#enver gortash fluff
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This method acting might pay our bills
1.7k words, enver gortash x the dark urge.
no smut! lots of kisses, fluffy kinda idk, durge constantly having inner monologues lol, heavily implied first kiss for durge.
It was often difficult for you to forget who you were, what you were. A wretched blade, stained with the blood of countless men, the strength of your faith so mighty that you could never be dulled no matter how many you slayed in the name of your God.
Only tonight, you were forgetting. Tonight, thoughts plagued your mind like flies around a rotting corpse. Thoughts of whom, you could never admit out loud.
Enver Gortash; the bane of your existence.
The Chosen of Bane being the source of your recent troubles was something you would have never predicted, the absurdity of the situation you now found yourself in was enough to make you want to claw out your eyes. Your hands twitched eargerly at the thought.
You found it hard to pinpoint exactly when this had started, perhaps when you met? Long nights spent creating ploys, yearning, drinking, and coming to understand one another better than anyone else blurred the lines. Before you knew it, you wanted less and less to see what grand artwork he would become in the name Bhaal and moreso the kind of faces he'd make fast asleep and safe in slumber. It didn't help that you found him sickeningly attractive.
Denying your affection for the man proved tedious. You had never bothered to learn how to act, let alone deny yourself of anything you wanted for this long, now painfully aware that you aren't even remotely talented at it. It was about time that you admitted to yourself that you felt more for him than petty admiration. However, to do so, you'd be committing your first sin against Father. Unbeknownst to you, the first sin of many. There would be no coming back after that.
"There you are, I've been looking for you." Spoke the devil himself, interrupting your train of thought as he sat down next to you.
You didn't bother answering him, choosing to continue staring out at the sea, which seemed to be further away now compared to when you were lost in your mind.
"What are you doing? I didn't have you pegged as the brooding type." Upon realizing you were in a fairly calm mood, he sat a little closer to you. If he noticed the way you tensed, he didn't comment on it.
"I'm not.." The words died in your throat, making you frown. When you spoke again, you found your tone had adopted a softness wholly foreign to you, "I'm people watching, as they call it."
He studied your face for a moment, before following your gaze down to the shoreline. He hummed in amusement when he saw what you were looking at, civilians of all kinds simply going about their daily lives. For a moment, he wondered wether you envied them, then remembered who you were. You noticed this seemed to surprise him with the way he looked back at you, the slight upturn of his lips indicated that he was considering teasing you about it, but he never did. It both pleased and frustrated you immensely, knowing how he'd take your feelings into consideration before he acted, despite never thinking you had any yourself. You silently hoped this was some scheme of his, that he was manipulating you like he had so many others, so that you could have a reason to want to kill him.
"..Why?" Your hopes were quickly snuffed out at his curiosity and the gentleness of which he spoke, making your chest tighten.
"All of them are so small, so insignificant, and yet.." You don't continue that thought, your tone betraying your melancholy, "They look happy enough, don't they?"
Your anemoia didn't go unnoticed by him, but the sense of finality to your last sentence indicated you didn't want to talk about it further, so he left it alone. Gods forbid he invoke your wrath here, where he had finally got you all to himself to talk to you as he wished.
You watch out the corner of your eye as he unwraps a small package he had taken from his pocket, revealing an assortment of sliced fruits. When he notices your gaze, he offers you some. Then he chuckles when your nose wrinkles and you shake your head.
"You don't like them? I thought you did, you ate all the fruit at the table during our last meeting."
"They're sour, I don't like those ones."
"Ah." He nods quietly, wrapping them back up and putting them in his pocket, "Apologies, I'll keep that in mind."
If you looked, which you do, you'd notice how his hair looked a little messier than usual and that he appeared to have just come from the baths based on the slight flush of colour on his cheeks. From here, you could feel how warm he was and the subtle scent of soap invaded your senses. You figured it couldn't hurt, so you moved closer so that your shoulders brushed together, all while staring back out to the sea intently.
"Why were you looking for me?" You ask after a short while.
"I wanted to see you." He says, as though it was obvious. Open with his affection while simultaneously keeping his cards close to his chest, which was so typical of him.
"What for? A cuddle?" You respond with sarcasm, grinning at him as though the idea was foolish. A warning, really. You could slit his throat right here and he wouldn't be able to do much about it. You then frowned, closing your eyes temporarily as the urge took delight in that thought.
"Tempting.." He mutters, taking your hand slowly. You take a measured breath and when you open your eyes again, he's smiling at you fondly.
You hum quietly in agreement, curling in on yourself in shame. You'd apologize to Father properly later, but right now you needed to let him know how you felt, even through an action so small. The guilt would surely eat you alive, it was already starting to, settling uncomfortably in the pit of your stomach whilst a repulsive warmth crept up your spine, seeping into the cracks of your blackened heart with unadulterated vengeance. The only thing keeping you from baring your teeth, from tearing skin from bone, from giving in to your vicious indulgence as a pathetic attempt to escape the confusing feelings swarming your brain and suffocating you was something as mundane as him squeezing your hand.
How cruel, you thought, to have to live alongside Enver Gortash and not be allowed to love him freely.
All it took was one last look into his eyes, and that delicate thread that held you both in your respective places snapped. With newfound vigor, he surged forward and kissed you, determined and desperate to take from you whatever you'd allow. After half a minute or so, as if remembering himself, he eased back to take in your expression, preparing himself to face your fury and be annihilated.
However, the sight before him now made his knees weak, yet not with fear. You were a beauty. Glossy lips parted as you caught your breath, eyes wide and dazed, and the most charming tinge of pink across your face. So incredibly precious, he couldn't withhold the satisfied chuckle that escaped him.
"What?" You frowned, trying to decipher what was so amusing to him, though that only served to make him laugh more, the sound coming from deep within his chest.
"Oh, my dear assassin.." His laughter died down, but the mirth in his eyes did not, "You will surely be the cause of my ruin."
"Don't be foolish." You hissed, fingers snaking into the hair at his nape and pulling him to you to kiss him once more, this urge more ravenous than the one that calls you to slaughter. All lips and teeth colliding, you greedily grab at his hair and tug, urging him to give you more of whatever this was.
"Easy.." He murmured, nudging your noses together as his arm curled around you and brought you closer to him, "Not so harsh."
You felt his hand cup your jaw, thumb swiping across your cheek, the action calming you as you loosened your grip on him. All you knew was harsh. You were bred to make the world bleed. This was new, this was frightening, a tenderness so unknown to you that it shattered every perception of mortal relationships you had spent your entire life building.
He kissed you once softly, then twice as though he could sense your unease.
"It's alright, you know," He said as his palm smoothed circles into your back, "That you don't know what you're doing."
You opened your mouth immediately to protest, then scowled upon realizing it would be pointless, he was right. Your method acting thus far had been excellent, flawless even, so much so that it was to the point where when it came to anything else, you were at a loss.
"Do you truly believe I'm capable of more?" You ask, your voice a little less than a whisper.
"I do. Do you?"
He replied, without missing a beat.
You didn't know. Being more than an executioner was never something you had thought about. You didn't even think yourself capable of such thoughts until he came along, with all of his wonderful ideas and genius inventions, sparking new inspiration in your mind. Father would not approve. Gortash brought forth temptation, guilt and a new feeling that bubbled away, warm and dizzying in your veins, making it hard to care about anything else.
You didn't wish to think on it anymore, so you shut your eyes and took the liberty of tucking your head under his chin, both of you sitting there in silence for a while longer. For once, your mind was quiet.
"How did you manage to get up here?" Your question almost breaks the peaceful atmosphere, but you continue on, "I hadn't thought you were all that athletic."
"Not to worry, I'll be sure to change your persuasion in time." You could hear the amusement plain in his tone, he was teasing you. As soon as your head snapped toward him, giving him an incredulous look, he could only start laughing.
#enver gortash#enver gortash fluff#bg3 gortash#gortash x durge#dark urge x gortash#lord gortash#baldurs gate gortash#gortash x reader#gortash x tav#fluff#baldurs gate 3#bg3#baldurs gate 3 gortash
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Baby Cravings
Love that Durge eating babies is canon (im like 99% sure). Horrible being. Gortash might have started planning for the future but he's reconsidering lmao
anyway i am becoming less of an enemy with backgrounds every day, slowly
#bg3#fanart#my art#durgetash#enver gortash#the dark urge#comic#the dark urge x enver gortash#bg3 gortash#bg3 durge#the dark urge spoilers#durgetash fluff
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Random sfw + nsfw thoughts/headcanons for randomly assorted characters from BG3! Excuse any grammatical errors or poor phrasing… it is nearly midnight and I got off work.
Send requests or thoughts in my ask box. It will always be open!
Forewarnings/tags: Trying to keep this gender neutral… mentions of sweat/scent, blood-drinking, possession/control, some tooth-rotting fluff, fingering (receiving + giving), oral (receiving), hate-fucking, some ass-play mentions?, nipple-play, dirty talk, degrading, praise, validation.
Characters involved… Astarion, Wyll + Gortash
Astarion,
If you have warm-blood… such as a living creature. He adores that- his fingers trail along the expanse of your skin and if you could see his eyes you’d swear his name made sense. It has been so long since he had his own warm skin. Since Cazador stripped him of his innocence and life. He lives vicariously through your body. He may be dead but you breathe life into him and he swears his cold-heart no longer beat still.
He admires your features. The more unconventional ones. Like the wrinkles in your skin, the uglier scars that line your flesh. Moles, freckles, stretch marks… they all remind him of how uniquely alive and different you are. He’d kiss each one if you’d let him as his tongue singed praises.
He’d craft you a perfume or cologne to your scent. His senses are heightened as a vampire. He’s pressed his nose against the crook of your flesh more times than he could count. He’s smelt your skin and sweat… all of your essence. He has tasted and inhaled the scent of your blood. With that information, he presents you a mixture of herbs and other properties. Once applied to your skin, it illuminates your personality. Truly, as he said, he missed his calling.
As we all know… this man loves to bite. It is a form of dominance as well intimacy. Your vulnerability and his stake of claim as well as acceptance. You do not truly understand the importance behind the act. He never fed on humanoids until you. You were the sweetest he’d ever tasted… and will ever truly taste. The fact you’d give yourself so willingly gives him a feeling of superiority. As well as a lighter, chest tightening feeling of belonging. As much as you belonged to him, he was also yours.
He truly loves to delve into your pleasure. As much as he is fond of using his tongue… to break you apart with simply his mouth. Watch you crumble and cry from betwixt your thighs, there is also an unremarkable excitement in his fingers. Filling you and stretching you with them. Working to angle and prod the most sensitive parts whilst his tongue slides against yours or along your neck. Licking at the wounds from his feedings. To hear you cry so deliciously from just the thickness and persistence of his fingers strokes his ego. He knows he will fuck you dumb unto his cock.
