#orin the red x reader

[bhaalsbabe]

BG3 characters and their approach to eating you out on your period

MDNI, 18+ content below!

They would eat you out like you're their last meal, and the fact that you're bleeding makes them even crazier about it. They love the taste of your blood, and when it's mixed with the sweet juices of your excitement, they go absolutely feral. They will bite your surrounding areas too - you're not going to be bleeding only from your cunt, but your thighs and belly too. Every time they break your skin with their teeth, they suck at the wound, drawing more blood and making their mark on you more visible. And then they go back to devouring your pussy, playing with your clit to make you release more of that delicious nectar. They could go down at you all night... And once they're done, with your blood and cum smeared all over their chin, they'll smirk, and, while making eye contact with you, they'll clean the mess you've made on their face with their hands that they'll lick clean.

Astarion, Lae'zel, Durge, Orin, Halsin, Nere

They're hesitant at first, not finding it disgusting per say, just unsure if they'll find it as enjoyable as you. Still, after the first few tentative licks, they start to relax. They do not thrive on the coppery taste of blood but rather on your reactions to their tongue and sucking - all the noises and involuntary movements you make. They eat you out diligently, making sure you're fully satisfied. Their hands keep exploring your body too, they want you to feel loved. By the time they're done, which depends on how much you're enjoying yourself, they're a panting mess too, ready to do more with you, if you're willing.

Gale, Karlach, Wyll, Zevlor, Isobel, Dammon

They'll gladly do it, just because they enjoy having control over you and when they eat you out, bleeding or not, that's exactly what they're getting. They don't mind sipping your blood, they'll even tease you about the taste, offering you a kiss so you can try it yourself. They'll make you feel embarrassed for how big of a mess you'll turn into, and they'll make you beg for all of your orgasms. They'll show you no mercy and if you weren't so far gone, you'd notice they're really enjoying themselves too. They wouldn't mind turning this into a monthly thing.

Shadowheart, Gortash, Raphael, Volo, Haarlep, Aylin, Minthara

[vibingandsimping]

Randomly assorted headcanons (nsfw/sfw) with randomly assorted characters… pt. 3

Characters included: Orin, Lae’zel + Shadowheart

Forewarnings: Gore mentions, obsession, face-riding, shapeshifting sex (implied cheating?? not really cheating Orin is just a jerk), dry humping, sweat kink, fingering, semi-public sex. (I have not done Lae’zel’s or Shadowheart’s romance so… forgive me.)

Orin the Red

How you managed to catch her affections is beyond her. Maybe you were so cold and ruthless she admired you? Or, you were so innocent and goody-two-shoes she stuck around to try and corrupt your pretty mind? Either way- she was glued to your side now. She’d appear in your daily life as either herself or disguised as someone else. The shock on your face that melts into a comfort was a strange concept to her… yet all the same she indulged in it. She wouldn’t quite consider you two lovers as the word. No, you two were far beyond that. If she could she’d crawl inside your skin and make a home.

Her kisses always draw blood. She’s rough and ragged. Her lips are soft yet chapped. The changeling has little care for herself. She’d much rather be stabbing and playing in the guts of others. She always audibly moans when she kisses you and bites the flesh. Her tongue lapping at the crimson before she pulls away and stares at you with colorless eyes. You’ve grown used to these antics of hers and have learned to deal with a bruised and bloodied lip after she expressed her affections. On the contrary to how rough she is with her mouth. Her nails gently glide up your skin in a tickle. Allowing you to feel how sharp her nails are and also not quite touching you the way you wished. She relishes in your torment.

Only she is allowed to hurt you. Anyone else causing physical or emotional turmoil to your being is a disgrace. If she finds you hurt and you describe who did it to you- they’re mysteriously missing. Well, not even mysteriously, she describes what she did to them as she holds you and gently strokes your flesh. As much as she loves to see your wounds spill or your eyes leak- a deeper part of her twists with the knowledge. Her possessiveness over yourself and her care for your wellbeing is odd. You can’t complain though as she so tenderly takes care of you. Her lips curled into her typical unhinged smile. You can see an edge in it, though. It was almost a display. A concealment for how her mind raced in so many ways.

She will ride your face. Her nails digging into your scalp as she grinds her folds against your wanton tongue. Her clit bumping up against your nose and forcing a strangled gasp from her. You barely notice it since her thighs are cupped over your ears but you can definitely see it in the way she tenses and trembles. You shift your hips as arousal pools in your belly. This seemed to upset her in some way- as she leaned back and propped a hand on your hip to keep you still. The changeling continues to grind against your tongue as you suckle whenever the chance is given. The shaking of her thighs and clenching of her fingers alert you of her impending orgasm. Eyebrows knit together in concentration as you slowly snake a hand towards her rear. Then, you slip your fingers inside her cunt when she rocks her hips in just the right way. The woman jerks almost violently atop you at the intrusion but you’re quick to work at finding the parts to make her fall apart. Watching her climax from underneath and feeling her walls clench around your fingers was delicious.

She’d change her appearance and lure you to bed. Whether that be someone you know or someone just dashingly attractive. Warm hands sliding down your skin as her breath washes along your neck. She explores your skin with experience- this wasn’t the first time she’s taken claim in your flesh. You shiver and stifle a desperate sound in the depths of your throat- she smirks. You don’t know it’s her- no. You won’t know until you two are conjoined and near finishing. Til she’s almost forgotten the appearance she’s faked and simply wrapped her mind around how perfect your form is for her. Once you cum with a cry and drop your weight against her does she reveal herself. You notice the change once the high settles and clarity rises. The skin is different- the hair is different. You stumble back for a second and take it in. Orin, the bastard. Her expression is shit-eating as you collect yourself. A mix of anger and guilt form in your chest. How could she deceive you like that? Gods, she knew you slept with another that wasn’t her. It was her smug smile that deterred you from feeling too bad. A primal desire settled in her in the fact that you’d fall to her no matter the way she looked.

Lae’zel

Always so flustered when you initiate more domestic moments. Holding her hand or caressing her skin gently felt odd- yet she never complained. Her usually steeled gaze became soft and she watches you with a strange warmth in her chest. You’d have to keep this as a sort of routine before she goes out her way. Lae’zel is so used to being rough, tough and dominant. To show her it’s okay to be submissive or relent control is something she’d have to accustom herself to. The first time she touched you with a relaxed expression was gratifying. She didn’t scold or seem outwardly concealed. It was a genuine expression of face and body. Her fingers sliding along the apple of your cheek and simply feeling the skin there. The softness, stubble, scars… anything that lined your skin. She then leaned in and pressed a tender kiss to your lips. Finally feeling as if she had purpose besides being a solider. You allowed her to come out of that shell and explore a different world.

Her accent and language was originally odd. That was if you weren’t githyanki or hadn’t associated with them before. The girl found some entertainment in watching you struggle to understand her verbal expressions. You’d always nod in mock understanding but the knit and unfocus of your eyes spoke otherwise. She made a point to use exaggerated sayings to watch your face contort. Sometimes you outwardly asked what the hell she meant- and she’d always tease you. (Which always came out mean. She couldn’t help it, sometimes.) You’d sigh and mumble that you regretted asking in the first place. If it really upset you and you communicated it, she’d sit in frustration for a good while. Lae’zel would eventually seek you out and offer her best apology. Which would seem condescending if you looked at it face value- you had to give her some credit. Her race was born and raised to be tough and never show weakness. She met you when she was terrified and built your relationship on her fear. Fear of betraying her goddess and turning into a mind-flayer.

Sparring is a form of affection. For you to prove your strength against her attracts her. Emotional, psychological and physical strength are all things she values heavily. You don’t have to be buff to be strong, she knows that as a lean muscle. As blades clash or spells fly- you can see the adoration in her eyes. The tremble in her hold as she wishes to grab you and kiss you heartily when you two duel. If you win the battle and pin her down, she’s practically begging you to kiss her. She’d do anything for you at that point. If she won, she squints but remarks you always have time to train. To become strong enough to beat her. She’ll train you herself (which was her opening herself to you). Afterwards she’s glued to you as you return to camp. Nose pressed to your flesh as her arms encircle you. You’re sweaty, you claim as you try to shove her off, you need a bath. She growls a little and insists you relax. She likes the smell of your sweat. It was so purely you. A show of your effort in battle and something so primal. You shudder at the tone of her voice, torn between relenting and persisting on pushing her off.

Lae’zel jumps you when you return to camp. Lips on yours as she ushers you into your tent. Everyone was either wound down or sleeping- so she could care less about being in camp. Her nails scratched your nape as she tangled in your hair, hungrily biting at your jaw and lips. You’re clumsily pushed onto the ground as she straddles your hips. You attempt to slow her down. There’s no need to rush but she doesn’t submit. “I crave you,” she breathes against you, “Don’t make me wait. I am ready to be completely yours.” Your words catch in your throat as you look at her lustful gaze. It was tainted by a shred of vulnerability. She was speaking truthfully. With a swallow, you nod and she jumps right back to touching you. Mouth trailing down your neck and licking at the sweat on your skin. Nipping your shoulders and collarbones as she pulls the clothes off your torso. Her pupils dilate at the sight of you topless and she doesn’t waste a minute before covering the skin there in her attention. You could simply sit and attempt touching her skin in a haze. She didn’t pay much mind besides gasping and moaning softly if you touched a particularly sensitive spot. She wanted you.

