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hijackalx · 5 months

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GHOST +18

SUMMARY: Gortash helps you remember what your relationship with him was like.

WORD COUNT: 4000

UNDER THE CUT: F!reader, good dark urge reader, hard dom gortash, degradation, praise kink, spanking, daddy kink, sadism and masochism, SLIGHT NONCON, some angst at the end

You watch as the crowd disperses, chattering amongst themselves. The once quiet hall becomes an echo chamber for indiscernible voices; you quickly begin to search for an escape before the socializing gives you a headache.

The coronation wasn't worth your time. You didn't even get to speak to Gortash before he disappeared into the sea of people, and your chances of finding him now are slim.

You needed so badly to speak to him about the situation at hand; you hoped he'd be willing to come to a compromise. There's little desire for conflict in your veins— is it bad to admit that sometimes you wish this weight was bestowed upon someone more combative?

You push through bodies, interrupting minglers and meaningless conversations. "Oh, I'm so wealthy!' 'Yes, yes, me as well!" you mock them under your breath, putting on your most haughty persona. The topics that enthrall patriars never quite intrigued you.

As far as you can remember, at least.

You knock shoulders with one of them, though you remain in character. "My deepest apologies, good sir," your voice comes out nasally, your nose held high with a level of snootiness.

Their hand graces your upper arm, each finger laced coldly with steel. It's not a dismissing touch, but a grab. It wraps around your bicep, holding you in place. Your body tenses, shoulders shooting upright— perhaps your impression was a bit too insulting.

"U-uh—" you laugh nervously while your eyes follow their way up to their face. Your heartbeat stutters in your chest, a stillness overcoming you like a startled rabbit.

A man stands before you; his eyes sunken, his hair cut haphazardly, his skin tanned and scarred. You know who this is.

"You," his deep voice finds you through the noise. "I've been looking for you. For a moment, I was worried that you’d left." he doesn't release you, as if he's afraid to lose you again.

"Gortash," you mutter, your gaze darting over his features. "I... was looking for you as well, actually." you're totally and utterly surprised by the fact he even acknowledged you, let alone had been seeking you out.

"Enver," he speaks, and you don't quite understand what he means until you notice the playful raise in his brow; he's correcting you. How... informal of him to suggest you call him by his first name.

He finally removes his grip from your arm. A gentle grin pulls at his lips, and he seems to try to hide it behind the wine in his glass. There's a beat of silence, and during it you catch his eyes not-so-subtly gracing over your figure. "Your dress is lovely," is all he says, and you suddenly feel that your garment is too revealing.

Your arm lays over your stomach and fastens to the other, as if that would some how barricade you from his scrutinizing gaze. So, the Archduke is a bit of a pervert— not something you expected, but something you can deal with, nonetheless.

"I, um— listen—" you begin, yet struggle to pull your thoughts together in the chaos. "Is there... somewhere else... we could talk?"

His eyes suddenly appear more lively, though there's something else inside them that you can't quite place. "Of course." he places his glass down on a nearby waiter's tray. You're shocked as he places a palm towards the middle of your back, making contact with the bare skin through the window of your dress. He guides you out of the crowd, and you're amazed at how easily he wades through it as his obstacles yield to him.

He takes you toward a dark, spiral staircase. You're not sure if he's being polite when he insists you go ahead or if he's attempting to peek up your dress, and you try not to think about it.

Once you reach the top, your body is caressed by the cool, night air. You stop in your tracks, amazed at how the city glows in the dark. You can hear the sounds of the bustling streets, and the faint hum of the gathering downstairs.

"Magnificent, isn't it?" Enver's voice appears behind you and you flinch. You'd forgotten he was there. "As are many things that bend so pliantly to my will."

You turn around to meet his eyes, how they look up at you from under his brow, steady and ravenous. There's a pit that opens up in your stomach— his plans are sinister, and you need the upcoming conversation to be enough to stop them.

Suddenly, you're attacked by a barrage of self-doubt. What a heavy task for someone as measly as you.

The wind blows through the both of you, pulling at your hair and clothing as if saying to stop stalling. Your eyes flit to the ground once before allowing him to lead you further.

He opens another door for you, this one leading to what you believe is an office. Your bodies are bathed in the warm candlelight as you enter. You approach the long, many-seated table in the immediate vicinity as the sound of him closing the large doors fills the chamber.