A shorter smut headcanon but I do believe he’d love cumming on your skin. Your face, chest (particularly loves giving you a pearl necklace, he thinks you look dashing), stomach, thighs… any skin that is available, honestly. There is a strange sense of pride for him in it. To see you covered in him. He also loves to cum inside. Either works, honestly, as long as it is you.
Wyll (this guy has no fics about him. Step up y’alls game)
A true gentleman. He grew up as a son of royalty… what do you expect? If you guys ever had a proper date, he’d dress no less to impress the finest. Honestly, it makes you feel so utterly underdressed. He adorns a wonderful cologne. It is reminiscent of leather, warm spices and a sweeter scent like honey. His vest has gold detailing along a beautiful maroon. Still, in his eyes you are the most stunning thing he’s ever seen. No matter how fancy you dressed. He cannot keep his eyes off you, truly.
We all know he loves to dance. It is something he praises in his dialogue. Still, he wishes no more than to dance with you. If you can or cannot dance, it doesn’t matter. He will teach you the rhythm and steps if you have two left feet. Each time you trip or fall, he simply quirks a smile and offers a hand. He does not judge, only finds some amusement in how adorable he finds you. If you know how to dance? How delightful. He will play some faint music to follow along too. His hand rested along the small of your back and his fingers intertwined with yours. Dipping you and guiding you as the music fades away and you’re left with the trance of his loving gaze.
As much as he is a gentleman, I think he’d love harmless pranks. Gentle teasing of your character to see your frustrations and shock. He’d ‘misplace’ an item of yours to see you scour in confusion. Then, when you look at him, he is holding it out with a devious little smirk. He lets out a chuckle when you stomp over and nearly cuss him out. He loves every side of you and you know that it’s lighthearted fun… and god damn is it hard to hold a grudge when he has a smile like that. Curse him, truly.
He is a simple man, honestly. He takes pleasure in what you take pleasure in. Will indulge your desires and kinks as long as they aren’t particularly destructive. Though, he does have a little… interest. He proposes it one day with some nerve, or, you happen to stumble on it yourself. Nonetheless, he enjoys his ass being prodded during oral. You noticed when a fondling hand upon his balls drifted and brushed against his hole. He stiffened and let out a strained noise. You brushed it again before discovering it was one of pleasure. With that information, do as you will. Just know that it makes him release much easier than he intends. He finds it a dirty (although frustratingly pleasurable) trick when you go down on him.
He enjoys toying with your nipples while either betwixt your thighs or wrapped around you. There is a certain look you hold when his thumbs squeeze and roll them. You arch your back a little more and your thighs quiver as the pleasure shoots between them and enhance what he was giving you. It was truly a sight and he didn’t even have to say anything for you to unravel just the way he’d like. Don’t think it’s just hands, either. He’ll glide his tongue along them, sucking and nibbling til he is assured you’re enjoying it.
Gortash (I’m a dirty Gortash lover… sue me. Durge will get some content later, I swear)
Starting off with the normal Tav… If you manage to ‘fix’ him in a sense, he admires your persistence and patience with him. He had a troubled past that he overlooked and developed some… issues from. Yet, it was your kindness and guidance that led him to stopping the Absolute and creating a better city. He is not perfect, by far. Enver is still a controlling man. He needs some sort of power and dominance to soothe his mind. Though, he does not use fear to control his citizens anymore. He’s truly impressed by the way you swayed him. You can see it in the way he gazes at you sometimes. There is certain softness as his hand grasps yours and he looks to you for reassurance in a moment of vulnerability. He needs you to keep him in reigns.
He loves holding you from behind and to bury his face into your neck. The crook between your head and shoulder holds such warmth and a smell that is yours. It reminds him of the path he has chosen… and the person he gets to cherish for it. He places his hands onto your stomach and allows his sharp, metal nails to tease the skin. To remind you of the still powerful man whose giving up such command and control to you. Someone who grounds him. He might even hum into your skin in content if you do not push him away. Honestly, you will eventually. He could cling onto you like a koala of you did not stop him. He murmurs into your skin about how you two rule this kingdom… and one day you’ll be officially betrothed to him. The thought of him proposing and taking your hand in marriage makes your heart flutter.
Although he is so soft with you, he fucks you like he hates you. His cock battering your walls and filling you up so painfully full. He is thick- and makes your mind melt as he stretches you unlike you’ve known. He may not be particularly the longest but he does not lack length. Sadly, foreplay isn’t the best thing he’s at. You can blame it for his inflated ego and quick beds over the years. If you ruined his initial plans and had him submit the Absolute, he seethes in your ear about it. As much as he is a changing man, there is a part deep down that will resent that fact for awhile. He could’ve had everything he’d ever wanted as a boy. “Look at you, such a dirty thing. Soiling my plans, stomping into my heart… and now you’re sprawled on my sheets pathetically.”
When you finally convince or wrangle him into going down on you, it’s a sight. A mess of black hair and hands wrapping around your thighs. His tongue works rapidly, lavishing you in slightly inexperienced licks. Sucking at your sensitive parts before returning to ravishing you with his tongue. It is not that he hasn’t gone down before in all his years… it’s that his ego was so inflamed that he never truly thought or cared for it before you. He’s willing to try and work on better things just for you. As such, this is a way of showing his commitment to you. Not only to indulge in his pleasures but to show he cares about yours.
#baldurs gate 3#baldurs gate iii#baldurs gate tav#baldurs gate wyll#baldurs gate astarion#baldurs gate gortash#enver gortash#astarion#wyll ravengard#bg3 fluff#bg3 smut#bg3 x reader#baldurs gate 3 x reader#astarion x reader#wyll x reader#gortash x reader#headcanon#my personal opinion#i love them so much#my writing#baldurs gate 3 x reader smut#not sfw
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Headcanons for Gale, Astarion, and Gortash: What are nicknames/petnames you can see them giving their lover and what would their lover call them in return?
ASTARION
GIVING: omgggg this dude will call you every petname in existence. he loves the sweet ones because he thinks you’re so STINKIN CUTE !!!!!! 👹 (yes he gets cute aggression). i think his all time favorite is ‘darling’ obvs, but he likes to switch it up for sure. like i can see him calling you ‘pumpkin’ or ‘sweet thing’. shit just throw ‘pookie’ in there too LMFAOO. he also likes to put ‘my’ or ‘little’ in front of them. or both. absolutely coos over you
RECEIVING: unfortunately he would throw up in his mouth if you called him the sickly sweet petnames he calls you LMAO i honestly feel like he’s the type to cringe if he’s called ANY petname 😹😹😹 but i do think he tolerates stuff like ‘dear’ or ‘honey’. also shortening his name to ‘star’ occasionally is alright with him. regardless of what you call him he appreciates the thought and thinks it’s kinda sweet, even if it does make him gag 😹💗
GALE
GIVING: he’s a sucker for the classier, more dignified petnames (picture him looking at astarion in horror after he calls you some shit like ‘snookums’). he prefers stuff like ‘beautiful’/‘handsome’— ‘my love’ or ‘my muse’ are good ones too. he has you on such a high pedestal and thinks you only deserve the most tasteful petnames. i feel like he can get kind of corny with it too though 💀 just more poetically. if he’s feeling creative he’ll probably call you something like ‘my light in the darkest night’ HELPPP 😭😭 he’s so sweet though give him a break 😹😹😹
RECEIVING: ‘handsome’ hands down. i don’t know what it is but i just know this is his favorite. maybe it has something to do with you reassuring him of how handsome he is lol. it also flusters him a little bit when you say it, he gets all bashful and goes “oh, stop it” while trying to hide his smile 😹💗 i think he also likes ‘babe’ too, it’s cute and casual but not goofy
GORTASH
GIVING: i feel like his favorite time to use petnames for you is when you’re in public or around other people. like to him it’s almost a means of showing ownership LMAO. of course ‘dear’ is one he really likes generally. he also lovessss to use ‘little’ or ‘my’ in front of them as a display of possessiveness or power; ‘my little dove’, ‘my dear girl/boy/one’. i don’t really see him having a huge roster of petnames honestly? he’s more of a physical touch or gift giving kind of guy 😹😹
RECEIVING: daddy I’M KIDDINGGG (no i’m not. yes i am. no i’m not) i don’t know if he really cares what you call him. he’s pretty chill with any nickname or petname. he doesn’t take it too seriously or just considers it as you being silly. ALTHOUGH i think if you call him something often enough he’ll grow fond of it— i know a lot of people like to call him ‘gorty’ and i think he would grow to really love that honestly ? 😹😹💗 it becomes special to him because that’s what you call him, not really because of the petname/nickname itself
#some fluff here for u guys THESE ARE SO FUN !!!!!!!!#bg3#enver gortash#astarion#gale dekarios#astarion x reader#enver gortash x reader#gale dekarios x reader#my headcanons#asks
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Putting makeup on them
[ Bg3, fluff, several characters ] [inspired by this ]
Minthara
You straddled her waist as you held the makeup brush. Minthara's laying figure below you remained stoic even as she closed her eyes delicately when you started applying the eyeshadow.
A peaceful silence fell between the two of you. Time fading with each gentle stroke against her skin. Her stressful life and age showed in the subtle wrinkles around her eyes and mouth, you paid no mind to conceal them.
Instead, you focused on her eyes and thin lips. Picking the right colours to complement her violet skintone and grey hair.
When you finished, she made no move to remove you from on top of her, nor did she offer the mirror you handed her more than a mere glance before focusing back on you.
"You did well." Her freshly painted lips said, gloss still shining on them.
Gale
Deep brown eyes looked up at you from where his head laid on your lap, puppylike and lovestruck as he smiled.
"I can't say I had personal experience in this field, but you'd be pleased to find me a most pleasant student." His smile slowly grew into a huge grin as you applied a cream to his face with your fingers, rubbing it into his skin with care.
"Is that what your professors told you? A pleasure to have in class?" You replied, picking up the brush and applying the perfect blue to compliment his eyes, "close your eyes for me."
"Well, no." He closed them, "in the most generous of cases, I was and as they described, a menace."
You chuckled as you tried to keep your hand study with all of his squirming, "I'm starting to agree with them." Maybe he found the sensation ticklish.
Dammon
You cupped his jaw in your hand, tilting his chin up as you leaned in closer. His throat moved as he swallowed, hands fidgeting with the hem of his appron.
"We're almost done, I'm just adding the final touches." You said as you readjusted the brush between your fingers.
He attempted to nod before hesitating and deciding against it to not mess up your work.
The most lovely of blushes adorned his sharp cheekbones as you finished applying it, leaning back and admiring your work.
Dammon seemed more at ease now, as he saw the pride in your eyes at your effort, something he was very familiar with.
Picking up your hand that did all the work, He held it gently in his own as he gave it a small kiss.
