keter-kannot

[keter-kannot]

DEAD DOVE: DO NOT EAT

MINORS DNI

Oh my god what?? I'm back with more??? Yeah, so @thecourtofgraywaves gave this killer prompt. It's a shorter piece involving a tav who is a descendant of Gorion's Ward, which is LOVE, and will 100% be revisiting at some point. But here, freaks, eat this for now 😌

Word Count: ~2.4k

Summary: Gorion's ward's many greats granddaughter made her way to Baldur's Gate with the love of her life and a new family on her horizon, only to be met with the distant ghosts of her family's past seeking her out for their own sick revenge. Bhaal would be proud

tw: noncon/dubcon, r*pe, incest, blood blood blood ridiculous amounts of blood, forced abortion, i mean really slicing tav to pieces here, broken bones, public humiliation, voyeurism, exhibitionism

There was a horrid pounding in the back of her head as she slowly came back to herself, her eyes barely able to flutter open as she struggled to cough and gasp for breath. The immediate sensation of being strung-up, pierced through skin, coursed through her body as she yelled out with a screech of pain, not knowing where she was or if anybody would hear her but unable to keep her cries to herself any longer.

She felt the blood dripping from the hooks hewn through her wrists as she shuddered and shook with the vile feeling of a heat she couldn’t control coursing through her, her body covered in a thin sheen of sweat. Her swollen stomach glistened in the dim light, more fear brewing inside of her as she thought of the fate of her unborn child. Her dirtied toes scraped against the hard broken stone that was beneath her, the very tips of them keeping her upright enough for the hooks through her skin to tear straight through and send her falling to her knees.

The dusty light swam through the sides of her vision as her chest was wracked for breath. The shadows around it moved slowly, with a purpose she couldn’t concern.

“Help!” she screamed to them, her voice raw and bloodied as no one seemed to turn to face her.

She coughed as she cried, frantically looking around to try to piece together her surroundings for a possible escape only to be met with dark blackened stone splattered by dried gore, murals of a God she’d only known in her nightmares painted thick in blood on every flat surface. Intricately carved thrones and platforms held small flickering flames that fought to survive in the dank air, gasping for breath just as much as she was.

The soft murmuring of words not understood grew, the ringing in her ears subsiding as she drooled down her chest as she hacked upon herself, her own spit and bile dripping from her chin and staining her sweat ridden body, rolling across her rounded stomach and dripping to the floor beneath her.

His voice was a harsh rumble through his chest, cowering over the others she still couldn’t quite understand as he spoke to the room.

“She’s back with us,” he said, rising from his seat in the center throne, taking a deep and hardened breath as his eyes glowered behind his mask, lifting his arms to either side, “The mother-to-be. It is time.”

A deep silence fell heavily over the congregants, a harsh darkness following a cold breeze caressing her naked body. She couldn’t control the shiver, jingling the chains she was bound to and hearing the sound of it echo throughout the stone room.

It was her they were waiting for.

Her breath hitched in her chest, eyes widening. There was nothing she could do to fight, to preserve herself and her child, and yet the resistance in her burned hotter with each passing moment as the hard slap of bare feet were heard strutting with purpose throughout the room, growing closer and closer with each breath she took, each shake of her chains.

Sarevok’s voice pierced through the cold silence.

“We have gathered to bear witness of family reuniting,” he spoke, “of Bhaal’s blood finally finding its way home.”

She could feel his gaze burning through her as those cold, hard steps continued making their way towards her.

“Our Father has led her home to us,” he said, his arms stretching out towards where she was so perfectly positioned for slaughter with hands open and welcoming, “giving us more of his blood to sow through our soil.”

Her breath faltered as a cold hand made its way to her waist, fingers trailing over the curve of her hips and bulge of her stomach and swollen tits as she closed her eyes shut tight against the shiver. Serevok’s words were punctuated by the harsh breath of death Orin breathed on her neck from behind, pressing her body up against her as her hands kept exploring with a gentleness unknown to a Bhaalspawn.

“Now, granddaughter,” he huffed between his own darkened grin, “we witness the beginning of what will soon be His end.” There was a sly chuckled seeping between his lips as the dim lights seemed to darken even further, all breaths held until he spoke his final words.

“We witness His Chosen bringing forth the future of murder and blood through the blood of His so long forgotten.”

Orin’s soft grip on her breasts became harder, nails gripping into skin as she could feel her heart quicken with the excitement knowing what she was about to do; the honor of getting to ruin her this way.

“We bring forth a new generation of Bhaalspawn!” he all but cheered to the room.

“In His name.”

Then, there was a realization: a moment between her flailing and resistance where something seemed to settle inside of her. The fog clouding her mind didn’t fade, but shifted deep within her thoughts, her eyes widening as the blood drained from her face as she understood where she was, who they were, and why they’d taken her here in the first place.

Orin’s claws were deep in her skin within moments, her shriek of pain lost to the crowd’s joyous outbursts and praise. She turned her head from one side to the other, shaking furiously as she pulled against the chains hooked through her skin, searching for a way to pull herself free from Orin’s sudden grasp and finding none.

As blood spilled from the grip of Orin’s claws down her hips and thighs, the sudden pressure at the entrance to her cunt made her scream.

Orin was inside of her before she’d finally understood that there was no use in resisting, her constant tugging against her restraints only causing fresh blood to drip from the wounds of her wrist. It made its way through the congealed river of the blood she was already caked in, the taste of the rancid iron when it hit her tongue making her gag as she cried out her pleas for freedom.

Orin’s pace was quick and merciless; practiced, almost, as if she’d been waiting for her moment to destroy her from the inside and imagining just how good it’d feel. Her claws were no longer pressed into her hips now that she was nestled deep inside, rather raking through her naked back and waist to bathe her in more of Bhaal’s blessed blood. With each thrust into her already broken cunt, Orin added another cut to the countless others running over her skin, creating a painting for her unholy God upon his own child’s flesh as a canvas.

She didn’t register her cries, only feeling the salty tears burning as they dripped upon the cuts scattered across her chest. She didn’t know how long they’d had her bound and hanging here before she woke, only that the little fight left inside of her was fleeting, energy depleting the longer she continued to fight against the pain and desecration.

She sucked in a deep breath, fighting her screams against the burn of Orin’s claws working their way around her neck as she ruthlessly continued pounding into her cunt from behind. She struggled to hold her head up, daring to face Sarevok as he stood amongst his congregants, the sick smile plastered on his face only showing his pride in watching his lineage defile another.

And here she was, finally putting all the pieces together and all because she was lucky enough to have been caught with her guard down and taken.

She mustered the last bit of strength left deep inside of her core, not giving Orin the satisfaction of looking down to see the blood pouring from her now open womb as she shook and cried amongst the pain of her claws fingering themselves deep inside. Instead, took her tear-filled gaze to meet Sarevok’s own, the rhythm of Orin’s throbbing cock and pressure of the hand around her neck only bringing forth more.

“You… my family has ended you before,” she gasped as she fought for breath, Orin’s grip only growing tighter as her other hand rummaged around her insides. She held her breath against her cries, saving it for her words, “and I will end you again.”

He shook his head as he laughed, the deep rumble all but shaking the walls around them. His posture changed as he addressed her, a sick a twisted sort of control seeping between his words as he looked upon the scene of Orin ripping a fistfull of gore and flesh from within her, throwing it to the ground before them.

She writhed in the pain, throwing her head back within Orin’s grasp as she shuddered where she was held upright, screaming to Gods that wouldn’t hear and Deities that didn’t care. She cried out with the endless squelching of her wrecked cunt tight around Orin’s ribbed cock, harmonizing with her sick grunts and giggles as she continued destroying her.

His eyes went dark as he spoke, pride gleaming within them as he watched.

“I am your family, child,” he muttered, looking at the congregants mumbling as they pleasured themselves, “we are your family.”

Orin’s laugh only grew from behind her as her grip tightened around her neck, only growing looser as she was taken to the brink of unconsciousness. Her blood-drenched hand was no longer fondling her now dead child, instead painting swirls of her own gore upon her body as she tugged on her arms from where they hung on their hooks.

The pain coursed through her like shock waves directly to her core again and again, each shriek accompanied by a tense burst of muscle tightening, pussy dripping as it quivered with Orin deep inside. The horrid flap of skin hanging from her stomach hit against her thighs as her blood drenched the floor, her head growing light as she fought to breathe amongst her cries.

And Orin only seemed to take more pleasure in each shed tear, every terrified cry of pain. Her eyes dilated as she ate in her pain, drank up her disgust and grief and loss, and looked to her father for praise as she drilled into her harder, deeper, further.

Sarevok nodded at Orin’s gaze, only prompting her to go further. Her breaths between her laughs of horror became quicker, hitched as she tugged against her arms with more force.