You observe the architecture, feeling a sense of awe at being in the presence of such expensive tastes. Enver walks around you, heading to a compartment holding many different kinds of liquor. "I keep the good stuff in here," he comments, the bottle in his grasp clinking against the others as it's removed. "Although, I rarely have the pleasure of sharing it with guests as enchanting as yourself."

His words seem to carry an implication of familiarity. You turn to him with a raised brow. "You know why I'm here?" Your mind flits back to earlier— you remember him saying something about looking for you as well.

With a still hand he pours the cinnamon-colored liquid into both of your glasses. He doesn't look up as he responds, "Do you really believe me to be so dull?" he lets out a small laugh, placing the cork back into the bottle. "Besides, my intuition tells me we both want the same thing."

"... We do?" you mutter in disbelief. Had you been wrong about him? Is he really willing to hear you out so easily?

He hands you your glass. "We do." he raises his drink to you as if to toast, then brings it to his mouth. As he lets the drink disappear down his throat, his eyes remain on yours. This time, you feel that you may be able to trust whatever is behind them.

You join him with a small sip, and there is a short moment shared between you two. You notice just how close he's standing to you, but for some reason you don't step away. Your gaze falters from his own, shakily sneaking a glance at his lips, then his neck, and his exposed chest...

You stop there, quickly darting your pupils back upwards. You notice him still staring, and you wonder if perhaps your eyes explored just a bit too much.

Flustered, you turn around and place your palms on the table. "I—I'm sorry, this is just... a bit much for me." you try to compose yourself, feeling the start of your proposal bubbling to the surface. With a sigh, you begin, "Gor— Enver, I wanted to discuss the future of—"

You can't get any more words out— not even a sound. Your eyes widen, your temperature rising throughout your entire body like a surging wildfire. The only thing you can focus on is his lips on your neck and his body pressed against yours as he pins your hands to the tabletop.

Your breath quivers, heart in your throat. What is happening?

His mouth begins making its way downwards. You shiver out of your frozen state. With a swift, freeing elbow to his ribcage, you turn and shove him away from you.

He stumbles backward, the emotions on his face cycling too quickly for you to make something of it. Eventually, anger is the one that settles and stays. "What in the hells is the matter with you?!"

Your hand grips the glass on the table tightly, ready to use it as a weapon if you must. "I— what's the matter with me?! You just came onto me! I don't even know you!"

"What else did you expect, you little—" A crease forms between his brows. "... You don't know who I am?" his voice appears more softly, harboring confusion.

"Well, yes, you are the Archduke— but you know what I mean! Y-you don't just walk up to any stranger with their back turned and start kissing their neck!"

He glances away for a moment, shoulders relaxing as he finds the answers he's seeking inside the night’s prior instances. "You and I are hardly strangers, my dear."

You go quiet.

No— your memory can't have failed you again, not here. Not with him. You'd remember, surely you would.

With an inquiring grin, he approaches you slowly. "So it’s true. How curious." he studies you as if you're a freshly discovered specimen. "If you don't remember what we were, do you even remember what you are?"

His words rattle you to your core. To imply that your relationship with him was so deeply intertwined with who you once were— it almost makes you sick.

"You're lying," you respond quickly, regardless of whether you think he is or not. You won't accept otherwise.

"Am I?" he stops mere inches from your face, as if to allow you to see the truth through his eyes. They delve into yours, carrying an intensity that yours lack, a confidence that you wish wasn't there.

He hums. "Allow me to jog your memory." with a deep inhale, he opts to press his lips against yours. Your trembling body leans into the table behind you, backing further and further away from him until you can't anymore. He kisses you, and for some reason, you let him. You don't make any extravagant attempts to rid yourself of him— instead, you allow him to have you, as if on instinct.

The kiss lasts a few seconds, and he lingers for a moment before pulling away. You feel an emptiness on your lips, your fingertips leaving the glass at your side to reach up and gently inspect the area.

"First, we were accomplices. You, a chosen of Bhaal; I, a chosen of Bane,” he looks you directly in the face as he speaks, making sure you’re listening intently. “After so much time together, we took an interest in each other, particularly each other's bodies," he explains, "We were so young and knew so little— but we learned from each other. Experimented with each other—"

You shift underneath where he has you trapped against the table. You sink into yourself, your chin tucking down in shame. You're not sure how you feel about all of this, but you do know that there's a growing warmth between your thighs.

