Warnings: Smut 18+, breeding and talks of pregnancy, slight degradation, Gortash and Durge in love (oh oh daddy's not gonna be happy), non-con creampie, pre-lobotomy durge, lowkey Gortash and durge having sex like an old married couple (in their own twisted little way).
Word count: 1.1k
Summary: Gortash tries to get you pregnant so he can keep you forever.
Notes: Genuinely I think Gortash would try to baby trap Durge so he could keep his little murderous pookie bear, genuinely surprised he didn't try that shit in game. Bro is DESPERATE. Welcome to day 30, who's excited for HaLLOwEEn OooOOOoO? I love Halloween, it's my favorite holiday. I hope you guys had fun reading my little stories all throughout the month. I hope you guys enjoy today's fic and feel free to like/reblog/comment if you do <33
Your legs rest against his shoulders as he fervently pushes into you— he was a man gone mad with desire, with purpose. As your velvety walls enveloped his cock Gortash only had one thought, breeding your wretched womb.
“This rancid little cunt takes me so well— You have such a pretty face, my dear, it’s a shame it’s wasted on such a vile being like yourself.” Gortash coos, kissing at your ankle as he caresses at the silky skin of your legs.
“Such a nice cock, shame it’s wasted on such an ugly, rude man.” You retort, breathless as Gortash pushes deeper into you— his swollen tip hitting against your cervix.
“Awe, there’s no need to be spiteful, dearest. We both know it’s the truth. But it needn’t be so— You could be purified… with my seed.” Gortash breathes.
Ever since he first laid claim to your flesh, Gortash yearned to see your breasts heavy with milk and your belly swollen with his children. Your offspring, the blood of Bhaal’s purest spawn and his, blessed by Bane’s black hand— They would be indomitable, a god walking amongst mortals and you… You would be his. There would be no denying it with his seed festering in your womb, you would belong to him just as much as his affections belonged to you. Now he was just a god’s daughter’s little plaything. For you to use at your disposal until he was no longer of service. But were he to breed you it would mean something. He would no longer be just your little doll or your ally. He would be the father of your children.
“With my seed you can be more… You will be born anew, no longer just a mere Bhaalspawn but the mother of the most powerful being ever seen in all the planes— Both the heavens and hells will tremble before their feet.” Gortash says, his eyes alight with unbridled passion as he feeds you his tender promise.
“You’re wrong, love-hmm… I’m not a Bhaalspawn… I’m the Bhaalspawn… Gods will…will fall at my feet, ah-” You pant as Gortash fucks into you faster, leaving your skin flush with a sweaty, sticky glow.
You roll your heavy eyes at Gortash’s musings, you’ve been his confidant long enough to know his little game. He would taunt you, play at your insecurities, and offer a remedy— The solution he offered was always the same, pumping you full of his potent seed. And when you refused, as you always did, he would threaten to take what he wanted by force. It was always the same sad little story with him, you were starting to get terribly bored with his antics. You almost wish he would make good on his threats, show you he wasn’t a coward, wasn’t afraid to take what he desired— even if it meant hurting you.
Gortash pushes your legs further back towards the bed until your knees rest by your ears, his hips flush against yours. His length nestled deep within you, your cunt almost painfully full as he bottoms out inside of it. He takes your mouth in his, his sharp tongue gliding along yours as he makes love to your blushing body. Out of all the things you did together, all the foes you felled, this was his favorite— The moments you two truly got to be alone, no politics, no gods, only your sweaty bare bodies writhing against each other, joined as one.
His cock throbs within your slick walls, he was nearing his end. He brings a hand to where the two of you connect, stroking over your clit as he tries to bring your wanton body over the edge. You cling to him, nails digging into his back as your walls clench and gush around him. Gortash’s hips falter as he gets ready to empty his heavy, aching balls into your warm spasming walls.
“What are you doing? Pull yourself from me, don’t you dare come inside.” You spit, attempting to shove his body from atop you. But his grips remain tight on the flesh of your thighs.
His hold on you remains steadfast as you kick at his shoulders and claw at his back, drawing blood. Your resistance does nothing more than spur him on as he spills his seed deep within.
You feel the warmness of his fluids coat the inside of your walls as Gortash’s breath hitches and he clenches his eyes shut. His balls pull taught against his body and a whiny groan leaves his lips as he finishes inside of you. His body still moves against yours as he rides his orgasm out, fucking his seed deeper into your cunt with each thrust.
As he comes down from his high, he puts the full weight of his body on yours. Your body is trapped beneath his as he grips the flesh at the back of your thighs and lifts your lower body. He holds your wriggling hips in place, stopping any of his seed from spilling out of your entrance— he couldn’t bear to see a drop of it wasted.
You can feel his cock softening as he holds himself inside your cunt, your hole gaped around him. Gortash doesn’t release you until he’s sure his come has had time to quicken within your womb, pulling himself out with a wet squelch as your sore walls clench around nothing at the loss of him.
You take your chance to release yourself from his grasp as he loosens his grip on your legs, grabbing at his neck and pushing him over until your body rests on top of his— your roles reversed. You straddle his waist, your knees digging into the mattress as your hands tighten around his throat and you throttle your treacherous lover.
“You better pray to your puny god that I am not with child, I swear by my father's honor I will force you to eat whatever creature crawls its way out of my womb!” You hiss, your body overtaken by your murderous urges as you try to bash his skull against the mattress.
Despite your best efforts no harm comes to the smug Banite as his head bounces against the downy material of his fine sheets. He smiles as he looks up at your enraged face, knowing that the possibility of new life rests within your womb.
Instead of your forgiveness, that night Gortash, however foolishly, prays for something grander— He prays his efforts worked and you fall pregnant, he prays that soon there will be a child with his likeness and yours to call him father, and he prays that when that day comes you will call him yours.
Warnings: Smut 18+ minors dni, incest (or bhaalcest as i like to call it lol), cheating, oral sex, biting, light bloodplay, dubcon, lil' bit of angst.
Word count: 3.9k
Summary: When you're at your lowest, your lover comes to comfort you. But something seems... different.
Notes: Hey all! If you choose to read this I hope you enjoy it. It's not perfect but I am proud of it. This fic has braught me out of a 3 year writing drought, she's my little labor of love. Please feel free to correct me on any spelling or grammar mistakes or just anything you feel could use improvement. I dedicate this to all us 10 Orin fans lol, I just love her character and the dark urge so much, and there's not nearly enough fanfiction about her so I hope you enjoy, please like and reblog if you do and most importantly have a beautiful day. (Also incase you're wondering, yes the title is inspired by ethel cane lol)
It was an unusually quiet night at camp. You sit near the campfire watching the rhythmic movement of its flames as it dances in the breeze. You hug your knees tight to your body. Despite your proximity to the fire it doesn’t seem to be able to penetrate within you, where an unshakable coldness has settled in your bones. The sound of the burning wood fills your ears as the hard cobblestoned ground digs into you where you sit.
This clearly isn’t helping, you think to yourself. Despite the fact that all your companions were currently asleep the tension between you all still hung heavily in the air. It filled your every cavity, wrapping itself around your very lungs, and making it hard for you to breathe. You needed to be away, away from everyone, and the thin fabric of your tents wasn’t enough.