You’re out of all your clothes before you even realize. Her splayed out nude and you can only briefly wonder when she stripped you both. She pushes your back against the floor and props her hands on your stomach. Her cunt drops upon your lap- the sensitive flesh there reacting to the touch of her own. It was warm and wet- a pleasurable feeling. A pause holds over it and you tilt your head upwards to meet her gaze. She’s seemingly soaking in the sight of you before her, eyes almost predatory as she meets you. Like that, she begins to rock her hips against you and you gasp sharply. Her clit bumping against all the spots on you and you drop your head back. Her fingers trail up to pinch at your nipples as she draws her lip into her mouth. Stifling her needy sounds as she wantonly grinds against you. You grab at the fabric and ground underneath you as she messes both your and her mess along your lap. Her thighs growing slick and sticky from the shared arousal. The githyanki can only hold back her noises for so long. Her voice finally rings in the air as she succumbs to the sensations coursing through her body. You follow, a chorus of you two’s whines and moans echoing. It wasn’t long til she began to shake upon you as she climbs over the cusp and climaxes. You watch as she falls apart- yet her hips don’t stop. Lips parting in awe as she works herself through her orgasm and into overstimulation. She was desperate- trying to get you over the peak. The sight and her eagerness was just what you needed and with a cry you cum as well. Thighs shaking and back arching as she spends the last of herself into making sure that your own high was satisfactory.

Shadowheart

(This one is REALLY lacking so i’ll do my girl justice later. Brain is not braining for her right now :( )

Shadowheart is definitely a tough nut to crack at first. She is wholly devoted to Shar and sacrificed most of her memories. The elf knows little of herself and her past. Only what she was ever granted by her goddess. Though, with enough persistence and careful observation, you can pry your way into her heart. She may dislike the fact she’s grown fond of you but she’s grown fond of you all the same. She watches you silently and takes note of what you like. You’ll find her presenting you with those more often with a shy smile. Honestly, she’s a little of a hopeless romantic. If you present her with something she likes? She doesn’t know how to react. She is so used to sacrifice that having something for her own is different. Still, she smiles and thanks you politely. She’ll turn the item over in her hands nearly all night before she finally decides to meditate. You know she appreciates it but you’ll never know the depth of you doing little acts may mean for her.

Shar Shadowheart is a very passionate lover. In a bit of a darker sense. She has taken herself fully into the lady of the night and has accepted that lifestyle. She loves when you are rougher with her. As she is the same to you. It’s quite literally canon that her kisses leave blood. Her teeth digging into your lower lip and you can taste the iron and see the color on her lips. They’re bruising yet still intoxicating. She was still your Shadowheart even if she couldn’t entirely love you. Both you and her knew she was for Shar… yet she’d entertain you as much as her goddess would allow. Her arms wrap around your waist and she holds you with a bittersweetness. If you had known the consequences of killing the Nightsong- you possibly might’ve made a different decision. That, or maybe this is exactly what you wanted. To see her complete what she set her life out to… or you had devoted yourself to a deity of your own. Either way, she has a dark passion for you.

Redeemed Shadowheart is a little easier in her passion. She compliments you more and explores out of her realm of comfort for you. Her kisses are gentler yet seek passion from you. Any movement that suggests you’d want more than the tenderness she supplies and she’s ready to pour years of emotion. In truth, Shar was her everything. Her everything that continued to abuse her in the name of so-called-guidance. The wound on her hand persisting even after Shadowheart changes her faith. She’s often lost and questions the decision she made to spare the Nightsong. Her being was around being a sharran. The elf takes great comfort when you hold and reassure her she’s on a better path. A path where she’ll find out the truth of her parents and no longer suffer. Her eyes close and she inhales shakily. It’s a hard thing to accept that she was misguided. She can sympathize with Lae’zel (if she chose the path to disobey her goddess). She melts into your touch if you gently stroke her hair and whisper to her.

As you two continue adventuring she begins to desire you more. She lets you do as you wish sexually but years of devotion quickly catch up. Her eyes linger on you from afar and they speak a longing. You catch her a couple times eyeing you like a meal- making you shudder. Once you two have a moment alone but not particularly away from your companions, you question her. At first she doesn’t submit and suggests you continue on. You have time, you claim, what’s going on? Finally, she grabs your hand and slides it down her stomach and to her groin. You get the picture pretty quickly with wide eyes. Glancing off to where your companions mingled and loudly chatted, you figured you could indulge her. She needed you so desperately, after all. You press your lips to hers and she meets yours with duel passion. Dancing together as she grasps your forearms, shakily exhaling through nostrils. She rocks her hips against your hand that hadn’t trailed much further down her lower clothing. Laughing softly against her lips which earns a frustrated groan. You couldn’t tease her much, sadly. Time was of the essence. You slip your hand further and are met with her drooling cunt.

You groan in satisfaction before slipping your fingers around her folds. Her eyes squeezed shut as you continue to claim her lips. Fingernails digging into your armor as you explore her sex. Little bumps of her hips every time you brush her clit so delicately. Then, you press two fingers to the bud and begin to rub circles. Her moan would’ve been much louder if it wasn’t muffled by your mouth. You could feel it ache against your touch and that fact made you shiver. Gods, you’d have to bed her later and make sure she was satisfied. Who knew she was so pent-up? Circles turned into you sliding those two fingers inside her. Her velvety walls gripping you with surprising clench despite how wet and turned on she was for you. Your thumb continued the attention on her clit while two fingers hooked against the spot inside her that made her writhe. She became more active in her sounds and jerking. Wiggling in your hold as her orgasm creeped up on her. You cupped your spare hand over her mouth and kissed along her shoulder-blades. Her moans vibrated against your palm and her walls began to clench. You knew she was close. With renewed vigor, you applied more pressure with your thumb and began to curve your fingers more aggressively. You could practically hear the squelching of her cunt as you worked it. She came undone moments after with a spasm and throw of her head. Your hand was soaked after but you made a show of drawing it our of her pants and licking it clean. Her taste heady on your tongue.

[extraclevermongoose]

Tender Prey

Orin the Red x Tav/Reader

TW: period sex, blood drinking, Orin being... Orin

With everything else happening, it was easy to forget about your period. When you take a morning off to recoup from particularly bad cramps, your plans are derailed by an unexpected visitor who is a little too interested in your current affliction.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/52868542

You were never one to sleep in, even on mornings where all you wanted to do was laze in the grass like a cat. You preferred to rise with the sun, if for no other reason, then for the sake of a moment to yourself before the rest of camp stirred. It was a little more difficult since you had settled into actual rooms at Elfsong, but you quickly managed to sniff out a quiet spot on the roof to greet the dawn with coffees and teas. 

Today, though, the cramps had won. You were mildly panicked when you woke in the night to a bloody clot in your underwear and a thunderous ache clenching at your pelvis, until it clicked in your head. You cleaned yourself up, secured a thick rag in your fresh undergarments, and climbed back into bed to wallow in misery. It was your first period since the tadpole insertion, and the stress of, well, everything had screwed up your cycle so badly that your uterus apparently felt the need to put in some extra oomph to compensate.

It was Shadowheart who found you curled in your bed long after everybody else had dressed and ambled downstairs to seek breakfast in the tavern. She initially grumbled at you for not alerting her that you needed healing, but once you corrected her, her furrowed brow softened with sympathy. 

“Well,” she sighed, “I suppose you have earned a rest, since you felled an undead king the other day and all.” She raised a stern finger, but spoke with a playful tone. “But just this once!” You laughed, and she slipped out with a gentle smile, promising to tell the others to give you the morning. 

And so, off went your friends. Some went to follow up on a lead for the location of an unfortunate clown’s pelvis while the rest went on various errands of their own agenda. Before he left to once more try and negotiate his way into the forbidden book stash in Sorcerous Sundries, Gale charmed a long sock of dry corn kernels to act as a makeshift heating pad. They wouldn’t be gone for more than a few hours, but it brought the promise of a morning to yourself to move at your own pace. Within a half hour, you drifted back off with the sock draped over your lower belly and the dream of a proper hot bath.

You woke sprawled on your back, feeling heavy and sluggish. To your dismay, the heat in the sock had almost entirely diminished and what had originally been a relief now felt cumbersome – less like a sock of corn and more like a tepid dead eel plopped over your midriff. Frowning, you reached to push off the offensive sock and your hands collided with something fleshy and clammy. You quickly blinked yourself awake, and were greeted with a familiar pair of solid gray eyes less than a foot above your face. You startled with a loud gasp, and the woman straddling your waist split her lips into a smile suiting a jackal.

“The underling is a sound sleeper,” she cooed and slowly shook her head. “Unwise. Very unwise these days.”

You bucked your hips and tried to find purchase to push yourself up and knock her away, but she simply dropped deadweight onto your midriff, sending a jolt of pain up your belly and back. You yelped and flinched, and in a blink, she gripped your wrists in each hand to pin your arms to the bed.

She tutted. “Oh, but you are unwise, I see.”

