withinadream: (Baldur's Gate)
withinadream ([personal profile] withinadream) wrote in [community profile] baldurskink2023-09-27 05:03 pm

Baldur's Gate 3 Prompt Post 1

Leave prompts for Baldur's Gate 3 here!

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Announcement: from July 1-15, Filth Fest rules are in effect - all prompts should be filthy and/or kinky af. Full rules here. Prompts that don't meet the filth threshold will be screened at the mod's discretion.

Gortash/Dark Urge, cock cures amnesia

(Anonymous) 2023-10-10 10:33 am (UTC)(link)
Literally Gortash fucks the Dark Urge so good that it breaks the amnesia and bring his lost lover back to him. Dick so good it makes you remember everything you’ve lost

Re: Gortash/Dark Urge, cock cures amnesia

(Anonymous) 2023-10-10 08:07 pm (UTC)(link)
+10000000

I'm filling a different prompt at the moment so I will settle for hoping someone else gets to this before I do.

Gortash/F!Durge - You Loved Me

(Anonymous) 2023-10-30 04:00 am (UTC)(link)
Hope you don't mind female Durge. :) Content warning for dubcon.

----
Visits to the Lower City always left a bitter taste in Enver’s mouth. It was gratifying to measure the distance he had put between himself and the refuse, but a part of him would rather not be reminded it had been necessary in the first place. He leaned heavily on the first part of the equation today, choosing what looked to be a tumbledown cottage barely a block away from the cobbler shop where his puppets sung his praises. Illusion magic leant him the guise of a nameless wastrel; someone no one would lift a finger to help when two Steel Watchers apparently steered him to an abandoned hovel. They settled just inside the door to await their guest. After dispelling his disguise, Enver busied himself with the last of his preparations, offering a minor prayer or two in the meantime. The Black Hand had little interest in the minutiae of Enver’s plots, but he could be convinced to bless even the pettiest of abuses when they served a worthier goal.

She wasn’t prompt. When she did appear, she seemed entirely unsurprised by the two behemoths that greeted her at the door, having undoubtedly conducted her own reconnaissance before allowing herself to be seen. It intrigued Enver to imagine the uncertainty she must have wrestled with before she made the decision to enter, but it frustrated him as well. Everything about her was the same, but she was also inescapably different. The additional scars were one thing; the lack of recognition in her eyes quite another. Still, those same eyes glittered with malice as she regarded the Watchers, then Enver himself. That familiar chill ran down his spine.

Her gaze roamed over the interior: the reinforced door; the barred and shuttered windows; the rich furnishings incongruent with the squalor of Heapside. She lingered for a moment on the plush bed at Enver’s back. She noted the shackles fixed to its posts, of course, but hid well whatever response they engendered.

“If this is a trap,” Bhaal’s once-Chosen said bluntly, “it’s an inelegant one. Yesterday, you wanted to be allies. Today, you kidnapped my companions. You’ll forgive me for wondering if it’s Orin I’m speaking to now.”

“You are the only Bhaalspawn here, I assure you.” Smile at the ready, Enver spread his hands in a placating gesture. “But I really must correct you: I haven’t kidnapped anyone – not recently, at any rate. The people look to my Steel Watch for safety and security in these dangerous times. I can’t be held accountable for your companions running afoul of the law.”

“Don’t tell me what I can’t do.”

She didn’t glare, didn’t glower, but Enver suppressed a shudder as she nevertheless regarded him with a steely menace reminiscent of the guillotine. Enver detected not a hint of trepidation, even when the Watcher on her left emitted an unexpected hydraulic hiss. It both delighted and disturbed him.

“I wouldn’t dream of it, my dear. I would be happy to help you secure their freedom, in fact. I assume that’s why you accepted my invitation to attend this place.”

“If I’m to deal with Orin, I need them. You know it as well as I do.” Her eyes darted to the shackles, a flicker of uncertainty finally showing. “So why haven’t you freed them already?”

“As sharp as always. You and I have a history, as you know. Together, we masterminded a plan which could well bring the whole of Toril to heel. But I saw something in you yesterday that my old friend would never have tolerated in herself.”

“Distaste, perhaps? I have no patience for pomp.”

“On the contrary. What I saw in you was shame.” Even the word tasted sour. “Instead of relishing your homecoming, you fairly cowered beneath the judgement of your lessers. I was surprised you didn’t rip out someone’s throat.”

“Is that what you wanted? I can’t imagine the patriars would have enjoyed it.”

“Most importantly, you didn’t remember me. Your closest confidante.”

The shift in the set of her jaw spoke volumes. “Did I hurt your feelings?”

Continuing to smile was an effort. “I’d like to extend to you an offer.”

He reached out to tap the nearest shackle. The movement rattled the chain to which it was connected; a fine, filigree thing which looked at first glance more appropriate for sculpture than restraint. Four cuffs. Four chains.

“The terms are thus: shed your clothes, secure yourself in these bindings, and willingly submit to me. Come dawn, I will ensure your companions’ freedom – but, more importantly, you will remember who you are. I guarantee it.”