Your tired bones creak like the old boats in the harbor as you stand. Being in the city made you long for the days you would camp out in the wilderness. You miss the sound of the rushing rivers you would bathe in, the gentle sound of animals that would lull you to sleep, and most of all you missed the idle chatter of your allies around the fire, their hopeful words of what you’d all do once you reached the city.
Your legs carry you to a clearing in the wooded outskirts of your camp, maybe you would be able to make sense of your mind if everywhere you looked you weren’t surrounded by the same suffocating stone walls. You take a seat on the ground splaying yourself on the damp grass.
The last issue you expected to face when you got to the city was that it would be too quiet. It wasn’t that way at first, the second you set foot in Rivington you were surrounded by people and by the time you made it into the lower city you were drowning in the noise of its busy streets. It was like that for a while, you would have to cover your ears with a pillow to dampen out the sounds of the Steel Watchers’ heavy footsteps as they patrolled the streets by your camp. And even if the Watchers wandered off far enough where you couldn’t hear their footsteps you could always count on the boisterous jabbering of drunk patrons making their way home from late nights at the taverns. Even on quieter days, having a conversation with one of your companions was more like shouting at one another so you could hear each other over the sounds of the waves slapping against the nearby canal.
Now, in these last few days you were lucky if some of your companions even aimed a scowl in your direction.
They were angry. Angry at you…
Because of her… Orin.
It was your fault really. You couldn’t do it. You couldn’t kill her, wouldn’t kill her.
It was a miracle she was still breathing in the first place after you were forced to duel for your father’s twisted inheritance, one you didn’t even want.
All you wanted was to rescue Lae’zel from the bhaalists clutches. Orin had taken her to lure you to Bhaal’s temple, your old home, to fulfill the final act of your cursed blood. Bhaal could only have one successor after all and by your father’s cruel logic that meant that only one of you could live.
You or Orin, your blood, your sister.
You came out triumphant not because you wanted your father’s favor but because you knew if you lost it would not only be your end but the end of everyone who was counting on you to be their savior.
You didn’t just want to live- you needed to live. Something your father would not grant you after you rejected his blood.
It cost you your life, but you were reborn. Finally free of the curse of his blood, the wicked urge that compelled you to kill.
But there was one thing you were not free of.
Orin lay on the ground completely still, her blood staining the ground beneath her.
Before you knew what compelled you, you had rushed to her side, falling on your knees next to her.
You clutched her shoulder, turning her over. A sudden wave of emotion washed over you.
“Orin?” Your voice trembled as you said her name.
You felt a hot wetness slide down your cheek, you brought a hand to it expecting to be met with shiny crimson from one of the gashes you had sustained during the battle but instead you were met with clearness.
You were crying. You didn’t understand why. You knew Orin was your sister, but you didn’t remember her. The only thing you knew about her was that she was the reason for your mangled mind and the parasite living inside your skull. And yet something within you, in your blood, stirred at the sight of her seemingly lifeless body.
You put your ear to her chest— It was met with a slow rhythmic thump. It was faint, but it was still there.
“She’s still breathing!” you exclaimed, looking back at your companions. “Hurry! Help me carry her back to camp,” you beckoned them as you slid your hands under her, attempting to lift her limp body.
Your companions didn’t move.
Minthara furrowed her brows. “You can’t be serious. She’s a danger to all of us!” she tried to reason with you.
“Have you lost your wit? You release me from her grasp only to put us all at risk by harboring this chraith,” Lae’zel gestured angerly at Orin.
You paused your attempts to pick Orin up and laid her back on the ground. In your bruised and beaten state, you wouldn’t have been able to lug her body to camp by yourself. You rose to your feet and turned around to face your companions, “Please- I’ve never asked anything from any of you except that you fight by my side… I know this is too much to ask but I need you all to trust me. She’ll be my responsibility— I won’t let her hurt any of you, I swear it.” Your pleading eyes glanced into theirs— You were desperate.
You knew it.
They knew it.
Just then, your heavy gaze fell onto that of the one person whose faith in you had held resolute despite all that’s been thrown at you.
Shadowheart’s eyes locked with yours. She could read the look in your eyes in an instant even without using the tadpole. It was like she could peer into your very thoughts. She knew this wasn’t just something you could let go.
She tore her eyes from yours and walked over to Orin. She laced her arms under Orin’s and lifted her upper half.
“Come, help me with her— we can all discuss the details once we’re safe at camp.” She urged the others.
Your companions begrudgingly agreed. They knew there was no use in fighting you at that moment even less, so with your lover rallied behind you.
You turned to face Shadowheart, grateful to be spared the ire of your companions at least for that moment. “Thank you,” you breathed.
“Don’t thank me yet, we still have to explain this to the others,” Shadowheart sighed. “But whatever comes we’ll face it, together.”
It all seemed so simple to you when she put it that way, if only that was the reality. When you returned, it was as if the hells themselves had descended upon your camp.
They all thought you’d finally lost your mind, why else would you bring her here?
When you told them the whole story of what had happened in the temple and who you were before the parasite, things only seemed to get worse.
Not only were you responsible for the absolute being freed in the first place, but you had also brought the murderous chosen of Bhaal back to camp with you. The woman who had infected Minthara, Ravenguard, even you with mindflayer tadpoles, and now you wanted to give her shelter?
It was madness.
Your companions tried to reason with you— they tried convincing you that having her here surely wouldn’t end well, but you couldn’t be dissuaded. When they figured you wouldn’t see sense, they resorted to shouting— bringing her here was akin to treason in their eyes. They were angry, and they made it known— blood boiled - and tensions ran high. The shouting lasted until throats went bloody, and words ran dry, so then came the worst of it all… Silence. They decided if you couldn’t be reasoned with, there was no point in talking to you— You’d chosen your side the minute you’d brought her into camp, and it wasn’t theirs.
A notion that wasn’t helped by the fact that since returning from Bhaal’s temple you’ve spent most of your days tucked away in a tent by her side. You acted as if you were Orin’s bedside nurse— cleaning her wounds and changing her bandages. Orin had yet to awaken since your duel for the Murder Lord’s favor, guilt gnawed at your very being every time you looked down at her motionless figure- her face expressionless and bruised.
She looked so pitiful.
So… vulnerable.
You wondered if this is how you looked after Orin slit your skull open and slid the worm into your lacerated brain. You weren’t stupid. You knew you should be as indignant as the rest of your companions, even more so. She destroyed your mind— she left you to be a would-be slave to the absolute all so she could take your place as your father’s favorite. If you were still burdened by your urge, you know it would be screaming at you to kill her right then and there, it would be so easy to wrap your hands around the silky-soft skin of her neck and squeeze until you heard it crack- she would be helpless to stop you. Hells that might even be the sane thing to do after all she’s put you through, but you don’t feel that urge. What you feel is even more sick and twisted than that— you feel the need to protect her to make her pain go away, you feel… bound to her. You wonder what your relationship was like before you woke up on the nautiloid- could you two have really been close enough that even now, with your mangled mind, you still found yourself caring for her- loving her even…
In all this, the only person you confided in was Shadowheart. She seemed to be the only person who sympathized with your sentimentality towards your kin. But you could see it in her eyes, the glint of disapproval lingering behind her adoring stare- the last thing you wanted was to lose Shadowheart, you already felt like you didn’t deserve her and now it felt like you were drifting apart…
The sound of nearby rustling draws you out of your brooding state, your body tenses readying to fend itself against whatever foe has tracked you down. You leap to your feet, your fingers curl around the hilt of your dagger ready to pull it from its sheath.