The Emperor
You weren't sure where to begin, or even if makeup is safe for mindflayer skin. Tentacles floated and twisted in the air around your form, as if ready to envelope you. Their tips would occasionally brush and trail along your figure, although The Emperor made no effort to acknowledge them.
"I'm waiting." His voice echoed in your mind.
You decide to go with a kid safe makeup kit. If it's safe enough for kids to eat, then it's safe enough for mindflayers... you hoped.
In a strange way, he did make the edible glittery highlights work for him. You thought as you admired your work.
Only when you went to grab the small mirror from your pouch, did you notice that the tentacles have successfully entangled themselves around you while you were too focused to notice.
The Emperor kept pretending that nothing unusual was happening.
You handed him the mirror, and he picked the small thing with his hand as he took a look.
"Now that I've indulged you more than enough, I need you to focus on your mission." Was the last mental message you got before you were unceremoniously kicked out of the Asteral plane.
Gortash
Servants scuttered around the ceremonial hall, carrying food trays and putting the last touches on the decorations.
Gortash sat on his throne in the middle of the commotion, fully dresses in his best of robes, with each silver line and accessory shined just enough to almost resemble a mirror.
You stood in front of him, between his knees, parted to give you the space to get closer. Brush in one hand and your makeup pallet on the other.
If you recall correctly, you did finish helping him with the makeup an hour ago. But apparently, some incident happened that caused him to require your assistance again, and immediately, as the servant who came to fetsh you claimed.
Gortash looked up at you with half lidded eyes, a grin on his lips as you took in his perfect face of makeup.
There wasn't much for you to do, really, the makeup was the same as when you finished an hour ago. So you just stood there while pretending to do something as you brushed away at his skin with an empty brush, occasionally adding the most subtle of powders.
Eventually, it had to end when a servant informed both of you that the guests should be arriving soon.
"Be a dear for me and stay close during the coronation. Who knows when I might just need your expertise again."
Mayrina
"It's been so long, I haven't done this since..." her words trailed off as her lips quivered, "Connor's funeral."
You gently wiped the tear stained black makeup from around her eyes. She held on to your shoulders as you cleaned her face.
Her eyelashes fluttered when you applied mascara to them, her fingers holding onto you as if to anchor herself.
"You shouldn't have...I might just cry and ruin it." She looked away from you with shame brewing in her throat.
"Then I'll just wipe it, and we will start over again," you reassured her, "as many times as you need."
Tears threatened to spill from her glossy eyes as she gave a small smile, carefully wiping away the tears she took a deep breath as she faced you again.
"No, no, I won't. I can be strong, like you." She gave your shoulders a squeeze.
Cazador
Candlelight illuminated the room to make up for the tightly closed curtains. You wondered how anyone is able to tell night from day in this palace.
Your fingers were shaking, you took a deep breath to steady them.
Blood red eyes followed your every movement.
Clearing your throat, you presented the pallet of colours to him. "Which one would you prefer?...Sir."
His lips curled in a mock smile, fangs just peaking through for a split second.
"Black."
He always chose black, yet you always asked.
You worked quickly and efficiently. Your purpose was to give some life to his undead skin and conceal anything that might cause suspicion.
Maybe he was waiting for you to slip, you thought as you applied the subtle black liner. Maybe he's waiting for the day you forget to ask beforehand.
You almost shudder at the thought of what he might do that day.
Karlach
She is trying to kill you, you thought, she definitely is doing it on purpose.
"I said I'm sorry, come on," her arms wrapped around you, attempting to soften you up with a hug, "please?"
You weren't buying it at all.
Each single time you'd finish applying her lipstick, she'd lean forward and drown you in kisses. All over your face, your neck and hell even your ears.
The first time was endearing, and the second time was a bit much, but 5 times in a row? You'd be a fool if you fell for that obvious trap again.
"Can you blame you? How could I possibly resist." She whined as she buried her face in your neck, "You're just so focused when you do it, and I get this urge..."
She continues, "you know, sometimes I just can't believe it, the fact I can touch you and kiss you and hug you, I haven't even felt a single touch in so long and suddenly I'm free from that damn engine to do everything I've longed for and more."
...
God dammit karlach.
With a sigh, you tell her fine, you'll do it again.
Maybe you really are a fool, but who wouldn't be after seeing that genuine smile of happiness on her face. You'd be the biggest fool in all of faerun if it meant keeping her happy.
Shadowheart
"What, like a doll? Are you sure you won't ask to dress me up next?" She gives a teasing smile as she sits next to you on the couch, looking over your side of makeup equipments and scattered brushes.
"You say that like you don't like the idea." You tease back as you get closer to her, one leg resting on her lap.
"Hmm, maybe I do. What are you going to do about it?" She lets you brush her hair behind her ears, using clips to keep it in place as you get a clear view of her full face.
"I'll let you pick mine if i get to pick yours."
That catches her interest, "You'll just hand me the power of putting you in anything I want... you do know how to persuade someone."
As you start applying her makeup, you feel her relax with your touches. Her skin is very soft against your fingers.
You take your time, making sure to pick something that suits her personal style. As enticing as the thought of going on with a full hot pink on her, you know there will be consequences later. She doesn't forgive nor forget.
After painting her lips, you hand her a mirror. She observes her reflection with a surprised expression.
"I knew you were good at this, I just didn't expect...wow" her eyes are mostly focused on the reflection of her lips.
With a smug experience, you ask if it her highness the princess has any complaints.
"Yeah....just one thought." She puts the mirror down as she leans closer, holding your thigh on her lap so you don't move away.
Pressing her lips onto yours, she kisses you with passion, making you chase after her as she pulls away.
"This colour looks much better on you."
#♡fluff#♡Minthara#♡Gale#♡Dammon#♡The Emperor#♡Gortash#♡Cazador#♡karlach#♡Shart#♡Mayrina#bg3#bg3 x reader#gale x reader#gale dekarios#minthara x reader#minthara baenre#gortash x reader#enver gortash#cazador szarr#Cazador x reader#karlach x reader#Karlach#shadowheart x reader#The Emperor x reader#the emperor#bg3 mayrina#Mayrina x reader#dammon#Dammon x reader
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I want Tav and Gortash to be them 🥺
Just random thoughts ~<3
“I would die for her. I would kill for her. Either way, what bliss.”
#bg3 tav#bg3 fluff#bg3#bg3 fic#baldurs gate 3#gortash x durge#gortash x tav#enver gortash#lord gortash#bg3 gortash#bg3 headcanons#astarion bg3#bg3 fanfiction#bg3 halsin
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Masterlist
Hello, fellow Astarion simps! I write thoughts into condensed and cohesive ideas sometimes (not often), and I thought I'd keep them here. Feel free to toss in any requests or comments or incoherent screeching my way in my ask box! 😁 All I ask is that if you're a minor, please do not read or interact with any of my NSFW posts, and that everyone please remain nice and civil; no bashing, no hate, no direct OR indirect insults to me or anyone else, or any of the characters (unless it's Cazador; all my friends hate Cazador).
Thanks for stopping by! ❤️💋
Things I write:
Fanfiction (fluff, smut, angst, hurt/comfort)
Scenarios
Headcanons
AU (not as often, but I'm open to it if the idea inspires me)
F x M
F x GN
M x GN
Character x Reader
Character x Tav (please specify race for accuracy!)
Who I write:
Astarion Ancunin
Gale Dekarios
Halsin Silverbough
Raphael & Haarlep
Enver Gortash
Shadowheart (coming soon!)
Wyll Ravenguard (coming soon!)
What I Stay Away From:
Non/Con in an established relationship
Degradation kink
Spit/cum swapping orally
Everything else I can think of is a case by case basis, so just ask me!
🌙 Requests are Open 🌙
Fanfiction:
Astarion:
Consternation (angst)
Submerged in Devotion (smut)
~ ~ ~
Gortash:
Persuasion (fluff/smut)
~ ~ ~
Halsin:
Unsolicited Affections (Part 1 - Fluff | Part 2 - Hurt/Comfort)
~~~
Gale:
Halloween in Waterdeep (fluff)
~~~
Poly or Multiple Companions/NPCs:
Cushioned Affections - Gale/Astarion/Tav (fluff)
Follow Me to Pleasure - Gale/Astarion/Tav (smut)
Headcanons:
Astarion:
Astarion finds comfort in your bosom
Halsin:
Halsin takes care of you when you're sick (but make it 1st pov)
#astarion#baldur's gate 3#astarion x tav#astarion x reader#bg3 astarion#bg3#astarion ancunin#astarion bg3#astarion fanfic#writing#my writing#astarion smut#bg3 astarion smut#astarion angst#astarion fluff#spawn astarion#vampire spawn#gale dekarios#gale of waterdeep#bg3 gale#gale romance#baldurs gate gale#gale x tav#gale bg3#enver gortash#gortash bg3#enver gortash bg3#halsin silverbough
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Gortash: Stop doing that.
Tav: Stop doing what?
Gortash: Saying things that make me want to kiss the hells out of you.
#little tyrant [enver gortash]#Archduke Enver Gortash#Enver Gortash#Lord Enver Gortash#incorrect quotes#Tav#Gortash x Tav#Tavtash#bg3#bg 3#baldur's gate 3#|| What about fluff? I like fluff.
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Equilibrium
Pairing: The Dark Urge/Enver Gortash
Rating: Mature
Word Count: 2.3k
His eyes were almost sympathetic. “Not remembering who you were doesn’t erase it.”
Goneril tilted her head back with a sigh so he wouldn’t see her wince. She didn’t care much for the philosophy around her existence, the nature of her soul and perceptions. What did the weight of her thoughts matter? Or the measure of her being? As far as she was concerned, it was all just red.
----
After the archduke's coronation, Goneril seeks out the man who claims to know her.
#bg3#baldur's gate 3#bg3 fanfiction#bg3 fic#enver gortash#durgetash#m: writing#i promise me not writing fluff is not a sign that i've been kidnapped or body snatched#unless.......#oc: goneril
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Icy Hells
°•○Placeholder for banner to be added○•°
Fandom : Baldur's Gate
Rating : Teens and Ups, SFW
Pairing : Gortash/Reader
Dynamic : Non specified dynamic
Tags : Gender Neutral Reader, Fluff, Affection, Soft Gortash
Summary :
Your cold fingers will be the death of him.
"Hells, dear !" Gortash hissed, recoiling from your touch, almost looking as if protecting himself with the papers he was taking from your hands.
"What ?? What ?" You panicked, confused as to what happened, leaning back from your partner - a tad of offense aiding in that as well.
"Your hands are icy, my love." He complained, straightening himself now that he'd processed he hadn't been attacked, simply witnessing your poor fingers' state.
You rolled your eyes, easing as well now that you understood his reaction, turning back to his desk to order the papers from the chaos they were laid in.
"Hey."