“What the fuck are you doing here, Orin?” you spat. “I already agreed to help you. You swore immunity until we complete our end of the bargain!” 

Orin released your wrists, and as you tensed your limbs to try again to buck her from you, she slid her dagger from her lower back. You froze, wide eyed.

“Oh, oh! The little lamb quakes in its sheets,” Orin mocked with an exaggerated brow. She cackled. “If I wanted to drip-drain you empty, little fool, you would be rotting in a gutter by now.” She ran a delicate finger along the edge of the blade. “You will not perish at my hand this morning. Lord Bhaal demands a grander masterpiece – your supple meat to become an exquisite effigy worthy of his honor. No, we must wait until our blades dance before the eyes of His faithful.”

Orin slid the dagger under the hem of your sleep shirt and pulled upward. The fabric pulled taut against your back, and with a chorus of tiny pops and snags, the steel ripped through and the halves of the shirt furled helplessly across your breaths. 

“There are many hungry mouths begging to taste your drip-dripping from our sacred floors,” said Orin. “To waste your sticky-sweet obliteration in a common bed-slaughter where it would go unwitnessed by those who have craved such for a lick of your sinews…” She gasped, shuddering, and ground herself against your abdomen, a surge of cramping pain howling through your womb. “An affront,” she sighed.

You hissed in pain. “Then why –”

“I merely wished to observe the underling’s progress,” she interrupted, “and was snagged and snarled by a most curious perfume.” She wedged her face into your neck, burrowing her nose into you. "You are wreathed in crimson succulence,” she murmured and inhaled against you deeply, hungrily. “And yet, not that of the lordling." She licked a slow, breathy strip from your collarbone to your ear – hot, metallic. The hand without a dagger traced between your legs, and warmth pooled in your belly, curling through the haze of muscle ache. 

“I am bewitched on your humors, lamb,” she whispered in your ear, making you shudder. “Now I must drink and drink and drink.” 

She dragged the tip of her nose down your sternum. The hairs spanning your forearms and up your spine bristled at the ghostly touch, the softness of a shrike’s feather before impalement. 

"Give yourself to me,” she hissed, “I will render your bed our loving abattoir.” 

She bit down into your breast. Your pained cry urged her sharp incisors deeper into your soft flesh. Warmth bubbled to the surface, and a fat blood droplet rolled from a puncture down the curve of your ribs like an itching teardrop. Orin lapped across the wounds, eyes locked on yours, and she rose with her broad tongue slack from her lips, streaked in watery red. She curled it back into her mouth and her head tilted back slowly. She sighed dreamily, and swooped at your chest with bared teeth. 

You yelped when her teeth dug into your tender, swelling skin, drawing streams of red that leaked under the corner of her lips. She sucked your bleeding breast into her mouth and released it with a wet pop. She lapped at the wounds as quickly as the blood replenished, smearing blunt ruddy streaks of saliva to crust across you. The curling rasp of her tongue numbed the pain in sweet, fleeting reprieves, only for the burn to throb again as soon as it passed. 

The intact counterpart, she gently rolled and massaged between her fingers. Long nails teased the flesh but never pinched so tight as to penetrate. The nipple in her caress stiffened and flushed from the stimulation just as the one framed by her black lips seared and seethed in needly throbs. Your chest bloomed in arousal and agony, the two intertwining their cruel fingers to dig into your core as if they were her blade.

You rolled your hips underneath her, the pain of cramps long overshadowed. She straightened her back and grinned down at you, marbled skin flecked with splatters of drying blood and black lips ringed with rusty layers, thicker patches caught in the corners and rimming her teeth along the gums.

“Sweet plaything,” she crooned. “Patience, patience.” 

She slid backward down your thigh, and with a sudden flick, sliced open the middle seam of your sleeping pants. She dropped her dagger to her side, and ripped the tear in your pants completely open. Another rip, and the snug press of your underwear and rag vanished. You wanted to protest the waste of so much clothing, but your body instead chose to open your legs, breath heavy and your pulse that of a hunted rabbit.

When she hooked her arms around your thighs and snaked her tongue into your cunt, you dug your head so firmly into your pillow that the sunbeams through your window blurred like water in your eyes. Orin’s nails dug into your leg muscle, leaving angry little crescents whenever she repositioned a finger. You relished the sting by now – almost wished that she was leaving puncture after puncture across your tender thighs. You wanted her to prick you where she pleased, to draw blood and drink you dizzy.

She curled her tongue inside of you, drawing it out in a luxuriously slow scrape and into her mouth. A whimper shuddered from her throat, and she licked a broad stripe between your labia. You pushed your hips toward her and she gripped you tighter, burrowing into you as deeply as she could. She angled your hips upward and with a pitchy growl, she rooted her face against your cunt in a fervor. Her sharp nose pressed against your clit, and you whined and ground yourself against her. The familiar tightness of a brewing orgasm coiled and pulsed within you, just out of reach.

She yanked her soiled face back, gasping for breath. She stared you down, and your heart fluttered under her glower. You had thought her beautiful the moment you first saw her deep underneath Moonrise, in the way that you would admire a viper and pray it never crossed your path. Strings of saliva, viscous with mucus and thickened blood dripped from her cheeks and snapped between your pussy and her lips. Her nimble tongue darted out to collect the clots and pooled blood in the corners of her mouth. Beautiful was not a worthy word for how she looked in that moment, with your blood painting her sharp chin and cheekbones and her upper lip curled in a snarl over her stained teeth. Orin was the embodiment of the horror nestled at the heart of desire; you trembled with fear under her hand, and yet you yearned to offer yourself as sacrifice to this feral and terrible goddess. 

Her breathing steadied, and she descended again, this time wrapping her lips around your clit and sucking harshly. You bucked and whined, your nerves electric. The tip of her tongue flicked at the bud as she sucked, and you bit into your hand to stifle the noises clamoring to escape your chest. The coiling heat of earlier tightened in your belly until you ached. You dug your heels into the mattress. Orin gripped your thighs with possessive fury. She opened her mouth wide, and bit down into your mons pubis, tongue flattening against your clit, and you spilled over the edge, helpless squeaks and moans spilling from your throat, and your hips jerking in little erratic jolts against her mouth. 

As you wound down, she lapped broad, thorough stripes to clean up as much spilled blood as she could taste. Orin lowered you back to the bed, her eyes hazier than usual. Without bothering to clean her face, she quietly slid from the bed and attached her dagger back to her clothing. 

Orin slowly swiped her finger across her chin, collecting a large drip of clotted blood, and licked it away. “It seems my senses have been righted once more. A worthy sacrificial lamb indeed! You may find me in the temple once you have collected the little tyrant’s Netherstone.” She smiled, all teeth. “I look forward to basking in your brilliant crimson once more.” Before you had a chance to speak, she fiddled with her finger, and disappeared in a smattering of color. 

You stared at the spot where Orin had stood seconds before, and blinked blankly, unsure of how to react. So, that was it? You couldn’t say you expected Orin to be the stay-and-cuddle type. Frankly, that sounded more dangerous than… whatever had just happened. You sighed and decided that you probably ought to take a bath and do something with your ruined clothes before your companions walked in. 

You stood up, and when you saw the bed, you felt your face drain. In the whirl of everything, you hadn’t considered the bed, and sure enough, the blanket and sheet both looked like you had robbed them from a murder scene. You closed your eyes, and began to mentally prepare a cover story for asking a very uncomfortable Prestidigitation favor.

[wildgoblin26]

The lack of Orin x reader fanfictions is truly devastating

[madwomansapologist]

i need to confess: i only bought bg3 because of a edit i saw of orin on tik tok. besides she being extremely interesting, having an amazing visual and being objectively hot (if you disagree you are wrong), it had one of my favorite songs on it (brutus)

[cringecannon]

Who else wants to be subjected to the Horrors of sex with Orin? Blood perverts to the front please. Not kidding. Nasty time!

Even something as simple as kissing her is perverse, all tongues and teeth and blood- yours, hers, and whoever was unlucky enough to be around both of you. It was someone you knew, now a rabidly cooling corpse underneath you as she invades your mouth. Her knife, still slick with their blood, is hovering dangerously over your thigh. She’s already carved her name on you in four different spots, what’s another?

Her blood slick fingers slither under your clothes, stroking sensitive flesh to ease the pain of the knife dragging up your thigh. How generous. You whimper into her mouth and she grins, biting down on your lip before pulling back with an animated gasp. She rolls her hips in your lap, the blood from your lip dripping off her lips and onto her chest. You’re enthralled, your hands finding her hips as you watch the blood droplets drip from her chest, to her navel, all the way to the junction of her thighs until it disappears between you. She theatrically twirls the knife in her hand before dragging it down your chest and you throw your head back. Whether it’s in pain or ecstasy, you’re not sure. You’re delirious with sensations, and you’re not sure she’s faring so differently. Her hips roll rhythmically, stuttering a bit when you dig your nails into her hips hard enough to break the skin.

Anyone witnessing this union would think it disgusting, depraved- but that’s of no consequence to you. You pull your own knife from the corpse below you, looking up at her with a love-drunk, blood-stained smile before cutting into her thigh. She keens, back arching. Her own knife slicing deeper into your chest. Blood pools beneath you both, evidence of your shared devotion. You’ve never felt so alive.

