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tantalizingtopi · 2 years ago

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Perhaps, Part 2

The Dark Urge x Gortash

NSFW

Word Count: 3607

Part two of Perhaps.

Disclaimer: I do not own these characters, they are Larian Studios and Baldur’s Gate 3

I jolt awake with a gasp, adrenaline pulsing through my veins. “I said you weren’t going anywhere, love.”

Gortash grins, relaxing in the chair in front of me. Thanks to the scroll of revivify that he used, the sparkling dust of it now mixing in with body fluids on the floor, I’m feeling less variable. My friends, no my family, are still dead though, and my heart feels like it’s been cleaved in two. I see Astarion’s—yes definitely Astarion—form on the ground, his red eyes open but vacant, as I test my fingers, pressing each one to my thumb as I rove my eyes around the archduke’s office.

“Eyes on me, Draela, spare your softened heart the pain of it. I tried, didn’t I? They’re literally all over the floor though, poor little spawn.” Gortash’s own gaze flickers to Astarion. “You two bonded over that, I suppose. By freeing him from his master, it gave you the courage to face your own, didn’t it?”

“Fuck you,” I growl. Gortash flinches like I’d just slapped him.

“Okay, you’re right, that was a little harsh. I’m sorry sweetheart, I know they meant a lot to you. Their loss is regrettable. But we can’t have them messing up our grand plan, can we? Really, I’m giving myself too much credit, this was your brainchild afterall, I just helped make it a reality,” his dark eyes hold mine, and I can’t detect a hint of deceit. Did he truly wish they could be spared?

I try not to allow myself to hope, but it takes root anyway. Karlach, Astarion, and Shadowheart are gone now, but what of the others? Will Gortash just lock them away?

“Drae, while I can just take the two netherstones from you, I truly don’t want to do this alone. I mean, I can of course, but it was always supposed to be you and I ruling, and I still want you by my side, despite all your efforts to derail our destiny.” As he speaks, he stands and slowly walks around me.

“Me as the Archduke, and you as my duchess.” He places his hands on my shoulders, gently on the one that is clearly out of place, his breath curling against my ear. “I still want you, and I know you want me too.”

A shiver of excitement coarses through me, and I feel the same way I felt eating the dead spider. No, this is much more than that. His soft chuckle against my flesh, his finger trailing down my neck. Gods what is wrong with me? His teeth graze my ear and a soft moan falls out of my lips before I can stifle it.

His touch trails down my skin, following nearly the same path as my blade had all those months ago. His deft fingers slide inside my battered armor and brush against my nipples, already hardened and needy for his touch. My body betrays me, arcing towards his hands, begging for more. Pathetic that I am, I nearly whimper. His breath in my ear again, his voice a husky growl, “there’s my girl. I’ve missed this body.”

He ghosts his fingers over them again, and this time I can’t bite back the whine. He sucks in a breath, clearly enjoying himself. He strokes my breasts, getting nearer and nearer to their awaiting peaks, and I feel like I may explode. He finally relents and his skilled fingers work my nipples over as I cry out in pleasure. “That’s right, that’s my girl, you do remember.”

He drives me swiftly to the edge pinching and squeezing and touching my nipples in a way only he could. In a way only a familiar lover could. “Cry out my name, sweetheart, and cum for me.”

“En-ver!” I cry, my pussy throbbing as I orgasm, able to fight my dark urges but helpless to his commands. He promptly moves away from me, but not before slipping a hand down my trousers and a finger between my folds, just barely grazing my clit before pulling it out, causing me to gasp in pleasure. Sticky and glistening, he comes back around me before he puts his finger in his mouth and gives his own moan of pleasure.

“I tell you, Drae, there is nothing on this plane that tastes as good as you do,” Gortash says, winking at me as he flips his chair around to sit properly, his erection evident. “I would taste you morning noon and night if I could.”

I bite my lip, staring at the bulge in his pants. He notices and his grin widens. “Oh? Do you want this?”

He gestures, I nod. My hands twitch against the bindings that hold them.

“How do I trust you though? You’ve lied to me, tried to kill me—not for the first time but this time you were really serious—and now you want me to give something to you? You want me to fuck you, to make you see stars as you come apart around me, over and over again?”