“Relax my love, you look like you’ve just seen a ghost.” Shadowheart steps forward, revealing herself to you. The moon maiden’s light casts down upon her, her figure illuminated.
As she steps closer to you, your gaze trails down her body- she is naked, her body bare for you to see every inch of her supple flesh. Your eyes widen. You didn’t expect anyone to follow you out here, not even Shadowheart, but you certainly didn’t expect her to be so intrepid.
“Shadowheart? Did you follow me here? Why are you-” Shadowheart crashes her lips onto yours, cutting your questioning short. She brings a hand to your jaw, cupping it in her rough caress. Your body can’t help but lean into her touch, the one you’ve been so deprived of recently.
She pulls back- releasing you from the kiss. You’re left looking more stunned than before and your legs feeling like they’re going to give way under you.
“Don’t look so scandalized lover, I thought you could use a distraction” Shadowheart teases, ghosting her thumb over your now spit-coated lips.
“I’m sorry- just surprised is all. I miss this— I miss you.” You mutter, your hands trailing over her body, finding their resting place at the curve of her waist. Your grip tightens on her, you silently pray to the gods that this isn’t just some touch starved daydream in your forlorn state- That she was actually here with you, and she’d come to grant absolution to your unsound mind.
“Well, there’s no need to miss me- I’m right here.” Shadowheart promises before smashing her mouth against yours again, wrapping her arms around your neck. She kicks her foot against the inside of yours, beckoning your stance wider- you oblige, and she slots her knee between your open legs, nudging her thigh against your clothed heat.
Your mouth falls open, letting a needy mewl into her mouth she uses this chance to slip her eager tongue into your awaiting mouth. She pushes her tongue in the deepest it can go, causing you to almost gag on it. This only spurs you on however, in your time together you’d never seen this side of Shadowheart, your lovemaking usually gentle and soft but at this moment it seemed as though you’d both given in to your base instincts. Your current embrace feels purely animalistic. There was no tenderness to be found only pure hunger, and you craved to devour her as much as she craved to devour you.
Her hands unclasp from your neck and fall to the front of your bodice she grips the lacing of it and pulls hard, causing you to stumble forward, your clothed torso flush against her bare one. You bring your hands up to help her with your clothing, Shadowheart pushes your hands away, only pulling harder on the strings until they snap- she quickly pushes the corset down. With it out of the way she focuses her attention on your undershirt, grabbing its collar, she forcibly yanks the fabric down ripping it in one clean motion exposing your breasts to the cool night air before you have time to protest.
A surprised yelp leaves your throat as you pull away from the kiss and look down at your torn clothes.
“Shadowheart! How am I supposed to go back to camp like this- What am I supposed to tell everyone that I was ravaged by some wild beast?” You whine, but the excited tremble in your voice betrays you to be not quite as upset as you’re pretending to be.
“Let them see - let them see how I laid claim to you. It’ll let them know that you are mine- that you will always be mine.” Shadowheart breathed, leaning forward- she catches your lower lip in her teeth, nibbling on it. A devilish look crosses her eyes. She looks up at you, meeting your gaze head on, and bites down on your lip hard.
You feel the warm trickle of blood gush from where she bit and drip down onto your chin. You let out a half scream, half moan at the sensation. Your lip throbs at the pain. You know you should want to push her away, maybe even nurse the injury, but gods, you feel exquisite. The sight of your own blood in your periphery only adds to the ecstasy overtaking your senses- you feel yourself grow wetter as your hips involuntarily buck into Shadowheart’s thigh.
Shadowheart licks at the blood, letting a pleasurable groan escape her at the taste. She kisses down from your mouth, kissing down to your exposed chest, leaving a bloody trail in her wake.
“Your blood always tasted the sweetest, blood kin.” She whispers against your skin.
You stiffen at her words.
“What did you call me?” Your voice shakes.
Shadowheart takes her lips off your skin and looks up to face you- a dark look coming over her features before her head snaps to the side. A sickening crack fills your ears- you feel her bones bulge and shift beneath your touch.
“Orin?” You breathe.
“Surprised, sweet slaughter kin? Awe, look at it, trembling like a wounded animal.” Orin mocks, a wicked grin adorning her features. Orin remains against you, Shadowheart’s visage now discarded- her cold hands still teasing your sullied flesh with their touch.
You rip away from her touch stumbling back, falling back on the grassy knoll. Orin towers over you, her pale marbled skin bare for you to gaze upon. You don’t know what to say- what to do. A part of you is overjoyed to see her awake again, but the other is overcome with shame and disgust. Disgust not at Orin but at yourself for enjoying her touch, for your betrayal to Shadowheart, and worst of all, for the sickening arousal that drips from you as you take in Orin’s naked flesh.
“Orin I- What are you doing?” You attempt to demand, but your voice comes soft and pitiful.
“Oh sweet, simple, sister, don’t act so indignant this is not near the first time we’ve indulged in each other’s flesh,” Orin taunts, kneeling at your feet to meet your eyes. “I thought you’d be happier to see me. After all, you did go through all that trouble- lugging my would-be carrion to your camp.”
Silence falls between the two of you. A quiet sadness is palpable in the air as you remember the last time you spoke.
“You’re weak, sister. You had Bhaal’s offer in your clutches- all you had to do was paint his alter in my blood, but you refused to do it.” Orin scolds, her eyebrows knitting together in anger. “Why couldn’t you have just killed me and given my unholy flesh a purpose?” She crawls over to your body, straddling it, and wraps her hands around your exposed neck, pushing it to the ground.
“Because you’re a part of me gods damn it- It feels like you’re in me- in my soul. I couldn’t kill you if I wanted to. Killing you would be like killing myself.”
Orin’s grip loosens from your neck— she leans back, shifting her weight to your lower body, the anger subsides from her face.
“I shouldn’t be surprised, you always were the sentimental one- even before I minced your mind meat…” Orin pauses for a second. She leans down and lays her head on your bare chest. She pauses once more, her face stills in silent consideration— she turns her head, placing a kiss on your sternum.
“Orin-” You give a soft objection.
Orin ignores you trailing her kisses to your breast, her teeth scraping against the delicate skin. Her tongue darts from between her lips, licking at your pert nipple.
“Orin, I can’t do this— I’m not who I was before.” You try to rationalize, but at this point, you don’t know if those words are meant for Orin or yourself.
“Oh, but you can, blood kin. You can feel it, can’t you?” She slips her hand down the front of your laced trousers and traces a finger up your wet slit “Do not deprive yourself of what you know to be true, you need me as much as I need you.”