[save-a-forest-ride-a-bear]

╰┈➤ Welcome !

Raven/Ray | he/they/it | 20 y/o | number 1 halsin & gortash enthusiast requests: open (requests can be sent in EN/PT/ES)

╰┈➤ Rules

I write for: All companions (minus Minsc), Gortash, Orin, Raphael, Haarlep, Kar'niss, Dammon, Rolan, Zevlor, Alfira, Jaheira, Durge, and probably some others i forgot about </3

needless to say I won't do stuff like pedophilia, zoophilia, non-con or anything like that. I also won't do yandere.

NSFW however is totally allowed.

honestly just don't be weird. if you don't know if I'm comfortable with something, send it in and I'll let you know.

the reader is always gender neutral unless stated otherwise

I delete asks when I don't have any ideas for them, so if I didn't answer yours, this is why. You can send smth else though!

╰┈➤ Masterlist

HEADCANONS

- ,, # Astarion x Rogue! Reader - ,, # General Dating Headcanons (Astarion, Gale, Wyll, Halsin)

DRABBLES

- ,, # All I Want (Astarion x Reader) — Where Cazador's spawn find out about your secret relationship despite Astarion's best efforts to hide it and keep you safe. - ,, # Masochism Tango (Gortash x Durge! Reader) — He throws a ball with only one purpose in mind: to see his favourite assassin again.

[radical-ghostface]

Fabulous

Even when he's elbow-deep in gore 🖤

BONUS

Gore covered Orin-Gale bc there was something sickly attractive about this scene

[freestyle-crocodile-trashpile]

Rage

[A/n:Mortal kombat brutality style 😈😈😈. I got this idea after seeing the Orin thingy when she takes Gale.]

Summary:Orin was nothing compared to your fists

Type:Scenario:?: Gale X M!Tiefling!Reader

Version:Bg3

~

The anger filled you so quickly as you watched Orin twitch and snap back into her original form. Gale no longer infront if you.

"What did you do to Gale..." A shiver ran down your companions' spines at the tone of your voice.

Orin snickered, a dark look forming on her face. It only made you want to punch her face in.

"Nothing to bad...yet, once I get back I-" She didn't get to finish her sentence as your fist came in contact with her face.

A sickening crunch filled the room as your fist came in contact with her nose, completely shattering it. She didn't have time to react as you punch her again, and again, and again. You didn't stop or slow down, your tail stiff and twitching behind you as your clawed fingers stabbed into both of her eyes, crushing the soft organ instantly. She screamed, yanking your hand away from her face. Blood streamed down her face, covering her skin and the ground below. You didn't waste anytime, headbutting her while she had a grip on your wrist, your horns scrapped against her skin, tearing at her flesh. Another punch to her face and she stumbled against the wall. Another scream left her mouth. Holding her face as she stumbled away from you, tripping over chairs and bumping into the desk. Pure rage was radiating off you, causing your companions to step back.

"God damn, Soldier!" Karlach laughed, finding this disturbing yet amusing.

You didn't even process her words, storming over to Orin. Your hand grabbed her hair, yanking her head back so far her veins started showing on her neck. If you tugged any harder her neck would've snapped, or tore her hair out.

"Where's Gale?!" Orin punched you weakly, attempting to get out of your grip blindly.

"To hells with you! I'll send you there myself!" Orin Wouldn't be better just telling you. She could feel your rage, even blind she felt superior in this moment.

Another scream left her mouth as you tore her hair from her scalp, a patch of her skin tearing with the blood. A deep growl left your throat as she tried to leave again. Rising your hand, claws out, you grabbed at her face, your claws digging into her skin as you tear the skin from her face. Another scream, louder, more pained.

"Tell me!" All you got was a cry and a tremble as she started chanting something.

You grabbed her jaw, crushing it in your hand. Her chanting was silenced quickly, another cry of pain as you punched her again. She fell to the ground, hastily looking for something to use against you, yet with her eyes crushed and oozing from her sockets, it was way more difficult than ever before. She grabbed a letter opener just as you yanked her back up. Swiftly, she stabbed you in the eye, well, tried to, she just barely missed, stabbing your cheekbone instead. A hiss left your throat, letting go of her temporarily. She shoved you to the ground and dashed away from you, raming into a chair then into a wall. She stumbled, turning around and moving her head as if it'd let her see again. You growled, running at her. Fortunately for her, she dodged.

"I'll kill you!" She ran at you, clawing at your face, which only made you grab her wrists and crush her wrist bones under your grip, twisting her hands the wrong way before twisting her around and slamming her against a desk.

"I won't ask again. Where. Is. Gale." Another cry and a hiss.

"Fuck you" Orin hissed out, her broken jaw making her words slurred and disoriented.

She managed to shove you off her, turning to you and summoning a summon to fight you. You charged at her, lowing your hand and aiming your claws straight at her stomach. Before she could react, your hand went through her stomach, tearing the Armour away with your other hand. A sound if gagging was heard from shadowheart and a wheeze from Orin. Your hand twisted in her, gripped her spine before tearing it from her stomach, snapping the bone as you pulled it out from her stomach. You stepped back, spine clenched in your hand, breathing heavily as Orin took a few steps before collapsed on the ground. Everyone was silent, horror on their faces. You reached down and grabbed Orin, tossing her over your shoulder, spine still in hand as you started walking.

When you found where Gale was being kept, all it took was dropping Orins body on the ground and a glare for them to release Gale. You took the body home with you, just in case. Yet your body was stained with her blood, you reeked of blood. It was so strong your companions couldn't be around you, even Astarion.

~

[A/n:Hehe...I might have gone to far with it, but you know what. Orin needs a good ass beating. I hope you enjoyed]

[missnancywritesfanfic]

Imagine Stabbing Astarion When He Confesses His Love (Minor Bg3: Act 3 spoilers)

Imagine stabbing Astarion after he confesses his love for you, because you believed he was a spy (or Orin) come to mess with your head.

Imagine the shock that hits your every nerve after the fact, when your party members have to pull you away from a (albeit dramatic) wounded Astarion. Then the shame. The embarrassment that you, the leader of this courageous band of wandering adventurers, may have single-handedly shattered the trust you all held between you. You let the sleepless nights and paranoia finally get the better of you, and no amount of apologies spilling out of your mouth could fix it.

Imagine isolating yourself and wrestling with the fact that Astarion loves you, and the possibility that he might not love you after this. But nothing can move forward without a proper apology. You can see how scared he is in the way he tries to play it off, but you were honest with how you felt.

Imagine explaining the dominoes that led to your laps of judgement. How knowing that your shared nights were a lie pained you, but the fact that he felt the need to do so to survive hurt more. You'd sworn off your feeling for Astarion, doing everything in your power to set them aside for his sake and your own. You came to the conclusion that no matter your feelings at the matter (not that they mattered), Astarion would never love you. And you were alright with that. On some level. But perhaps the wound in your heart is too deep, too fragile, too gullible.

Imagine you and Astarion, now at a crossroads on whether or not to act on these apparently shared feelings. He worries that you may stab him again, which of course you both know won't happen. You happily and patiently offer your love to him, properly this time, and regardless of the uncertain road you move onward.

--

Astarion said some hurtful stuff to me at the start of act 3. I'm coping and hoping I can salvage it 🥲

[bhaalsbabe]

Bloodbath

Pairing: Orin the Red x gn!Reader

Genre: fluff

Word count: 1.4k

Summary/warnings: taking a bath with Orin; MDNI, dark themes (mentions of killing, flaying, cutting - we're talking about Orin ok), unhealthy relationship, mentions of Orin physically hurting Reader (her weird expression of love), non-sexual nudity

I swear this is supposed to be fluff

Loving Orin came to you as naturally as breathing. She was perfect in every way, her unhinged personality a breath of fresh air after your boring life in the city. She liked bringing you with her when she did her ritualistic murders and it always made your heart beat faster as you watched her work. Each cut of her knives precise, with purpose, eliciting screams from the victim and laughter from the changeling. She liked to toy with them, just like she liked to toy with you - and you wouldn't have it any other way.

Yet there were times when she would become softer, more mellow. You held those moments close to your heart as they were extremely rare. Tonight, you were lucky enough to experience another one of them.

After another killing spree, you both returned back to the Undercity, to the Temple of Bhaal that you both called home. Orin's pale skin was coloured red from blood, some more fresh, some already dried and peeling off. She was in high spirits, the way she enacted her worship of Bhaal giving her a rush she couldn't get enough of. You held a bag full of materials for a new outfit for your beloved - she showed you how to flay a person and keep them alive through the most of the harvest. You failed, of course, your hands nowhere near the skill level she had, the drunkard going into shock soon after you gave it a try. Nonetheless, you got the skin secured, ready to be prepared and turned into another one of Orin's skin-suits.

You walked through the familiar corridors, a few Bhaalists looking at Orin in awe while you trailed behind her like a loyal pet. Once you got to her chambers, a privilege she had as a Bhaalspawn, you put the bloody bag on the ground and went to the bathtub you had finally convinced her to add. You cast Create Water, a handy conjuration spell you got through a ring you found on one of Orin's victims. Speaking of her, you moved to help her remove her 'clothes'. You knew the mechanics behind it well, being the one who helped her craft it and all, so she was bare before you soon.