Unflappable as she had seemed so far, the sudden tension in her posture was quite visible to one who was looking for it. “I’m not such a fool as to have brought Ketheric’s netherstone with me. I say again: this is a disappointing trap.”

“If I wanted you dead, my Steel Watchers would have already caved in your skull.” He smiled disarmingly, this time. “Is it so hard to believe that I want what’s best for you? I recall a Bhaalspawn who would have leapt at this chance. Let me show you those parts of you that have been lost. Let me give you the whole picture. If, after your eyes have been opened, you want to throw it all away?” His shrug was dismissive. “Then so be it.”

She glanced at the Watchers, then at the door. Doubtless, she was considering whether she could break her companions out herself. That would certainly spell the end of their alliance.

“If you don’t believe me – or if you don’t wish to participate – you’re welcome to leave. The Watchers won’t stop you. If you make haste, you may even arrive in time to see your friends swing from the gallows.”

That did it. Her gaze veered back to him, full of bloodlust barely restrained. Enver wanted to climb inside her body and stay there, each pulse of her heartbeat stirring his.

So quickly he didn’t register what had happened until the blade was already quivering in the wall beside his head, she snatched the dagger from her belt and flung it at him.

The Watchers moved into action immediately. Enver gaped at her for a moment, caught utterly by surprise. The Bhaalspawn merely stared at him, that abyss in her eyes hard and flat.

Enver raised a hand to the Watchers. Quietened, they retreated to their original positions.

“Are you mad?”

“Yes. But at least I know you’re not Orin.”

Vexing as it was, he could see the logic. Enver’s heartrate gradually slowed as he watched her discard her remaining weapons, then her armour, and finally peel her underclothes away. She didn’t preen under his gaze. Neither did she cringe, although she must have seen his hunger as he raked his eyes over her. Her suffering in Moonrise was marked by a plethora of new scars. She was leaner than she had been when he knew her; captivity, followed by tendays on the road, seemed to have sucked every spare ounce of fat from her frame. Enver swallowed against a flood of saliva as she approached the bed. When the time came, he would map every crevice of her changed body with his tongue.

“Did you always have to tie me down?”

She sat herself upon the bed without a thought for modesty. Scattered bruises marked her inner thighs; some an angry purple, others faded with age. Resentment churned in Enver’s gut. The click of one shackle closing around her ankle did little to remedy it.

“Not always. But I recall you enjoying those times I did.”

“Protection from the Urge?” Click. She secured her other ankle.

“No. You just wanted to be made helpless.”

When she closed a cuff around her left wrist, she looked him in the eye. “I’m never helpless.”

He felt her heartbeat through her skin as he manoeuvred her hand into the last remaining restraint. Gaze fixed on hers, he pressed his lips to the heel of her palm.

“Aren’t you?”

He removed his robes to join her on the bed, though he didn’t yet doff his linen pants. She observed him mutely as he undressed, her eyes occasionally darting to the Watchers by the door. Goosebumps rose in the wake of Enver’s fingertips as he traced the planes and curves of her body, lingering on those alterations wrought by hardship or Orin’s blade. Her wrists twisted gently in the cuffs, fingers coiling around fine chain as if to test its strength. She otherwise remained completely still.

“The first time we were together,” Enver said quietly, now moving to caress her hardening nipples, “was after a battle. I don’t exaggerate when I say you were magnificent.”

“Don’t flatter me. I’m not as easily manipulated as you might remember.”

“This is no manipulation.”

He tweaked her breast just so, assured by the colour rising in her cheeks that her body remembered his touch, even if her broken mind didn’t. Silence settled naturally, then, disturbed only by their breathing and the rustle of chain and bedclothes. The bindings around her ankles were taut enough that she was prevented from closing her legs. She bared her teeth when he caressed the bruising on her inner thighs. The musings that followed began as idle wonderings: which of her companions did she welcome between her legs? The evidence spoke to teeth and blunt nails. Lips and tongue had graced her too, Enver imagined. At least one of her underlings regularly worshipped her cunt.

When he wrenched his gaze back to her face, he found her smiling darkly.

Perhaps in retaliation, he began to stroke her folds. He wasn’t surprised to find her slick once he parted her flesh, but she seemed to be; alarm flashed in her eyes as he caressed her, gentle but firm, coaxing her wet warmth to welcome him home. Her smile dissolved. Her lips fell open. He expected a barbed comment, maybe, or another denial – but she moaned.

That brought him to finger her in earnest. Enver mastered her with the ease of long practice, stroking with just the right pressure and speed to have her rutting against his hand. He leaned in to lay soothing kisses along her neck, suppressing the desire to turn to bites and bruising. There would be time for that later. Briefly, he was suffused in the familiar scent of her, her galloping pulse hot under his lips. Lost memories or no, she would never eliminate that faint whiff of blood. His stubble quickly irritated her delicate skin. It cheered Enver to think of her lover seeing it tomorrow.