You hummed in question.
"Come here, my love."
You sighed, still a little grumpy, but turned to him anyway, taking the step needed to be near again. Gortash grabbed your hands in his, fingers immediately working to rub warmth into them, thoughtlessly bringing them to his face to kiss and breathe against as well. His seemingly instinctive affection brought a smile to your face, helping alleviate the tension in your muscles from the cold.
"You don't have to, you know. I'm not cold, it just happens sometimes."
He hummed, kissing your knuckles again, speaking against your skin. "Do not mind, my dear. I simply do not wish for you to surprise me like this again." His tone was laced with amusement, making it clear he was very much trying to help you.
"Ah, well," you sighed, smile broadening, "thank you, Enver."
"Thank me once your fingers aren't so stiff. I will get the room heated up soon."
Knowing better than to argue, you agreed, leaning to him to brush your nose to his, making him curse with a grimace.
"On second thought, we're taking a hot bath, right now. You will turn me into ice before I can even warm you anymore."
You groaned, kissed his cheek, and accepted your fate, following him as he stood and walked away from his desk.
"Will you still dote on me a little ?"
"I'm offended you'd think otherwise, my love." Gortash snorted, lacing his fingers with yours, smirk making you laugh with him. But right he was, and you were only teasing, knowing you were about to be pampered to Hells and back.
A promising time, truly.
#my writing#bg3 x reader#baldur's gate 3 x reader#gortash x reader#enver gortash x reader#fluff#kisses#non specified dynamic#gender neutral reader
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I have Drugetash AU brain worms, but they won’t fully form enough to make fics so I’m dumping them here.
Idea 1: Durge through Bhalspawn magic or normal sex could have children with Gortash and both were planning to do this. They were not going to get married, Gortash would marry someone else for political empire expansion reasons latter down the line, but Durge and Gortash had both plotted that as part of their take over the world plan they would have children together and those would be their heirs that Gortash would legitimize and just not have children with his actual wife / essentially political puppet.
This idea is courtesy of Dune, I just love the idea of Durge being a consort and Gortash promising to never touch his actual wife and only having kids with Durge.
“I swear to you now that you’ll need no title. That woman over there will be my wife and you but a concubine because this is a political thing. Yet she shall have no more of me then my name. no child of mine, nor touch, nor softness of glance, nor instant of desire.” - quote from Dune that I died thinking of Gortash saying to Durge.
Idea 2: the above is still true but this is a Tav play through so Durge fucking dies. And in this play through Durge and Gortash have known each other for a Loong time, like 10+ years and then Durge dies. Bonus angst points if Durge is pregnant and that is part of why Orin tortures them to death.
Fortunately in idea 2 land it is a Tav/Gortash fix it world so somehow Gortash doesn’t die at the end of the game and Tav has a crush on Gortash, but it’s complicated by the fact that Gortash is still getting over his recently murdered long term lover but has 0 coping skills except insisting that ‘it’s in the past, it doesn’t matter!’ And trying to plow on not even mentioning Durge to Tav if it can be helped.
Triple angst points if it follows many Tav/Gortash things I’ve seen where post Brain the two get married to maintain political stability which brings up angst from the promise Gortash made in Idea 1 about not caring about his marriage partner cuz he would have Durge, but Durge is super dead and Tav is left trying to pick up and puzzle the pieces together.
#enver gortash#bg3#bg3 durge#durgetash#bg3 gortash#dark urge#goretash#gortash/tav#gortash/durge#bg3 tav#headworms#headcanon#i have a lot more random thoughts but these two were the most linked#durge dies in all tav playthroughs#why is durge never brought up in Tav/Gortash fics?#let me have durge angst and Tav fluff in one fic with my favorite racoon politician!
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Can't throw daddy's name around to get what you want all the time, Durge, put away the dramatic lighting
Am a big supporter of the 'Durge likes gnolls while Enver doesn't' headcanon
#if i misspelled anything dont tell me#let me live in a nicer world#bg3#the dark urge#durgetash#enver gortash#baldur's gate 3#fanart#durge#oc strike#bg3 durge#gnoll#bg3 gnolls#bg3 dark urge#bg3 bhaalspawn#incorrect bhaalspawn quotes#durgetash fluff
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a flame in your heart (gortash x tav pt. 17)
Author's Note: More Gortash POV. Struggled a bit with this one but didn't want to delay it any longer. Tooth-rotting fluff.
-------------------
I woke up with the worst headache I've ever had in my life. Like someone stuck a sword through my eye, out the back of my skull, and was jiggling it around just to torment me. Too much whiskey, of course, but I wasn't about to swear off drinking when I knew damn well I was probably going to just do it again. Not when the burn of that Rotgut Red is so strong it can keep me awake when I need it to.
On my side, pillows behind me, and a potion on the bedtable for the hangover. I sat up, guzzled it, and looked around for Tav once the throbbing in my skull finally stopped.
She wasn't there.
(Normally, I'm the one to wake first, or at least to get up first. When she sleeps in my bed she thinks I don't notice her pretending to still be asleep. Lazy little thing.)
I didn't remember coming to bed. There was a vague recollection of the cool night again against my skin...an owlbear, for some reason, and one of the Flaming Fists. Then a whore from Sharess's Caress. What in the hells happened?
"Ah, good morning, m'lord." One of the chamber servants entered as I continued to puzzle. "The bath is a bit cool but we can redraw it if need be."
"No. No, that won't be necessary."
I'd bathe, then I would figure out what had happened the night before...and why exactly that whore keeps showing up in Wyrm's Rock. Tav has been known to be open to sharing before, but that was before she was a married woman. Perhaps that woman was here for her, but...no, she has never looked away from me as a source of...excitement.
She enjoys my firm hand too much, and I'm certain no one else could scratch the itch she has to be controlled the way I can.
As for me...
What if she got the idea I was looking outside of the marriage for excitement, without saying anything to her first...the Black Hand is one thing, what happens with him is akin to a mass, a communion. Not the sort of thing that can be easily refused. Whores are another thing entirely.
I can do what I want, when I want. If I wanted to visit Sharess's Caress daily, I would do so. The other ladies of Baldur's Gate would likely tell Tav she should be glad of the relief.
Still...
I shall endeavor to be only what the role requires, Lord Gortash
The idea that Tav could speak those words again, turn that same look in my direction was...unsettling, and I hate the fact. As if a wall had come up between us--resignation, sadness--I still remembered that look, and I didn't want to see it again.
It is obvious now more than ever why Bane discourages love. The feeling makes me weak. Yet at the same time -
Only one of us is wearing a crown right now, my love.
Maybe it had been a slip of the tongue, but when I heard those words, there was a bloom in my chest I'd never felt before. A bloom that's still there when Tav directs her smiles at me.
Gods, I really can't get her off my mind. I don't want to tell her about that whore being in my quarters but she's going to find out anyway. Best to get the disappointment over with.
I let the valet do his job for once while I thought over the situation. Then when he was done helping me dress I asked, "Where is my wife?"
"She is currently...feeding the little Lord Cald, Archduke. From what I can gather she means to take the morning off, Berlina says she didn't sleep well."
Well, it wasn't a mystery as to why she would be worrying about that, I supposed.
Tav smiled at me as I walked in, and the bloom hit me again. Gods, what did I do to get this? Neither of us cared for one another when this started. It was a means to an end, all of it. Cozying up to her, whispering what I thought she wanted to hear, and slowly extending my power over her. Finding she wanted it...enjoyed it. Certainty in an unsteady world.
Focus
"Is he well?"
"Well enough," Tav said quietly, "Cald has another tooth coming in, and he's been quite fussy."
"Baba!" Cald spotted me, and from his spot in Tav's lap raised his arms. "Baba!"
"He wants you...you aren't still drunk, are you?"
"Of course not, I slept that off...though...speaking of which..." I took Cald from her when she offered, and looked down at--my son's dark eyes. My eyes.
And he was smiling. My son was smiling at me.
"You look upset, is he...filling his diaper already?"
Tav's words were a little unsteady, but the smile still hadn't left her face.
"No, it's nothing to do with him," I replied, waving my free hand absently. "It's...about last night."
"Ah...the trip back. I apologize." She shook her head. "You refused to come back on your own, so...I was asked to assist."
"I won't be hearing about it, will I?"
"Possibly...I asked the Flaming Fist who was with us to try and keep anything from getting out, but...I'm not sure how much he can do. You were...you were, ah...naked."
"Naked."
By the black hand, not THIS again.
"You told me you were too hot and...I suppose instead of calling for ice, or getting something cool to eat or drink your addled mind decided stripping was the best idea. I did the best I could, but...well, I imagine you were seen. I though if I carried you back as an owlbear it'd both making carrying you easier and ensure that they'd pay more attention to that than to you...but it remains to be seen whether I'm right. I haven't exactly been able to check."
"I suppose that must have been when I..."
"When you what?" she asked.
Again that look. She really must have known, I'm not the sort of man to stay quiet when I'm...enjoying myself.
"When I ordered that whore into my room."
I waited. I waited for a look of pain, or an expression of anger. But neither ever came, and Tav did something entirely unexpected.
She laughed.
The woman laughed.
Cald, in my arms, followed with a little giggle of his own. Mother happy, son happy. It was almost soothing to watch.
"I fail to see what's so funny about it, I've...we never settled if it was--if you were amenable to--"
Gods, why does speaking to this woman make my tongue malfunction?
"First of all, you could do as you please and dare me to say something about it, but I am...glad, very glad, that you think of discussing these things with me first. I'm not opposed to sharing you, so long as they don't think to take my place and we talk about it first. Our communions with the Black Hand prove that well enough...he doesn't desire to take my place, it's more that he...owns...both of us."
"But not with a--"
"Enver, let me just stop you before you tie yourself up in any more knots. There was no whore in your room last night."
"How can you be so sure?"
"Because I was," Tav huffed like she was holding back a laugh. "Twice now you've gotten drunk with me around. And twice now you've mistaken me for that woman from Sharess's Caress."
"I--what?"
The thought had never occurred to me.
"You get drunk and think I'm her, but that's not even the best part." Tav's soft smile deepened. "The best part is that you see me, and tell who you think is her to bugger off because you're a married man. Both times you did that."
I--
"And do you know what else you did last night?" She went on as she stood and moved in my direction, "My dear, faithful husband?"
I had no words. There were no words in my vocabulary to convey the thing I was feeling in that moment. 'Short-circuit' would be the most apt term to describe what happened, I think.
A peck on the cheek.
"You said you loved me."
Heart pounded in chest. Throat. Ears, even. How Cald didn't notice, I don't, but he seemed to quickly be settling in, utterly comfortable where he was.