"Why won't you bathe with me in blood instead? It would suit you~" She sing-songed, pouting slightly as you took her hand gently, leading her to the bathtub.

"Because I'd probably get a disease from it or something. Maybe if you wouldn't dig your blades into my skin so often, it wouldn't be so risky."

"Now now, little rat, you and I both know that you like it. You like it, you do!" She giggled, dipping herself in the water that immediately started turning crimson.

"Only because it's you doing it," you blushed, taking her long braid and holding it out if the water as she sinked into the tub. You removed the decorations adorning it, putting it on a nearby table, and then you started unbraiding the hairstyle, humming an ancient melody of a song about star-crossed lovers.

Her hair was beautiful, just like the rest of her. Even when it was stained with blood, it was mesmerizing. Sometimes, she'd use the decorated braid as a flail, turning these delicate strands into a brutal weapon. The crusting blood near the ends served as a proof of her creative use of this part of her.

As you finally unbraided the hair, you lifted it all and put it into the tub with Orin. She opened her white eyes and gave you a strange look.

"Join me, sweet thing," she offered you, her eyes piercing through you like her knives. You nodded, quickly disrobing and climbing into the bathtub as she moved to make space for you, her soaked hair moving with her like a sea creature. You smiled at her, taking a prepared soap and starting to scrub her front with it. She kept looking at you like the predator she was, and you had to look down at her naked body to feel less nervous, that's how unsettling her gaze was.

"I'm sure our Lord appreciates what you do for him..." You tried to fill the silence as your soapy hands explored the top of her body, occasionally stopping to scrub off some dried blood and grime. She didn't say anything, only leaning more towards you as your palms brushed over her nipples. "I definitely appreciate you," you continued, finding courage and lifting your gaze to connect your eyes. Her lips twitched, her unusually long arms pulling you into a sweet embrace. You let her do it, choosing to wash her back instead as she continued holding you, her fingers lightly tracing the many scars adorning your body, most of them created by her. You both soaked not only in the water, but in each other's presence as well. Even as you finished cleaning the changeling's pale swirling skin, you continued rubbing her back, and you felt her rest her weight on you fully.

"I love you, Orin..." You whispered, pressing a kiss to her shoulder. She tightened her embrace in response, clutching you almost desperately. You heard her sharp intake of breath, her nails digging into the skin of your back, and then she gave your shoulder several shockingly soft kisses in return. You could feel her inner turmoil during these moments, but as you continued holding her, providing her with comfort and safety, even her troubled mind settled eventually.

When you pulled away at last, Orin refused to look at your face, your roles almost reversing. During your time spent with her, you found out she got shy when you gave her genuine affection and expected nothing back in return. The same woman who could expertly torture and kill, who played with intestines as if it was clay and used blood to paint the city red - she allowed you to see her vulnerable side, the part that she wouldn't - couldn't - show to anyone before. And your heart beat faster and harder from the knowledge of this.

"Turn around, I'll wash your hair now," you prompted her, your voice soft and quiet, minding the intimate atmosphere. At this moment, it was just the two of you. Orin complied, turning her back to you and letting you rub her scalp with your soapy hands. You massaged the tender skin, smiling when you heard her hum and relax more. After a few minutes of the massage, you finally moved to clean her hair, making sure it was pristine again. Her hair was so long it was pretty much filling the entire tub. You worked on it slowly, and Orin started to grow impatient, turning back to you to glare at you.

"What?" You asked, chuckling.

"Stop being so meticulous, I want your skin touching mine again." As if to prove the point, she turned around entirely, pulling you against her, water splashing around from the forceful movement as you slipped and crashed against her wet skin. She laughed as you struggled to sit properly again. Her hands helped to steady you, her strength surprising when you considered her build - though was it really that surprising, when she arranged corpses on daily basis. "Better," she murmured contentedly.

You suppressed a surprised gasp when Orin started mirroring your previous actions, taking the soap and scrubbing your skin with it. You wouldn't dare to question her actions, however, so you just accepted her uncharacteristic kindness. She wasn't as gentle as you, her nails occasionally dragging against your skin, even opening an unhealed wound once or twice. When you grunted in discomfort, she laughed at you again before kissing the back of your neck apologetically. She cleaned you fast, moving to wash your hair in half a time it took you to get there. You didn't mind though, as any time spent in her presence felt like a boon.

"I will carve my name into your skin tonight, dearest one~" she whispered huskily into your eat as she massaged your scalp. "And because I like you, I'll even let you choose a place where my blades will dance." She giggled, and your heart skipped a beat in excitement. You turned your head to her, seeing her pleased smile. You were completely smitten, nodding in acknowledgement before helping her wash the suds off your hair. Then, the two of you finally left the quickly cooling water, drying your bodies with the prepared towels. You kept glancing at her, how her skin shimmered in the dim lightning, how her lips stayed slightly upturned - she knew you were watching her. And she knew you'd be looking at her with same reverence even when she's inevitably forced to kill you in Bhaal's name.

[vibingandsimping]

What do you think about gortash being obsessed with dragonborn tav? Or Orin being crazy over her for different reasons of course

You’re an enigma to him. A being of another realm- universe, even. One who can command dragons with a simple shout.

Why wouldn’t he be obsessed? If he had you on his court he could do so much more. You’re likely desperate enough to work with him anyways. He feeds you half-truths of finding you a way back home, eventually. One day he’ll bring you back. Whether that’s tomorrow or when he’s figured you’ve ran your use, it’s unclear. As an artificer part of him wants to see how you work. To study you for all you’re worth and break you down to your core. Could he craft something similar to you? Or are you a one-of-kind that no magic or steel in Faerûn that can replicate? Careful darling, you never know how everything works. What if you’re not meant to return home?

Orin learns of you through her followers. Bhaal devotes who return to her and relay information. She stalks in different forms to see if you are really what they say. Gortash, the slimy bastard, has his hands all over you. She’d be damned if she didn’t get a taste of them for herself. Bhaal must’ve brought you here for a reason- yes, she deludes. You don’t recognize where you’ve woken the next morning. Head spinning as a pale figure looms over you. Her nails are sharp as they caress your face. You’ll teach her what you know, she coos, and she’ll sacrifice you in the name of her parent. Teach her of your homeland, your magic and your very essence. She’s fascinated by you, utterly and truly, you won’t go to waste. Gortash will deceive and trick you, Orin whispers, she’s an open book. At least with her you know her true desires.

[extraclevermongoose]

More draft previews? I'm gonna get weird about Orin, too. Don't worry.

It's gonna be gross.

[sky-kiss]

Red

It’s the smell of blood dragging you from the darkness. Up, up, up towards consciousness. Away from instinct and towards reason.

Blood, sickly sweet, stinking in your nose, thick on your tongue; it cakes beneath your nails, sticky between your fingers, and over everything. The hunger never fades, but this, the carnage, helps.

Screams echo in their memories and blend into a discordant song. And it should horrify you, shouldn’t it? The bodies? The stench? It did once. You know it did. There used to be another voice, a conscience maybe, but it’s gone. 

Now, there’s only red.

Red, red, red. Passion and blood, Orin.

The Red Lady flits between her kills, pressing the flat of her blade against her hip. It leaves a swathe of blood in its wake, no better or worse than the rest of the carnage painted across her flesh. Orin is messy, a somehow inarticulate way of describing her ‘work.’ Her knives are viciously sharp, you know this better than most, but you’d never guess it. Sometimes, she hacks into the flesh, shattering bone and bruising. In her lighter moments, nearly coy, she takes her time. Her hands are steady; she flays, reveling in the screams and the wash of blood. It soothes her. And you.

She traces your cheek with the knife, leaving a cool sting in its wake. Mischief (madness) dances behind her eyes. Something screams inside you, that primal voice, that other. Father or the Slayer…it wants her but doesn’t know how. Wants to kill, take, own, unify.

And it’s that last urge, stronger than all the others, that chokes you. You want to crawl inside her skin. Father says you are one, twinned, incomplete. It hurts. It hungers.

“My blood-kin,” she coos the words, breath warm against your cheek. “My only.” She laughs as she says it. Pleased by your pain. Orin presses her lips to your cheek and licks her way to the corner of your mouth. Not quite a kiss, tongue tracing along the cut she’s made. Evaluating her work, tasting you. Torn between the pleasure of the hunt and wanting to be whole again. It’s as near to restraint as she comes.

You feel the darkness stretching out again, soul-deep, and hungry. It’s so much worse when she’s close. Like your skin is tight, something else is clawing its way out, ready to burst from your ribcage. You are halves of one awful, bloody, whole.

Some nights you hunt, a twinned plague roaming the city outskirts.

Some nights you turn on one another, tearing through flesh and bone.

And perhaps one night this will end. It must end. Father demands it.

But not now. Not yet. For now, there’s only red.

[mahiiimahiiii]

the lick of bhaal

a/n: I would fuck orin!gale. That’s the premise of this one. I haven’t seen this concept done and I feel that there is much to explore! Slight dead dove on this one for those who may be sensitive.

