[dirtybg3confessions]

Confession: gortash probably smells like piss and that makes me want to give him a bath while degrading and teasing him.

[dirtybg3confessions]

Confession: I want to be fucking DESTROYED by a steel watcher while Gortash watches, grinning and proud of his creation.

[dirtybg3confessions]

Confession: i just know that all the companions eat pussy like they’re starving. completely lost in the sauce

[dirtybg3confessions]

Confession: I love how this fandom it's so horny on all characters equally, it brings me back good memories from older fandoms, especially here on Tumblr

[cringecannon]

first time sending anything like this, but i would go ABSOLUTELY FERAL if you elaborated on gortash fucking someone with their body half way out the window and just making them so scared of falling. i’ve been thinking about it ever since i read the tags on the fear post

Any inkling that you might be afraid of heights gives him the idea. Maybe you avoid walking close to the edge on bridges, or you take steep stairs too slowly. It doesn’t matter how he finds out, because his mind is made up.

He summoned you for a stroll. You don’t trust it, but refusal is never an option. His hands are crossed behind his back as he walks ahead of you through the halls. Cool, confident, sure of himself as always. What worries you most is how high his spirits appear to be. It unnerves you. He makes idle conversation, and you respond when appropriate. Nods and hums are good enough for him most of the time. You think he must just like to hear himself talk.

The walk feels aimless. He’s just talking, and talking, and you’re failing to see the point of it all when he suddenly stops dead in his tracks. You nearly walk right into his back, barely stopping in time. He’s looking at a cloth covering the wall, and you wrap your arms around yourself. This hall is much colder than the others, a draft chilling you. Gortash smiles when he looks back at you, but there’s no kindness in it. He reaches out and tears the cloth down, dropping it unceremoniously to the floor and revealing a window. It’s the same shape as any of the others, but the glass is missing. Cold air comes in with full force, and you fight back a shiver when he pulls you closer.

He tells you that a servant broke it while cleaning. The glasswork was poor and should have been replaced ages ago. It wasn’t, though. So one clumsy misstep and the handle of a broom went straight through it. The servant was punished severely of course, to send a message to all the staff. Anything less than perfection cannot be tolerated. He looks down at you, but you still don’t see the point. He gently pulls you a few steps closer, all the way until you can finally see out. Your stomach drops when you see the sheer distance to the ground. You stare at the stone of the wall instead, fighting to not back away. He wraps his arm around your waist as he continues on. The servant was punished severely to send a message, but Gortash can admit his own faults. He failed them as a master, since clearly they didn’t respect him enough to be careful. This mistake would not have happened if he had a firmer hand. Clearly, he needs to take some preventative measures.

What better way to start than with you?

Your blood runs cold. You ask him what you’ve done to deserve it and he silences you. Nothing, pet. Nothing at all. It’s merely a precaution. Why wait until you’ve already acted out to punish you, when he can ensure your compliance now? His hand creeps up your back, stroke the back of your neck for a moment before forcing you through the window. You scream, hands scrabbling at the stone, looking for some sort of grip. You close your eyes as fast as you can, but the split second glimpse was enough. Directly below you and a great fall down is rocky cliffs. Just beyond that is water, even further down. Your stomach aches from the weight of him pushing you down against the pane.

You can barely hear him speaking over the blowing of the wind and the pounding in your head. He spreads your legs, pulling your clothes out of the way and slipping a hand between your thighs. You’re used to these motions, but zoning out is impossible under this circumstance. You’re hyper-aware of every jostle, your stomach lurching with every movement. He praises you for holding so still. If he knew this was all it took to get you compliant, he would've tried this first. The feel of his cock splitting you open is second only to the sharp pang of fear in your chest when he thrusts sharply, the force of it pushing you out just slightly further. With every pump of his hips the movement causes your entire body to tense. He clearly enjoys the feeling, because his next move is to grab your legs and force you out even further. You scream, your entire upper body now hanging from the window. Your feet are no longer touching the floor, the only thing keeping you from toppling out is his harsh grip on your hips. You clench around him painfully and he groans lowly, appreciative. You want to sob. You can feel it bubbling in your chest. He laughs a bit, tightening his grip on your trembling lower half before he resumes his thrusts. Such a good pet. Keep being good and still, and he'll let you back in.