The tear of her skin echoed off the cold stone walls, the sound of her cries mingling with those of pleasure from the crowd as they devolved into a mess of sex and blood upon themselves. They sang their praises to their God as Orin reveled in her place deep inside her.

The hard slap of her body against the ground was bitter and crisp, her hands limp and broken as her blood flowed freely upon them. It pooled in either palm as she twitched where she lay on the floor, curling in on herself as she cried in her pain, trying to keep her organs packed inside of her body as Orin dragged her across the floor.

She mounted her with a newfound vigor, bottoming out as she pressed her weight atop her. Her grunts became labored as she strained against her cries, lapping the tears from her swollen cheeks as her voice became raspy and numb, giving way to her silent cries.

As she tasted her broken tears she was only fueled further. She pushed her cock hard against the walls of her cunt, holding her hips tight against her own as her tip throbbed at the entrance to her cervix. Her thighs clenched tight together as she shook against the pressure, the pool of her blood she was laying in only growing as it mixed with her tears, slick, and drool. Her hair was plastered to her face as Orin took a fistfull of it in her hand, yanking her back to make sure she could see the temple she was defiled in clearly, the image of it burnt deep in her mind.

“If only Gorion could see his ward’s descendant now,” Sarevok spoke to her, his words laced with the venom of revenge finally sated, “he’d know he had never saved my brother from Bhaal’s clutches; could never keep His blood from returning home.”

His words drove Orin’s cock deeper as she rutted without pause, biting at already broken skin and drinking in her blood the more it seeped. She took pleasure in her destruction, in bringing her as close to death as she could, in replacing the useless child so viciously ripped from her womb with one of her own, with one from Bhaal. She skewered her with her swollen cock, its throbbing growing stronger the closer she came to her release.

She looked towards Sarevok with eyes full of pride, yet still searching for praise. She pulled her head back further, letting the gash of her mangled stomach be put on display as she smiled.

“I’ll be pleased when the deed is done,” he spat to Orin, waving a hand and nodding his chin as she let out a rancid growl.

She shoved her head hard into the stone, her grip in her hair only growing stronger as she let her claws again cut through the already shredding skin of her back. Her exposed muscle throbbed and pulsed where it was sliced, bringing Orin closer and closer to her peak as she grunted with her need for praise from her father.

Her forced thrusts were rough and becoming more sloppy as she continued to slice her apart as she rutted into her cunt. The hot breaths of the congregants under Sarevok’s gaze overcame the dark chill in the air, replacing it with the condensation of bloodied, sweaty bodies exploring one another for their God of murder and death.

And Orin found her deepest pleasure in knowing she was breeding another distant child of Bhaal, doing her own father’s work in his wake under his watchful eye. She would be praised.

She didn’t feel Orin’s cum flooding her womb, nor the slow staunch of her blood or burning of her cuts. She only knew that it had all finally stopped, Orin’s task complete as she lay in a pool of her own spend and gore, nothing but the womb of a distant cousin for her defile until more Bhaalspawn were sewn.

[keter-kannot]

First time doing this 😭

Uhmm...fem reader who's very much a dom...and gale who's very much a puppy boyyyy? Pleaaaase? Here's three cookies as payment 🍪🍪🍪

Anon, I've been meaning to write some good omega sub tiny little bitch baby boy on-his-knees-and-begging Gale. This is a lovely excuse to do so ♡ any other requests??

[keter-kannot]

MINORS DNI

I LOVE DEVOUR SO MUCH 😫 thank you again @bashcrandicoot for the com, Dev is perfect and beautiful and I love writing him ♡♡♡ (especially as a bottom 😌😌😌)

Summary: Gale and Dev usually have a certain dynamic, but tonight Gale is bent on breaking it. Dev wouldn't tell you, but he's a really good pup once Gale finally drags it out of him. Oh, and extremely innapropriate uses of mage hand.

Word Count: ~7.7k

tw: pup play, bondage/restraints, burns/burn play, hard dom/sub, whips, impact play, orgasm control/denial

The soft yellow light just barely bounced off the curve of his horns, cascading over the dark wooden table before him. From where Gale sat, it was the perfect view; Dev’s eyes squinted just a bit, brows furrowed, hands working over the delicate piece of wood he held. The curve of his back was gentle as he let out a sigh, bits of dust flowing off the table as they caught the breeze of his hot breath. He leaned on his hip a little, turning the piece of wood over in his hands before shaking his head and setting it aside.

Gale’s eyes were wide from where he sat, eating up every small movement he made. The way he’d turn to grab another piece, how his fingers plied the tools, dragged the blade with the grain of the wood… He sighed, sinking a bit deeper into the plush chair he’d situated just in the corner of Dev’s little room to do the exact thing he was doing now: enjoying every second of watching him.

He’d do it more often, if Dev would let him. There was something different about him when he really got to focusing, and it was something Gale couldn’t get enough of. His body would tense as he’d think, tapping his fingers against the wood of the tabletop before making a decision.

As he worked, his sweat would bead against his scales, the drops slowly finding their way over the ripples of his scales and down his back as he leaned forward to get a closer look, then further away to take it all in. With each lift of a finger, each twist of an arm, bend to the side, Gale seemed to fall deeper and deeper into the trance he held over him.

He could practically hear the gears in Dev’s head turning as he worked over the bit of wood, swearing under his breath when a scrape of his knife went awry. He stretched his arms back, took in a deep breath, before letting it out and hunching back over his piece of art to continue his work.

Gale couldn’t help but flush at such a display.

He cleared his throat, his breath stifling a bit in his chest as kept his eyes trained on Dev’s hands.

The way they feel, he thought, running up and down my skin… he swallowed hard before shaking his head, twiddling his thumbs in his lap as he watched Dev’s gaze sharpen in on the small lump of wood he held. His form was stout and strong where his feet were planted on the floor in front of the workbench, but each small stroke of his blade against the wood was soft, gentle, full of care and done with purpose.

The air in the room became thick with the smell of his thoughts, focus, work, sweat… Gale got lost in it all. For the first time in a long time, Gale sat upon his little seat with not a single word to say, simply drinking in the visage before him. Dev’s honed muscles tensed and flexed as he worked, Gale’s eyes widening and breath quickening with each little movement, every little breath.

It was the way he did it with such care, and yet was still so controlled. The way he could contort the wood he held by gently shaving it down, shaping it to fit whatever it was his heart desired… it stirred something deep in Gale’s gut. The way his hot breath filled the room, the very smell of him permeating the air around them, had him sitting on the edge of his seat, salivating at the thought of getting to see what happened next.

The more he watched him work, the faster the gears in his brain seemed to turn, the harder his heart thumped in his chest. Every thought he had tumbled straight into the next one and it took just about every ounce of strength he had within him to keep from falling into the depths of the last time he’d been pinned beneath him.

Between a hot flush and a short squirm, he’d take a few deep breaths and shake his head, humming a bit to himself and smiling. But it only took another moment or two of watching his calloused hands work over the softened wood for him to fall back into the pit of his own design.

He shifted his weight on the soft seat, crossing his legs and leaning his head against the cushioned side of the chair. As Dev groaned beneath his breath, hunkering down a bit further to get a better look at a rough knot in the wood, Gale found himself biting his lip and curling his toes.

I’m going to make that man scream my name.

He gulped down another breath, his eyes squinting a bit as he stopped fighting the thoughts and let them wash over him.

He’ll be begging for it by the time I’m done with him. Wait, no, begging for me.

Dev groaned, shaking his head as he set another hunk of lame wood to the side. Gale’s eyes snapped to attention as he watched him. He reached deep into the pocket of his worn pants, fishing out half a cigar before turning to smirk at Gale as he gestured towards him for a light. He nodded ever so slightly, spinning the tight cigar with one hand and calling Gale over with a bend of his fingers.

Gale was already flushing as his eyes widened, smiling under his gaze as he giggled a bit to himself before standing. He turned to the side before looking at Dev again, then taking a step towards him.

“Cheap fuckin’ wood,” Dev mumbled, his breath seeping out from between his lips as they held his cigar in place, a hand trailing to Gale’s waist as he came to stand before him, “chippin’ and fallin’ apart between my claws,” he chuckled.

Gale couldn’t help but to gape a bit at the touch, lifting his finger towards Dev’s lips as a hint of a flame sprouted from the tip of it, holding it just where he needed him to for a moment before getting lost in that look he had in his eyes.

Dev raised an eyebrow, smiling down at him as he puffed on his treat.

Gale giggled, taking in a deep breath of Dev; his sweat mixed with the sweet scent of dried wood was something he wanted to savor. He could all but taste it.

Dev’s smile widened as a small ring of smoke floated from between his lips, gracing Gale’s face before he took a step back, his hand falling back to his side as he leaned a bit on the workbench beside them.

“Yer real cute, sittin’ there and watchin’ me,” Dev mumbled against the heady tobacco, nudging Gale’s foot with his own as he patted a hand on the side of his pants and nodded.