Cw: inebriated sex, blood, breeding kink, fun use of shapeshifting abilities, my excuse to live vicariously through Orin, biting (lots of it), possessive language, not gale behavior, rough sex, dubcon, humping, frotting, tail play, anal play piv, orin has sex with a woman and is a bit confused, guilt, not really enthusiastic consent.

read below the cut, or on a03!

Orins lips buzzed with the taste of drink, sat in her lap- rather his- was a contently buzzed teifling, the poor wizards mate she presumed. Her hips wiggled occasionally when she shook with laughter. And oh ye gods! Did the pressure feel excellent. She cant remember a time previous when she was truly intimate with another fleshy being. The only passion for sanguinity she had was her affinity for a kill. His hands rested on the swell of the creatures thighs, a slight grip in pressure had her staring into her lovers eyes, something swirled in her mind.

Here? Her gaze asked.

“Here” she whispered in his voice. The Tiefling, li’ia, had a wonky smile on her face. She stroked her lower lip plush and plump. She captured hers in a chaste kiss, tasting the bubbly wine on her lips. Her heavy breaths graced Orin’s ears, a strange tightness in her chest and pants.

“Gale- fuck…I don’t know.” She pulled away “not like this…”

“Oh, but my dear- I know you’ve ached for it, yearned for it. How I’ve craved your skin. How I yearn. Let me taste you. Let me mark you, I don’t want anyone looking at you without seeing me.”

She let out a stifled groan in the short space of their lips. Unspoken egging coming from her stare. Oh how she will be ruined, oh how she will defile her.

Orin closed in, the unfamiliar feeling of clean skin pressed against her disguise beard, how she felt heat surge to her core when Li’ia gently tugged at his chin. She nipped at li’ia’s lip mindlessly, inwardly grumbling at the lack of sharpness from the humans’ blunt teeth. With his hands he anchored her into his lap, groping the warm flesh of her ass. She slid her cool hands down the others’ pants line, her skin was warm and spongy. Well taken care of she’d wager.

Lia groaned into her would-be-wizard’s mouth, throwing caution to the wind as she bumped her core against his low abdomen for some sort of friction.

“Warm my cock won’t you love?” gale hummed beneath her, “I would quite enjoy feeling your tightness.”

“I don’t think I’m necessarily ready for you like that.” She sputtered.

“Come now!” she slid the tips of her fingers against the others core, the heat and slick pooling off of them came in waves “I can feel how ready you are- your body doesn’t lie” his eyes darken with a hunger she’s never seen before. His lids lower as he removed his fingers from the entrance of her sticky cunt. Orin swiped her tongue over them, their taste fruity and sour with a tang of iron, how refreshing. How greedy she was for a taste of this infernal nymph; she licked her fingers clean a moan of ecstasy escaping gale lips. How guttural his set of vocal cords are.

He wriggled from underneath her and scooped her up, tromping back to stalemanes bedroom. With a kick she shut the door behind her, she dropped her on the bed, a flick of the wrist for a silencer and an arcane lock. The bed creaked underneath his popping knees, still dried browns, and maroons from the delicious stains of blood. He lifted the crest of her shirt, kissing down her stomach- nipping and nibbling at the sweet flesh. She sank her teeth into her warm skin, the tang of iron and a cry from her nightly lover. She knew of her sweetness, her reluctance. She was hers to take from.

A fist came to the wizard’s hair, it burned as she tugged gently at his scalp. Her whines and sobs fluttered to her ears. They sounded like sweet music. She lapped at the wound, placing small apologetic kisses to her sides, lips stained with her conquest.

“claim” the not very gale murmured, his tone taking a pinched staccato in focus, “mine.”

He hooked his thumbs into her pants, her hips squirmed slightly, but obliged in his pilgrimage arching gently for better access. Her breaths were hot and heavy, she rested gales head on the teiflings thigh, tracing circles onto her lower abdomen. She watched her chest rise and fall.

His breath felt like cooling velvet on her wet cunt, a whine clawed its way through her throat, nudging her hips up for the others attention. He smirked, not a warm one but a dangerous and hungry one. Gale grumbled again, staring slightly confused and hesitant. Li’ia tilted her head watching him cautiously. He tentatively licked her folds, pulling them apart with his tongue. His nose brushed against her clit, a low hum warming his mouth.

He angled himself so he could lazily grope at her chest, mouth kissing up her public mount to her clit. He latched onto the sensitive bud, sucking at it gently. Another hand for balance found its way to her core, stroking her labia lazily. She shivered at his blunt touch, shifting her hips up to prop a pillow under it to sit more comfortably. His digits prodded her sex, sliding in before bucking the pads of his fingers against a spongy mound. She inhaled sharply, ending in a warm moan. His fingers continued to pump and curl inside of her, the scuff of his beard brushing against her skin. Orin kissed the sides of her thighs, sucking at the skin under her mouth. Her skin was littered with imprints of her teeth and gorgeous flowering bruises. Li’ias grip became tight and steely, almost like the poor girls’ fingers took root in her skin, blunt nails scratching at her scalp. It made her dizzy.

Orin felt her knot break, the spasming of the woman’s hips beneath her the glazed over vision, to the silvery curls stuck to her forehead. Her orgasm was silent and ridged, toes cramped to a curled position heels dragging into the mattress.

“Roll over for me, my sweet.” She licked her fingers clean, helping the struggling teifling about. And finally, oh finally- she could drop the act.

She settled herself behind the static tail of the teifling, long brown hair fading and scattered with platinum blonde. She steadied her voice, clearing her throat to remain as gales.

“So pretty for me….” She hummed, his tones marking her words with affection, “look at you… “she quickly spanked her pretty ass, massaging the red into her cheeks. The sounds of smacks resonated on the hollow walls of the room. With each punctuated smack li’ia hissed and writhed under her. She felt tears dribble down her cheeks, from embarrassment, from pain? She really couldn’t Identify.

Orin ran the length of her cock against her ass, the heat from her member a soothing feeling to the bard’s aching cunt. Her tail curled around orins thigh lightly smacking the flesh of her ass, a grumble coming from her head in the pillow.

She chuckled, in tones gentler and more dulcet than she. “Easy pet, you’ll have me soon enough.” Orin angled her hips, gales skin being peachy, and pink, mottled with stretch marks, scars, and a sea of freckles. The tip of her tail prodded her entrance, she spat in her hand, rubbing the makeshift lube against her lover’s tail. It prodded and slid into her, wiggling gently inside of her. She exhaled relaxing herself at the fullness, re-settling her knees she rubbed the leftover spit in her hands against her hard member, siding her tip against her slick entrance.

With a quick flick of her hips she sheathed to the hilt, drawing a sharp gasp from the woman underneath her, followed by a delicious moan. She was warm as ever, walls fluttering quickly around her. Hand on her hip digging into her flesh, the other clutching at the headboard in front of her. Her ass made a hollow sound as she fucked against her tail, a delightful sting clenching around her. She lowered her hips biting at the tips of her ear, settling her legs into a hopping crouch position. The wizard’s knees she was using popped and screeched as she moved about.

Her hips arched up; her face planted into the cushion beneath her. Her toes curled into odd positions, whining as they locked up. The wet slaps echoed against the bloody bedroom. Her cock pulsed inside of the teifling, hitting the spongy tissue until it felt numb.

“Oh, ye gods- li’ia- “her voice came out higher than she wanted, the mimic of gale slowly faltering, “gods you are so sweet- bhaal below- “a moan rumbled through her chest. Orin folded over teeth, nestled into li’ia’s shoulder, platinum blond hair sticking to her forehead. She felt the bard squeeze down around her cock, her hand found her clit, pinching and squeezing it. A strangled moan came from her mouth, her walls clamped down around her.

“Are you cumming?”  the bhaalist hummed, her hips stuttering slightly, the other hand wrapping around to headlock her. Both of their knees slumped into the mattress, Orin’s knees pinning li’ias claves into the mattress.

Li’ias teeth sank into the pink skin of orins arm, decorated with freckles and hair to mimic the wizard. Drool and spittle ran down her lips as she tried to stifle the pathetic noises ushering themselves out of her mouth. She was quick to nod, quick to please.

“Good, good, good- “she repeated slightly breathless, “come for me my pretty dove, whisper my name like a prayer, worship me with your lips.”

Orin felt a slight loss at the whispers of gale on her lips, the dedication to her lover a man not worthy of her desire. A pathetic man at best. What did she see in him? Did she know she deserved better?

She had little to think about when the bard’s tail curled against a sweet spot. A flash of white struck her vision.  She went limp against her, li’ias hips sank into the bed. She tucked a strand of hair behind her ears and settled into the cleave of her ass, hands clamped around her thighs. She pressed her lips against her puffy folds, lapping at the mess she had made. Her lips held quick and contented sighs, tasting the mix of spent cum.

She withdrew, rubbing small circles into the melted bard’s back. She kissed her cheeks, pulling the covers over her fragile body.

Li’ia slept soundly, her breaths heavy. Her dreams filled with troubling messages.