Your hips shamelessly grind into her touch, your cunt in desperate need of friction. Your addled mind knows you should stop this, but your body wants nothing more than to have her touch on you. The more she touches you the more your mind starts to agree with your body. You can’t help yourself— you want her, consequences be damned.
You grab the sides of her face and crash your mouth onto hers- your tongues meld together in a violent duel for dominance.
Orin grinds her naked core into your clothed pelvis- your hands leave her face. You trail one down her body to her aching clit, circling your fingers over it. A moan erupts from her throat as she separates from your lips.
She grabs a hold of the hem of your pants— pulling them down. You lift your hips helping her, she pushes them far enough for you to kick them off. Orin brings her hand back onto your slit. She sheaths her fingers into your wet heat- your walls flutter around her as she begins thrusting into you, setting a relentless pace. You bring your shaky hand between your bodies and push into her neglected cunt. Her own thrusts falter as you attempt to match her pace, her head falls back as a loud moan rips through her throat.
The sight sets your synapses ablaze, this is definitely not the first time you’ve seen her like this, a hazy memory courses through your mind— her in your arms a squirming, whimpering, mess beneath your touch as you were the one setting the brutal pace. She was always so responsive to your touch.
Her nails digging into the blade of your shoulder brings you out of your reminiscing. She’s close, you can feel the tremble of her legs and the desperate rutting of her hips against your hand as she chases her orgasm. You try to match the speed of her hips with your fingers- your palm grinds into her clit with every thrust. You feel her walls tightening around you and you know what will drive her over the edge- you lean forward and dig your teeth into her shoulder hard enough that you break the skin.
Orin doubles over as her orgasm washes over her— her slick gushes around your fingers. She settles her head at the crook of your neck as she comes down from her high.
Orin turns her head to look at you- her glossy eyes bore into yours. She keeps her eyes on yours as she lifts herself on all fours and lowers herself to your cunt. She separates your folds with her tongue, licking at your clit as she inserts her fingers in you once again, thrusting into you at a breakneck pace.
She trails her tongue to the inside of your thigh, teasing her sharp teeth against the tender skin. She returns the favor you granted her shoulder and bites deep into the flesh.
You let out a cry as your body tenses and your resolve snaps. Pleasure coursing through your body as you reach your climax. Your head falls to the ground as your body stills. Orin positions herself to lay her head on your chest.
You examine her body as she lays breathing heavily. You watch as blood pearls on the skin of her shoulder where you bit into. You lean forward, gingerly kissing over it.
Orin turns to look at you, a wistful smile adorning her features.
“I guess some things never change, blood kin. After all this time you’re still kissing my wounds.” Sadness lingers in Orin’s words. She looks down at the grass beneath you, averting her gaze from yours.
You bring your hand to her face, brushing loose strands of her hair behind her ear.
“I love you… A lot of things about who I was before are lost to me but, I know that I loved you then and that I love you still now- No amount of lacerations or tadpoles in my brain could take that away.” You continue combing your fingers through her hair. Her strands running between your fingers feel familiar in your hand, like an old friend.
“I know… I know.” Orin says, biting her tongue as she lays her head back down on your chest— because as much as Orin would like to deny it to herself, she knows she loves you too.
Warnings: Smut 18+, non-con (babe the dove is dead ngl), anal, gags, desperate and deluded Gortash, pain and betrayal, a little bit of religious trauma, talks of breeding and pregnancy, post-lobotomy durge (and all the angst that comes with that whole situation), backdoor creampie (I have no idea what that's actually called my second best guess is a mudpie)
Word count: 1.5k
Summary: If your ruined mind doesn't remember him, he'll have to find a way to make you remember him.
Notes: I finally let big bro be dominant in one of these for once, I know this revelation might actually be a shocker. I wanted to make something really like some porn with major angst, so since today in non-con day I was like might as well. Even though I let Gortash take charge in the fic, don't worry I kept him pathetic and whiney (I would never betrayal yall like that and take away his sad rat demeaner). Anyways I'll let you guys get to reading now! Feel free to reblog/like/comment if you enjoy, have a good day, it's almost Halloween!!! (p.s. sorry if it's really obvious I have a fetish for all things anal, in this fic, I'm obsessed with the bootyhole I won't lie)
You lay still, chest softly rising and falling under the fine ornate blankets of the fortress’s spare room. A peaceful scene interrupted by his leering figure— Lord Gortash. Gortash the tyrant, the edict of bane, tormenter of many including your dear companion, and worst of all your former co-conspirator and friend.
You felt a deep shame even being here, you swore to your companions you wouldn’t even consider his offer, promised Karlach that you would help her enact her revenge against the man that wronged her— yet here you were going against your very word. You couldn’t help yourself, it wasn’t the lure of power or the promise of dark supremacy over all realms that drew you back to Wyrm’s Rock Fortress it was simply that he knew you. He knew you before your mind was nothing but holes and crawling parasites, he knew of your urge and presumably saw you enacting your revolting impulses, and yet he dared say he missed you.
Missed you.
You assumed there was nobody left waiting for you in your former life, after all who could love such a vile being like you— Cursed with a lust for blood beyond the feeble capacity of your current understanding. And yet he did… You had to see him again, no matter the cost, no matter what lie you had to feed your new friends as to why you would be gone from camp, no matter if you had to face your past alone.
And so, you had, a lost soul wandering to his doorstep with no one by your side. He had been vague at best about your past relationship, professional or otherwise… But always the gracious host as the sky darkened and Selûne filled the sky with her brilliant light he offered you a room, promising that come morning he would share more of your past but first you must rest.
And now there you were, sleeping— your supple body open to his prodding eyes. His clawed fingers trail along the edge of the blanket resting just over your breasts. You’re clothed in a spare nightgown, left over by previous residents of the fortress, given to you by him. He pulls the blanket down slowly, your pert nipples hardening under the thin fabric of the gown as the cool night air greets your skin. His hand grazes the slack neckline of the garment, dipping his hand beneath and caressing at the warm flesh. Gortash closes his eyes, a low groan leaving his lips as he relishes in the familiar feeling of your softness beneath his palm.
You came back, came back to him. The news of your death had nearly broken him, and your absence had left him empty. He had no wants, no needs to that outside of his god. He had prayed countless nights for Bane to send you back to him, for him to find a place for you in his grand plans by his most loyal servants’ side— And it appeared his desperate prayers had been answered. Surely, Bane had guided you to his side. For your journeys to align your paths had to be fate. Things would be as they were, better even. You would be his queen, rule by his side and serve as the vessel for his offspring— For Bane had told him so. You, the daughter of the Murder god, would be his.
The bed creaks beneath his weight as he climbs on top of your slumbering figure. He leans down, brushing his rough lips against your soft ones— The sensation causes you to stir, your consciousness hanging amid the hazy realm between dream and reality. Gortash rips the rest of the blanket off your body, hiking up your skirt and revealing your bare cunt beneath. His hand cups at the coarse hairs of your mound, petting at it as his fingers dip between your legs. The pleasurable sensation of his fingers teasing at your clit jolts you from your slumber with a moan, the sound turning into a surprised yelp as you spot Gortash’s shadowed figure looming over you.