Gale rolled his eyes but couldn’t contain the hard blush painting his cheeks.

“And you’re–” he stammered, clearing his throat, “You’re quite handsome, all focused like that, even if the wood is lame and full of knots.”

Dev lifted his chin just a bit, closing his eyes as he puffed away for a moment more. He let out a low, soft groan as he rolled his shoulders back before lifting his head to look at Gale again.

Gale took a step closer to him, mouth just barely hanging open as he smiled, watching Dev stretch and feel so at home here with him. He laid a soft hand on his chest, looking up at him with all of that wonder, but that aching hunger, too.

“I could watch you for hours,” he muttered.

Dev laughed under his breath, pinching his cigar between two fingers as he tapped a bit of ash over the desk before leaning closer to Gale, his breath hot on his face as he looked down at him, the cigar burning off to the side.

“Nah,” he started, a sly grin working its way across his lips, “too distracting for me. Maybe it’s your fault I can’t stay focused ‘nough to finish what I start.”

Gale’s tender touch against Dev’s chest became a soft grip of his loose tunic, the strings already falling undone. The two of them rocked a bit on the wooden floor where they stood, the haze of smoke filling the room only dimming the already soft light of the burning candles.

Dev placed the cigar back between his lips, eyeing Gale with desire. He placed his hand on his back, letting it trail slowly down his spine before settling just above the hem of his pants.

“As if I’m the distracting one,” Gale mumbled between a hot breath and a soft gasp, licking his lips as he kept his eyes trained on Dev’s.

“Oh?” Dev laughed, leaning in closer to Gale, letting a bit of ash fall from the tip of his cigar and down the front of Gale’s shirt, “care to indulge in your… distractions?”

There was a moment of pause before Gale smirked, his hand falling down Dev’s waist and untying the belt of his pants–

Dev grabbed his wrist, holding him tight as his other hand graced Gale’s chin, lifting his head so their gazes met again.

“So eager,” he chuckled beneath a hot breath, slowly dragging on his cigar in between, “How ‘bout you get on yer knees, pup?”

The grip he had on Gale’s writst was tight, but not overbearing. The way his hand could perfectly grab him, hold him still, get his attention... Gale’s eyes were wide as they began to gloss over, that fluttering in his stomach becoming a heat growing quickly in his core.

No, no, he thought to himself, with the briefest shake of his head.

He smirked as he met Dev’s eyes again, squirming just a bit. His growing erection twitched as the head of his cock throbbed, seeing the way Dev’s expecting gaze fell upon him.

He swallowed hard, his voice caught in his throat for a moment before he managed to speak.

“Why don’t you get on yours?” he could feel the blush staining his cheeks as he stammered.

For a moment, Dev continued to eye him up and down. His brow furrowed, then raised, before his own smirk grew into a smile as he slowly released his grip on Gale’s arm. He took a long, thoughtful drag of his cigar before letting the smoke out with a grunt, eyeing him while he struggled to contain himself.

“I bet ‘ya couldn’t make me,” he grumbled between haughty chuckles, “but it’d be cute to see my pup try.”

Gale squeezed his thighs together as Dev watched him, drooling over his words and weighing the odds, even if he already knew in whose favor they’d tip.

He felt the heat in his stomach churning over itself as he took a slow step towards Dev, not breaking the hard eye contact they held between them. He took a deep breath, letting the very essence of him fill his lungs and fuel him, raising a gentle hand.

He licked his lips, laying his hand on Dev’s waist while the other reached yet again for the ties of his pants, barely able to restrain his own pulsing bulge.

Gale felt him tense beneath his soft touch, his scales beneath his fingertips sending shockwaves down his spine. He worked away the ties, beginning to tug on the hem as he leaned in for a kiss—

Dev bent to grab at him again, holding his wrist between muscled hands and setting a foot between Gale’s own, his knee rubbing against his clothed shaft as he tugged him closer. Gale’s moan was soft first, then louder as Dev dragged him along his thigh, his other hand fondling his cigar before smothering his lips in a heat-filled, sloppy kiss.

Gale went with the motion he was guided with, kissing Dev back with vigor as he pulled against the restraint of his hands. His tugging only made Dev chuckle, pressing harder against his cock as he laughed into Gale’s open mouth.

He laughed deep into his throat, drinking in his soft and breathy moans as he worked over him with aggressive hands, holding him still for a moment only to pull him closer a second later. He worked him over in a way he knew he could; in a way he knew Gale wouldn’t be able to resist.

He started to melt between his grasp and the heavy smoke falling from his lips, moving exactly as Dev wanted him to and folding right into him as he continued to breathe against the kiss. It was gentle the first time he tried to pull away, a soft tug against the hold Dev had on him, only for his grip to tighten and for Gale to moan against it.

“Hmm,” Dev groaned, taking in a deep drag, “And here I thought you were willing to put up a fight,” he laughed.

Gale grumbled against his lips, pushing himself harder against Dev’s thighs as he pulled a hand free from Dev’s grasp at his wrist, the other shoving his arm to the side before reaching to grab at the hem of his shirt.

“Who said I’d even started fighting?”

Gale leaned harder into his devouring kiss, pushing himself against Dev’s chest as he grabbed at his throat with purpose, his fingers gripping his scales. He pushed against him harder, growling into him,

Dev let him have his way for a moment, even letting himself enjoy the way Gale’s hand felt wrapped around his neck. He smiled as he let him take control for another second or two, loving the way he looked while he thought he had it but loving him more when he got to take it from him.

He was swift as he grabbed at him again, pushing him back and against the workbench behind them. It didn’t take much for his calloused hands to wrap around his thighs and lift him upon the counter, pushing his legs apart and standing himself between them as he started working his pants past his cock and down his legs.

Gale yelped as he moaned while he was lifted off his feet, letting out another hot breath as he was placed harshly on the counter. Dev’s hands started ravaging him, his hips rolling gently against Gale’s bulge as he worked through their continued kiss. Gale pushed against him hard, trying his best to fight against the way he was now trying to hold him still.

“I’m…” he huffed between hot breaths, groans laced between them, “I’m not going to let you win.”

Dev laughed, pinning Gale’s hands on the wall above his head as he rutted into his legs, “Let me?” he chuckled against him, letting a sharp fang drag against his inner lip before licking away the smallest drop of blood, “You ain’t lettin’ me, little love,” he growled, “Yer fightin’ pretty hard.” He took his cigar in his free hand, fondling it before Gale's eyes and watching the way his breath faltered.

Gale’s eyes went wide with the way his fingers gripped at the dying light, the yearning for the sweet, sweet pain he knew Dev could bring him all but bursting at the seams. The softests of gasps escaped his lips, his eyes fluttering in the dim light as Dev started to tilt him back, pushing his leg up a bit further with his free hand after putting the cigar back in his mouth.

With both aggression and finesse, he managed to hold Gale still beneath him amidst his struggling and remove the wizard's pants.

“Hah,” he panted, having Gale laid out before him just right, legs high and spread as he looked up at him with expecting eyes, “Really thought you’d get to fuck me?” he chuckled, licking his lips as he set up his tip at Gale’s entrance, “You take my cock too good for it to go any other way, sweet pet,” he moaned, ever so gently pressing down against him, bringing the lit cigar closer to his bare skin.

Gale quivered against the pressure, letting the moment wash over him as he closed his eyes and took a deep breath, time seeming to stand still.

Dev laid his weight against him, trapping him beneath his body. His tail flicked back and forth, the soft breeze making Gale shiver with anticipation. He felt himself drooling, his hips rocking against Dev’s thigh with vigor as he worked his shaft over his tense muscles, just the tiniest bit of pre leaving a trail of where he’d been.

Dev’s grip on his wrist tightened, a short breath leaving his lungs as more ash wafted away from its tip, a smirk growing on his lips as he took a hand to his lips and pinched it between his fingers.

“Now,” he groaned, leaning further into him as the head of his cock barely worked its way between Gale’s ass, “be a good boy for me, eh?” he chuckled. bringing what was left of the cigar near his collarbone.

It’s not that Gale didn’t want it; he did. He needed him, breathed him, wanted him to destroy everything that he was and rebuild him in his own image while he padded along behind, pleasing him. His breath hitched with his thoughts of the ecstacy he knew Dev could bring him, soft moans slipping from between his lips as he fought to keep his gaze.

But there was a hunger in him, too.

It ravaged through him, filling his core with a drive to use him, abuse him relentlessly, make him beg for all the things he wanted. That feral urge inside of him grew with each shortened breath, every wanton moan. As everything within him tensed, he felt something snap deep inside, releasing whatever it was that he didn’t know was trapped there.

For a second, the lights dimmed. He could feel his eyes vibrating where they sat inside their sockets, his breath raging through him with an urgency and hunger unknown to him before. When he finally opened his eyes to meet Dev’s gaze again, there was something different there..

