Work Text:
The Blight is changing and everyone knows. Even those with barely any connection to the blight or any areas where darkspawn might be have heard the whispers. Endless rumors of changing monsters and, stranger yet, a Blight that doesn’t kill those unfortunate enough to be blighted. Instead of getting sick and dying, they’re changing. Not physically, but mentally. It’s a slow corruption that creeps into the mind without any visible symptoms, so subtle that those who are blighted believe the corruption to be a part of themselves.
Day by day, they begin to change. They begin to wonder about things they’ve never considered before, sick, filthy, dirty thoughts begin to invade their every moment. They’ll find themselves having dirty dreams about people they never viewed that way, craving acts they would never have done before and eventually, want begins to spill over into need. Slowly, inhibitions wear down. First, the blighted might indulge these desires in private, still having enough shame to recognize the taboo nature of the thoughts. Then they might be more open, risking exposure or judgement. By the time the blight has entirely taken over, there’s no taboo that they’re unwilling to break - no matter the time, place or situation.
Moreso, the blight seems to spread through this corruption intentionally, as any sexual act with a blighted person will result in the non-blighted person being blighted themselves.
Peaceful chantry priests end up being gangbanged on their altars, monster hunters are caught being fucked by monsters rather than slaying the fiends, and the scandals only continue from there. It seems that no one is immune and no one is safe, not kings or queens or even the greatest heroes. Whether this is what Ghilan'nain intended when she began to manipulate the blight, even Solas is unsure, but there’s no denying that it’s thrown Thedas into absolute chaos and left it ripe for the taking.
—END INTRO—
Scout Lace Harding is, after all, a scout above all else. So it comes as no surprise when Rook asks her to investigate a report of darkspawn spotted in Arlathan, especially given what they’ve already seen. D’Meta’s Crossing was an incomprehensible chaos of corruption, after all. Frankly, Harding is still trying to make sense of everything she saw there, but there’s no time to linger on that now - lest she lose her nerve before she even sets out.
With a sigh - and a promise to be careful - Harding grabs her pack and her bow and heads out through the eluvian. A quick stop at the Veil Jumper camp to get her bearings and a few supplies and then she’s off, moving quicker through the forest than she would have alone. That’s the perk of a single scout rather than the whole team and both Rook and Harding agreed it’d be safer to play it cautiously rather than diving in swords drawn.
On her way towards the edge of the camp, Harding catches a glimpse of one of the blighted Veil Jumpers. He’s an elf, maybe mid twenties with warm, freckled skin and ruddy hair that mirrors her own; perhaps that’s why the sight gets to her so badly. The man is naked and bound with ropes, though it seems some care has been taken to make him as comfortable as possible with a cushion beneath him and careful bindings. His gaze looks nearly feral and he speaks no words even when his gaze meets Harding’s. Instead, he groans and gasps and whines, hips tipping forward desperately as his rock hard cock juts out, precum glistening at the tip.
“It’s for his own safety,” Strife explains, having caught the way she was staring at the man. “The blighted…” A low sigh slides through him, caught somewhere between horrified and yet still feeling the shame of saying such things aloud. “They’ll do anything, crave anything. We found him with the darkspawn in between two hurlocks. When we killed them, he was upset. Didn’t understand why we would ‘deny him worshipping his gods’ and once we got him back, it was nearly impossible to keep him from running off again to do the same thing all over again.”
“Maker…” Harding’s voice shakes a little. “I…I get the ropes but why-”
“-why is he naked?” Strife finishes off the obvious question and Harding confirms it with a little nod. “Something about the corruption of the blight has a physical effect too, just not something we can see. They’re hot all the time and they’re extremely sensitive, so with most of them they’ll just scream and fight if you try to keep them dressed. Since we’re having no luck on any treatments, we figured it was easier to keep them as comfortable as possible.”
Harding just manages another nod in acknowledgement. There’s a flash of fear and something else as she looks at the corrupted man, his keening sounds mixing with the other blighted Veil Jumpers. That might be her if she messes up this scouting mission. It seems impossible to consider, but the evidence is right in front of her face. Clearing her throat uncertainly, Harding manages to pull her gaze away from the unfortunate elf.
“Best I get going quickly then. Hopefully I can find something to help out.”
It’s likely over optimistic, but she’s not exactly the time to let something like fear hold her back. All she can do for them now is go forward, out into the forest and towards the reported darkspawn incursion.
It doesn’t take long to reach it following the map Strife provided, but the sight still startles Harding when she sneaks closer. She’d gotten a brief look at them back when they were fetching the lyrium dagger, but the team had been quick enough to kill them that she hadn’t looked close. Now her only goal is looking and part of her wishes she could look away, though another part of her is fixated on what she sees before her.
It’s a relatively small group made up of a handful of ghouls and three hurlocks, one with an axe and two with spears. There’s nothing new to the idea of darkspawn for Harding, she’d killed plenty of them even back when she still was working with the Inquisition. Yet this is something else entirely. There’s no armor, no attempt at any sort of civility or protection in any way, and what is revealed in lieu of armor is not the smooth slick forms she’d been hoping for, reminiscent of wooden dolls sold in towns and cities.
No, instead there’s thick, corrupted cocks jutting out from between their legs, thick and warped and deeply inhuman. The ghouls are more human sized, though describing them as anything normal feels wrong, especially with the way thick veins of blight twist and wrap around the shafts. The hurlocks are vastly more monstrous with massive cocks to match their stature, but it’s not the size that catches her attention. Below each hurlock’s cock is a second one, both thick and pointed almost like that of a canine and with heavy balls hanging below the pair of shafts.