“Gortash! Wha-what are you doing? What’s wrong with you— why are you doing this to me?” You shout, trying to pull away from his touch to no avail. He parts your legs further with his as he kneels between them.
“What I must, my love. The gods have played a cruel trick on us, they ripped you away from me, made you forget what we shared— I will help you remember what you know deep down, that I am yours and you are mine.” Gortash breathes, holding your hips in place with one hand as he undoes the fasten at the front of his pants with the other.
“Please don’t do this Gortash- Enver. I can’t remember what we had before but you can help me understand just please… please stop.” Your voice quivers as you beg, your drowsy mind not even yet fully aware of your situation.
“Darling it’s all quite simple, you used to love me, and I love you still. We were the only ones who ever truly understood each other— I see the darkness in you my dear, and it does not frighten me. I will help you remember even if I must hurt you to do so. Now, please don’t struggle… it will only make this worse than it has to be.” Gortash brushes his thumb over your cheek, your teary eyes gazing up at him.
“I can’t, I’m not who I was, I’m not who you remember me to be— I’ve changed.” You beg, the words tasting sour in your mouth as they spill past your lips. Were you truly different or is that only what your hopeful mind had tricked you into believing?
“That’s where your wrong dear, you haven’t changed at all— I can see it in your eyes, smell the blood on your skin. You are exactly who you have always been.” He whispers against your heated skin.
Tears spill from the corners of your glassy eyes at his cruel words.
You are exactly who you have always been.
The one thing you’ve dreaded since you first awoke in the pod, stranded with nothing but your rage and your violent desires. Things he sees in you so clearly, things you can’t hide. It’s almost enough to wish you were dead, away from the burden of knowing that despite everything you were still you.
“My god commands me to make you heavy with my seed, force you to carry my children— But I suppose you’re not yet ready for that. I’ll oblige you this once, even if it means disobeying his orders for now.” He says as his fingers trail down from the entrance of your cunt to your other hole.
“Leave me. I swear to all the gods above I’ll scream. What would your flaming fists think if they rushed in here and saw you on top of me?” You look up at him, pure hatred in your eyes as you attempt to squirm away from under him.
“Still that same fiery tongue, good. But I need you to be good for me— here, this should help.” Gortash smiles, his yellowed teeth bared like that of a wolf about to strike its prey— He removes his belt, grabbing your head forcefully and tying the embellished leather around your mouth making it so nothing but muffled cries can escape.
He pulls himself from the confines of his pants, his cock hard and throbbing as it pushes against your puckered hole. He leans down, spit dripping from between his pursed lips and on to where his flushed tip meets your sphincter. He slowly pushes the head in, your tight hole flexing around him. Your eyes roll back as you try to pull your ass away from his grasp, pain shooting through your entire body as he thrusts in— his spit barely doing anything to ease the roughness of his forceful entry. He grabs your wrists, holding them by your head as he continues to slam his hips against the flesh of your ass. Gortash grunts as your ridged walls tighten around his length, contracting as they try to push him out.
Tears spill from your eyes as you sob, your saliva pooling around the make-shift bit in your mouth. You don’t know what’s worse, that Gortash violated your trust and forced himself on you or that your sick mangled brain is deriving pleasure from his actions— your cunt leaking arousal and coating the base of his cock in your slick as he continues to fuck into your ass. You’re disgusted in yourself, for all the resistance you put up you’re nothing more than a mewling whore.
Gortash’s hips falter, his pace sloppy as he nears his high. He thrusts in faster, forcing pathetic whimpers from your throat with every slam of his hips. He lets out a feral growl as he comes deep within your ass, his sticky-warm seed coating your ridged walls— Gortash pulls himself from you, leaving your abused hole to push the milky white substance out in wet spurts.
Gortash chuckles laying down next to your sore, aching body as he strokes over the soft flesh of the valley of your breasts.
“I love you— I never told you it enough before, but I do… Nobody will ever take you from me again, Orin be damned.” Gortash mutters, leaning forward and pressing a tender kiss to your tear-stained cheek.
Warnings: Smut 18+, creampie, breeding kink, clothed sex (my thinly veiled fetish for nightgowns shines through once again), deception (Orin is disguised as Gortash), dub-con, incest, talks of pregnancy (not a lot just like one sentence).
Word count: 1.0k
Summary: You get a late-night visit from Gortash but something feels different...
Notes: Kittens, mama is feeling real sleepy right about now ngl. I took some Benadryl, and I might as well have chugged it down with some nightquill or something cause that thing is trying to drag me DOWN to sleepy town. But I digress welcome to day 19, man oh man where do I begin... Well, we know Orin is changeling aka a shapeshifter and honestly, I die to make use of that when I can cause she is so sexy when she like snapping her neck and transforming all cool-like (STRAIGHT aura farming fr, we ALL remember yes sir, no sir, rip and cut your throat, sir.) So yeah, I made some use of that here, I hope you enjoy and feel free to like/reblog/comment/etc. if you do <333
You preen at yourself in the hazy reflection of your dressing table’s grimy mirror, stroking your fingers over your skin as you dress yourself in your nightclothes. You just barely finish pulling your robe over your shoulders before you spot his reflection behind you, blurry in your eyes’ periphery.
“My, my, a gentlemen caller this late in the evening— I thought you knew better than to barge into a lady’s room while she undresses, Enver.” You smile, turning to face your handsome confidant.
Gortash greets you with a devilish grin— he walks over to stand before you, taking your hand in his and laying a kiss to the back of it.
“I apologize my little assassin, I just couldn’t help myself— I craved your presence, my dear.” He breathes, his plush lips brushing against your skin as he speaks.
“A most urgent matter, indeed— Did anyone see you come in?” You ask, caressing at the rough flesh of his stubbled chin with your thumb.
“No. You are completely at my mercy, my lady— daddy’s little servants won’t be able to protect you from what I intend to do with you.” Gortash whispers, leaning into your touch.
“And pray tell, what is that?” You play coy.
Gortash chuckles, pushing the thin fabric of your robes from your shoulder and diving his head down to kiss at the soft flesh of the crook of your neck.
“I intend to make you mine, to lay claim to your unholy flesh.” Gortash lays his hands on you, placing one between the blades of your shoulders and the other behind your knees— He lifts you into his arms, carrying you over to your bed and tossing you on the mattress.
The bed shifts beneath Gortash’s weight as he climbs over you, settling between your open legs. You wrap your arms around his neck as he leans down and connects his lips with yours— He gropes at your clothed breast as he pulls the fabric of your nightgown up until it pools around your waist, exposing your bare cunt. He dips his hand between your legs, tracing up your slit with his fingers and circling them over your clit. Your mouth falls open as a serious of breathy moans escape your throat, your head falling against your pillows as he rubs at your cunt.
You whine as he pulls away from you, pulling at his trousers just enough for him to pull himself from the confines of them. He takes his hardened member in his hand, tip already red and leaking as he leans down over you and lines himself up with your entrance. He pushes the head of his cock into your tight walls before burying the rest of himself in you with a buck of his hips. Your breath hitches as your walls stretch around him— you grind your cunt against the coarse hairs at the base of his cock as he thrusts into you. You grab the side of his face pulling his face to yours, touching your forehead to his as you look into his eyes as he fucks into you.