[m1lfmagnet89]

His little twirl ❤️

[nanivel]

I became the lord of Baldur's Gate because I just Ken.

[fabienlaguna]

I have come to a realization today.

[ididnotknow]

sure thing, gale 😏

[warden-anders]

Finding out that you're Bhaalspawn, waking up and discovering that Jaheira watches you as you sleep with her swords ready. Not to kill you with malice, but with mercy if you require it. Her recognizing the murder in your blood and trusting and following you anyway, but recognizing that not only is it possible for you to lose control in your sleep, but also that it's not something your character would want is genuinely so touching. She knew and followed you anyway. Instead of calling you a monster she's silently assigned herself as your protector from yourself. Jaheira my best friend jaheira.

[orinthered]

ideal bg3 party dynamics

[ripa-ria357]

Murderer, tyrant and vampire.

[gortrash]

I think some of you need to learn that handsome doesn’t automatically mean twinkified chiselled 20 year old

[dirtybg3confessions]

Confession: I want Astarion to cream his pants while he sucks my blood but also fuck me raw against a wall until I'm so sore I can't even walk.

[cringecannon]

So we know Gortash started a thievery and smuggling network. So what about one of the thieves that works for him coming by to discuss business every now and then and it takes gortash some time to realize that every time they leave and come back, something goes missing and something they went missing previously reappears. Them just constantly stealing small random shit and returning it on their next visit just to see how long it takes them to notice. And we can all guess what Gortash’s punishment for them is but hey that’s what they want anyway so is it really a punishment? (Just don’t steal the netherstone fucking klepto that’ll get you killed)

play stupid games, win stupid prizes

The young man you work for is ambitious, industrious, charismatic, a natural born leader. You also think he’s a bit of a fool. You’ve seen it first-hand, a desire for fame and fortune tends to land people in his position in prison at best, and the gallows at worst. You’re content with lusting solely for riches. Life is so much simpler when you don’t yearn for notoriety. Not that it hasn’t found you anyway. You were summoned to his desk, showered in praises and ego-stroking the likes of which you had never seen. You humored it when he slid a contract to you. A master of thievery such as yourself would be a boon to his growing operation. He needs people he can trust to expand this network. You’d get more than a fair share of the profits, and guaranteed protection. It’s a gracious offer, and one you accept. You thank him by pocketing his golden wax seal stamp when he’s busy with finishing the contract. You run your thumb over the wooden handle in your pocket as you shake hands with him. It’s funny, you think. Such a new criminal and he’s already worried about aesthetics. Messing with him will be fun.

You check in with him monthly, and each time you manage to take something else. Keys, quills, coins, gold-rimmed inkwells, if it can fit in your pockets, you’ll grab it. He never seems to notice, and you’re amassing quite a collection. You’re waiting for him to call you out. At first it was a game, but now you feel bad for the poor thing. So inexperienced he can’t tell when his associates are robbing him blind. It’s pathetic, really. When he finally catches on it’ll be a good lesson.

One he won’t learn today, unfortunately. The fool has left you alone in his office. There’s some urgent situation he has to settle before the meeting can commence. You stalk through the room, poking through everything. A drawer catches your eye. Just slightly open, like he forgot to shut it all the way. When you open the drawer, it’s completely empty. How odd. Upon further examination, the bottom looks strange. Uneven. You run your fingers across the edges and you find it slides back. A grin creeps onto your face as you work the false bottom open. It’s too dark to see what was hidden, but it must be something valuable if he went to all this trouble. As you stick your hand into the dark opening, you think of the possibilities. His mother’s wedding ring, maybe. Or his diary. He’s so serious- it’d be so funny to know what was going on behind that broody façade.