Dev’s hot breath stained Gale’s lips as the cigar sat hovering above his skin, the heat of it radiating through him. He watched Dev breathe, taking a breath as his smirk stretched wider, his hips pulling back as his chest raised.

With tender hands amongst their lust-fueled violence, Gale took the cigar from Dev's fingers and place it between his own lips

Gale could see it clearly: feel it clearly. For the briefest moment, shorter than it took him to draw a shuddering breath, Dev’s grasp on his wrist faltered, became just slightly looser.

“My handsome fool,” Gale whispered, the words barley meeting Dev’s ears, breathing out a haze of smoke between pursed lips, “how disappointing of you to underestimate me.”

Dev was strong: a mass of muscle and sinew that glistened in its sweaty glory as he worked, strained against itself as he tensed and twisted and worked himself over the man he knew he could control. Each movement had Gale entranced but, today, his strength was outmatched.

Beneath his faulty grasp, Gale stretched his fingers, rolled his wrist. It didn’t take much for him to control his breath; this is what he’d practiced all his life, after all. He didn’t need much, just a moment, a–second–to balance himself.

His eyes grew dark, locking onto Dev’s own.

He mumbled the soft words, flicked his wrist.

The reaction was immediate, not a moment in between his motion and the results.

The cigar fell to the floor, Dev’s grip on his wrists completely falling away now as lilac light-bound restraints snaked their way around his arms, yanking them back with another swift wave of Gale’s hand. As Dev’s eyes widened and he made his first attempt to tug against them, another identical set wound around his ankles, keeping his feet planted firmly on the floor with his legs spread while his engorged cock bobbed in the smokey haze of the air around them.

Gale shed the rest of his clothes with ease, reaching for the cigar and twiddling it between his fingers as he rose to his feet. He took his time eating up the look of him like this, his hunger only growing with each slow step he took around him, each puff of smoke escaping his slick lips.

As Dev tugged against the perfect chains that could never be undone, Gale stalked about him, waiting. The slow circle he made gave him the perfect view of everything he wanted Devour to be for him in this moment: helplessly, totally, fully his.

Dev’s breath became labored as he finally understood what’d happen. There was some unrecognizable feeling broiling deep in his gut that only fueled him to tug a bit harder, pull a little more, resist, resist, resist.

And he liked it.

So he kept up his strained pulling and grunting, hips twitching in the empty air as Gale laid a soft hand on him here, let it drag around his waist there… he was feeding that part of him, letting it grow stronger and stronger. His eyes narrowed as Gale made his way around him again, hand still so gingerly placed upon his hip as their eyes met.

But this time, Gale wore the smirk of triumph, while Dev got to taste the sweet flavor of defeat.

“You are simply exquisite, my treasure,” Gale hummed, letting his hand make its way to Dev’s aching shaft, teasing him with a squeeze as he wrapped his hand tight around his base, gripping right where he knew the pulse of his knot would start.

His statement was true, too. The haze of the smoke filling the dim candle-lit room only added to the facade of his mystique: here he was, restrained and spread before him, the soft, glittering rays emanating from his chains sparkling against the sweat staining his scales. Every breath he took had him heaving where he was held, his chest tightening as he pulled against something that would never break again and again, his own hunger brewing within him.

He growled at Gale, snarling as he began to make his way back around him, out of his line of sight. He stirred harder, knowing and loving what would come next and growing restlessly as he was made to stand on display and beg for it.

He bucked his hips against Gale’s grip as he stepped away, releasing his grasp and chuckling to himself as he laid a hand on either of Dev’s hips, caressing him with fervor, desire.

“Patience,” Gale tutted against the shell of his ear, leaning away as he whispered another incantation that was meaningless to Dev if not only to excite him more.

Every little movement he made, every time he showed his hunger and tugged against his restraints to resist, Gale was left drooling for more. He puffed along at Dev’s treasured treat as he pushed small rings of smoke from between his lips, taking the thorn whip in his other hand and let it trail along Dev’s legs, thighs, ass, waist…

He groaned with a desperate desire as he huffed out a sneer, his throbbing cock only heightening his lust-filled rage. Dev shivered against the whip as it’s thorns barely left a small mark while it dragged across his body, growing louder with each gasp as he relentlessly kept up his useless fight.

Gale shook his head from where he stood behind him, a brief nod bringing the restraints holding Dev’s arms down ever so slightly, bringing him forward to just the right height for Gale to line himself up with his puckering hole.

“Relax, pet,” Gale teased, immensely enjoying the way it felt to suck on the last bit of the cigar between his sly lips, “I promise you’ll enjoy it.”

Despite his tugging, his resisting, his fight to return to the top, Dev’s hips rolled back against Gale, nestling his tip perfectly inside as he let out a strained groan of pleasure.

That was all Gale needed to finally get lost in the hunger that had been consuming him.

He slammed himself deep inside of him, not hesitating to bottom out with his first hard pump. The second followed quickly after, starting his relentless pace on Dev, who called out in pleasure despite his constant squirming. Gale lifted his arm with finesse, knowing just the right way to snap it down to get a solid crack from his magic whip, relishing the way Dev arched his back at the sudden sound and pressure between his legs.

Gale took the cigar from between his lips, pounding into Dev with a newfound rhythm as he twirled the butt of it between his fingers, raising the whip back above him again with a spark lit somewhere deep within his core. He smirked as he took it back down upon him again, putting the cigar back to his lips and groaning with delight as he smoked it some more.

Dev flexed beneath him as he struggled and failed against the restraints to shut his legs against the building pressure in his stomach, snarling at the empty space in front of him as he twitched around Gale’s length. His eyes all but glazed over as he gave into the feeling, letting himself rage against how good it felt as his own special way of begging for more.

Knowing how much he wanted it brought a deep flush to his cheeks, a hotter burn to that pit deep inside of him. And yet he found himself enjoying the shame, pulling harder aganst the restraints and pushing his hips back against Gale’s ceaseless pounding with whatever movement he was given.

“Oh, my dear lover,” he chuckled, bringing the whip down with a hard crack again, but this time letting it hit against Dev’s glistening scales and pushing himself deeper inside of him when he writhed with the short pain, “quit being such a brat, hmm?”

He wouldn’t, though; he couldn’t, it wasn’t in his nature. He was finding too much pleasure in his fight to resist and the shame that came with it. Why stop now?

His groans and grunts became hot curses and pleas as he cried out with how good it felt, ceaselessly rutting against nothing as Gale continued to make sloppy work of his ass. Gale’s own breath was growing hotter, quicker, more full of his own desire to leave Dev a ruined mess beneath him.

“You’ll never get me on my knees,” Dev spat, the words falling from his drooling snout between his labored groans as he twitched and squirmed where he was held. He was begging him, pleading with Gale for more.

Gale couldn’t stop his deep chuckle as he left himself fully sheathed inside of him, bringing the whip down on his back again as he took what was left of the smoking cigar and held it against his waist, only pulling back out to slam back inside after getting a deep huff of the dark smoke drifting from Dev’s gorgeous scales.

Dev’s back arched against the sweet pain, crying out with a sharp moan of pleasure as he felt the deep burn penetrate through his scales.

He loved it.

With a soft bend of a finger, Gale had more silken purple ribbons snaking up Dev’s spine, neck, over his cheeks and between his hot lips.

“As if I even need to,” he quipped with a smirk, lifting a leg to rest on what Dev could only assume was some magical, invisible perch, giving himself a better angle to keep slamming himself deeper inside of him.

When he was pulled around before, there was purpose, but Gale’s magic was gentle. Now, though, his bound wrists were dragged straight to the floor as Gale motioned them to, a shocked whimper resounding from behind Dev’s shiny new gag. As his arms were pulled to be laid out before him, his chest met the cold cobbled floor.

His bindings only tightened the more he tugged at them, Gale’s smirk growing wider with each twirl of a finger, flick of his wrist, puff of Dev’s cigar. Dev struggled as a puddle of his drool began dripping down his snout from around his gag, broiling with rage as he rolled his hips harder against Gale.

He pushed harder into him than before, drinking in the way he looked with his legs shaking and ass perched up beneath him. Gale’s smile only grew the harder he went, the deeper he pushed, the longer he kept Dev all strapped down.

“Is my pup finally going to behave?” he asked, panting between each thrust as he took the whip down on his back yet again, only chuckling and teasing him further when his legs began to buckle beneath him.

“Oh,” he laughed to the rhythm of his skin smacking against his ass, “does that feel good, puppy?” he said, letting the whip strike him again when he saw him hesitate to respond.

Dev knew exactly what was expected of him and whimpered between his gag as he fought against his need to say the words. He felt himself quivering with each deep pump inside, knew his knees were buckling and his claws were digging into the cobbled floor as he fought against the pleasure he so, so desperately wanted, yet still wanted to fight away.