"Now, I'm fairly certain you didn't mean it, but those three words...ah, they made the entire trip worth it." Tav rested her head against my shoulder then, and reached up to ruffle Cald's hair. "My poor drunk husband, insistent he can't bed me because he's married...and when I asked why that should matter, he says 'because I love her.' Now...if you don't mind, I'm going to call the wet nurse. I have a full afternoon so I need to eat quickly and have that nap."
As she was heading for the door I finally found my words again.
"I did mean it."
Tav stopped in the doorway, just after calling for the wet nurse. "What?"
"I DID mean it," I swallowed. "That I loved you."
Every muscle tensed, pulled taut. I waited with more anxiety than I felt each passing second when Durge and I stole the Crown of Karsus. I could've died back then. But this felt--something more than the fear of death.
Tav seemed to tremble, and didn't say more until the wet nurse came in to take Cald from me.
Then we were alone again. She walked back into my room with me.
"You love me?" she finally asked.
Another pause, a lean against me, a deep breath.
"I never thought to hear those words from you. Or that I would love you in return."
I took in a sharp breath.
"But I do."
#gortash is really going through it#he doesnt remember last night too well lol#gortash bg3#tav#bg3 tav#gortav#enver gortash#tavtash#bg3#fanfiction#bg3 fanfic#bg3 fic#gortash fluff#fluff
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Chapter 21- Sweetness
AO3 Link
Masterpost
Summary: Ilara continues to dream, and remember. She pays penance for her friendship with Gortash, so he shows her a moment of tenderness. Durgetash fluff.
She stopped in the shadows of his office, the way she had been doing for the past few weeks now every time she came here. She observed him quietly, the way she always did. She hadn't been to see Raphael in some time, his call through her magic having remained silent. That was fine, she wasn't ready to talk to him and have him pry information out of her about her plan to steal the crown from his father. He would probably laugh, encourage her to see what fun could come out of it. She was grateful for the respite in what sometimes felt like never ending submission between him and her father.
Her father. She had come to Enver this time after having been punished for being here at all, and she took pleasure in the fact that this meeting would only increase Bhaal's annoyance with her. Maybe he would release her and end her miserable life so she didn't have to waste away bringing him corpses to decorate his altar. She flexed her fingers against the chafing, raw pain in them and clenched her teeth against the heat of dried blood on her back.
Scleritas had not been kind as her father made him count those lashes, and she had screamed her throat raw while dragging her knuckles across the bloody stones. She shook her head, trying to bring herself back to her body. Pain wasn't new. Pain she could handle. And she had certainly handled it, every night of the last two weeks as she pleaded, said she would bring others and that for now, they needed Bane and his servant and their plan. A begrudging acceptance from her father, but her punishment was swift nonetheless. Defiance would not stand, even if there was a better plan.
What she couldn't handle was him. She couldn't quite put her finger on it. She had spent so little time with anyone outside of devils, myconids, other worshippers at the temple, victims she kept at arms length until she needed them to warm the floor with their offering of blood. She was not used to the way he asked her probing questions. The way he was interested in watching her as she sat sketching. She had furrowed her brow at him in confusion when she had returned after that first day, him holding out the small book to her, along with a small leather wrapping of pens.
You said you liked to draw. I figured you could use this, when you're here. I won't look in it, it'll be safe for when you want it. She had taken the book and small pouch in her hands, stunned by the simple act of kindness. Nobody had ever given her a gift before, certainly not without a cost. When she incredulously asked him what he wanted from her and he said just your company it had only made the worms in her stomach squirm even more, her confusion grow brighter.
When he had suggested that they sit together and she draw while he works on some blueprints, she found herself agreeing, curious at what spending leisure time with someone else looked like. She found herself regularly peeking up from her sketches to see what he was doing, only to see him looking back at her, his eyes quickly going back down to his own work. Their banter had grown comfortable and light in those few weeks, the two of them falling into a natural rhythm to see who could have the upper hand. More than a few times he had reached forward, gently rubbing his thumb over ink she had gotten on her nose. She wondered what he was thinking in those moments, if like her, he felt that pull to find a connection amongst the chaos of their lives. She finally stepped forward, clearing her throat as he looked up at her.
She was so used to his normal mask of apathy that for a moment, she was caught off guard by the emotion she saw flicker across his face. If she didn't know any better, she would have thought it was concern.
"You're bruised." She felt a pleasurable warmth in her stomach at the sound of his voice, and she couldn't help but let out a small bitter chuckle.
"I am always bruised, Enver." She watched him closely as she spoke, the way his eyes softened slightly as she called him by his name, the way the muscles in his arms tensed as he pushed against his desk, standing and walking over to her. The familiar tang of the magic from his coat hit her tongue, the warmth of his own scent hitting her nose. He always smelled like warm soap, fresh water. Clean and sharp and dark. She flinched as he raised a hand to brush her face, his fingers only stopping inches from her skin before he dropped them, realizing what he was doing. This time, he cleared this throat.
"You've got dirt all over your face, your hair is a rats nest, and you are covered in what appears to be your blood as well as a spattering of bruises. What happened to you? I only saw you two days ago and you certainly were not this worse for wear." She found herself prickling at the insults, annoyed as ever by the fact that he was not afraid of her. That damn coat.
"Do you take the god of murder to be kind, Enver? I was supposed to kill you, and yet I come here every night and laugh with you while we sit by candlelight. That defiance comes with a price." There. There it was again, another flicker of emotion. She faltered as she stared back at him, noticing that this time he didn't smooth over his face. Guilt. He was looking at her with guilt. He reached his hand up again, letting his fingers whisper against her cheekbone as he brushed her hair out of her face.
"You were hurt because of me. Punished. Because of me." It wasn't a question, just a statement of facts. She said nothing in response, frozen in spot by the delicate touches. Nobody had ever touched her like that. It was always starved, hungry, desperate, wanting, hurting, bruising, taking. She wasn't sure if she preferred this, but it made warm prickles of heat curl inside her chest so she did not pull away. She closed her eyes, instead finding herself leaning into his touch, his palm warm against her cheek. They stood there like that for a moment before she realized what she was doing, and she snapped her eyes open, taking a step back from him and watching as his hand fell back to his side, as that careful mask of apathy slipped back over his features.
"I'll draw you a bath. And get you some clean clothes. And food." She opened her mouth and he must have seen the incoming objection because he lifted his hand, that voice he used when he didn't want an argument coming out.
"This isn't a discussion, Ilara. You'll be taken care of. It's my fault you're uncomfortable." That annoyed her too. It wasn't his fault, not really. She had a choice. She still has that same choice, should she want to. But she could endure the punishments. Those long nights spent laughing by candlelight and asking each other questions was too tempting to give up, at least for now. She was too starved of friendship to not put up with a few lashes.
"It isn't your fault," she heard the words come out of her mouth, stunned by them. She was not used to trying to comfort people, to assuage their guilt instead of her own. It was so foreign to her. He smiled at her, and the way his lips tilted up sent a small trickle of heat running through her stomach, her eyes drawn to them. Her mouth felt like cotton, her eyes snapping up to his as he spoke, heat spreading across her face at the thoughts she had been having about those lips.
"Gods, you are a matryr. Of course you'd say that. Bathroom, now." She didn't argue with him as he reached his hands out, placing them on her shoulders and lightly spinning her around, urging her towards the stairs where she knew his bathroom and bed were. They hadn't been back to his bed since that first night's tense conversation as they had sat across from each other, sizing each other up. She couldn't help but think that the hot bath would feel good on her aching muscles, on the raw skin striping her back. She felt him gently push her again when she didn't move, casting an irritated glance over her shoulder at him.
"I can walk, thank you." The words came out harsher than she intended despite her desire for the bath, and she saw that familiar flicker of amusement at her neverending sass dance in his eyes. Sometimes, she wished he were afraid of her. Sometimes, it was nice for the fear to not be there at all. She wondered if he would fear her without that coat.
"Then by all means dearest, walk." Dearest. She wondered why he did things like that. The sketchbook. The soft names. He was such a puzzle to her. She shook the tension out of her muscles, turning back around towards the stairs and heading up them. She could hear his quiet footfalls behind her, watching him carefully as he went ahead of her and into the bathroom.
She stopped in the doorway, observing him with that same carefulness she always did. He had started the bathwater already, dropping small oils in it by the time she appeared to watch him. She wondered for a moment why he was doing this himself, he had plenty enough servants he could have asked to do it for him. She assumed it was some of that misplaced guilt, that he felt like he owed her something. Her sins were her own, she didn't know what to do with pity.
She could smell the warm scent of rain and flowers wafting up from the building steam, and it made her chest burn with longing for a life long gone. Not that he would have known that. She walked forwards, stopping at the edge of the tub next to him, watching the steam curl off the top of the water.
"There are towels over there, when you're finished. I'll be downstairs if you'd like to join me when you're done." She felt her hand snap out before she could think, her fingers ghosting against his arm as he turned to leave. They both froze in spot, equally surprised by her rare touch.
"Will you stay?" The question felt too intimate and she immediately felt herself blushing, the tips of her pointed ears burning with heat. She didn't know why she had asked him that, but for some reason, being alone felt worse. She had started to open her mouth again, to laugh and say nevermind she hadn't meant that, but his next words stopped her.
"Of course." They were almost too simple in their conviction, as if he hadn't been surprised she'd asked and was annoyed she would think he would have said anything else.
"Will you turn around, though? So I can get in?" Her face still felt warm, and it only got warmer at the burning look in his eyes as he traversed them up and down her body, stopping back to meet her gaze.
"If you wish." He turned, clasping his hands behind his back, waiting patiently for her to get into the water. She hesitated for only a moment, so unnerved by both her own request and his agreement that she thought it might be better if she left. Then she got another waft of that warm, flower scented water, the nostalgia for her old life, and she found herself quickly slipping out of her tunic and pants, stepping over the edge of the tub, and sinking into the water with a sigh. She pulled her knees up to her chest, resting her chin on them as she stared at his back.
"You can turn around now." She drank in his desire as his gaze slid back to hers, his eyes sliding down to where her knees rested in the water. She was almost tempted to lower her legs, to let him see her, but she felt oddly aware of herself in a way she usually didn't. He always made her feel that way. She watched him as he stepped forwards around the tub, her head tilting softly as he stopped, some decision crossing his features before he sighed. He turned back around, removing his coat and folding it neatly, setting it on the sink before turning back to look at her.
Well, that is certainly new. She hadn't expected that at all, as many times as she had poked and prodded to try and unravel the mystery of that coat, he had offered no explanation beyond he simply did not want to deal with the messiness of something as trivial as fear, and that no, he would not be removing it. She quirked an eyebrow as he rolled up his sleeves, exposing the smooth expanse of his strong, tanned arms.
"What are you doing?" She asked as he walked around the edge of the tub, stopping behind her. He picked a cup off the floor, gesturing down to the water.