This is lunacy. I am bruised, wounded, broken. I should be mourning the loss of three members of my found family. I should be trying to kill the man before me, but all I want right now is his length inside of me. I have gone completely mad.

And he has too, or he is incredibly foolish. Who the hells wants to have the person who has attempted and successfully destroyed his plans to be by their side? Worse, to be their lover? I drag my eyes along his form to meet his. “You’re foolish if you do, but that won’t stop you. It’s never stopped you before.”

“That’s true,” he says, adjusting himself. “I only seem to be reckless and foolish when it comes to you, though. You bring everything out in me, good and bad.”

He leans towards me again, pulling a small tube from his pocket. He begins to fiddle with it and I watch with interest as the artificer moves with technical precision. “You’ve taught me a lot over the last couple of years, did you know? Some valuable life lessons, especially when dealing with that bitch sister of yours. One of those being, always have a contingency plan so you can get the drop on your enemy. It’s why I was so surprised to see you— well, gone.”

“I don’t remember,” I say. He nods.

“In the interest of full transparency, this tube contains a concentrated dose of both antimagic as well as a paralyzing agent that allows you to move but unable to get away, as very much exertion will completely tire you out. You will be fully healed, but your strength completely sapped. Should you agree to it, I’ll inject you with it and we can safely engage in whatever we please.” He taps the tube and a needle slides out, ready to strike.

“And if I refuse?”

He grimaces. “Love is a terrible burden, Draela, one that I had hoped to never have to experience. But here I am. I can’t bring myself to kill you, I can’t let you go. I won’t let you kill yourself. I was lost without you, going through the motions because what else could I do? I hate everyone, hated Orin, all these stupid weak minded and weak willed people. It was the only emotion I had left. Anger and hatred, rule the world and make everyone suffer the way I suffered without you. Seeing you, knowing you were out there, knowing you would eventually come back to me, changed or not, no matter your goal, gave me purpose again. If you refuse, I will inject you anyway, and you will never be far from my presence. I don’t just want you, Drae, I know now that I need you. I am yours and you are mine.”

He leans back and lifts his shirt, showing me the mark I left on him so many moons ago. A part of me longs to trace my fingers over that mark, trace my tongue along its white lines. Reforge it if it fades. I feel fresh tears welling in my eyes and close them to keep them from falling. “What about them?”

Gortash is quiet, and I open my eyes again to find him looking thoughtfully at the bodies of my friends. “The only way to keep them alive is to give them the same fate. Otherwise they pose too much of a threat.”

“Is this injection reversible? Will you ever trust me enough to give me myself back?”

“Hypothetically, yes it is reversible. I haven’t tried to make a cure.” He shrugs. “I was too busy trying to perfect a way to keep you.”

“You promise you’ll figure out a way to reverse it?” His gaze holds mine, his expression earnest.

“My love, I want nothing more than to trust you. I want nothing more than to know you’re with me, fully and willingly.”

“I agree.” He nearly tips my chair over as he crashes his lips to mine, the words barely out of my mouth. I feel the sting as he plunges the needle into my neck, the effects of his concoction kicking in almost instantaneously as the light I had conjured in my palm fizzles out.

His knife makes quick work of my bindings and he is hauling me up to him, wrapping my legs around him and moving us to his desk. In one sweeping motion he clears off and roughly sets me down, his lips never leaving mine. My fingers fumbled at the lacings of his trousers but he rips them down, his shaft finally released. I stroke him and he groans, pulling away to tear off my own clothes.

He forces himself inside and I gasp, grabbing at his jacket and pulling him closer to me. I bite at his lower lip and he growls, pulling himself almost completely out before slamming into me again. He pushes me against the desk and bends over me, worshiping my skin with his mouth as I move to meet his hips with mine. My hands find purchase under his shirt and my nails dig lightly into his back and he groans in pleasure, his pace quickening.

I wrap my legs around him as the pressure builds, urging him on. He brings his face to mine, kissing along my jawline, then my lips. “Look at me.”

My eyes find his dark orbs as his fingers brush my hair away from my face. He nuzzles his nose to mine, parting his lips to say something but then thinking better of it, he buries his face in my neck biting me instead. I gasp in surprise and scrape my nails down his back before digging them into his ass.

“Fuck, Drae,” he groans. “Cum for me right… now.”