He grumbled incoherently as Gale continued wrecking him, the throb at the base of his cock starting to heat him up in a way that burned from the inside, ached with a pressure he knew all too well. He bucked into nothing, bit down hard against the silken gag, as Gale pushed him further and further to his breaking point.

“Come now, dearest,” punctuated by another hard crack of the whip, now leaving a studded trail in Dev’s scales in its wake amongst the burns, “be a good boy for me.”

Dev strained against himself, against the pleasure he felt building up inside him, grinding his sharp teeth against the unbreakable binding and furrowing his brows as he felt his knot starting to swell, the rough bob of his cock against his thighs as Gale thrusted into him only causing more pre to drip down his leg.

His teeth grit together as Gale had the gag vanish, taking the whip to his back one last time before it, too, seemed to float away into nothing. He leaned himself over Dev’s hips, burying every last bit of himself deep inside and rutting hard against him. He bent forward and nipped at the bruising scales, reaching his arm around him to feel for the head of his cock, needing to feel the throb of it in his palm as he took him closer to the edge.

“What do good pups say when something feels good?” he whispered between hot pants as he kept rutting his hips against him, letting his fingers ever so gently rub over his tip before trailing one down his shaft as he puffed once again on the cigar before laying it back down on a fresh set of scales.

He chuckled when he felt Dev shiver beneath him, then gripped his length hard right at the–

Gale laughed, then sighed, pumping Dev once, then twice, before releasing his grip on him and standing up behind him yet again, slowly pulling himself out before slamming his cock deep back inside. As Dev whimpered and groaned with each rough pull at his walls, Gale tutted, shaking his head as he gave his wrist another flick.

“Did my puppy go and pop a knot?” he chided, the pale blue replica of every wizard’s favorite hand caressing Dev’s thigh as Gale tightly gripped each side of his waist, pulling him back against his length as he drank in his whimpers and groans of defiance.

“You couldn't help it, could you?” he breathed, “Just feels too good, huh?” He looked at Dev with a devious grin as he was splayed out before him while he took the light back to his lips, taking a drag, and putting it out on his ass.

Dev slammed his bound hands against the stone before dragging his claws against them, whining like a bitch in heat as Gale ruined him from behind. He struggled against himself, breathing hot breaths as he cursed with words he didn’t understand and screamed out with pleasure he tried his best to deny.

“Admit it for me, love,” Gale grumbled, the mage hand slithering between Dev’s bent waist and shaking thighs as it gripped his shaft and squeezed, immediately working its way up and down his length knowing just the way he liked to be handled.

“Be a good puppy for me and tell me how good it feels to have me take control.”

His back arched further as Gale puffed the cigar again only to leave another burn, Dev’s snout digging against the stone as he cried out to the smoky room, finally having something to rut his knot into, chasing a release he so desperately needed.

Gale gripped at him harder, summoning more mage hands to take hold of either of his horns, pulling back his head to leave his snout hanging open, making sure he was able to hear all of his sweet pleading and shame-fueled denial.

Dev felt more of the cool glowing silk start wrapping its way around his neck, only to hear a soft click as it slipped into itself, a tiny bit of metal rubbing against the light as it jingled with each of Gale’s thrusts.

It was a sound and a feeling Dev knew so very well, and one that had his knot engorged and aching as he pumped himself relentlessly into the mage hand, losing himself in the sound of Gale slapping hard against his ass. The collar was a perfect fit, snug around his neck just right, perfect in his master’s vision.

“Now tell me, my good puppy boy,” Gale huffed, a mage hand stoking Dev’s cock, another fondling his balls, while two more held his horns back so Gale could hear his pleas, leaving his own free to smoke and enjoy the head rush, “what do you say?”

He punctuated his question with a hard thrust deep into Dev’s ass, gripping his hips and yanking on the soft light chord of silk string leading from Dev’s collar to his fingers, wrapping them between the light and pulling him down as hard as he could before picking up his pace again. He groaned against him, felt himself losing control as his pace quickened and seemed to grow sloppy as he saw Dev finally beginning to come undone.

Dev’s whining became soft and laden cries as he let himself go, pushing himself harder against Gale’s hips and further skewering himself upon his cock, his knot throbbing as he pushed it into the tight grip of the mage hand eagerly tending to him. His snarl had become lips twisted in the slanted look of deep pleasure, another tug on his horns matching Gale’s tug on his collar. The words he spoke to him were a lure to the part of him he was fighting so desperately against, but it seems he had lost that fight, too.

Gale shifted his weight on his invisible perch, slamming himself harder into Dev with each breath, losing his tempo but frantically trying to keep pace.

He took a short, hot breath.

“Speak, puppy,” he drooled.

Dev finally snapped.

His ass was pressed hard against Gale, his cock buried deep inside him and throbbing with each thrust. His chest was pressed flush to the floor, his toes curling behind him where either foot was still bound on either side. His legs shook as his hips bucked ceaselessly into the hot and slick illusion Gale had stroking him, while the grips on his horns and tug of his collar had his head pulled back further. He shouted his pleasure to the sex filled room, no longer able to hold himself back.

He could barely form coherent words, choking on himself as he managed to spit them out.

“Th… thank you, master,” he said, followed by a guttural moan as he threw his head back with another hard tug, his hips starting to falter as he bucked his knot faster into the mage hand’s grip.

Gale let out a deep sigh, smiling as he gave Dev’s collar another pull.

“There’s my good boy,” he breathed, groaning with each strained breath as he got closer and closer to reaching his peak, “don’t stop now, pup.”

Dev let out all of his whines, his whimpers, his tongue lolling to the side of his mouth as his drool dripped from its tip. He senselessly rode into the mage hand as he babbled his nonsense, begging and pleading and being just so good for his master as he felt him start to throb deep inside.

“It… fuck it feels so good,” he cried, gripping Gale’s length with everything he could as he felt him get close to cumming inside, “I’m such a good boy,” he pleaded, “so good for you, thank you, thank you–”

“What’s my name?” he demanded. Another hard yank on his leash as Gale gritted his teeth and groaned, his toes curling around their step as he pressed himself harder, breath heady and light between sweet puffs of the cigar as he waited for Dev to answer him before cumming.

“Master!” Dev’s deep scream was eager, desperate to please. “I’m a good boy, master,” he rambled, lost as he approached his own peak, “good… good for you… just for you…”

Gale pulled on his collar with as much strength as he could muster as he came undone inside of him, eyes rolling back in his skull as he trembled with his pleasure in finishing. Thick ropes of cum flooded Dev, a hot drop of it sliding down his shaking thighs to meet the puddle of his drool beneath them.

All the magic hands stopped their groping and fondling and stroking, ceasing in a split second as Gale finished pumping his load deep inside. Dev whined, cried, bucked into the unmoving hand wrapped tight around his knot, whimpering desperately for the release he was so cruelly denied.

Gale took one deep breath, then another, letting his cock twitch a bit before letting out a hiss between gritted teeth while pulling out. As Dev’s puppy eyes widened and brow furrowed, Gale stroked himself in time to his good boy’s whines.

He took his leg down from its perch, took a shaky step back, and smiled as he breathed out a soft moan, shaking his head. He thought for just a moment, then smirked before picking up the pace he had on his still throbbing, slick-with-his-own-spend cock, and snapping his fingers.

Before Dev could register the sound of the gentle snap, his bounds had him upright, legs tucked tight beneath him, wrists still tied together tightly but, now, at the base of his back. He blinked once, then twice, his whines growing quiet as he realized Gale was standing before him, waiting for his pup to look up at him from down on his knees.

After a moment, he did. His wide eyes were full of desire as he tilted his chin to look up at his master with the most sincere look of pleading plastered on his face.

Gale couldn’t help but to let out a moan, seeing him like this with his cock still gripped tight in the mage hand before him, knot throbbing and ready to burst at its seams, eyes wide and waiting.

“If you’re a good boy and swallow,” he breathed, “I’ll let you waste your knot and cum in that hand, hmm?” he smirked.

Dev nodded eagerly, mouth already open as he pulled against his still glowing restraints as he tried to lean forward, barely able to reach the tip of Gale’s cock with his lips as he swirled on his tip and took it in his mouth.

Gale chuckled at his willingness to serve, stepping forward and taking either of his horns between his hands and guiding him down the length of his cock, his eyes narrow slits as he took in just how perfect Dev looked on his knees, pleasuring him.

“That’s a good boy,” Gale huffed out between his moans of praise, tugging Dev along his shaft with no resistance, his horns the perfect place to steer him into taking more.

And Dev took it all with a smile broken by drool and cum, looking up at his master with wide eyes beaming with submission.

As he bobbed his head up and down his cock without a thought in his brain, his tail began to wag, eyes just barely brimming with tears as Gale pulled him down to the base, rutting into his throat and loving the way he sounded when he gagged.

“Such a good pup,” he whined, tilting his chin as he felt himself getting closer deep in Dev’s mouth, letting the mage hand start its ruthless pumping and squeezing over his knot.