"Can I wash you? Just where you're comfortable, you don't have to move. Your back and hair maybe." Of all the things she had wondered that he might ask, that was the farthest from her mind. She didn't know how to respond to his request. Even in all her years of that mockery of freedom, she had never had anyone offer to bathe her. Myconids weren't ones to need such things, and her victims she lured to the temple certainly had no time for hygeine or base comforts. Her baths in the boudoir at the house of hope hardly counted even if Haarlep was sometimes there, the healing waters necessary to erase the signs of Raphael's affections.
"How many times?" She froze further at this next question, casting a glance over her shoulder to look at him. He was staring at her back. She sighed.
"You don't want the answer to that."
"I do." She saw something flash across his face. If she wasn't so unnerved already, she would almost say it looked like fear. Interesting, she thought.
"It was only twice the first week, three times the second. Now it's three dozen every two days that you are not dead. I get one day between for reprieve and in that time I am to repent by bringing other lost souls to the temple to lay their lives down instead of yours." She tensed as she felt him reach out, tracing one of those callused fingers she had wondered about so many times down her spine.
"I'm sorry." The words hung there between them, and she wished that she could swallow them down, wipe away his shame at her pain. She wanted him to understand it was worth it, that he was worth it. That she was feeling raw in a way she had never been allowed to feel before. She couldn't say the words, too frozen by the aching fear of her own vulnerability.
She flinched as warm water spilled over her shoulders, relaxing as he lifted the cup again to gently pour it over her head. She tilted her head back, letting her eyes close softly as he continued to pour water through her dark curls, the water beneath them turning a murky red with the dried blood that seemed to always be hidden in them. A soft sigh left her mouth when she felt his fingers softly, almost tenderly massaging against her scalp, the scent of his fresh rainwater soap filling the air. Maybe being vulnerable wasn't as bad as she thought it was going to be.
She couldn't help the way the tension seemed to melt out of her shoulders, the sharp sparks of pain uncoiling as he gently pressed a soapy washcloth over her back, washing clean the wounds from her punishment. She almost felt angry at the tenderness he was showing, undeserving of it as she was. He knew what she was, he knew what she did when she left Wyrm's Rock to crawl back to her chains, her doctrine, her duty. But the feeling of his hands brushing against her skin so softly, the glide of that warm water on her aching bruises- it was too sweet to say no to. She wanted to savor this moment, to remember it always. She hoped against hope that she would never forget this.
She almost felt bereft when his hands left her skin, as he stepped away towards the sink and grabbed a towel, turning to hand it to her before he averted his gaze. She reached out slowly and took it from him, intrigued by the color in his cheeks. She wasn't used to him not making direct eye contact with her, with anyone really. She stood, wrapping the towel around herself and continuing to look at him.
"Thank you," the words felt foreign on her tongue. She was used to thanking for many things between devils and Gods, but thanking the man before her for washing her was not something she had seen coming.
"Don't thank me." His voice was softer as he looked back at her, seeming entranced by the way the water dripped off her skin, his eyes traveling down to the top of the towel sitting just below the tops of her breasts. He cleared his throat loudly, turning back to the sink and grabbing his coat, sliding it on before waving a hand in the air, indicating she should follow.
She did so wordlessly, almost disappointed when he slipped it back on. He had seemed so much more raw in those few moments he could feel everything, and she found herself craving to see more of that softness. They stopped in his room, and he turned to her, pointing at the dresser behind them.
"You'll find clothes there. They might be too big on you but you'll be comfortable. You can sleep in my bed. Do not-" he continued, holding up his hand at her incoming protest- "argue with me. I will sleep down on the couch. Your father will live. I want you to get a good night's sleep, for once. I'm sure my bed will be more comfortable than whatever you have cobbled together at that temple." Her bed in the temple was not uncomfortable, but it was not comfortable either. Large and hard, relatively flat. She had sat on Gortash's bed only a few weeks ago, and had to admit that it was much more comfortable.
"Stay with me. Don't... Don't go sleep on the couch. Sleep with me." She didn't know why she wanted his vulnerability so bad, why she wanted to show him her own. She didn't want anything from him other than the comfort of his body laying next to hers while she slept. His eyes softened again, and he nodded slowly.
"If you wish." She did. She didn't know what exactly it was she wished for, but she wished very, very much. She nodded her head, and needing to feel not as embarrassed she turned and walked over to the dresser, pulling out one of his shirts. She turned back to him, purposefully letting the towel fall and carefully watching the look of desire cross his features as she slipped the shirt over her head.
"Are you not going to put on anything else?" She smirked softly, a game she was now familiar with playing.
"Nope." She thirstily took in the way his eyes raked down her thighs, stopping where the shirt did, lingering.
"Very well. Go. To the bed." His voice was lower, strained, and she could tell he was barely maintaining that careful control he tried so hard to keep in place. It made more heat curl in her stomach, but she obeyed, walking slowly over to the bed and sinking down amongst the sea of soft silk. She watched as he, for the second time that evening, removed and carefully folded his coat. Her hungry gaze watched as he removed his pants, rolling up his sleeves and standing before her in just his boxers and undershirt. He slid into the bed next to her, their bodies only inches apart under the blanket.
She didn't know why she did it, but she found herself closing that space, pressing her face against the crook of his neck. She was almost as surprised as he was at her rare burst of affection, a soft gasp leaving his mouth as he slowly, hesitantly wrapped his arms around her. She felt safe. She never felt safe.
"Goodnight, Enver," she said quietly.
"Goodnight, Ilara," he whispered back.
***
#ilara#gortash#enver gortash#durgetash#durgetash fluff#fluff fic#bg3 fluff#bg3 fic#bg3 fanfic#the dark urge#durge#is the longest chapter I've written so far a fluffy bath scene? yes
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Devil's Dance - for @euryalex
A commission fic for the lovely @euryalex, featuring her Tav, Tara Lunarsong, and Wyll Ravengard - thank you so much for commissioning me, lovely, you were a real pleasure to work with! The banner was created using one of @euryalex's own screenshots.
Devil's Dance
Aevan will be there.
Tara shook her head, chasing away the inevitable suggestion of long-held fear that came with that thought. Aevan Covaldi, her former master and still a high ranking noble of this city ... yes, he would be at the ball tonight, held to honour Enver Gortash’s ascension to the rank of Archduke of Baldur’s Gate. No matter what she had done, or what he thought of her now, he would try his hand to drag her back under his control. She could not suppress a shudder at the prospect of being once more entirely at his mercy.
A flicker of motion in the reflection, dragging violet eyes from their contemplation of herself to the entrance of the companion who needed her to be on top of this tonight. Wyll looked almost as uncomfortable as she felt, hands twitching at the finery they had procured for the evening. They had been invited, they would play their part. After all, this was the life that awaited him when his own father eventually chose to step down. He would be the next Duke Ravengard of the Gate, as was his birthright.
The reluctance on his face was covered in an instant as she turned to greet him, replaced with the warm smile that she had grown so accustomed to from him. No day was now complete without at least one of those smiles from Wyll, and he never seemed to tire of bestowing them upon her. This time, however, it was touched with something that drew more heat to her skin, promising a thrill they had flirted with just barely over the weeks they had been travelling together.
“Tara, you look ...” He spread his hands, that smile deepening at his own loss for words. “Beautiful barely touches the radiance I see before me.”
She laughed, cheeks warming with almost shy delight at his appreciation.
“It is a wonder what well made clothing can do for even the most dowdy person,” she agreed, a teasing tilt to her head as she took the hand he offered to her.
“You jest, surely,” he said, holding her arm out so that he could drink in the magnificence of his companion clad in silk and velvet to match the jewel-dark tones of her hair and eyes. “It is not the dress that makes you shine, my lady.”
“And it is not your finery that draws my eyes, but the good heart and soul behind your every word and action,” was her tender response, fingers squeezing his for a brief moment before her smile faded. “Are you ready to do this?”
He held her gaze for an uncomfortable moment, stone eye and living both seeming to share the pain of his reluctant duty with her.
“In truth, I do not believe I shall ever be ready to be a part of this vipers’ nest we call high society,” he confessed. “But it is my father’s wish - and our own design - that I attend this evening. I am grateful that you will be at my side.”
“You have no idea how much I echo that sentiment.”
“Then, my dearest lady, shall we enter the dragon’s lair together?” Wyll drew her hand to the crook of his arm, laying his palm with warm comfort over her fingers. “I will not leave your side, I swear it.”
Tara let her relief show in her own smile as she curled her hands to his elbow, the two of them stepping from the rooms they had been given to make their way down to the entry hall. The ball was already in full swing, the new Archduke presiding over the celebration of those who knew his purpose and those innocent of it. As his guests, and guests of Duke Ravengard, they should have been downstairs over an hour ago. They could not put it off any longer.
The grands doors opened, their names announced to the gathering, and all eyes fell upon them. And what did those eyes see? A half-elven sorceress arrayed like a queen, on the arm of the Blade of Frontiers, the devil son of Duke Ravengard. Those same eyes lingered on the horns that curled from Wyll’s head, one the warning flicker of lightning at the fingertips of his companion when she noted too many recoiling in disgust and fear. It did not matter how much Duke Ulder may declare his faith in his son - the transformation visited upon him by Mizora would forever be the first impression he made upon those he met. The nobility could be ruthless if they spotted weakness; Tara curled her fingers tighter to Wyll’s sleeve. They could not show any weakness here.
“Ah, my guests! At last you grace us with your presence!”
Gortash’s voice cut through the silence, and it seemed as though the room took a breath.
“My lord.” Wyll bowed, though his hand did not leave Tara’s as she inclined her head to the devious man sat above them. “Our apologies for our tardiness.”
Gortash’s smile was painfully knowing, the tadpoles squirming in their heads as his regard focused on them.
“No apology is needed, I assure you,” he declared. “Were my companion such a rare jewel, I too would delay sharing her with the world.”
Tara managed to turn her grimace at the implication into a dignified sneer of a smile, glad when Gortash seemed to dismiss them with a wave of his hand, extorting the musicians to play once more. Allowed to accept the newcomers in their midst by their newest leader, the nobles and their warriors and spies turned back to their own scheming and sniping ... all but one.
She felt his gaze before she found him in the crowd, standing tall, displaying the scars she had left on him with an almost perverted pride. Wyll must have felt her stiffen at his side, drawing her just a little closer into the warmth of his presence, his free hand returning to rest with tenderness over her fingers at his elbow as Aevan Corvaldi moved to intercept them. The man’s eyes settled with snake-like certainty on Tara, and for just a moment, she was thrown back in time, gripped in the vice of memory so tightly she could barely breathe. She remembered the leash settled about her neck, metaphorical in nature but oh, so real for so many years. She remembered the rules, the punishments, the suppression of her very being, cold numbness spreading through her chest ... and felt Wyll’s hand squeeze her own, heard him clear his throat to address the source of her age-old terror with no fear at all.