Even if your mind fails to remember what you two did together, your body knows.

His head tilts so that he speaks into your ear. "And, Gods, the things you'd let me do to you," as if reliving the memory, he almost moans, the lilt to his tone making your stomach lurch.

”N-no…” you mumble, though there is little substance behind the word.

He lowers himself, his mouth hovering over your neck once again. His breaths fan your sensitive skin before pressing his lips to it.

You twitch, your hand involuntarily coming up to rest in his hair. He hears how your breath hitches, and you feel him smile against you as he sucks softly.

His restless hand finds itself on your thigh, slipping into the slit of your dress. The cold material of his gauntlets raises goose bumps on your skin, your muscles tensing every time he reaches just inches from your core.

He pulls his lips from you with a pop, slightly breathless.

"It became an addiction. We'd meet up at every opportunity— almost every night just to fuck," he says with enough emphasis to make you realize just how filthy your past together was. “Hells, I even remember asking you what your father thought of his prized offspring becoming my personal little whore."

You burn hot with embarrassment, though some part of you likes the name he's given you. "... a- and?" you hate yourself for playing into whatever this is, but you can't help it. You want him to keep talking.

He laughs, "you said you didn't give a shit. Can you imagine that? Daddy's little girl willing to sacrifice everything just so she wouldn't have to go a day without me fucking her into the mattress.” he gives you a lift onto the table, both of his hands roughly pulling your thighs apart so he can place himself between them.

As if acting on its own, you fail to notice how your body arches into him, begging for his touch. "Enver..." you moan quietly, the sensation feeling so familiar on your tongue. The memories he describes to you seem so real yet so distant. You want to remember them, to experience them.

His chest rises and falls quicker by the minute. As his hand comes up to direct you by your jaw, the gold points on his fingertips leave indents in your skin. "You have no idea how elated I was to get news of your reappearance. I don't have words to explain how badly I've missed you— your body."

Unable to compose himself any longer, he finally stops teasing and slams his mouth into yours. He's aggressive and rough; the biting, smacking your teeth together kind of rough. You struggle to keep up with him, balancing yourself with an arm over his shoulders until he pushes you onto your back. Impatiently, he rips his sharp gauntlets from his hands, the objects landing somewhere on the floor with a clatter.

He runs his bare hands over the curves of your body, taking in the sight as if it's the first time. You lift your back as he reaches for the zipper of your dress, his adrenaline-ridden fingers fumbling before undoing it successfully. You help him wriggle yourself out of it.

The cold air hits your exposed breasts, your nipples erect and sensitive. His calloused thumb brushes over one before he tightly squeezes your tit, an obvious attempt to hear your voice. He's delighted when you gasp in both pain and pleasure, his mouth meeting yours to devour the sound. He then quickly trails down your neck to pepper kisses over your chest.

He takes one of your nipples into his mouth, purposefully grazing it with his teeth before soothing it with his tongue. Your hand tangles in his messy hair, lifting yourself into him.

His opposite hand sneaks into your panties, toying with your clit in a cruel fashion. He pinches and teases, refusing to give you what you want. Frustrated, you reach down to move his hand out of the way, to which he grabs and restrains. You try the same with the other, and he repeats.

"Insubordinate little slut," he mumbles under his breath as he pushes his knee between your legs, providing pressure but no friction. "You want to do it yourself?" he says meanly, slightly irritated by your actions.

You immediately begin rubbing against his thigh, finally feeling some relief. You exhale, feeling waves of pleasure course through you.

He peers down between your bodies to watch, his erection prominent in his pants. "Fuck, that's right. Show me how badly you need it."

Your hips eventually start to stutter, unable to continue as you lose yourself in the sensation. "I- I can't," you whine, unsatisfied as you fail to keep your rhythm.

He smiles sadistically at how you struggle. "Oh, you can't?" he pouts mockingly. "Poor thing."

You know what he wants, it sits in the back of your mind, ready without second thought. You've been here before. "P-please,” you choke out. "Please, I need you. Fuck me, please," your voice comes out pathetically, happy to continue begging until you get what you desire.