Dev’s eyes got even wider, his hips bucking where they sat atop his folded legs, whining over Gale’s cock and twitching where he was held down.

“Good, good boy,” Gale mumbled, stroking his snout as he watched him squirm with how badly he wanted his master to let him cum, but knowing he’d be denied until he did as he was told and swallowed.

Gale smirk as he gasped while Dev started sucking on him with a fire he’d never seen before, eyes shut tight as he whined with all the overstimulation, the throbbing and aching and awful twitching of his cock all swollen and denied its release, knot ready to pop.

It was when he opened his eyes to look up at him, cock-drunk with his eyes all blown out and barely open in the haze of the dim light, just begging to let him cum, please, that Gale finally had himself pressed deep down his throat and came down his tongue.

And Dev was a good boy, gasping for air as he lapped up every last drop of spend, not a single bit of it wasted anywhere but deep inside him, just as he was told.

He was still strapped down on his knees, still rutting uselessly into the mage hand as it sped up its stroking around him. He whined with his mouth still full of Gale’s cock as he waited for the painful seconds to tick by while he caught his breath.

“Aww, my sweet boy,” Gale laughed, trailing a gentle finger up his snout and around his horn and down his neck as he watched Dev struggle to hold it in. He slowly took his cock from his mouth, waiting just a moment longer to revel in his broken puppy state before he finally gave him the permission he had been waiting for.

“Cum for me, puppy,” he whispered, “you’ve been good.”

Dev’s head shot back as he squeezed his eyes shut, crying out as his bindings were finally released and he pumped himself into the mage hand once before convulsing where he sat, hot spend painting the stone floor between them. He rolled his hips as he whimpered with his release, finally able to scream out for his master as he unwound on the floor before him, cum splattering on Gale’s feet.

“So… good…” he whimpered, barely able to lift his head to meet Gale’s gaze as he whined for more praise, for cumming so good for him, not even yet down from the high of his orgasm and already searching for his master.

And Gale stood above him, waiting for him to look at him like he knew he would, a gentle hand already caressing his snout as he caught his breath in the hot room.

He took the final drag of the cigar.

“Yes, puppy, you’ve been so good for me.”

They stayed there together in silence for a moment, their breaths coming back to them. Dev shook and convulsed and twitched where he was crouched on all fours on the ground, barely holding himself up as he whimpered in the pool of his own spend.

Gale swallowed hard, gasping with a moan as he watched him struggle to come back to himself. He couldn't help but to let out a short laugh before bending to a knee before him, lifting his snout with one hand and stroking his cheek with the other.

His cheeks flushed a deep red as Dev finally looked up at him again, the glistening tear stains running down his cheeks leaving an iridescent glow atop his scales.

Dev smiled weakly between another shudder and a breath, leaning his snout into Gale’s hand and pushing himself closer to his lap, grumbling a bit as he hid his face.

Gale sighed with his soft laugh, leaving a gentle kiss between the tear trails despite Dev’s groaning and protests. He could feel his shoulders heating up with the flush of embarrassment he knew so well, peppering more small kisses around his snout.

“Here, love,” he muttered, groaning as he stood up from his knees and stretched a bit before offering Dev a hand, “let’s get you cleaned up and in bed. I’ll grab you another cigar,” he chuckled, unable to keep himself from smiling as he watched Dev rub his eyes with his paws.

Dev grumbled, still averting his gaze from Gale’s caring eyes as he stumbled while trying to make it to his feet.

Gale caught him, though. He wrapped a warm arm around him and smiled, lifting his chin to give him a longer, more gentle kiss.

“You were a very good boy for me,” he chuckled between the kiss.

Dev’s flush grew hotter, redder, but he couldn’t help but to smile, too. His tail wagged with a soft rhythm as Gale rubbed a hand down his snout before leading him off to bed.

[keter-kannot]

And for an Alien prompt: Ripley 8 with a monstrous alien girldick having extremely dubiously consensual sex with Reader. Bonus points for egg-laying since said dick doubles as an ovipositor.

R A H TAKING NOTES TAKING NOTES ADDING THIS TO THE SHORT LIST OF WIPS HANG ON STAY TUNED 👀

[keter-kannot]

God, you’d get along amazingly with one of my mutes. Her name’s aeroti and she’s also into monster fucking.

Send her my way 👀 always down for new moots ♡♡♡

[keter-kannot]

But if I may ask: Would you throw yer hat into the ring of Alien? Or Ghostbusters? Mostly just for Sigourney Weaver stuff. A picture of Dana Barrett with a dick rewired my brain chemistry and now I’m hunting for others with this particular brain tadpole.

OOHHH, MY NEW MUTUAL, ALIEN IS A MONSTERFUCKER'S BREAD AND BUTTER OF C O U R S E ID THROW MY HAT IN THE ALIEN RING 😫😫😫 anything for mommy Sigourney Weaver

[keter-kannot]

What other fandoms do ya work with?

To be honest, so far I've only done a bunch of bg3 and sdv fics, I haven't been in ANY fandom spaces in like a decade lol and it's really nice to get back into it! Better question is what other fandoms would you wanna see me write for 👀

[keter-kannot]

Blood, guts, trauma; All yer good specialities. Hell, maybe involving some impregnation. Maybe a pregnancy from another love interest is forcefully ended so a new one can be started.

OOOOHHH MY NEW FRIEND YOURE C O O K I N G 😫😫😫😫😫 AYE AYE CAPTAIN BREEDING, TOO?!??!?! R A H BHAALSPAWN BREEDING KINK BHAALSPAWN BREEDIND KINK BHAALSPA--

[keter-kannot]

Orin The Red girldick rapin’ Tav/the Reader?

With some blood n guts too?? 🥹🥹 ofc ofc stay tuned I'll tag you when it's up

[keter-kannot]

Found ya on AO3. Yer shit’s fucked up I love it!

OMG THANK YEWWWWW 🥰🥹🥰🥹 lesbian torture p0rn, pet play, guro, and more 😌 this literally made my entire night lmao any suggestions or prompts?! 👀

[keter-kannot]

A proposal

Sometimes, in fandom, we just want to write id-tastic fic that rolls around in tropes that might be viewed as problematic. But we don’t want to address the problematic side of things in this particular fanwork; we just want to roll around and wallow.

It is considered courteous to give readers a heads-up via use of AO3 tags. I propose a tag that signals that a given fanwork is for rolling around, not giving a measured evaluation of anything. The MCU has carved out a space for this sort of fic with the “HYDRA Trash Party” tag, for which I commend them. Trash Party is a bit too specific to cover all of the ground I’m thinking of here, though; I propose “Dead Dove: Do Not Eat.”

For those of you not familiar with Arrested Development, Michael Bluth finds a paper bag in the freezer labeled “Dead Dove: Do Not Eat.” He opens the bag, finds a dead dove, and reacts as follows:

[gif of a white man saying “I don’t know what I expected” in a deadpan manner]

The “Dead Dove: Do Not Eat” tag would essentially be a “what it says on the tin” metatag, indicating “you see the tropes and concepts tagged here? they are going to appear in this fic. exactly as said. there will not necessarily be any subversion, authorial commentary condemning problematic aspects, or meditation on potential harm. this fic contains dead dove. if you proceed, you should expect to encounter it.”

(more at KnowYourMeme: http://knowyourmeme.com/memes/i-dont-know-what-i-expected)

[keter-kannot]

F L O O R E D 😫

went back n forth on posting this tbh but uhh this is my 2024 Art vs Artist thing but autistic

[keter-kannot]

MINORS DNI

THIS IS A DEAD DOVE: DO NOT EAT PIECE !!!

I didn't take as long to edit this next part lol SO HERE IT IS :D part 3 of orinXminthara 😌 thank you so, so much to my lovely anon buddy for the absolutley insane lesbian torture p0rn ideas you're a genius

Summary: Orin has destroyed everything Minthara once was. She decides to have another round of fun with her before claiming her for the Absolute.

Word Count: ~4k

tw: BLOOD K!NK, NONCON/DUBCON, mentions of death/suicide, piv, sex slavery, torture, mommy k!nk, degradation, knotting, monsterfucking, scratching/clawing, restraints, dacryphilia, DD:DNE, cuts/wounds, piercing/needle play

Pt. 3 under the cut

The time between this last visit and Orin’s next was much longer than the first. It was intentional, and Minthara knew that. There was a part of leaving your torture victims in prologned periods of isolation as a means to attach them to you. She understood that the pain inflicted upon her, the shame and humiliation, was all a tactic to break her just as much as leaving her here was. 

And yet, that knowledge didn’t save her from succumbing to it. 

The next time she woke, her body was wrought with too much sensation for her to do much of anything other than moan in pain. The collar strapped around her neck had small metal pieces biting into her skin from every angle, the slick stickiness of her blood pooling at her collarbones and shoulders. It throbbed where it sat, moreso when she tried to force herself to sit up. 