“I notice your eyes lingering where they should not,” the Blade of Frontiers said, his shoulders somehow broadening as he drew himself up, prepared to step between them if necessary. “You are?”
“An old friend.” Aevan’s smile was still as charming as it had always been, even with the steel-sharp edge of fury lingering deep behind his eyes. “You are thriving, I see, Tamara.”
With the numbness of fear fading, Tara looked into those eyes and felt ... nothing. No anger, no disgust ... no fear. Her lips twitched, almost betraying the smile that wanted to show itself as she acknowledged that finally this man had no hold over her. There was the uncomfortable stirring of the tadpole in her mind, telling her that Aevan, too, had been implanted, yet she felt nothing but pity for his state. After all, if she and her party were to find success, he would at last be defeated in every way that mattered to him. He would have to acknowledge that he was just one among many, and as powerless as so many of the souls he had ground beneath his heel over time.
“No thanks to you, Lord Corvaldi,” she said, her fingers answering Wyll’s squeeze as reassuringly as she could.
“Oh, come now.” Her former monster laughed his amiable laugh, but the coldness behind his gaze could not be wholly denied. He wanted her even more, now that she had proven she had no need for him. “You and I were very good together. Perhaps we could be again, away from this demonic underling you have acquired in my absence.”
This time, it was Wyll who stiffened at her side, stinging from the implication, and she who calmed him before he could speak in answer, marvelling at her calmness in the face of such blatant attempts at manipulation.
“I think, Lord Corvaldi, you will find that I am better in your absence,” she informed him. “I have no need for underlings when I have companions who choose to stand by me. But, of course, you would not understand that. You have no use for true loyalty, something I am certain the Archduke would confirm. Enjoy your evening.”
She offered him her sweetest smile, turning away with her blood singing in her veins, drawing Wyll away from the darkness of her past and further into the throne that might contain his future. He stepped smoothly with her, but she could feel that he was steaming with anger at the unseemly encounter.
“Easy,” she murmured. “I have been around people like this enough to know that he cannot do anything to me. But he should not have said that about you.”
“He said nothing that others are not thinking,” Wyll sighed in return, lowering his head so only she could hear the regret in his speech. “For all my father’s posturing, they will only ever see me as the devil in their midst.”
“The Devil Duke of Baldur’s Gate does have a certain ring to it,” she mused, trying to lighten the moment for him as the soft cadence of music reached them through the crowd. “Dance with me, dear heart. Let’s show them you are so much more than they seem to think.”
This drew a faint chuckle from his lips, the sense of acceptance there even as he stepped back to bow to her. It was the minuet they had first danced together in camp so many weeks before, steps that came now as easily as breathing to them both. Fingers barely touching as they passed one another, eyes locked on one another even as the crowd dispersed around them, all eyes on the devil and his lady as they promenaded across the floor in perfect time, each one in sync with the other as easily as their heartbeats found a similar rhythm.
And there, in the gentle swirl of motion and intimacy, was the intrusion of voices, as the tadpoles squirming in their minds gave them glimpses into the judgement of the people watching them.
... fiendish power to hold over us ... is this beast to be our next duke ... must have sold her soul to him for this favour ... Lord Gortash’s hell hound ...
Tara saw the words strike Wyll to the core, saw him falter in his steps. She abandoned the dance, stepping close, curling her hands to his cheeks, drawing him down.
“No,” she whispered, violet eyes burning her fierce denial into his. “You are Wyll Ravengard, Blade of Frontiers, hero of the Sword Coast. You are a good man, no matter the appearance you wear. You do not belong in this nest of vipers.”
WIthout a second thought for how it might look, or who might be offended, she pulled him to her, lips seeking his to still the roiling recriminations in his mind and sweep his thoughts clean of the judgement of others. Her fingers poured deliberately over his jaw, to his neck, gripping the butter-soft velvet of his doublet between his shoulderblades, dragging herself closer, ever closer into his arms as he clung to her. His kiss was almost desperate, needing to believe her, needing to know he was not what all these strangers wanted to see him as.
“Tara ...” Her name drawn from his lips in a fervent whisper as she gently parted her lips from his, sharing his breath with her as he shuddered in her grasp. “What am I doing here? I cannot be what he wishes of me.”
She smiled, brushing the tip of her nose to his, fully aware that his father, the source of all his insecurities and uncertainties, was watching their every move. Aware that he would know she was responsible for his son’s happiness, even if that happiness meant abandoning the duty the old man kept forcing upon him.
“Then be what you wish to be,” she whispered back to him. “Stay with me. Let’s see what we can become together.”
She felt a second shudder tremble through him, taking with it the burden of not knowing if he could walk away from the life that had been proscribed for him since birth. Of course he could walk away; so long as she walked at his side, he could do anything. And here she was, promising she would walk that path with him.
His lips parted, curving into broad grin as he pressed a swift kiss to her mouth, drawing his courage.
“Be ready, my dear one.”
Then he turned to the company, who stared at the two of them as though they had lost their minds, as though their little display of fierce devotion was the very height of offence.
“My lords, my ladies, and company all,” he announced. “I thank you for your cold indifference and unfeeling judgement. Rest assured, there will be no Devil Duke of the Gate. I have no desire to be a part of this company of thieves and villains. Please, make merry while you can. Your time is growing short.”
With a flourishing bow, he wrapped his arm about Tara’s waist. She drew the symbol in the air, mouthed the words, and suddenly they stood at the doors through which they had entered, a blast of force from his hand blowing them open with a careless gesture. They turned back to the crowd for a last bow, each noting the fury on the face of the Archduke and the quiet pride in the respectful nod from Duke Ulder before dismissing them all as easily as they themselves had been dismissed. Gortash’s opinion meant nothing to them, but the Duke’s smile was all the approval Wyll needed. Tara’s smile was heartfelt as she nodded back to him, turning to her Blade once more.
And, arm in arm, the Blade of Frontiers and the Lily of the Valley stepped out from beneath the expectations of others, into a world of their own making.
#euryalex#oc - tara lunarsong#wyll ravengard#baldur's gate 3#blade of frontiers#blade of avernus#fluff#dancing#wyll x tara#wyll/oc#wyll/tav#politics#enver gortash#duke ulder#oc - aevan corvaldi#so much fun to write this#if you like what you've read please consider commissioning me#information can be found on my page
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༻ 3 Nights ༺ part 1
Gortash x fem Tav — mini series Explicit 18+
Summary: Gortash invites Tav to stay 3 days at his palace for the sake of an alliance. Reluctantly, she compromises for peace and it becomes an experience they won’t forget.
T/W: language, manipulation, blood
Notes: okay. Yes, he’s been my new obsession so I had to write something up. This is a bit of a long one, I’m planning to do a few parts in total. Enjoy ;)
Tav arrived at the tyrant’s palace, and she couldn’t shake off the feeling of foreboding that settled in the pit of her stomach.
Arguably, this could be the stupidest thing Tav’s ever done. To agree and comply with Gortash for the sake of an alliance for some sort of peace.
This alliance was just for the time being, of course, Tav was way too ahead of her plans to betray him when the time came. To seal the alliance, Gortash requested Tav to stay 3 days with him. Not a hard task but it made Tav extremely suspicious of him to even request such a thing.
Tav only agreed to see if she could infiltrate any plans stashed away in his office. This could totally be a one-up in the game for her. But for now…Tav forced her shoulders high with a brave feeling in her chest, and she barged right into his palace doors.
Tav was quickly met with metal steel watchers, and they instantly alerted their attention to her, “Lord Gortash has been waiting for you. Meet him upstairs in the main room, he won't ask twice.”
She rolled her eyes and swatted away the watchers. She didn't need an invitation and she sure as hell didn't need to listen to Gortash's orders. She did as she pleased, and with that, she made her way to his quarters. Making a few stops to peer into different doors here and there.
As Tav continued to his quarters she was met with a pair of dark eyes. Gortash's cold, calculating eyes seemed to pierce through her as he welcomed her to his palace. Despite his courteous demeanor, Tav could sense the aura of ruthlessness that surrounded him.
"My favorite little hero is finally here. Come in, make yourself comfortable." His words were laced with veiled threats, and she realized that he pulled out a chair for her.
Tav walked into the room, crossed her arms, and refused to sit, "I hope you have some better guest adequate considering you weren't there to greet me at the palace door. Just remember this whole —" She waved her hands around, "Thing going on is not for fun and games."
Tav despised Gortash for his cruelty and oppression, yet she knew that aligning with him was crucial for achieving her own goals. Her conscience wrestled with the moral implications of her actions, and she found herself questioning whether the ends justified the means.
Gortash's lips tugged into a smile, "Dear, this is so we can trust each other. An alliance is what you want, isn't it? We should trust one another if that's to happen."
His eyes lingered around Tav's body. It admittingly made her a bit uncomfortable although her armour did leave a lot to be desired. "Really? Armor darling. " He clicked his teeth and shook his head, "This is my home, not a battlefield."
He yelled out for a servant, who came scurrying into his quarters, "Please give our guest some proper clothing. She will be staying a couple nights here. She is to look like a proper lady before dinner. Now, go."
Tav's eyebrows furrowed as his cruel words hissed at her, "Excuse me? A 'proper lady'? That's a hunk of bullshit!" She snapped back at Gortash, who quickly ignored her by leaving the room with an amused smug on his face.
"Come, my lady, let's get you cleaned up." Tav was still on guard, but she agreed to give the servant an easy time. So, she followed her into a bedroom attached to a lavish bathroom. A marbled tub ran with warm water that was adorned with many soaps and rose petals.
Gods, when was the last time Tav enjoyed a bath?
The air was filled with the delicate scent of flowers, and Tav undressed her armor, letting it fall onto the carpet. She stepped into the warm embrace of the water and cleansed herself of any traveler grim. The soaps soaked into her skin, leaving Tav smelling divine.
After her bath, there was a set of clothes laid on the edge of the bed. Tav tried on the white dress, with golden embroidering and frilled sleeves. There was also a black corset to pull the whole outfit together. Tav felt beautiful yet uncomfortable.
The same servant walked into the room with a hairbrush and pins, "Allow me to pin your hair, my lady."
Some time had gone by before Tav was deemed "acceptable" to sit with Gortash for dinner. She thought it was absolutely ridiculous, and these days may go by slower than she thought.
Her heels clicked against the palace floor as she made her way into the dining room. When the doors opened, there he was. Those same dark eyes piercing her own.
The long dining table was set with fine china, crystal glassware, and flickering candlelight. Tav's gown shimmered in the soft glow of the room, and she purposely took her seat at the far end of Gortash.
Tav pulled out the seat and purposely plucked herself onto the chair. She looked the part but certainly didn't act like it.
