women would be like. He is desperate for any form of power and reverence.
Which is why he clings to the mention of Ketheric Thorm so much.
Minthara's existence breaks his illusions, even while on equal grounds, she still proves herself to be a much more capable leader than he ever could be.
She doesn't even see him as a real threat, more like a snivelling brat who is always waiting for rescue. If you leave act 1 without being involved with the grove then Minthara would've still found it without your help and achieved her goal. But Nere would've died without your help because even his own people don't respect him enough while all the goblins adored Minthara.
So imagine Nere attempting to get you in his bed, maybe you're a cute new true soul that he can't help but lust over. He is completely not self-aware of how obnoxious or rude he is when he makes moves on you, coercing you into letting him show you how a real man can fuck you so well.
Imagine letting him hit it out of pity.
Afterwards, when you meet Minthara and she actually dominates your world during sex, making you beg for her touch and lips. You off handedly mention your fling with Nere before. How it couldn't compare to her.
Imagine going to Nere the next day with the sweetest smile on your lips, suggesting a threesome to him. He immediately agrees and barely asks about who the third person is.
The way it would go, with Minthara bending you over with your fucked out expression on full display. Showing Nere what you actually look like mid-orgasm. Something he probably failed to give you. Making him seeth with hatred as he gets turned on by how slutty and needy you look, your obscene moans and constant begging for more.
Minthara not allowing him to touch or even kiss you, he could only sit there. Maybe if he apologises to you loudly enough about how sorry he is for not satisfacting you with his dick, how much of a failure he is as a man, then she'd let him pump his cock to the sight of you cum drenched body.
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Some thoughts about the voice acting in BG3. Note that these are all complaints on a very high level, the voice work is pretty fantastic overall. Also note that my knowledge about voice acting is superficial at best.
Lae'zel and Vlaakith are the only (?) githyanki you meet who talk Like That TM? All the other githyanki you meet seem to speak fairly normal, to the point where it is distracting.
I forgot his name but the comedian's son at the Elfsong has uh. Some questionable casting. He sounds like an old man.
I love and adore Abigail Thorne, but man, idk what went wrong, something is off about her voice work for Nocturne. Microphone quality? Insufficient mixing? Insufficient direction? Lack of experience in VA work specifically?
Same with JK Simmons as Kethric Thorm. It sounds Hella fucking off, and the guy is a legendary voice actor, so what went wrong there??
Very frequent cases of different voice lines in the same dialogue being at different volumes. Some lines are so quiet they are barely audible.
My biggest gripe: The PC voices being so unemotive. One of the key features in the series and related games is that the PC voices tend to have a lot of character. Rather than having a bunch of different pitch voices that don't have any personality to them, having a bunch of voice sets that give the PC more personality is something that I truly miss. Sad.
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