Her body contorted under the sudden change in pressure and weight, the collar tugging back on the thick, heavy chain that kept it attched to the floor. As she was pulled back, Minthara screamed to her empty cell, tears she didn’t even feel starting to brim in her eyes. 

The freezing cold of the stone beneath her naked frame was the only relief she could find for her naked body, curling around herself as she whinced and whimpered with each tug and pull of her arms and legs. Her skin tore in the places she’d been cut, staining the stones beneath her. As the throbbing in her chest worsened, she dared to look down, only to see the horrors Orin had doned upon her. 

The three needles piercing through her nipple were encrusted with her blood, as was the rest of her. The cuts were deep, jagged gashes painting her skin in hues of distorted, swollen lumps of ruined flesh and muscle. She didn’t recognize the skin holding her together; she’d never seen it in such a state before. The stinging pain searing through her gripped her straight to her core, her tears flowing freely now as she barely managed to wonder when Orin would return. 

She was chained there to the floor for more days than she’d expected to survive without anything to eat. The longer she waited, the worse her conditon became. Her thoughts drifted, wandered, went to places she thought they’d never return to. In her dreamless haze of exhaustion and pain, she wished for nothing but death. It was the only thing that could preserve the morsel of dignity she felt she had left. 

Orin’s reappearance was unplanned. Minthara was drifting in and out of her fits of sobbing and being lost in her starved state. At the sound of the stone door grinding its way open, she held her breath. As each muscle in her body tried to go tense, she shook where she lay. 

The pounding in her skull was residual now, but only grew in intensity with each echoing step Orin made towards her. 

Her breath was jagged, her brows furrowed. Each word she spoke had venom laced behind it, only giving way to the rage she radiated. 

“On your back,” she spat at Minthara, quickly undressing and tossing her garments to the side with aggresion. When Minthara refused to move, she quickly took hold of the chain holding her collar, tugging it to the side to get her splayed on her bloody back. 

Minthara whinced and cried out in pain, fresh blood beginning to seep from the sharp studs in the collar around her neck. As her shredded back was pulled against the grating stone, a smear of her blood left a trail in her wake. 

Orin stepped forward, straddling Minthara as she stood above her. She shook her head as she spat at her again, taking in her broken, bloody, terrified visage. 

She growled beneath her breath, her tongue quickly darting across her lips as a glint shone in her eyes. 

She took her length in her hand, starting a slow rhythm of strokes as she looked down at a crying, destitute Minthara. Each glide against her cock had her bucking into her hand as she mumbled about Minthara’s disgust beneath her breath, giving her a swift kick to the side to watch her crumble underneath her foot. 

Orin ground her teeth together, not satisfied with the amount of pain. “What do you say?” she asked, kicking her again and groaning as she worked over her tip with a tighter grip, a bit of precum just barely managing to drip onto Minthara’s crumpled, heaving body. 

“Th… thank you, mummy,” she managed between a gasp and a cry, closing her eyes and leaning her head against the stone floor. She knew there was nothing she could do to prepare herself for what was to come. 

Orin nodded above her before she crouched down, gripping either thigh in her hands and spreading her mangled legs, pulling her towards her again and gripping her harder when she dared to squirm against the pain. 

She spat down at her crying figure as she positioned herself at the sopping entrance of her cunt, giggling beneath her breath when she realised just how ready for her she was. 

“My pet’s perfect cunt,” she laughed crudely, pushing her tip inside and shuddering against Minthara’s crying figure, “so wet and eager to please,” she teased. 

Orin took the briefest of moments to settle herself inside before violently bottoming out, her gaze devouring the way a broken Minthara looked as she writhed in her collar, deep on her cock. With a hand above either of her shoulders, she watched Minthara cry with each rapid thrust, her breath beginning to break. Orin leaned closer to her, her hot and rancid breath flush against Minthara’s skin. She leaned down as she thrusted deeper, groaning as her tongue worked its way over her jagged cuts, up her chest, her neck, and finally to her  mouth. 

The way Minthara looked beanath her had her breath hitching in her throat with each pump of her cock, the ruined image of her pet  causing her blood to run hotter in her veins, her fingers to grip hard to the stone her hands rested on. Her growls became erratic, her eyes devouring every inch of Minthara she could see. The brutal pace of her mating press only quickened with each passing moment, Minthara’s whines and pleas becoming desperate cries as her cunt was worked over and over by Orin’s growing length. 

“Again,” Orin said beneath her snarl, leaning forward yet again amidst another thrust to lick her dried and cracked blood from her neck. 

Minthara stuttered, chocked out a brief moan. She felt her cunt twitched around Orin’s cock, hating herself for finding such sick pleasure. 

“Thank you, mummy,” she cried softly, the feel of Orin’s tongue against her skin causing her to shake more violently beneath her. She tried to resist grabbing Orin’s arms to help hold herself steady, but reached for her, anyway, her tears trailing down her cheeks as she clung to her while she was plowed into again and again. 

“What are you?” she breathed against her skin, sucking in the dank smell of her ruined body, congealed blood and all, drinking it in. 

She rammed into Minthara again, her throbbing head already pounding against her cervix in a way she knew would leave a painful bruise. 

“I’m…” she choked, sobbing into Orin’s soft tits as she picked up the pace, “I’m your bitch.”

Orin’s eyes went wide as her twisted smile overtook her face again, her hot moans echoing throughout the room. Her moans and grunts became a primal sort of rhythm as they mixed with the sounds of her hips slapping against Minthara’s spread legs. She laughed between thick breaths, her pupils dialating as her gaze bore down at what she’d made of Minthara. 

At first, it was all subtle. The stretching and groaning of ripping and moving skin, grinding of bone against bone changing shape… it was lost to Minthara as she cried through her first bought of a pleasure high. She was quivering beneath Orin as she started to change, the pained grunts of her quick transformation getting louder and louder. 

Between her broken sobs and tears, Minthara’s eyes oppened just enough, cleared just enough, to be able to make out the growing mass atopp her. She sucked in a gasp, whincing against the pain again as her back was dragged further across the stone floor. 

Her eyes went wide as she started to feel the throbbing and aching growing between her legs. Her desperate whines were full of terror as she was pulled down from the high of her first orgasm, the shame she felt evaporating from her veins as it was quickly replaced with fear. What was once Orin’s hands were now claws, gripping at her legs and thighs and holding her down and in place the more she tried to kick and resist through her terror, a deep a guttural growl escaping Orin’s maw when she dared to try to kick her in the side. 

The shaking from her pleasure was replaced with that of repulsion and fear as a long, thick strand of drool dripped from the opening of her snout and landed in a puddle on Minthara’s cut up chest, stinging as it found its way into her wounds. She whimpered against the pain, going tense as Orin’s grip on her legs became tighter, another set of claw-tipped arms joining the first in their tight hold. 

They sat there, their breaths colliding, for what could have been hours, or mere seconds. Minthara held her breath as Orin continued to breath through the convulsions of her cunt around her throbbing cock, still getting larger as it sat deep inside of her. 

She slowly laid her head back against the blood-stained stones, whincing as more tears dripping down her cheeks to meet the dirt. She shut her eyes tight as she felt the first bit of a tear ripping her apart from the center, the hard pressure of what could only be the slayer’s knot starting to form at the base of Orin’s cock. 

She fought the urge to squirm, knowing it’d only cause more pain, but the push against her walls was deafening. Her breaths were each accompanied by terrified whines of pain, only feeding Orin’s need to ruin her more. There was a deep growl that escaped her maw as she ever so sliightly leaned forward, rocking her knot a bit further inside of her prey. 

Minthara couldn’t help but to yelp out a cry of pain, which is exactly what Orin needed to be pushed over her edge. Her slayer form snarled into the empty cell as she began slamming her knot inside of her repeatedly, the blood mixing with Minthara’s slick as she continued to pound her only fueling her more. The smell of the iron in her blood made her heady, her wicked pace faltering more than once but never ceasing. 

Her claws raked against the stone floors over and over, the horrid grinding of it ringing through Minthara’s skull each time they pulled by her ears. Each thrust into her bleeding and ripped cunt only had her shrieking louder, the divots Orin made beside her head in the stone growing deeper. She flailed beneath the slayer, lost in the sea of pain she never even imagined someone could experience. 

As Orin’s knot continued to grow, Minthara’s struggling only grew more intense. She pushed against Orin’s arms and kicked out of her grasp, only for her to lay more of her weight atop her, pushing the breath out of her lungs as she continued slamming into her with each breath. As her knot slipped from inside her cunt, Minthara cried, only for her to slam it back inside with reckless abandon. 

The harder she fought against the slayer, the tighter that coil in her cunt was wound. She cried at the thought of cumming around her cock again, blood spilling from her cunt and tears running down her face, but let go of the thought of fighting it. Orin’s slayer claws grabbed at her shoulders, sinking deep inside already broken skin, and Minthara came again. 