I cry out, my body instantly complying, clenching around him. He raises himself up and keeps going, throwing one of my legs over his shoulder. Every thrust is another crashing wave and when he drags his teeth against my calf, his name falls from my lips like a plea.

“That’s my good girl, say my name and cum for me again.” He roughly grabs my ass and sinks the metal of his gauntlet into my flesh.

“Enver! Oh gods, Enver!” I spasm around him and he hisses in pleasure, slowing as I struggle to catch my breath.

He pulls out and I hear my wetness drip onto the floor in the silence. I whine at the emptiness, at him not cumming himself. “Shh shh shh.”

He leans over to kiss me, his fingers already teasing my folds. “Don’t worry darling, I’m not through with you. Far from it.”

He buries his face between my legs, working me over with his tongue and his fingers, his nose rubbing up against my clit when his tongue plunges inside, and his fingers replacing his tongue when he rolls it against my clit instead. “Cum on my tongue, sweetheart, let me taste how much you want me.”

I come apart again, my fingers in his hair as I grind against his face. His own pleasurable groans escape his lips as he tastes me. He pulls away momentarily, probably to catch his own breath, once again working his fingers against me and I can’t take it anymore. “Please, Enver.”

His face registers surprise. “Please,” his voice is husky, filled with wanting, but the word sounds as if it’s foreign to him. “Please, what?”

His fingers rub against my g spot and I moan in delicious agony. “Please, Enver, I need you.”

I must imagine the heat creep on his cheeks as he barks “Turn around.”

He grabs me before I can begin to respond, his hands rough as he spins me around and presses me against the desk. My feet can barely keep me upright but it’s no matter for him. A sharp sting as he slaps my ass before rubbing the spot gently. A flash of a flash of a memory of me telling him that his softness in bed disgusted me early on in our relationship; in my old life. He pushes my legs further apart, while pulling my hips to him, grinding himself against me before slowly, agonizingly slowly, easing into me. I sigh, delighting in the satisfaction of being filled by him.

He begins slow, steadily increasing his speed. “You cum when I tell you, alright? You can take it, I know you can.”

As he thrusts hard and fast, his fingers twist in my hair, pulling my head back and to the side so he can see my face. I rock my hips to meet his and his hand resonates against my ass. He pushes me gently down against the desk, my head still turned so he can see me. He groans, closing his eyes for a moment. “Gods, you’re exquisite.”

I push back against him and he growls, moving even faster as his grip on my hips tightens. Just as it is reaching its crescendo, he curses and pulls out. I collapse against the desk, my legs weak. He helps me back onto the desk, turning me again and coaxing me even further onto it, his body following mine. I gaze up at him, taking in his features. The face of evil, the face of a man I once loved, the face of a stranger. His voice is low, “I need to see you.”

I nod, and he rocks himself into me again, lowering himself onto his forearms so he can be close. He kisses me, and my lips part to let his tongue in. His hand cups my breast, his fingers playing with me, teasing my flesh. I moan against his lips and his pace picks up. He pulls his mouth from me as the pressure builds and stares at me. I do my best to keep my eyes on his, but my vision is hazy with lust. His fingers dip down to stroke me. “Enver—“

“Now, cum now,” his groans and I call out his name again as I break into a million pieces with him. He calls out mine like a prayer on his lips.

“Mmmm,” I purr against his neck a few minutes later, pressing my lips to it. I feel deliciously, completely full. He rests above me, his frame against mine but still maintaining some resistance to crushing me against him and the desk. He twitches still inside of me, and I run my tongue against his collarbone. He twitches again and this time I playfully move in response, earning a growl from Gortash. He gently lifts himself off of me and slowly pulls out of me as he climbs off the desk. I watch as he looks at the mess he made with satisfaction. I struggle to stretch my legs out and together, my muscles aching from tension and release.

“Don’t move,” he says, wagging a finger at me before he disappears for a moment. I turn my head towards the bodies of my friends, knowing they’d be absolutely horrified if they had witnessed the scene that had played out mere feet from where they’d been slain. My stomach twists and nausea overwhelms me and I have to turn away, rolling over to my side to face away from them. Gortash returns with bowl and a towel.

“What are you—?” I begin as he shushes me again.