That’s when you see it, a certain mischievous look in his eyes— It was one you had never seen in his eyes before, almost unnatural to his features and yet it felt familiar though your pleasure addled mind cannot recall where you’ve seen it before.
“Is… something wrong, my dear?” Gortash asks between pants, running his warm touch over your cheek.
“No, it’s nothing.” You say, deciding to push the thought from your mind if only for the sake of this moment.
He continues to slam his hips into yours, his tip pounding against your cervix has your brain turning to a mush as your thoughts turn to your impeding orgasm. Gortash brings his hands to your trembling thighs, gripping at their fat and lifting them to lay upon his broad shoulders. The new angle has you reeling as Gortash’s cock prods at the deepest parts of you— Your walls tighten around him, spasming as your abdomen tightens and your release washes over you. The warm sensation of your arousal gushing around his cock as you come undone has Gortash toppling over the edge not even a second later, locking his hips in place and spilling his seed deep within your walls.
Gortash shudders and groans atop your quivering figure as he fills you to the brim, your greedy walls milking his cock for every last drop of his milky-white seed as the excess spills from you. You whimper as he pulls out of you, your gaped walls fluttering around nothing as Gortash gazes down upon where you were connected just moments ago. Gortash lowers your legs from his shoulders his fingers digging into your knees as he pushes them to the side, forcing your legs to remain open for his hungry, dilated eyes to ravage the sight of your ruined cunt weeping his seed.
Gortash scoops the sticky white juices of your mixed arousal in his finger, pushing it back into you. His eyes remain fixed on your dripping entrance when suddenly he laughs, a dark raspy chuckle that rises in pitch as his neck snaps to the side and the sound of cracking bones fills your ears. A puff of ash fills the air as his body contorts, his twisted limbs settling to reveal the true identity of your late-night visitor.
“Would you look at that, dear sister— Your pretty, little, hole overflowing with my seed. How sweet it would be if it took and quickened deep inside your wretched womb. That puny little Banite, forced to look at you swelled with my offspring. It would surely please father, a true child of murder sired by my loins and born to his chosen.” Orin teases, her sharp teeth glinting in the dim candlelight of your bedroom. She drags her rough touch over the supple flesh of the insides of your thighs, continuing to hold them open as she fixes her wicked gaze to look at your soon to be bred cunt.
Redeemed!Orin headcanons w/Minthara and Durge!reader
Pairing: Orin The Red x Minthara Baenre x Durge!reader
Warnings: Incest, fluff, a little spicy bit, trauma, mentions of hunting, lil bit of angst.
Word count: 900
Notes: Hi guys!!! I hope you guys are having a good November so far, here goes some more writing! These headcanons are actually based on this ask by @duuuuuuurje Hi duuuuuuuje! it was mypleasure to work on these for you, this actually the first headcanon type fic I've ever written so let me know if you like them. Also, if there are any spelling mistakes please let me know and I'll fix them right up and I apologize if there are <33 Please enjoy, love Vim!
So, first things first, after whatever way you manage to save your dear sister from the clutches of Bhaal, the first thing you do is get out of the city— The two of you flee from the cult, Bhaal, your previous lives, all of it.
You decide to start your new life in a cabin deep in the woods, far away from where anyone can happen upon it by chance. If you are to reform your previously murderous sister, it needs to be in a place where you can minimize casualties.
It’s difficult at first, all Orin has known her entire life is murder, gore, and carnage. You know the struggle, after all it wasn’t long ago you were under the control of your urges…
You just needed to channel her energies into other sources.
So, you caught animals for her— Deer, rabbits, wolves, the occasional squirl, anything you could manage to catch or ensnare without killing.
You bring the struggling animals to her, and she puts them out of her misery— She takes the flesh and bones for her leather work and other artistic endeavors, and you cook their meat for your meals. That way their deaths can serve a purpose beyond just meaningless cruelty.
It was enough for the most part…
There were of course the occasional nights where the urge would get so strong that her body would tremble, and all sense of personhood seemed to leave her body as she tried to claw away from your embrace as you held her through it all.
You would cradle her in your arms and tell her that she was more than what Bhaal made her, as were you, and you didn’t need to be his blades anymore— He was gone from your lives forever.
You tried to avoid restraining her, but you would if you knew there was no other way…
You would tie her to her bed, stroke her hair, and recount whatever happy childhood memories of you to that your fuzzy brain could still recall.
And you would stay with her long after she had tired herself out straining against the ropes that bound her arms and legs, falling asleep next to her and freeing her come morning when her urges had faded.
And life would move on, you would clean, Orin would paint and craft various pieces, then she would help you in the garden just before skinning the catch of the day and leaving you to prepare your supper.
It was a simple life but, after all that you two had been through it was respite, you needed. No murder, no power, just you and her together once more.
Minthara comes to visit:
There are of course special occasions when your lover comes to visit.
After defeating The Netherbrain you and Minthara had agreed to go your separate ways— You would care for your sister on the surface and she would return to the Underdark and fight for her House’s name…
But the two of you would keep correspondence and you made her swear that whenever there was a gap in her endless battles, she would come to visit.
Minthara was, reasonably, hesitant at first. After all Orin had been the one to induct her into the cult of the absolute in the first place and place the parasites in your minds…
But you managed to convince her that if you were able to get better and escape the thrall of your murderous ways so could Orin, she just needed time…
Minthara agreed, she would return to you when possible.
On such occasion when Minthara made the arduous journey out of the Underdark and to your camp, you greeted her with tears and open arms.
While Orin greeted her with suspicion, which was mutual for both women.
That night after you had retired to your rooms you and Minthara made passionate love— It had been so long since you last seen each other you the two of you took the first opportunity to relish in each other’s flesh…
You tried to keep quiet to no avail, you figured Orin would have gone to bed by now too…
You were, however, very wrong. Orin was wide awake— She had followed the sounds of your soft cries of pleasure and watched through the crack of the door as Minthara devoured at the slick flesh between your thighs…
She was outraged, you belonged to her— You were hers… hers, hers, HERS! But then she figured if you insisted on taking on a lover then you wouldn’t mind sharing your little plaything…
She stripped bare and opened the door.
Your eyes shot towards the sound of the door creaking open, only to be met with the sight of you beloved sister’s naked body…
She walked over to your pleasure ridden body, grasping your face and taking your parted lips in hers.
Minthara pulled herself from between your legs, opening her mouth to object before Orin kissed her lips as well— Quieting any doubts Minthara might have had about this little arrangement.
The three of you took succor in each other’s flesh till the moon maiden’s glow faded away from the night sky and gentle rays of sun poured in through the tears in your dusty curtains.
And after that night the three of you agreed to be lovers of a sort, together in all manners of intimate things…
Warnings: Smut 18+, incest, blood (lots), unsanitary/messy sex (straight up sex in other people's blood ngl), talks of violence.
Word count: 962
Summary: You and Orin bathe in a pool of blood.