As if her thoughts followed the same path, she turned her face away from him – but she opened her thighs a little wider. Sweat and salt collected on his tongue as he dragged it along her neck. A panted groan escaped her, and for a moment, she sounded like herself. Her fists jerked in the restraints, blood sliding down one wrist from where she had torn a ragged gash in her palm.

“It’s all right, my dear.” Pausing in his ministrations, Enver twined his wet fingers through her bloodied ones. That snapped her head back toward him, her eyes both dark and wild. “I’m sure this must all seem very strange, but you are safer now than you have ever been. You’ve found your way home.”

She was panting. Trembling. “I’m not who you think I am.”

“You are the true Chosen of Bhaal. You are the Murder Lord’s will made flesh. Which part of that is wrong?”

Gripping her jaw with gold-tipped fingers, he dragged his thumb across her lower lip. She was like a wild thing, truly; a frightened beast who had awoken in a strange and foreign place. Everything he was, Enver poured into the kiss that followed. Perhaps she even felt something of these long months he had endured without her. She whimpered, twisting toward him, as he released her hand and returned to her folds. He knew her body better than she did, and it wasn’t long before he had her writhing in her bonds, rolling her hips up to meet the thumb circling her nub.

“I know you remember me, despite what Orin did to you. You are too perfect to have been erased. Can you still feel him? Your Lord of Murder?”

Her eyes snapped open again, regarding him with all the darkness of that familiar abyss. A hiss escaped her, long and low.

“If you knew me as you say you do, you wouldn’t need to ask. The Urge wants death, always.”

“My death?”

“Any death.”

He crooked his fingers at an angle that had always made her breath catch. The heel of his palm grinding against her swollen clit, he assaulted that spot until tears spilled from the corners of her eyes.

“Please,” she whispered.

Her eyes were black, her cheeks flushed. She was clinging to her bindings now, any pretense of resistance abandoned. Enver pressed his lips to her hairline, breathing in her scent.

“Don’t fight it, my dear. You can be honest: you long to kill me.”

She jerked as if he had struck her. “I want to,” she breathed. “I’ve always wanted to.” The revelation seemed to shock her; he could hear her almost choke on the astonishment. “But I… but…”

She came on his fingers, her thighs shaking and her breath dragging in shallow, ragged gasps. Enver didn’t let up for a moment. Soon enough, she was thrashing in her bonds again, begging in wordless, broken whimpers.

“It’s all right,” he crooned again. He was light-headed with want. Sweat was pooling under his robes. “You can admit it.”

“Enver…!”

It was his turn to groan, then, resisting the impulse to take her at that very moment. “Tell me.”

“I wanted to keep you,” she snarled, breathless and writhing. Her pupils had blown so wide that not a hint of colour remained.

“What does that mean?”

“I told him… I would give him everything and everyone.” She said it with the air of someone unearthing some hidden atrocity.

“But me last.”

Her sharp exhale bordered on a sob. “But you last.”

Gods. Enver buried his face in the crook of her neck as he drove her to a second climax. She sobbed her release at the ceiling, both wrists twisting in their cuffs. Thin lines of blood trickled freely down her arms. Hastening to drag his pants over his hips, Enver felt a moment of desperate madness. Even then, his tongue struggled to form the words.

“You loved me.”

The silence that followed seemed to last an eternity. But, finally, his magnificent murderer nodded.

He fucked her sweetly, this second first time, gripping her thigh with one hand and cupping her jaw with the other. She parted around him easily, still wracked by trembling aftershocks. Her wriggling ceased as soon as his cock was inside her. It was simple. Flawless. His name fell from her in gasps and moans until he covered her lips and swallowed the sounds like wine. Like a supine predator, she sagged in her bonds, mewling with pleasure with every snap of his hips. He finished inside her, trembling and sweaty, and lay there with his skin still flush with hers.

Enver lost count of how many times he took her that day. When she asked him to release her, he complied, and she proceeded to ride him with all the sweat-slick intent that had haunted his recent fantasies. He lost himself in her, he would realize later: in the darkness of her almost unshakeable gaze, and in the relentless cravings she had always sought to slake in him. They lay tangled together afterwards, when he had claimed her on almost every surface. She sprawled across his chest, one knee hooked over his legs.

“We were partners,” he said to her, fingertips tracing the curve of her brow. She leaned into his touch. “You had your yearnings, and I had mine. We complemented each other perfectly.”

“Yes.” It was enough, Enver realized. Uncomplicated. Complete. Then, “I saw you beneath Moonrise. You, Orin and Ketheric, with Duke Ravengard.” Her eyes were closed, her voice uncharacteristically gentle. “I wish I had known.”

“It’s better this way.” He moved to tracing her cheek, her jaw, then the curve of her neck. “Ketheric didn’t know the meaning of loyalty. You saw that for yourself. And here you are, despite it all.” He pressed a kiss to the crown of her head, swallowing hard against the pressure in his throat. “You found your way back to me.”

“I did,” she said softly. Her gaze was dark. Implacable. “And you, to me.”