Gently, he eases me onto my back once more and parts my legs. I throw my arm over my eyes, suddenly self conscious with the way he is looking at my pussy. He runs a finger gently down my folds, making me gasp as I spasm. I listen as he wets the towel and wrings it out, carefully pressing it against me and cleaning me. The water is warm, and the gesture is so intimate, I want to recoil from him, lash out. Instead, I bite my lip and let him continue.

When he is done, he scoops me up into his arms and carries me to his private quarters. He sits me on the bed and rubs his hands together, a gesture I recall he would do when he was extremely nervous. “I had a few things made for you, and if you don’t like them, we can find something else. I want you to be comfortable and dressed in only the best.”

He opens the closet, and I take in the dozen or so pieces, each exuding status and wealth. A memory of pink satin, stained in blood, my fingers feeling the fabric between my fingers and vowing to dress more elegantly. I move to the clothes, admiring each in turn, noting the dark color scheme, with the exception of two, one predominantly teal. I take it down and Gortash offers to help me into it. I accept, first pulling on the matching undergarments, feeling his gaze on me. He helps me step into the dress and then makes quick work of the lacing, keeping the bodice form fitting and flattering without sacrificing breathing and mobility.

“Enver, I’m not going anywhere, you do know that?” I ask, watching him in the mirror as he finishes lacing.

His gaze meets mine in the mirror, hurt flashing across his features. “I just want to make sure you’re really you, is all. You’re so different from the Draela I fell in love with; yet so much of you is the same. Orin tried many times to trick me into believing she was you.”

I turn, one hand in the hair at the nape of his neck, the other against his cheek. He leans into my touch as I rub small circles into the base of his scalp. “I’m not the same, that’s true. Orin made sure of that when she made mincemeat of my brain. But I’d like to think that I’m someone a bit better, someone out from my father’s thumb.”

He takes me hand and presses a kiss to my palm. “So far, I like what I see.”

————

That evening, I lay in his bed, tucked into his side, plotting. I feel his chest rise and fall, tell that he is sleeping and sleeping soundly, probably the first truly sound sleep he’s had in awhile by how quickly he was able to relax. Whatever he injected me with, he trusts it will be enough to keep him safe. He isn’t the only one with ‘lotions and potions’ as that hag would say.

“Enver?” I rise onto my elbow, looking at him, and his arm around me tightens for a moment. This seems to stir him awake and he pulls me on top of him, his arms wrapped around me and pushes a kiss to the top of my head.

“So beautiful,” he murmurs into my hair.

“If you could have just one of your desires, what would it be?”

“You,” he says without hesitation. “Without you, I’m nothing.”

“You’re sweet,” I say, earning a chuckle from him.

“Or stupid,” he says as I lift my head to look at him. He opens his eyes and meets mine in the darkness. “What are you plotting, my virago?”

“Nothing.”

“Bullshit.” We assess one another for a moment, before he laughs again, shaking his head. “You know what? I don’t even care. End me if you must, just promise me that your face will be the last I see. Grant me that, at least. Let me die by your hands.”

“If it comes to that,” I press my lips to his, and he returns the kiss eagerly. “But you should know by now, there’s always another way.”

He holds me to him, languidly moving his mouth against mine. “A million ways to murder me, you mean? You’ve told me in great detail.”

I wait for the desire to come, to have to fight myself to stay present, but nothing comes. I grin against his lips. “I have no desire to describe your end to you.”

He pulls away. “Truly?”

“If I can reject and be rejected by my god, perhaps…”

“Hush,” he snaps, fear shining in his eyes. He further quiets me by crushing his lips to mine, roughly positioning my legs around him, his arousal pressing against me.

Later, spent from being lost in one another, I begin to drift off, nestled against him. He shifts me gently as he places a hand behind his head, pulling me closer to him with his other. He waits to see if I stir, and when I don’t, he lets out a slow breath. “Perhaps.”

#fanfic #baldur's gate 3 #bg3 #bg3 dark urge #bg3 durge #dark urge #durgetash #gortash smut #gortash x durge #lord enver gortash

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reflectionspace · 2 months ago

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This is going to ruffle some feathers, but you know me and my hot takes by this point. This is also written as a stream of thought and not terribly polished.

Let's preface this with

I am a Wyll fangirlie

The core issue is capitalism

Got it?