As if on cue, he flips you onto your stomach, your ass stuck in the air and your cheek pressed to the hardwood. He takes your arm and folds it behind your back, holding you in place. "You say that like I was going to give you a choice." You see how he leers down at you through the corner of your eye, a wolfish look on his features. You don't know how much truth there is to his words, but your pussy flutters anyway.

He runs a finger over your folds, the friction from your underwear making you jump. You whimper his name, completely at his mercy. With a huff, he rips your panties off of you, splitting the delicate fabric in half.

Pausing for a moment, he admires the glistening wetness between your thighs. He kicks your feet apart further to spread you open, using his finger to circle your clit before covering the digit in your essence. You watch as he sticks it in his mouth, cleaning it off with his tongue. He lets out a content sigh, savoring the taste.

You whine while deepening the arch in your back, presenting yourself to him further.

His brows furrow. Picking up your torn panties, he wads them up and shoves them in your mouth. It extends your jaw fully, making it impossible to spit them out. "Shut up," he growls. "You'll get what you want when I feel like giving it to you."

You can taste yourself on the ripped garment, feel how wet you are with your tongue. Your saliva begins to dampen it by the second, and it’s only a matter of time before it drips past the barrier.

The sound of him disrobing fills the air. Your irises roll back behind corkscrewed eyelids, anticipating what is to come with little patience.

The gag muffles your sounds as you feel his length drag between your thighs, parting your puffy folds. Your hole contracts spastically, desperate for him.

Then, he slams into you without warning. You scream, writhing beneath him as his dick forcibly stretches you out. The pain is almost unbearable as you feel tears start to materialize.

He balances himself on the table with his free hand, letting out a long, shuddering breath. "Fuck." He takes a moment before moving. There is no slow build-up, his pace is aggressive and hard from the very start. He fucks you like he absolutely hates you, and you suppose it's possible that he does. If what he says is true, then you abandoned him. Not on purpose, but you still did.

His cock moves in a shoveling motion, hitting your G-spot with every thrust. You send your body back to him every time he reenters you, rocking in sync. It feels natural— it feels good. As you adjust, you realize that you fit together perfectly; two puzzle pieces that were never meant to be apart. Suddenly, his dependence on you makes so much more sense.

You gasp as he grabs a fistful of your hair, roughly pulling your head upward. He holds you there uncomfortably as he speaks into your ear, "if you ever leave me again," he pauses to catch his breath, "I'll fucking kill you. Do you understand?"

Nodding your head is not enough for him. He rips your underwear from your mouth. "yes, what?"

Your breathing is ragged and high-pitched as you're finally allowed to use your mouth again. "Yes, daddy!" you assume that must be what he made you call him before, based on how it forces its way past your teeth. You're sure he gets some kind of power-trip from it, perhaps he's envious of your previous devotion to your father.

“It seems you remember more than I thought.” he uses his thumb to wipe the drool from your swollen lip, then massages the spot where he yanked your hair. "Good. You're doing so good."

His unexpected praise makes your pussy tighten around him, milking him, begging for him to come.

He lets out a deep, throaty moan. "Gods, you feel fucking amazing." his palm makes contact with your ass, a sharp smack echoing through the tall ceilings of the office. You yelp, your fingernails clawing at the tabletop. You can feel the hand-shaped welt forming right away, the stinging sensation rising to the top of your skin. "You like how daddy fucks you?"

He asks just as you feel yourself reaching your climax. It builds in your lower stomach, bubbling in your chest. "Y-yes!" you cry. "Please don't stop! Just like that!"

Cruel man that he is, he does the exact opposite of what you ask. He stops, pulling out of you and leaving you feeling empty. Ushering you up, he switches places with you and grabs you by your wrist, guiding you onto his lap.

He looks at you through his brow, cheeks flushed, breaths erratic, yet with a smirk playing at his lips. "Work for it," he orders, holding himself up with his palms on the tabletop.

As you lower yourself onto his length, he watches you intently, brushing your unruly hair out of your face. Your cheek is red and swollen from being pressed into the table, and he gives it a few condescending pats. "You look a mess, dearest," he laughs.

You ignore him, focused on taking him in. You do it slower than he did, but he remains patient for you. You suppose that's his act of kindness for the day.

Balancing on your knees, you start bouncing in his lap. Your hands hold onto his shoulders, watching how he slides in and out of you. A creamy, white liquid has been created between the two of you, coating his shaft and your entrance.