The sight pulls a gasp from Harding despite all her training, but it’s too late for that to matter anyway. This version of the blight seeks to corrupt, so the presence of anyone or anything still uncorrupted draws its attention immediately - a fact that Lace Harding is about to learn the hard way.
There’s almost no time to react when one of the hurlocks freezes and looks straight at her, as if somehow seeing through the thick foliage she’s hiding behind. Not two heartbeats pass before the group moves as if one, shrieking and clamboring towards her at full speed. She manages to draw her bow and fire an arrow at the closest approaching ghoul and, Maker be praised, it hits its mark.
It’s not enough.
The next ghoul reaches her in seconds, barreling into her so hard they both tumble to the ground. Harding is in a panic, fighting and kicking and even clawing to try and get away from the blighted creatures as they descend upon her. Hands grasp at her, ripping and tearing through her armor and the clothes beneath like it's nothing more than scraps of silk until she’s left with barely tatters remaining. Their touch is rough but not violent; no consideration is made to her thoughts, but it seems clear the darkspawn understand that their urges aren’t served by killing her.
Instead of tearing wounds into her, she feels the ghouls toying with her body. Slender, clawed hands grab at her tits and pinch at the sensitive buds of her nipples, causing her to cry out. Barely able to catch her breath, she attempts to call for help, only to have her face buried in the groin of an over-eager ghoul as it grinds its cock against her freckled cheek. The scent is thick and musky like a long abandoned tomb and something altogether more filthy.
Harding is pinned on her stomach with her back arched as the ghoul in front of her grabs a handful of her braided hair and continues to thrust against her face with a growl as it leaves a streak of precum across her features. Several sets of hands paw at the rest of her body, groping her tits and ass and even dipping lower to stroke at her exposed holes. The sensation pulls more muffled protests from the dwarf scout and she lashes out futilely only to be yanked back into position.
There’s only a few seconds of warning when she feels it: the thick, wet head of a darkspawn cock pressed up against the unprepared slit of her pussy. Her scream as the ghoul begins to force his cock inside her is muffled by the ghoul in front of her, its balls pressed up against her mouth and nose as it continues to stroke itself on her face. Harding feels herself stretching around the monster’s length, her small frame attempting to accommodate the intrusion. It’s aching but somehow hot, so hot she can’t stand it, like the darkspawn is made of fire as it begins to rut into her. Each thrust is too much but it doesn’t stop, hammering hard and fast as it fucks her like nothing more than an animal.
Her fingers claw at the ground and she’s gasping for breath when she can get it, so when the ghoul at her front finally shifts away she foolishly believes she might be getting a reprieve. This thought is quickly forgotten when she feels hot, thick wetness splash across her face. With a retch, she realizes the ghoul has finished and left her with its seed dripping down her features. She can taste the salty, corrupted tang of it where it settles on her lips and she wants nothing more than to disappear, but it’s not over yet.
Several other ghouls follow the example of the first, though they vary their aim. Harding is left coated in thick spurts of cum across her back, her ass, and her hair, filling her senses with the scent. It’s so overwhelming that she’s dizzy, with mind growing foggy even as the ghoul behind her slams in deep and pumps its seed directly into her aching womb. She all but collapses into the dirt when it pulls out, gasping for air and dripping with cum.
Another, larger pair of hands grabs her and flips her over, forcing her to look up at the corrupted, filthy darkspawn all looking down at her. Some of the ghouls are already pawing at their cocks again, looking ready for a second round, but it’s the hurlock positioned between her legs that has her attention.
In one quick move, it lifts her hips up and lines both thick cocks up with her holes before beginning to force its way inside. Even as dazed as she is, Harding can’t help but scream and squirm as the hurlock slowly fills up both of her holes with the matching shafts. The cum left behind by the ghouls helps to lubricate it somewhat, but it’s still more than she’s ever been stretched and with little to no preparation at all.
It’s not long before the hurlock’s need to fuck outweighs its desire to preserve its toy and it begins thrusting eagerly into her holes. Her tits bounce as it slams into her hard, over and over again, and the remaining two hurlocks seem to be enjoying the sight. Both of them stroke at their cocks, clearly intending to give her the same treatment as the ghouls.
As she looks up at them, dizzy gaze bouncing between the different darkspawn, Harding feels something strange mixing with the pain and panic. It’s pleasure. Desperate, filthy, degenerate pleasure. The scent of their cum, the sight of them pleasuring themselves to her, the feeling of the twin cocks pounding into her holes as if she’s nothing but an object to use - it sends waves of aching, unwilling pleasure straight to her core.
When the hurlock finishes, Harding can feel every second of it pumping its seed into her holes, so much that she swears she might burst, and it’s enough to send her over the edge despite herself. She climaxes with a pathetic, broken moan, clenching around emptiness as the darkspawn pulls itself from her and leaves her gaping and dripping cum. The last two hurlocks finish moments after, leaving the front of her just as coated with seed as the back.
Satisfied, the darkspawn seem to dissipate over the next few minutes, leaving Harding to grapple with everything that had just happened. Her body aches and she knows she’s a wreck in every single way, but there’s also a warm heat in the core of her stomach that she’s never felt before. Had they broken her? Had they corrupted her mind like that Veil Jumper back at camp? Would she crave this, despite the fear? Her mind races, trying to come up with answers and what she’s going to tell Rook once she gets back to the Lighthouse, but the focus doesn’t stay.
Mindlessly, one hand slides down between her legs and she shudders at the sensation, over sensitive clit paired with the thick cum painting her pussy. Maybe she could just get off one more time…