Good.

It's a bit of a bad cycle.

Larian sees Wyll getting less engagement in the game and outside of it, so they don’t have the incentive to follow fan requests—especially the more expensive “after the fact” ones, like recording lots of new lines or tons of new animations and quests. IIRC, Wyll has something like 3–5 hours less voice acting than Astarion or Shadowheart, which is quite a lot.

But the smaller amount of content leads to less interest, and Wyll as a character generates less hype. So it’s a cycle.

When you plan new content as a company, you always have to consider ROI.

Business yapping under the cut.

What is ROI?

Will that action point ultimately make you money or not?

If it's a no, you don't do it.

If it's a maybe, it becomes a nice to have.

If yes, you greenlight it.

Especially if you’re a big studio with major payroll and operating costs. A small indie dev or modder can add whatever they like. But Larian has ~500 employees. They need to cover salaries, loans, investors, upkeep, software licenses, and more.

This is the same reason I harp on EA and Veilguard for shitty writing, but I don’t expect them to "fix" Veilguard.

Veilguard’s budget was mismanaged—they spent their money on flashy tech and abysmal writing. The result? No ROI. The game flopped, the studio’s in shambles, and most of the team was sacked. Even if they rewrote the whole game now, they’d never make that investment back.

So, you, dear reader, hopefully see what is lowkey at stake behind every "should we or should we do something else" as a company.

Adding one narrator line based on social media feedback? Easy win. It makes fans feel seen. That translates to engagement. Engagement translates to sales.

There was a clear incentive to add Halsin. And holy shit, did that pay off. That Bear Scene? Genius-tier sales and marketing. It moved copies.

Same with why we get more Gortash implications. Or more and more Astarion kisses. Those are nice to haves that are easy to greenlight.

Fan demand is high. It drives attention. That’s ROI.

What about Wyll?

In a cast of unstable maniacs, Wyll is the one well-adjusted Disney prince. His biggest flaw is being self-sacrificing to an unhealthy degree. It doesn’t drive angsty romance the way Astarion or Gortash subtext does. So he’s less chosen as a romance. Less chosen as a main.

This is partly on Larian’s writing.

And partly on plain ol’ fandom racism.

Some of Wyll’s writing issues might come from Larian not knowing how to write Black male characters with sensitivity and depth—so they played it safe and gave us the most wholesome, palatable dude possible.

But honestly, if Astarion looked like Wyll? I think Larian would’ve gotten torched for making the Black male character a seductive, trauma-damaged bloodsucker who tries to feed on you without consent.

Personally? I like Wyll. As a companion and an Origin. He has a lot of main character energy—his quest is about finding his dad and learning his value beyond being “The Hero.” YMMV on the writing. But he’s not a YA dark romantasy lead. He’s the green flag you’d introduce to your mom. And everyone else around him is either hilariously messed up, or muscle mommy Karlach.

Here's the big one.

Fan demand for Wyll isn’t framed in positive engagement.

It’s not like the Astarion girlies pumping out countless free ads for the game. I search for Wyll gifs and I get Astarion. It’s that bad.

Like it or not, accusations of company racism? Not good press. Especially for a game that markets itself as “inclusive modern fantasy.”

Of course Larian doesn’t engage Wyll questions. They can’t win.

What are they supposed to say? Everything I’ve said above? That’ll just be read as:

“So you’re saying you’re racist and that’s why the black guy gets less content?”

Why has Wyll less content TDLR

His arc was rewritten late in development, which meant recording all-new voice lines and re-scoping his storyline—an expensive and time-consuming process.

His narrative ties closely to the main plot, so unless you're playing Wyll as an Origin character, he often fades into the background during companion-focused moments.

Wyll and Mizora function as a package deal. In terms of game design, it’s very likely that Wyll’s arc was scoped internally as a two-character structure: not just “Wyll the companion/origin,” but “Wyll and his devil handler.” That adds complexity, but also limits space for fully developing him as an individual.

He has several hours fewer voice lines than Astarion, Shadowheart, or Gale. Adding more isn’t just about calling Wyll’s voice actor—it involves writing, direction, re-records, interactions with other cast members, and animation resources. It’s a large ask.