Notes: Boy oh boy day 17, we're like a little bit more than half-way through our kinktober journey. I've hope you've had some good times with these fics, it's honestly been so exciting to wake up and have something to do that's actually fun like writing these fics (because although it's like a daunting task to have to like write every day it's been fun I promise). Also, I wanna get ahead of this, the tub in this fic is more of a pool type thing but I call it a tub since you're technically bathing it so whatevs ig. Anyways I hope you enjoy todays fic and happy reading.
Sceleritas pours the last of the red viscous liquid into the sunken, stony tub, the blood covering you and Orin as you bask in the carnage of your latest sacrifice. The crimson flows into every crevice of your bare flesh, stopping just above your breasts.
“That’s the last of it, mistress.” Sceleritas says as he lays the empty basin, stained in the gore of your unfortunate victims’ bled corpses, on the ground.
“Leave us Sceleritas— let us relish in the recompense of our abundant slaughter.” You command, waving your butler away. He hurriedly follows your instructions, scampering out of the room and leaving you and Orin alone.
The red fluid coats your skin in its pleasant warmth like a satin blanket. The bath glistens in the flickering candlelight like a vast red sea, only bits of viscera marring its surface. It had taken a whole village worth of bodies to fill the bath— A sacrifice you and Orin had planned together. How the people screamed as the Bhaalists pillaged their homes, murdering everyone in their way. Now their blood fills the canals of Bhaal’s temple, your father’s hunger sated if only for a moment.
“You did very well today, sister— Such a large village yet no substantial protection, it was a good find. You should be happy, father is pleased with your efforts.” You say, wading your way through the blood to stand in front of Orin.
You bring your bloodied hands to Orin’s face, cupping her cheeks in your hands and tilting her head down to lay a kiss on her brow.
“I’m proud of you, Orin.” You praise, trailing your hands down her neck and smearing her pale skin in the crimson that coats your hands before you rest your touch on the curve of her shoulders.
“Thank you... sister.” Orin utters, the corners of her plush lips pulling into a smile. She wraps her arms around your waist, pulling you to her and resting her head against your chest.
“You deserve a reward— Turn around.” You whisper against her hair before pulling away from her grasp.
Orin stares into you with her cloudy eyes for a moment before heeding your words, a mischievous smile donning her face as she turns her back towards you and grips the hard stone ledge of the bath. She sticks her hips out, pressing her ass flush against your front.
“Hmm, good girl— If only you were always this obedient.” You purr, bringing your hands around to the front of her body and caressing at her breasts.
You grope at the supple flesh of her chest with one hand and trail the other down her sternum, dragging your touch down her abdomen and submerging your hand beneath the crimson covering your bodies. You let your fingers linger over the coarse hair of her mound before dipping them between her thighs and tracing along the folds of her aching heat.
Orin’s breath hitches as your nimble fingers circle over her clit, her nails scratching against the stony rim of the bath. Your fingers slide down her slit, tracing over her entrance before pushing in— your fingers slot into her walls with ease, slick in the blood surrounding your bodies. Your plush breasts press into her back as you rest your jaw against the crook of her neck, watching in awe as her face contorts into pleasure. Blood pushes into her cunt with every thrust of your fingers, coating her walls in its slippery red juices.
The crimson bath splashes around your bodies as you work at her cunt, spilling onto the already grimy stone floor of the temple and staining it in the spurting fluid. You kiss at the blade of her shoulder, your nose pushing into her skin as you inhale her intoxicating scent. A shiver courses through Orin’s spine, goosebumps forming in your lips wake— She writhes against you as you continue to bury your fingers deep inside her throbbing walls. Her cunt clenches around your fingers, the sweet juices of her arousal leaking around your digits and mix with the surrounding blood.
You bring the hand fondling her chest up to her face, fingers pressing at her jaw and turning her face towards yours— You press your mouth to hers as you quicken your fingers inside of her, driving into her spongy walls at an unrelenting pace. Orin whines into your mouth as her thighs tremble around your hand, threatening to give in beneath her as her orgasm crashes through her. You dip your hand into the blood once again— you gather it in your palm and lather it into the heaving flesh of her chest as she grinds her cunt into your hand, riding out her high. You bring your bloodied finger to her panting mouth, pressing them against her tongue. Orin wraps her lips around your fingers, lapping at the heady crimson and groaning at the bitter metallic taste.
Her body falls still against you, sated as you take your fingers from her mouth— her spit coats your fingers, a red tinged string of saliva connecting the two of you. You lean down, joining your lips to her once more before pulling away.
“Sometimes I wish I could stay inside you for the rest of my cursed days… However, I believe I’ve spoiled us both enough for now. Congratulations on your success today, I hope there are many more to come.” You utter as you pull yourself from her warmth. You place once last kiss to the sweat-slick flesh of her cheek before you grab onto the edge of the tub, lifting yourself from the coagulating pool of blood— You walk away, your bloody footprints the only sign of your former presence as you leave Orin alone with her thoughts.
Warnings: Dead Dove/Darkfic, angst, hurt/comfort-ish, pregnancy, miscarriage, loss of autonomy, blood, suffering, cruel deities (I mean it's literally Bhaal so...), pretty much whump ngl.
Word count: 726
Summary: You realize that despite being his favorite your still just another puppet to Bhaal...
Notes: I never know how to tag dead dove stuff, idk if I should right out the whole do not eat part or not but just pretty much know there is some fucked up shit afoot. Sorry for the short fic, Love yall, please enjoy, bye-bye for now. (P.S I wrote this back in December, but I didn't want to post it until I was caught up writing my other fics but that's prolly gonna take me like 5-ever so I might as well post this now lol, hope you guys like it.)
Blood.
It’s everywhere you look, pouring out between your thighs and staining the water of your bath until it’s a pale crimson.
“Don’t take it to heart, Master. Your father only does these things because you are his favorite— Lord Bhaal loves you.” Sceleritas tries to comfort, but you’re too numb to hear anything except the growing ringing in your ears.
Your face is devoid of the fear and agony it was once contorted in, now emotionless and blank as your butler bathes your slumped figure.
You were with child.
Were.
Gortash’s seed had made its home in your vile womb, now what remains of your potential child is clumps and bloody stains on the floor and your discarded robes— All the Murder Lords doing. Your father never approved of your correspondence with a follower of his sworn enemy, but he tolerated the alliance for the sake of his murderous will. But that armistice had been shaken when you began fornicating with the Banite, spending your time with him than making sacrifices on his altar. You often prayed to him saying that all your time spent with Gortash was a necessary evil, that everything you were doing was in his name, but how could that be true when you had his bastard growing within you?
With every day that passed your belly grew and so did Bhaal’s resentment, not for you the child festering in your womb. Your body was his holy temple, and the Gortash’s seed had desecrated it, and that was slight he would not take lightly. He came to you, made you know he was there before doling out his punishment. Blood began to drip from your most intimate of parts, the drip turning into a trickle as you doubled over in pain, clutching at your stomach as agony took hold of your body. Your belly cramped and pushed, forcing you to your knees as blood pooled between your legs.
Your suffering continues growing worse and worse before finally you bore your child. The poor little thing fell out of you like a piece of excrement, a dark red for flesh and no bigger than your palm. You had no feelings for the child, had it been born you might have slaughtered it yourself, and yet you began to weep. That was the first time you realized that your body was not your own, it could never truly be.