Gortash’s eyebrows curved into a questionable look. He brought his elbows onto the table, bringing his fists to rest against his mouth. There was a long silent pause, he peered at Tav trying to get a good read on her.
"Let us get to know each other, hm?" He brought his hands away from his face and picked up a glass of wine instead to sip.
Tav hunched over the table, her hands balled into fists. She gave him a threatening stare, "Gortash, Did you not hear me earlier? I am not here for fun and games, so whatever it is you're trying to do — stop it."
He snickered, damn was this amusing for him. He had never met anyone who just waltzed their way into his palace to pick a fight. She was a nobody. Gortash, he was somebody. Yet she came to him with confidence, an alliance, and now she's here in his home. How entertaining was this whole debacle? He wanted to push her as much as he could. It was all a manipulation tactic to see how far he could go.
"Enver— Call me Enver for the next 2 days. But like I stated, let's get to know each other, little hero. I'd love to hear about your background." His head tilted with a mischievous smile on his face.
"That's none of your concern." Tav spat out harshly, with a threatening glare. They were both testing each other.
The air was still and tense, and Gortash's presence dominated the area. His evil smile radiated a chill throughout the room. "Isn't it? I am lord now, and I want all my baldurians to be considered. Especially my most favorite citizen."
He reached out his hand, the tips of his fingers adorned with the sharp glove that pointed into hooks. "I'd love to hear about that pathetic fucking camp you have right outside the city. A shame it would be if something were to happen while their leader's gone."
"What...How did you —"
He spoke with command, "See, that's something I learned about you. When you care to get to know someone, these things come easy. But please, you're welcome to search this whole palace all you want. Maybe you'll find something about me worth learning."
"Okay, I'll humor you— but first, we need to lay some ground rules. If you respect my rules, I'll respect yours. "
"I’m listening, Tav."
A chill ran down her spine when he spoke her name. It cringed her and only made her rules more needed, " 1: You will not hurt my camp, 2: You will not try to attack me, and 3: I will roam freely where I please."
"Yes, yes, and yes, you have my word." He nodded in agreement. The room was tense at this point, but he still locked eyes with Tav. Her beauty was one he saw in paintings, and she was free to his viewing pleasure. A thought crept into his mind: what if she was mine? An interesting thought indeed. He cleared his throat, "Tell me about yourself."
Throughout the meal, the conversation between them was polite but strained. Tav struggled to maintain her composure, her uncertainty about Gortash's intentions gnawing at her. She couldn’t shake off the feeling that she was walking on thin ice, unsure of what might be his true motive.
Despite her unease, Tav maintained a facade of politeness, engaging in small talk and lurking eyes on one another. She would look away each time she caught herself staring at his exposed chest. It angered her even more that Gortash was attractive. Only when he spoke would his image crumble for her.
As the evening wore on, she found herself carefully measuring her words and actions, acutely aware of the potential consequences of missteps in this precarious situation.
~
After dinner, Tav wandered around the palace. By this time, the sun had set and the palace went dark. Only a few candles lit the room, barely reaching its light out to see clearly. Tav kept a pocket knife on her hidden in the folds of her clothes.
She grabbed a candle stick and began to investigate the rooms. There were many rooms, a lot of them were untouched. Tav thought he must've been very lonely in these walls. instantly she shook her head, she did not want to pity him. After all, he's the villain.
Tav found herself standing in a room aligned with many books and a single desk inside. It appeared to be a study, and she waved her candle around the room. A fresh painting hung on the wall: a portrait of Gortash.
Tav studied the art, and it was a very well drawing of him. It even captured how deep his jacket cut, exposing the hair on his chest. She only knew this by how hard she was staring at it at dinner. Her eyes scanned his face, examining the scars on his jaw that she hadn't noticed.
A handsome man he was, truly.
Tav stepped back from the picture, she was looking for any signs of any importance. The desk was littered with folders, papers, and crumbled notes. She settled the candle on a stand as her fingers sorted out the piles of paper.
Most of what she read was events that already happened from Moonrise. Tav placed the pile down and reached out for one of the crumbled letters. It was a letter about her. Surprisingly, there were people already sending Gortash news about her even before the takedown of Ketherick.
He truly had eyes everywhere.
As her eyes lingered on the note there was a huge knocking noise. Her head shot up and was matched with Gortash’s presence. His broad physic leaned against the door way, his arms crossed and he looked at Tav questionably.
“Well— did you find anything worth learning?” His eyes were cold, his demeanor felt off, and he was already making his way towards her before words could come out.
Tav shot the letter away from her face, “You knew about me this whole time… what’s the point of this? I know my reasonings for an alliance but what’s yours?” There had been tension between them all day and enough was enough. She needed to know his intentions before she stupidly fell into his game.
Gortash grabbed Tav’s chin firmly, forcing her to look up at him. His eyes were filled with a mix of desire and control as he attempted to assert his dominance over her.
Tav's expression remained resolute, refusing to succumb to his intimidation.
She struggled against his hold, refusing to show any sign of submission. Gortash’s grip on her chin tightened. Despite his forceful demeanor, Tav met his gaze with unwavering strength, silently challenging his authority.
“Power, of course. I need you and you need me, so I’ll play nice.” His voice became low, “Only cause I tolerate you.” He forcibly tilted her face as his eyes traced the contours of Tav's face. “You are one fine specimen.”
Tav’s eyes went wide and her face went pale. Did they actually find each other attractive? Gortash continued to speak, “I’ll give you something to imagine: A kingdom loyal to their court. A king and queen sat next to each other as everyone bowed to them. Their power: unmatched. Their strength: untouchable. Their bond: unbreakable. Are you painting this picture? This could be you and I. My equal and my right hand.” The warmth of his breath hit against her skin. She was still under his hold and a rush of warmth hit her body. Her knees buckled and her face grew red. What in the hells was she thinking?!
Tav's heart started to race under his touch. He physically towered over her and his face was undeniably closer to her face than ever. Tav stared at him with defiance but her body language went against her will.
He was just another man under all this drama, and his intimidation felt almost….sensual? It was a mix of emotions she never felt.
“You can let go of my face now.”
With a swift motion, the claw of his glove snagged a small cut on her cheek. Tav winced and used all her force to push him away. She palmed her face, and the slick had already started to drip down her jaw.
Tav's adrenaline kicked in as she pulled the pocket knife out, charging at him with a shove. The blade sunk into the nape of his neck as Tav's body pinned his closely against hers on a wall.
Her eyes raged as she looked into his gaze from the dimmed light. Just as he did, she swiped her knife against his skin. Only enough to create a small laceration just like hers.
His hand gripped Tav's wrist. The claw of his gloves pressed against Tav’s skin— Giving it a tight squeeze, and knocked the knife out of her grip.
With his free hand, he closed the gap between their bodies, “Is this your way of flirting? We’re both a mess now.” The slick of blood streamed down into his chest.
Tav quickly surrendered to the pain that shot up from her wrist. So, she let her restraint down. Gortash saw her surrender and loosened his grip, “Good girl.”
Tav scoffed, “Bastard.”
“I know.”
Gortash let go of her body and walked back to the desk, opened the drawer, and pulled out a small kit of some sort. Gortash then lent out a hand, waiting for Tav to accompany it, “Come, girl.”
She frowned and shook her head, “I’m not holding your hand.”
He sighed and rolled his eyes, “Suit yourself. Let that—“ He pointed at her cheek, “get infected all you want.” It was then that Tav noticed it was a medical kit. Was he trying to clean her cut? Strange.
Gortash took the kit and walked out of the study and back into the dark halls. With an annoyed groan, Tav followed aimlessly for him. His heavy boots hitting the floor echoed throughout the hall. It gave the atmosphere an unsettling aura.
She was led into a familiar room— it was exactly the one she settled herself in earlier. Gortash dragged a nearby chair to the end of the bed. He sat down, his legs spread while he hunched over with his elbows resting on his knees, “Sit.” He spoke in a commanding monotoned voice.
Tav hesitated, she had little trust in him. However, with a skeptical feeling, Tav sat on the edge of the bed in front of him. Gortash opened the kit and drenched a cotton ball with alcohol, "Look at me." He commanded with a softer tone this time.
Tav sat still as he brought the cotton to her cheek, lightly dabbing it against the wound. She winced and scrunched her face in pain.
Secretly he enjoyed seeing her in pain. Something about the way her eyes weakened sent shivers up his spine. Gortash continued to clean the cut with precision, his touch gentle yet firm. Tav's breathing began to steady as she relaxed into his care.
He reached for a bandage and carefully applied it to Tav's face. He leaned back, admiring his handiwork with a satisfied smile, "While I do enjoy the blood, I wouldn't want to mess the silk bedding. "
"I do as I please." Tav pouted. Her eyes fixated on the now-dried blood that rained down into his chest. Her eyes traced the trail into the same spot she had been staring at dinner. He was...nice, to look at she supposed.
Gortash leaned closer to her, he had caught Tav staring a little too hard at him. Being stealthy was something Tav was horrible at considering she bursted into his coronation. This realization filled him with confidence as his charm and poise alter a subtle change in Tav's behavior. She was seeing something she liked in him.
Gortash firmly put his hands on Tav's shoulders, shoving her back onto the mattress. Tav let out a small gasp as he hovered over her small stature. His hungry eyes viewed every little piece of skin available to him.
Calculating eyes bore into her, as he leaned forward, his voice dripping with contempt. "Do it. Do as you please."
A shiver ran up her spine. She wasn't sure if it was a good or bad thing, but her body completely froze under him. Her mouth parted with no words left to say.
What the hell was he doing? Why couldn't she move? Maybe it was how handsome she found his restless eyes. Or the way his body was strong and tall. Gortash always stared so passionately at her, even now.
With no response, her eyes glistened with anticipation. Gortash brought his lips close to Tav's mouth. Only the slightest space between them, Gortash's eyes downcasted on her while her heart thumped against his skin. The warmth of his breath caressed her lips. Tav closed her eyes and submitted to the tension between them.
"Tch—" Gortash scoffed teasingly.
The warmth Tav felt suddenly grew cold. She opened her eyes to see Gortash standing over the bed. There was no kiss. Tav propped her elbows up, why did he leave? A slight shame cast on Tav as she lay there dumbfounded. Was he just toying with her?
"Rest, I will be expecting you for breakfast." Gortahs's arms crossed as he stared down at Tav like a scolding parent, "Don't make me wait." With that, Gortash walked out of the room.
He purposely planted a seed into Tav's head of control as soon as she let her guard down. His deceit would have her tossing and turning all night.
To be Continued ~
Any thoughts? Comment 👇🏼 I love to engage!
Part 2 here!
#bg3 fluff#bg3 tav#astarion bg3#baldurs gate 3#bg3#bg3 fanfiction#bg3 fic#bg3 gortash#lord gortash#enver gortash#gortash x reader#gortash x durge#gortash smut#gortash x tav
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