Larian may or may not struggle to write Black male characters—that’s not a judgment I want to make lightly. Honestly, I’m inclined to give them some grace here. Writing a Black male character with the same edge or messiness as, say, Astarion or Lae’zel or Shadowheart is a powder keg that most companies are understandably wary of. The optics and risks of misstepping are huge, especially in a game with global reach. (You'll note I don't harp on Davrin in Veilguard either, for the same reason.)

Larian sees no clear ROI in adding more Wyll content—and critically, they have nothing to gain by engaging in a public conversation about it. Even good-faith explanations would be easy to misconstrue as excuses or deflection.

Luckily, the solution is easy.

No, not for Wyll. That ship has likely sailed.

But for future black characters in future games from ANY studio?

The solution is capitalism.

BG3 might not be getting more content, but listen: if a black dream prince shows up in a game?

Make. That. Man. Big.

Engagement, engagement, engagement. Positive engagement.

The snake in the business suit holding a clipboard only understands numbers. If the numbers go up, content happens.

Ship him with the fandom favorite.

Buy his merch—and buy more than you do the popular white guy.

Make zines. Fanart. Meta. Fic. All about him.

Choose his romance path. Keep him in your party. Mod him into your cutscenes. Make sure when people search for GIFs of the game, he shows up first.

Positive engagement gives the studio permission to invest.

If the writing sucks or the cast is all white for no reason? Consider: Don’t buy the game. Buy the game with the okay writing and black character instead.

You, as the consumer, decide how and whether ROI happens or not.

Maybe we would have gotten more Wyll content…

...if Spawn Wylstarion had become the main ship.

it is, i think, symptomatic of the way larian has built this brand: bg3 was always marketed as being mature (read: sexual), and that was one of the big draws for players - myself included! especially as media pulls more towards extremes, with mainstream video games starting to get increasingly graphically sexual, graphically violent, and the vogue for 'grey morality' becomes the norm, those boundaries get pushed, and it becomes more and more of a selling point.

larian obviously focused on this, along with the How Do You Do, Fellow Kids brand, the increased accessibility of game devs on twitter, and adopted it heavily into their marketing strategy, and are now pretty reliant on the horny gamer crowd for a lot of their audience, and more importantly, they're doing this on purpose.

which is how you end up in situations like this.

characters (white men) the players want to fuck get centred: they get updates, they get more content, they get favoured. halsin's gone from a side character in EA to a half-fledged romance option, to a full romance option: he shows up in the promotional material, is larian's poster boy for the sex scenes, he gets more content with every update.

now gortash gets more heavily implied situationship lines with the dark urge, because players are horny for him. nevermind that some people aren't playing that way, or that he was originally set up to be a lower-level antagonist; nevermind that if the durge's storyline needed expansion, it should've been with orin and sarevok and bhaal, or that it muddies the writing for the rest of gortash's arc + characterisation: people want to fuck him, so it gets put in the game. it's not even to do with karlach, whose quest so desperately needs expansion! it's specifically catering to the people who want their character to have a Relationship with the slaver, because they're either not interested in or not able to focus on strengthening the weak spots in the narrative: they're just doing things that will net the 'my favourite dating sim' people lmfao.

meanwhile, literal main character wyll gets his quest demoted to a subquest, doesn't get bugfixes, doesn't get a single unique romance greeting after 6 patches and months of requests. he's not a Horny character, so he doesn't get the focus: he's not a player favourite, so he gets nothing. it's just... so unbelievably, indisputably racist, and it's incredibly grim and disappointing to watch it happen in real-time.

#It's me i'm the worst marxist #wyll deserves better #wyll ravengard #the nice thing about capitalism is that sometimes you as the little worker-consumer bee do wield the power #video games meta #everyone should experience spawn wylstarion at least twice it's so wholesome #business logic #fandom meta #wylstarion #if you want messy and interesting black characters consider Cyberpunk 2077 #why am I being so lenient on Larian when I harp on EA? Larian isn't a publicly traded company and they really invest in good writing #so they have to do something Heinous for me to cancel them #Wyll is not a badly written character he's just a nice well-adjusted dude in a group of romantasy basketcases and tragic terminal patients #what can I say my heart beats on the left but it's a pragmatist heart #black cat white cat as long as the mice are caught and so on #this fandom has issues

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