Your body is your father’s.
You are made from his flesh, his flesh makes up yours, his blood is the only one that courses through your veins.
Your body belongs to him.
And he will do whatever he pleases with it— you have no say.
“It’s a gift, Master, it truly is. That child wasn’t worthy of your most unholiest of wombs. Motherhood would have only made you soft and we wouldn’t want that, Bhaal’s throne awaits you— you are destined for greater things than child rearing.” Sceleritas lathers your skin, running his sharp claws over your bare skin soothingly.
You know Sceleritas is right, your father’s approval is all you’ve ever wanted, his love is all you’ve ever craved, and yet the clawing emptiness within you persists. Cruelty and carnage bring your joy, the flesh of your victims keeps you fed, but you find yourself wanting more. Though you were his only pure spawn you are no god, your flesh is mortal and greedy, the same as any other person. That want inside you found its home with Gortash, a want so unlike your desires to maim and desolate, it’s something that truly feels your own.
Foolishly enough when you lay next to him at night, you allowed your mind to dream, to fantasize what it might be like to live a life free from gods and obligations— just the two of you. When you realized you were with child that only added another piece to the portrait of your absurd reverie, you and Gortash raising a child of your own in some distant place where the flowers always bloomed and the skies never clouded, though you knew it could never be your father’s action tonight put the nail in the coffin of those silly hope’s— that life would never be yours, you would never find happiness outside of serving your father, he won’t let you.
Warnings: Smut 18+, genital torture, ball busting (cock and ball torture), dom reader aka dom durge, one mention of a murder, lots of ball talk (yummy), pre-lobotomy durge, masturbation.
Word count: 979
Summary: You show off your new shoes to your favorite banite.
Notes: This man has a face that just SCREAMS "torture my cock and balls!". Welcome to day 18 aka cock and ball torture day, hooray!! I'm not gonna lie I'm tripping real bad I woke up in the middle of last night and it's now tomorrow so I'm running on a hope and prayer. Genuinely I hope and grovel at the feet of beings mightier than I that you guys enjoy this fic, especially my homie @junoswritingpit I know she loves herself a good femdom as do I and I hope I've done the art of ball busting justice in this fic. It's something I didn't think I would like for the longest time for some reason, but I actually find it quite stimulating to watch and write about. Anyways sorry for any spelling or grammar mistakes lmk if you find any and I'll fix them right away. Please enjoy this fic and like/reblog/comment/all of the above if you do and most importantly have a good day and keep on keeping on. Also, sorry it short but I promise it's straight into the action, lots of porn for yall.
Your shadow looms over Gortash as he lays on the ground, sitting on his elbows and looking up at your imposing yet scantily clad figure. You push your robe off your shoulders— your body bare save for white stockings and a pair of heeled shoes. The shoes were silk, adorned with fine lacing and frills unlike the practical leather boots you usually don.
“Do you like them? I pillaged them off a noble-women I slayed in father’s name just the day before last.” You ask, stepping between the space of his legs and placing your foot just above his groin.
“They’re lovely, my dear.” His breath hitches as he reaches towards the delicate shoes, running his fingers over the intricate designs sewn into the soft silk. He can feel himself hardening in his trousers as you flex your foot on his abdomen, showing off the opulence of your newest murder trophy.
“I know how much you enjoy finery— It wouldn’t have been fair of me to keep these all to myself.” You tease, your foot moving down and prodding at the now visible bulge in his pants.
Gortash leans forward, hands clinging to your thigh as his lips ravage at your clothed knee. He slips his fingers beneath the garter of your socks— he kisses at every inch of your bare uncovered flesh as he begins rolling the stocking down your leg before you stop him with a hard step on his engorged cock. Gortash hisses as he pulls away from you, looking back up at your stern face.
“I put these on for your entertainment and I intend to keep them on— You however, my little pet, have entirely too much on. Why don’t you pull this out for me.” You say more a demand than a request as you trace over his erection with the crest of your shoe.
Gortash obeys your command, quickly undoing the fastening of his pants and pulling out his member, his tip already red and leaking. You give him an unsatisfied look, tracing your foot further down.
“Take these out too.” You order, pressing the pointed tip of your shoe into the pliable flesh of his balls.
He quickly follows your instruction, pulling his aching balls from the confines of his pants— The flush skin of his scrotum pulls taught as you press further into them.
“They’re so sensitive— I’ve barely done a thing and look how they squirm under my touch. I wonder how they’ll look when I crush them beneath my heal.” You coo as your mouth twists into a wicked grin.
Gortash whimpers at your words, his cock throbbing as it begs to be enveloped in your warm touch.
“You’d like that wouldn’t you? Your entire legacy at my mercy, poked and prodded like a freshly slain corpse.” You taunt.
“Yes. Gods, yes— please touch me, touch me anyway you’d please- just please do something I don’t think I can hold on for much longer,” Gortash begs, laying back as his cock aches with desire and his entrails twist and spasm in anticipation.
You move your foot up until his swelled, hairy flesh rests beneath the sole of your shoe before bringing the weight of your foot down forcefully— An excited shiver courses through you as Gortash cries out in pain as you crush his balls beneath your foot. You bring your foot up resting it on the inside of his thigh.
“Good boy, you deserve a treat— touch yourself for me, Enver.” You run your hands over your breasts and pinch at your nipples, flaunting them for him to indulge.
Gortash wraps a shaky hand around his cock, a loud moan escaping his lips as he strokes at it. As he continues to tug at his member you bring your foot back to his crotch, bringing the block heel of your shoe over his balls once more.
“Does my greedy little pet want some more?” You ask not expecting an answer as you bring the sharp edge of your heel down, stomping on his scrotum once more.
Gortash lets out a yelp followed by several breathy whines as you continue to dig your heel into his tender flesh. He was clawing at the edge, already close as he thrusts sloppily into his fist. You can tell how close his impending orgasm is, and you know what will send his over the edge— You remove your foot from him, drawing it back before thrusting it forward harshly on his sack. Your foot digging into his balls has him reeling over the edge as his balls pull back and his seed spurts all over the pretty lacing adorning your shoes, soiling them in his come. His seed coats the silk fabric of your shoes, shimmering like pearls on the opulent lace detailing.
“Look what you’ve done— you’ve ruined them, got the duchess’s shiny shoes all dirty. You have to clean them now Enver, it’s bad manner for a man of your stature to leave them like this.” You feign offense, bringing your silk clad foot up to his panting mouth.
Gortash takes hold of your foot, holding the scuffed sole in his hands as his tongue darts from his mouth and licks over his pearly-white seed. The bitter taste of his sticky spilled seed coats his tongue, his cheeks blooming with the heat of shame as he savors the taste of himself on your shoe.
“Very good— I may let you touch me yet. After you’re done, how about we put that sharp tongue of yours to use somewhere else?” You ask, dipping your hand between your thighs and tracing over your slick folds.
Gortash licks at your foot faster, eager to finish ridding your foot of his mess and have his tongue buried deep within the warm walls of your cunt— he yearns to finally get to touch you.