Your fingers skim something cool and your smile triumphantly. There it is. You’d know a jewel anywhere. You wrap your hand around it, the weight of it surprising. Even more surprising is the feel of a cold metal manacle locking around your wrist. You panic and drop the gem, but the cuff holds tight. In your frenzy you reach in with your other hand, looking for a way to dislodge yourself. It’s not your best idea- that wrist is then similarly stuck. You struggle so hard the entire desk shakes, rattling against the floor. You only stop when you hear the click of boots outside the door, a cold dread settling in your gut. Your boss was known for many things, but merciful was never among them.

You keep your head low as he enters the room, the door clicking shut behind him. He’s silent as he walks around you, and you dare not move. You feel like a prey animal, frozen in his presence. His chair creaks behind you, and you hear his finger tap against the arm rest before he speaks. He wasn’t sure it would work. He expected better of you.

Your ears burn, but you stay silent. His chair creaks again, readjusting himself as he ponders aloud. What shall he do about you? Your heart drops into your stomach when he says he should take your hand. He should. Most people in his position would. You’re lucky you’re of more use to him unharmed. Very lucky. Now, you owe him. You owe him for everything you’ve ever taken, and you owe him for the privilege of keeping your hand.

You try to interject, to tell him you still have everything you’ve stolen- you’re silenced when you feel his boot against your back, pushing you forward. Your shoulders strain as your chest is pushed towards the floor. He likes you like this, he muses. You look good on your knees. You’ll no longer be making a profit from working for him. That will all go towards your debt. Along with some… other new responsibilities. Your face burns as he pushes you down further. Don’t look so angry, dear. You wanted his attention. Now you’ve got it.

[mein-liebling]

Some Gortash headcanon banters, because we need it

Gale: About your Steel watch... Can you speak through it?

Gortash: And "watch", too. I don't usually see anything interesting, though, so it's more for fun.

Gale: You have a interesting view of fun.

Gortash: Don't worry, wizard, I didn't spied your party through the watchers. You make so much noise, I could do it just from my office window.

Wyll: Your parents... I can't imagine anyone capable of such cruelty to their own child

Gortash: It's not your business.

Wyll: But all I wanted to do was--

Gortash: Wyllric Ulder Ravengard, one more word and I'll kill a random slave just so you'll stop pretending to understand me.

Wyll: A monster after all.

Gortash: That's better.

Gortash: I've been meaning to ask. Your sword, it's Gith-made, isn't it?

Laezel: No, I will not let you study my sword.

Gortash: How could you think that! I'm just trying to get to know my dear friend's new companions!

Gortash: ...and what about the crossbow?

Shadowheart: So what was Ketheric like?

Gortash: Dead? Ah, though that's not saying anything in your party.

Astarion: That's very kind of you.

Gortash: Suffering for his daughter, suffering for his wife, suffering that we made a little joke of him... Didn't he also suffer when he died?

Shadowheart: Don't tell me you're feeling sorry for him.

Gortash: It's just so monotonous. I was hoping he'd surprise me before he died

Gortash: So what about the dragon under the city?

Laezel: It does not obey the githyanki and will likely burn you all. I will be saddling it.

Gortash: Oh no, no, my dear, the city is mine, so the dragon belongs to me as well. I will be its rider.

Wyll: You do know he's intelligent and unlikely to want to ride you, don't you?

Gortash: Remind me to put your father back in the Iron Throne when we get back, okay?

Astarion: And how many years did you spend in House of Hope?

Gortash: Nine years, four months and five days

Astarion: What admirable accuracy.

Gortash: I have a talent for math.

[dirtybg3confessions]

Confession: I want to physically and mentally break Gortash into being my obedient fuck toy