She woke to an empty room a gift box tied with ribbons and the seal of bhaal sat at the edge of the murder scene. She inspected it, body pricking with goosebumps in the open air. The ribbons were satin, the seal a deep red and shiny wax. The box contained a note… and a ring. Shed recognize it anywhere, a matching set she had gotten for her lover, a twin set with magical effects to notify where the other partner was.

The note was simple, it read:

Dearest, Li’ia.

The steel watch foundry is a good place to start.

We shall cut the strings that work the tyrants’ puppets.

Thank you for indulging me in an evening of debauchery.

I can still taste your sweetness.

Orin the red.

Ps. Your wizard is such a sweet crier, I can see why a woman of your caliber likes him plenty. Her stomach churned, that was not gale.

[madwomansapologist]

doubt comes in | bg3 companions

Meet Kind!Druid!Tav | More Weirdos | AO3

synopsis: You knew exactly what would welcome you back to camp. The alluring smell of Gale's cooking, the awful noises of Lae'zel working on a sword that don't need to be sharpened, Wyll practicing his dance moves. You clearly weren't expecting to see yourself. Or to be forced into fighting the companions you swore to never harm in order to prove Orin was playing with their minds. [3.4K]

warnings: orin being orin. well, you, actually. "prove who's the real you" trope. i mean imagine the level of anxiety that scenario induces because you want me to act like me? kitten, mommy don't fucking know who she is. bg3 level of violence. a lot of blood. body horror should be a tag? tav suffers slashing damage, but orin suffers psychic damage. angst. happy ending. shadowheart x tav x halsin. companions (lae'zel, astarion, gale, wyll, karlach, jaheira, minsc). camp followers (yenna, scratch, grub). background (orin, gortash, mizora, shar, cazador, silvanus).

Reaching Baldur's Gate didn't made life easier, but Gods did it helped. Danger is near, sometimes closer than a kiss, but this city is still your home. They can try, but no one can take that away from any of you.

Mizora can bargain and dissemble, but no lie coming from her burning lips will ever change the fact Wyll would do anything for this city. He had his first kiss in one of those bars. Gortash is a threat, but did he started counting his days? Karlach is coming for him, and he had it coming. She can still remember the vinegar taste on her mouth after her first spree.

Shar had her time to mess with Shadowheart's memories, to turn goodness into fear and desires into guilty. Shadowheart is learning how to swin. Long ago, before Cazador could even think of looking at him, Astarion walked on those streets. Cazador can see him as a walking corpse if he so desire, something that fell into decay, but Astarion is alive and free forever and evermore.

The world is a freaking mess, but so be it. That won't stop you from living. That won't stop any of you.

"Soldier! Over here," Karlach called for you, up on The Blushing Mermaid's balcony. You dodged the drunkards and ran upstairs to their table. They saved a seat for you. They always do. "What took you so long?"

They're always teasing you for being so controlling with their gold. That was an act of survival, to save for what matters, but now that you reached the city... You're still controlling it, Silvanus knows Astarion would waste it all without noticing, but you can allow your party some luxury from time to time.

You put the bags under the table, careful to not let them see what was inside them. "Just lost track of time," you sat between her and Minsc. "Did I miss much?"

You turned around, looking for a waiter, but a glass was dragged from across the table towards you. Halsin, sitting across from you at the round table, had already ordered your favorite drink. He always knows what you want even before you say it.

Your smile was subtle, the glass already rising to hide your mouth. You didn't use words to thank him, but your foot met his under the table. You dragged it along his leg, a hidden affection. A secret between you two.

"Oh, yes, Boo. Minsc agrees, her smile really seens different," Minsc whispered. Boo moved on his shoulder, sniffing around. "What are you hiding, my gentle friend?"

Perfume of night orchids, clothes fit for a vampire or whatever Astarion means by that, a recently released tome of evocation, instruments to improve weapons, a music box for a dancing hero, owlbear cub plush, new whittling knifes, a book about adventures Jaheira wasn't part of but is still somehow the main character, and stone sculpture of a certain miniature giant space hamster. "Nothing," you answered.

Halsin chuckled. "There is nothing you can't do, my heart. Except by lying, I must add."

"I just bought a few presents," it sounded almost defensive. Alright, maybe you really were a bit too controlling of the gold. Just a bit. "I'll give them after dinner."

Karlach chocked on her beer. "Are you feeling well, soldier? Have anyone forced you to waste your precious gold?"

"There is a hero coming through to help you, my friend," Minsc hit the table with closed fists. Your drink almost fell on your lap. "Tell Minsc who forced you and his boot shall find your wrongdoer!"

Karlach and Minsc tried to see what were in the bags during the walk back to camp, and you protected them with your life. They started a game of guessing what you had bought, never realizing you weren't participating on it.

Halsin took the bags from you, and with his free hand caressed yours. He kissed your knuckles, then your forehead. You melted against his touch. "Is it duck related?"

You chuckled, eyes still closed. "Fuck off, Bear."

Finally at camp, Halsin followed you to your tent .You saw when Wyll walking out of his tent, hair dripping wet, and smiled at him. Karlach and Minsc sat by the bonfire, still arguing about the possibility of receiving an ax as a gift.

You told Halsin to close his eyes so you could hide everything. "Alright, done."

You walked towards the bonfire, but Halsin grabbed your hand and pulled you closer. You linked your arms around his neck, ready to stand on tiptoe. "It's on your black chest, isn't it?"

You sighed, walking away from him. He tried to stop you, but you dodged Halsin easily. "Of course not," you lied. And he could tell.

You used a branch to stir the fire. You had the feeling it would be a cold night. Yenna was near it, stroking Grub's fur, and smiled at you. So young, so innocent. So unfair.

Lae'zel and Jaheira carried pans with food to the large table Gale conjured, and nodded on your direction. "Fifteen minutes, cub," said Jaheira. "Weren't you on watch?"

You denied with a movement of your head. Jaheira isn't the one to get confused with watches, neither are you. After all, you both organized all shifts.

"Are you hungry?" You stroke Yenna's hair, ignoring Grub in order to not scare him away. Kneeled in front of her, you threw the branch far away. Scratch ran to catch it. "I have strawberry and hon..."

"What the fuck is that?!"

You turned to Karlach, your sword suddenly so heavy on your side. She looked perfectly fine. Following her gaze, you understood it.

Shadowheart had her spear on hands, back from first watch to supper. And besides her, with a hand on the half-elf's waist, stood you.

One thing you can't deny Orin: that bitch is creative. You admit, it was smart. Half of the party left with you, half stayed at camp. It was only a matter of chosing the right moment to appear, making sure to say only the right words, and everything would work on her favor.

Smart, until she wasn't anymore. Because instead of aiming your companions quietly without raising doubts, you are back now. She is surrounded by the enemy. Cornered by her own actions.

You smiled to Yenna, her scared eyes shone upon you. "I need you to close your eyes. Can you do that for me?" As she put her tiny hands in front of her face, you raised from the floor. The smile was still there. "Orin."

She was behind you, but you knew Karlach made Nyrulna find a way to her hands. He's not on your vision field, but you promise Silvanus you'll kill yourself right then and there if Minsc and Boo aren't ready to fight and die beside you. The golden light on your periphery in theory could be from anything, but you knew it was Halsin waiting for your command to transform and attack.

The things you couldn't see didn't surprised you. Quite the opposite.

Jaheira's eyes shone, and without hesitation she turned into a fire myrmidion. Wyll, before careless, casted an armor on himself. Lae'zel had her sword on her back, but her movements showed she was nothing but ready.

They were looking at you.

As easy as that you understood. You're always thinking on the great scheme of things, careful about every movement and choice so at the end nothing will stop you from defeating the Absolute, but this isn't a game of Go. Orin didn't proposed a bet, one where all moves matter and any choice could change the final outcome. No. This is as simple as tic-tac-toe. The results depends only on doing the right first movement.

Orin isn't surrounded here.

You are.

Shadowheart hesitated, the spear uncomfortable on her hands, her skin paler. She gazed at you, at that thing, and you could almost see the doubt replacing the new found glow in her eyes.

"You finally decided to show up again," Orin said. She could immitate your voice perfectly. Even the words were something that could've been said by you. "Now we don't need to hunt you down."

You kept on staring at Shadowheart, ignoring her stained words. "Lua, you know who I truly am." You drew your sword, the golden glow illuminating your face within the light of the setting sun. "Fight beside me, my love. Like you have always done."

"Don't fall for her theatrics," replied Orin. If you didn't knew better, even you would fall for her tricks. "She is playing with your mind. Trying to control it like many attempt to before. Don't allow it."

In a quick motion, her spear cut through Orin's torso. Orin, you, stumbled back. You stood in front of Shadowheart, protecting her with your body from the changeling's response.

All Orin did was to add pressure to the cut. "Get away from her!" A necrotic energy came from her fingers, the same you are so used to control. You shouldn't have left your shield on your tent. "My love, she'll only hurt you."

Jaheira aimed at you, lava dripping from her transformed hand, but didn't attack because of how close Shadowheart was of you. Karlach got further away, now with a better view of camp. Minsc had his sword in hands, just as Wyll had a cloud of darkness aiming at him. Lae'zel was in front of Orin, eyes filled with determination.