His attention remains on your face— sometimes shifting to your tits, but mostly your face. You eventually notice, suddenly feeling self-conscious under his gaze. Placing a hand to the back of your head, he pulls you in for a kiss. You cup his face with your palms, whimpering into his mouth as his tongue grazes the inside of your teeth.

He breaks the kiss along with a line of saliva. His nose finds the crook of your neck, resting there as he pulls your bodies flush together. Your arms rest over his broad shoulders, occasionally digging your nails into his skin. He seems at peace with you in his grasp, holding you near. It’s in this moment that you truly feel just how much he missed you, worried for you, yearned for you. You realize that your relationship may have been more than just sex to him, even if not officially so.

He lets out a broken groan as he reaches his climax. His grip becomes almost painfully tight, taking your waist into his strong arms to fuck you again as he releases a thick load of cum inside you. The warm substance coats your walls as you tense around him.

His orgasm encourages your own. Squirming in his grasp, you throw your head back. You never imagined yourself crying out a series of his name, but here you are, and you never imagined it would be so sweet on your tongue. He keeps you in place with his hands on your hips, helping you ride it out.

You rest your weary body on his, your cheek against the sticky skin of his shoulder. Although, you don’t rest easy. There’s a heaviness to your heart, a guilt.

You can’t be the woman he knew— you’ve changed. The things you want are no longer the same, and you’ll betray him without even meaning to. He’s in love with a ghost, one that you just can’t pretend to be.

In the end, you’re in each other’s way, and you always will be. Whatever is between you two is an obstacle, and it’s destined to be destroyed.

#enver gortash #bg3 #baldurs gate 3 #baldurs gate #enver gortash x dark urge #dark urge #durgetash #enver gortash x reader #enver gortash x tav #gortash

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astarionslittletreat · 4 months

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Eat You Alive

Gortash x female Durge/Dark Urge

Rating: Explicit

You must be 18 years or older to interact with this post in any way

Word Count: 1k

Tags: smut, sex, piv sex, over-stimulation, bleeding, blood, biting, bondage, domination, threats of violence, threats of murder, sadism, masochism, unhealthy relationship, established relationship, dub-con, unethical use of magic, cock warming, forced orgasm

Author's Note: This is not meant to depict how a relationship should function in any way. Neither character posses any redeeming qualities or are meant to be idolized. This is a work of indulgent fiction. Please read the tags before proceeding.

Summary: She's returned to him, his Bhaalspawn. After vanishing from him without a trace, he's got her exactly where he wants her. Tied up and waiting for him with murderous lust.

Wrists and ankles shackled by purple translucent magic, the Bhaalspawn strains against the spell holding her down. Muscles tensing, she flexes her arms, tries to kick her spread legs but to no avail. She cannot break free. It’s not explicitly uncomfortable. She’s naked, true, exposed to the dark room and her surroundings, but the silk sheets she retrained on have been freshly laundered. The spell curling around her extremities is warm and radiates the feeling of pure magic that sends shivers down her spine as she tries to pull away. She’s of two minds at the moment. The Dark Urge that usually slumbers like a dragon in the back of her mind is wide awake–demanding to be freed. Ordering that they be let go this instant and repaid in blood and flesh and bone. The other part of her mind, her true self, her weak self, nearly lost. Drowning in the madness of her carnality. Aching, wanting, dripping for her lover to touch her. To unburden her of her desires–every single last one of them.

“You’re fucking gorgeous like that–” Lord Enver Gortash’s dark eyes grow hungry as he watches his Bhaalspwan arch her back in a futile attempt to break free. “Spread out like a good girl who just wants to be eaten.” He purrs. Taunting her until she’s so filled with rage, Enver can feel it radiating off her bare skin. “Look at me.” It’s a command tinged with magic, and the Bhaal babe meets his gaze. For the briefest–shortest moment her eyes go soft. It’s so quick, he would have missed it if he hadn’t been staring directly at her because it instantly vanishes. Consumed by the fire burning through her veins. Her murderous rampage simmering in the pit of her stomach. Enver’s cock throbs at the sight of his dark and demented love.

Her eyes dart back and forth across his bedchambers. A feral animal caught in a trap. Searching for a way to get out. To get to him. Restrained as she is, the Bhaalspawn flinches as Enver traces the scars on the inside of her thighs with his fingertips. Some he recognizes, some are new, requiring him to catalog her body once more. She trembles at his touch with a rage and bloodlust that makes Enver grow hard. His cock swells as he palms himself. Stroking just enough to take the edge off as he lowers himself to the bed. Drawn in by her tender fury he moves to worship his lover. To take her into his mouth and press his lips against every new scar she acquired without him by her side.

A sinful mix of Infernal–and possibly Abyssal, if Enver heard correctly, falls from the lips of the Bhaalspawn. Spit like venom. Sung like hymns. “That’s right my love,” Enver praises the words he doesn’t fully understand, but knows all the same. He knows exactly what his love needs before biting down, hard. Blood blooms over Enver’s tongue and the Dark Urge moans in delight.

“I’m going to fucking kill you.” She threatens beautifully. Spitting and hissing in the common tongue for Ever to understand.

He chuckles, “I sincerely hope so, my love.” He had thought himself dead once already. He certainly hadn’t been alive these past few months at the very least. Not when she had disappeared. Gone, without word. Without trace. Without any explanation that was due to him. Of course, he knows now what happened, but the bitter sting of life without what made Enver whole had scarred him. Changed him. A piece of himself vanished when his love disappeared. Abandoning their well-laid plans, the city–him. The fury and indignity at being left behind after so long never quite left. Orin’s death helped, true, but this– this is so much sweeter.

“I’m going to break every bone in your worthless body before I filet you alive!” Spit coats her lips as the Dark Urge screams, and her body fails in painful delight. More–she wants more. She needs Enver now instead of him taking his sweet fucking time.

Evner doesn’t spare her the prep time. She doesn’t need it, doesn’t deserve it. Between her scarred and bleeding thighs, Enver presses the head of his cock to her entrance before pressing in in one long stroke. Settling himself until he’s fully seated inside his love. Oh how he’s fucking missed this. Her mewling gasps of his name. The drool sliding past her lips. The way she tightens, squeezing him as he presses his thumb to her clit. Circling and toying with her. Forcing her into a breakneck speed while he sits there. He spits on her clit for good measure. There will be time for pain later. Right now, the only thing he desires is to feel the Bhaalspawn breaking apart around him.

“Wait!” Panic. “Stop, I can’t–”

“You’re going to fucking come, now.”

Another command, bold but dangerously quiet. Tinged with venom and love. She doesn’t need a spell to obey this time. His familiar heavy weight, his clever hands working her body better than her own self knew how. It was inescapable. Her release surges through her body as she clamps down hard. Her body strains against the magic holding her down, her muscles taught and aching as she tumbles recklessly through the pleasure forced upon her. It hurts. It hurts and she likes that it hurts. That it’s messy and quick. That her legs are weak and she can feel wetness seeping out of her cunt where Enver is still seated and hard. She gasps. Gulping down air as she falls from her high. Her mind floats. The Dark Urge temporarily calmed like a wild beast to music.

Enver allows her a few seconds respite. She had earned that much at least. But the night was young, and he still missed his deadly little Bhaalspawn. He waited until her gasping died down just a bit before he began to circle and toy with her now oversensitive clit. “Another, my pet.”

#baldur's gate 3 #baldurs gale 3 #baldur's gate 3 fanfic #enver gortash #lord enver gortash #enver gortash x dark urge #gortash x durge #gortash x dark urge #the dark urge #gortash smut #enver gortash x durge #prompt request #astarionslittletreat

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kawareo · 19 days

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POV: your workshop has just caught on fire but there's 220lbs of a freshly asleep Bhaalspawn on you and you aren't sure if you're allowed to move

plus Gortash with wrist braces cause you can't tell me he doesn't have carpal tunnel

#bg3 #durgetash #the dark urge #enver gortash #baldur's gate 3 #durge #oc strike #drow durge #domestic durgetash #durgetash fluff #enver gortash x dark urge

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the-tomato-patch · 3 months

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Art comm from @infernaldaydreams ✨️ They did such a beautiful job capturing this scene from a Durgetash one-shot I'm working on in which Wyll, Karlach and Cardinal ( my redeemed durge ) steal/find a spacejammer and break into Banehold to rescue Gortash. It looks so good! ✨️❤️ ahhhhhhhh!