They moved faster than you wanted to. The board getting new possibilities, and you worst problems to deal with. What strategy can overpower hers?

"On sight, soldier," Karlach screamed from distance. You could picture the spear on her hands, ready to be throw right in Orin's eyes. "One word."

"Ckh. Enough," ordered Lae'zel. "Pull yourself together before I pull you apart."

"That changeling is playing tricks with your mind, Lae'zel," said Shadowheart. Light came from her fingers. "Don't let her fool you."

"I know my leader," was her response. "You should know too, cleric."

"Can't any of you see her true goal?" Your voice echoed through the camp. "She isn't just trying to end me. She could've done this before, we all now she had chances. Orin wants you to fight one another, to break our bonds and divide us. Stay still, stay alert, and she won't have a choice but to end her disguise and attack with her own claws. Patience: that's the only thing she does not have."

With the noise, Gale and Astarion came out of the kitchen. "Who is..." Astarion didn't even had time to finish.

"It's me," you yelled. You had even forgot about them. Just more players for a game that should be won alone. "For Silvanus, I even said goodbye to each and every of you befo..."

You swear you saw a smirk on your duel's face. She fooled you too. "You fucking bitch."

You barely had closed your mouth when red strings of energy passed right beside you. Shadowheart's illuminated fingers were surrounded by darkness now. Gale's work, you knew.

"She is right," Lae'zel's words made you breath easier. It was more than just a smart move, it was a great plan, but Orin won't suceed for a very simple reason: her main goal is to hurt, and yours is to prevent it. Lae'zel stepped closer, her longsword in hands and eyes on Orin. "The wizard shouldn't have aimed at the Shadowheart, neither was she supposed to fight."

A sign of trust coming from her of all people could convince them all. Lae'zel cares, deeply, and wouldn't do something without being sure of it. You glared at the others, hoping Lae'zel's words had calmed them down. And it did. Their eyes were softer towards you. But those weren't the eyes you should've been watching closely.

You didn't saw when she moved. Didn't noticed the smell of danger floating on the air so near you. Didn't heard anything that would've warned you to defend yourself.

But you felt as Lae'zel rip your chest apart.

So much blood. You never would've guessed a mortal vessel could carry so much blood. It stained the silver, dripping from the longsword, splashed her face. It ran down your body, penetrated the ground and its roots, fed the plants..

Red. It was all you could see. All you could think about. Your lungs only had space for it. They burned. Your trembling hands moved towards your ripped belly, your insides staining them, and held the sword. It cut your palms.

"Bloodlust won't solve our problems," someone said. You knew that voice. Was it yours? Lae'zel forced the sword down, then pulled it out of you. "The changeling's is all we need to spill."

You were on your knees. Did you fell? Were you kicked? Are you praying? You must be. You probably were. Who do you pray to? Have you ever prayed before?

Kneeled beside you, a woman talked to you. Her mouth moved, a red liquid dripping from her face and hands. Her touch was warm. She felt like home. Shadowheart. Her eyes reflected a golden light, but they dissapeared so quickly.

"Let me go!" She tried to fight Lae'zel's hold, but the warrior was stronger. "She'll die because of you. She'll die and I will never ever forgive you for that, you damned gith!" The screams turned into cries. "She saved me, let me save her!"

"It's me," the doppelgander said. She held Shadowheart by the cheeks, trying to get her to calm down. "Lua, love, it's me. Just me."

"Get out of me," Shadowheart spat on her face. Lae'zel pushed her away, trying to prevent Shadowheart from doing something she would regret. "Why no one here listen to me?!"

"Stop squirming," Lae'zel hissed. "Look into her eyes. Look and tell me you don't see our leader."

Shadowheart eventually stopped fighting, her body exausted from crying. The changeling was in front of her, you were in front of her. She smelled like you. Talked like you. Felt like you.

"Is that really you?"

"Of course it's me," lied Orin. "Please, look into my eyes. We were together all day. You know I haven't left camp. Please, please, trust me."

Spikes grew, surrounding Orin. She hissed, the ivy twining around her legs and tearing the skin open. Halsin were throw to the ground before he could end the healing spell.

"Halsin!" Shadowheart screamed. She almost escaped Lae'zel's hold. "No!"

"She was with us all day, Halsin," Wyll said as he paralised the druid. "We know it's her. Don't fight back."

That didn't stop Karlach from throwing her spear near the Blade's feet. "You fucking idiot!"

Mizora clapped, enjoying the show.

Jaheira burned Mizora before losing her wild shape. She will come back, she always does, but that never stops Jaheira. At least they will have some moments of respect.

She wandered towards Minsc. He kneeled on the floor, and for a moment she feared something happened to him when she wasn't paying attention.

"She told me not open my eyes," cried Yenna. "I can't open they yet. She told me not to."

"Have you ever seen my miniature giant space hamster?" Yenna didn't react to him. "No, Boo, she nee..."

Jaheira kneeled beside him, her hand resting on his shoulder. "You did well, cub," she forced herself to laugh. "You were so brave. Let's get you and your red cat something to eat, alright?"

A dry sound reached their ears, stopping every and each one of them. You fell to the ground, as firm as an empty sack, whimpers leaving your mouth as you slipped into unconsciousness.

No fighting. No yelling. A quiet end. A peaceful one.

So easy.

Astarion grabbed Gale's shoulders, whispering so the others wouldn't notice. "It smells like her," Astarion swallowed hard. "I know it."

"Are you really sure of that?" Gale watched you, saw all your blood spreading through the ground, and looked into his eyes again. "Because if you're not, if your guess is wrong, then it will be our guts on the ground. Do you really trust your nose that much?"

Astarion gave him a smirk, but Gale could see the fear he was trying to hide. "Will you cover me, darling?"

"What's your plan?"

"Please. If you think I have one, then you don't know me at all."

As the spike dissapeared, Orin held Shadowheart's face again. "Think of everything we faced together. The nautiloid, the grove, the shadows. Wasn't I beside you all this time? Have I ever turned my back on you?"

"No." That Shadowheart knew the answer. "Never."

She looked up to the moon, praying for assistance. When her eyes fell down, she saw the body on the floor. And what surrounded it.

Scratch sad down beside you. He nudged your shoulder with his nose, waiting for you to stop with that game. He didn't like it. It wasn't fun like the others. But as he moved your body, she saw something reflecting the sunset. A flask. Concentrating, Shadowheart saw the contour of something. Of Astarion's body.

Gale had blue rays of light coming out of his eyes.

"Exactly, my love," her cheeks were pinched. The long nails digged on them for so long. "I've never turned on you. Not when you tried to kill Lae'zel. Not when you lied to me again and again. Or when you showed us how low you would go for your goddess. Remember the fear on the Nightsong's eyes? Remember how I pretended not to know all you would do to her if I wasn't there? A cleric who doesn't know where to lay her faith, a torturer so easily deceived, a coward unable to make the right decisions. That's why you never turned on me, right? Because I make the decisions you can't. I carry all the guilty for you. Because it's easier when I control everything. Don't you like it? That you don't need to use your brain when I am around? Wouldn't you give your memories to me if I asked? I know you would. I know you will."

Your head fell. The bone cracking, the skin stretching. They could hear as it moved, as it turned into something else. The shoulders falling, elbows breaking in half, the spine bending until it touches the bloody ground. The last snap, deep and long.

And from a thin cloud of dust, Orin appeared.

"Look at it. Crawnling under my fe..."

Nyrulna wasn't near Wyll, deep on the ground, neither did it came back to Karlach's hands. With accurate aim, the trident pierced Orin's ribs. Her blood joined yours, and the pale body fell where yours once lay.

Taking your time, you walked towards her. Stepping on the changeling's stomach, you ripped the trident from her insides. "I will give you a glorious death," you growled. "I'll make Bhaal wish I was his chosen."

You kneeled beside her, pressing the trident against her neck, then lowered your face until her ear. "I'll make him regret ever settling for you," you whispered.

Her eyes shone. "How... you know," she could barely say anything. "My... sib..."

You squeezed her cheeks, shutting her up. Then you caressed it, getting her skin dirty with your blood. "I know shit about you," you replied. "But I can tell you would never be anyone's first choice."

Orin can believe she escaped, if it's that what she desires. That you were too slow to stop her from teleport to wherever she deemed safe. That you were all bark and no bite. The truth is that she was wrong about you from the start.

You like the hunting.

You dropped Nyrulna to the ground, and threw yourself into Shadowheart's arms. “She lies,” you whispered. "She deceives and hurts and maims. Nothing was true. You're nothing that she said."

Quietly, Shadowheart hugged you. She breathed in your scent, felt your touch, heard your voice. You, you, you. She cried against your body. You.

Looking at the rest of your party, you breathed in. "We need a code," you said. "If we ever get into this sort of situation again, we need to say..."

You bite your lips, trying to think of something. Something you wouldn't use in another situation. Something that would be unique, impossible to confuse the meaning.

"Gold," you chose. "Or the rest of us are allowed to go for the kill."

Lae'zel cleared her throat. "Fair enough."

if you enjoyed, please reblog! i promise it makes a difference ♡

BALDUR’S GATE 3 TAGLIST: @citrusbunnies

@ madwomansapologist.tumblr.