#durgetash #enver gortash x dark urge #dark urge x enver gortash #gortash nation #oc: cardinal #bg3 #baldurs gate 3 #infernaldaydreams #art commisions #not my art #go commission them #its so good #enver fucking raccoon man gortash #durgetash angst

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bhaalsbabe · 6 months

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This desk has seen everything

Pairing: gn!durge x Enver Gortash

Label: nsfw

MDNI

Summary/warnings: minor spoilers for durge & ending of act 2, durge is a magic user, inappropriate use of magic (tentacles), sub!Gortash (flashback), weird power dynamic, violent thoughts concerning Orin, pining Gortash, there's not that much smut but I might do part 2

Author's note: writing again after a very long time; nice, supportive comments and reblogs are very much appreciated <3

When you met Gortash for the first time after losing your memories, you had a feeling he wasn't telling you everything. You remembered the look he kept giving you. You've seen it many times before, often on your companions' faces; the barely hidden desire burning behind the eyes, the longing look that was focused solely on you, the quick glances at the shown parts of your skin. Yes, when you thought back about it, you're actually pretty sure there was more to your past relationship with Gortash than just being partners in crime.

Your curiosity was what led you into his office - alone. You weren't worried about him trying to take advantage of the situation to take Ketheric's netherstone from you. Your magic was more powerful than ever and the powers you gained from the tadpoles you consumed have been awfully useful as well. So you entered the room he resided in with confidence you probably used to have back in the days of your glory.

"Ah, have you taken care of Orin already? You're even faster than I expected." He looked up at you from his paperwork, an easy smile on his face.

"That's not why I'm here," you finished walking all the way to his desk before sitting on it, looking down at him. "You weren't telling me everything back at the coronation, were you?"

He leaned back in his chair, smirking as he eyed your sitting spot.

"Perhaps..." he mused, putting down the quill and focusing his attention purely on you. "I take it you're looking for something specific?"

You nodded, quickly scanning the documents on his table to see if there's anything that would catch your attention. You noticed the name 'Ravengard' on one of the papers but before you could read the rest, Gortash took the entire pile and put it into a drawer.

"Bureaucracy has never been your thing. Why, I can't even count how many times you interrupted me in the middle of something just because you were bored and wanted me for yourself," he laughed with his eyes closed, probably reminiscing of one such time.

"Really? I can't imagine why," you said dryly, glaring at him all unimpressed. Suddenly, he stood up, going around the desk to stand next to you, close enough that you could feel the heat of his skin. As you turned to face him fully, he leaned over you, his arms trapping you in place. When he spoke next, his breath, smelling of expensive wine, hit your face.

"You were a greedy little thing. Always taking, rarely giving anything back." Contrary to the message, he sounded almost nostalgic, a lazy smile plastered on his handsome face.

"You probably just didn't deserve anything in return." You shrugged, noticing how his eyes kept dropping to your lips. He chuckled, tearing his gaze away from your mouth.

"I see you haven't changed that much," he mumbled under his breath, before finally pressing his lips against yours in a searing kiss. You felt a surge of desire run through you as your brain full of holes supplied you with a brief memory.

The once proud Gortash, naked and bent over the very same desk you were now sitting on. In this memory, you casually lounged in his chair, watching as a variant of Evard's Black Tentacles kept plunging in and out of his ass and mouth, as well as wrapping around his body to keep him from squirming too much. His gurgled moans were music to your ears. His submission to you had always pleased you.

You broke the kiss with a gasp, back to the reality where the same man pushed you onto your back, his hands exploring your body in a starved desperation. His dark eyes bore into yours with an intensity that made you shiver.

"Gort-"

"Enver," he corrected you immediately, not even letting you finish. "Always Enver to you."

You stared at him, the realisation dawning upon you of just how close of a relationship you two had. He pressed his hand to your cheek almost tenderly, and you weren't sure if you were ready for the depth of what exactly he's been keeping away from you.

You pushed him away right then, your head hurting as you tried to remember if you held any feelings for him, hatred and bloodthirst rising in you fast - Orin is going to pay for taking everything from you, you were going to enjoy choking her with her own intestines and bathing in her blood -

Everything was a blur as you ran past him, never noticing his concerned expression as he was left there standing, speechless and way too excited from your little reunion.

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