She convulsed around her knot, Orin unable to fully pull out as she kept fucking her through her second orgasm. Her animalistic grunts of pleasure became more labored, the way Minthara’s walls felt around her milking her knot in such a way that brought her further and further to the edge of her own peak. 

Orin’s second set of slayer arms wrapped themselves roughly around Minthara’s waist, yanking her forward and causing her to cry out amongst her moans of pleasure. She lifted her effortlessly, letting her have the smallest bit of a reprieve as she held her against her chest before slamming her body back down against the full length of her aching cock and swollen knot. 

Minthara went limp against the slayer then, crying helplessly in between her moans and whimpers of pain as Orin used her body like a toy, lifting her as though she was weightless and spearing her on her cock over and over, letting the blood spilling from her cunt leave a small puddle on the floor beneath them. 

The first time Orin came, there was a low groan to accompany it. She had Minthara’s limp body pressed hard against her hips, her arms swaying behind her as she couldn’t control them. Orin’s cum filled her cervix with one meagre load, the next sticky rope of it flowing out of her bloody cunt and onto either of their laps, dripping down Orin’s legs and settling in the puddle of blood. 

At soime point, the infected needles burried through her nipple had been ripped clean, a new river of blood finding its way through the path of all the old ones and snaking down her waist again. She twitched as she was pumped full of cum, whimpering as she felt Orin’s knot twitch inside of her. 

She was nothing but a whimpering mess when Orin started her assault again, each and every breath leaving Mintharta’s mouth nothing but a drooling moan accompanied by her tears of pain. Orin worked through her nonetheless, the way she looked half-dead on her cock only making her knot swell a bit more, her cries for breath pushing more and more of Orin’s cum back out of her stuffed womb and down the length of her cock. 

She was in no state to keep track of her own name, nonetheless how many times Orin came inside of her. Each load of cum had her stretching around her more and more, each strained grunt of pleasure from Orin signaling another round. She’d been all but stretched to her limit and filled over and over to her brim by the time Orin finally lifted her off her shaft and let her drop limp to the blood, drool, and cum-stained floor. 

She cried into the pool of spend and blood, her cheek against the stone as every inch of her body throbbed and screamed at her in pain. Orin’s hulking slayer form stood above her for a moment, her cock swaying just a bit in the open bit of acrid air between them before a clawed hand reached down and gripped Minthara by the hair. 

She whimpered as she was lifted, but didn’t have the strength in her to voice out a cry. As the tears silently streamed down her face, Orin’s claws made a mess of themselves in her hair, forcing her to her knees before her. 

She didn’t let Minthara take a breath before filling her throat. She slammed the back of her head into her hips with aggression, forcing Minthara’s nose up against her skin as she gagged and choked and drooled as she fought to catch a breath but was denied the pleasure. Orin twitched deep inside of her, making her gag again, only pulling back her head to slap the tip of her dick against her swollen tongue. 

Minthara’s vision blurred as she coughed for air, a thick patch of her hair ripping into Orin’s claw as she pulled her forward again. With the tearing and guttural pain she felt with Orin burried deep in her cunt, she still wasn’t ready for the pain of her shoving deep down her throat again and again, being forced to take the full length of it. The corners of her lips tore as she was forced to down it, her tears dripping from her chin in time with her drool. 

The buldge of her stomach started to fade ever so slightly as she shifted where she knelt per Orin’s tug, the feel of her cum flowing out of her in a thick, hot stream sending a shiver down her spine. As her body fought to push the mess of it out of her, she spasmed, her throat clenching around Orin’s cock. 

It didn’t take long for Orin to use Minthara’s mouth to her satisfaction, pulling her limp body back and forth against her length as she cried and gagged around it, sobbing helpless tears as she struggled to keep her gaze from meeting Orin’s. 

Orin’s cum flowed down her throat. Minthra choked on it but did as a good bitch does and swallowed eagerly in her cock-drunk state. That didn’t matter, though; it just kept coming, spilling down her throat, gagging up over her lips and down her chin, chest, tits… 

She didn’t feel Orin release her grip, but certainly felt the hard stone beneath her face as it slammed against the stone. She cried as she coughed up more and more of Orin’s cum, laying limp in the mess of it all that she’d made. She didn’t know if her vision was blurred from the tears or the force of her head hitting  the ground or the lack of air–maybe all three. She shivered as she tried but failed to turn herself over, only shuddering as she silently continued to sob. 

She was numb. Broken. Ruined. Her body was left worthless in a pool of blood and cum, more of it streaming from between her legs as her cunt continued to twitch amongst the residual pain. Her body screamed with each breath, scabs peeling and cuts having been stretched open again in places they were barely allowed to heal in the first place. There was not a single thought in her brain but of how to please Orin, what to do to get her to stop, as she laid there on the floor. 

She mumbled her praise to her mummy, thanked her over and over for giving her everything she deserved, but her throat was wrung dry and no sound would come out. She squealed and whimpered as she struggled to move her lips, barely able to make out the visage of the slayer slowly reverting into itself, Orin’s bloodied, twisted smile left where the maw once was. 

She gasped again and again for breath amongst her wordless please, and Orin drank in her cries. She stood there above her, cock in hand, sighing as she threw her head back. She worked over herself with ease, teasing the head of her cock in all the right ways. With her pet so perfectly broken beneath her, it was easy to cum again. 

She stood there with her cock in her hand until Minthara had fallen unconscious amongst her cries and pleas of anguish. She laughed to herself, proud in her triumph, the sweet, sweet sounds of Minthara’s broken whimpers the perfect melody. 

She came on her until she could barely tell if she was still breathing. Her hair was plastered to her face, layered in her cum and Minthara’s own blood as it swirled in the pool of it all that she slept in. It was dripping from every divot her body made as it had contorted in on itself before she fell into unconsciousness, still leaking from her cunt and mouth, too. It burned and stung in her wounds, but she was too numbed from all the pain to even feel it as she drifted into the only place where she still held a shred of her former dignity. 

“My princess, all dressed in white,” Orin muttered beneath a sick giggle, “ready for when they come to place you upon Her throne.”

She left the cell with a smirk on her face replacing the frown of anger she arrived with, but not before scooping a bit of her cum back inside Minthra’s shredded cunt. She pulled the stone door shut behind her. 

—

Z’rell was tasked with preparing her for her induction. She was sent with a cleric and a superior potion of healing and told to make her presentable before splaying her out on a fresh bed of corpses. 

The stoic dignity she held radiated from her very being as she stepped down the hall towards Minthara’s cell, not bothering to prepare herself for the sights she would see. 

She’d seen it all. Ketheric was a creative man, if given the opportunity. And the few moments she spent with Balthazaar were… educational in the ways of torture, if nothing else. 

But nothing could have prepared her for this. 

She stopped in her tracks after finally getting sight of her, not recognizing the scattered mess on the floor she’d become. For a moment, she didn’t even see her amongst the pile of all the gore and cum. The air stank of decay and rot and sex, the very walls of the cell dripping with its condensation. The sack of bones and open gashes that Minthara had become was nothing that Z’rell had the capacity to fix. 

The cleric got sick, but was slapped around until they had nothing more to give. The potion barely made a dent in the wounds, and what she really needed was a fucking bath…

She screamed for a team of cultists awaiting her commands, who managed to free her from her chains and get her settled someplace where proper healing to commence.

—

The more they tended to her, the more afraid she became. 

What use did they have for her? What purpose could she possibly serve outside of being Orin’s personal pet?

She resisted for a while, only growing more and more disheartened the longer they pushed to treat her. She relinquished any shred of dignity that she thought she may have had left as she cried, letting them tend to her wounds and douse her in potions and remedies. The thought of getting pushed to this brink over and over, only to be mended and ruined again and again…

It didn’t take them long to stitch her back together. When they started feeding her, she had another thought of escape. She pushed it down to the back of her mind; she’d never entertain anything like that ever again. 

She didn’t resist when Z’rell arrived to dress her. She sat compliantly as they moved her from one place to another, not remembering when it was that she’d fallen unconscious again only to wake chained atop the cold feeling of the bed of death she knew so well. 

When she realized she’d been right at the thought of being healed only to be broken again, she cried. It was quiet, full of grief for the parts of herself she no longer knew. She let her arms rest limp in the bonds around her wrists, leaning her head against the corpses beneath her as hot tears rolled down her cheeks. 

Then, the horridly familiar sound of the stone door grinding open.

Minthara didn’t brace herself, but rather lifted her tear-stained face, and looked towards where she knew her mummy would be coming to stalk her. 

Instead, she was met with Ketheric and Z’rell flanking her on either side, a look of annnoyance on her face as she strode to Minthara’s bedside with purpose. 

It was tense, but with a wave of Ketheric’s hand, Orin sighed and sat beside her. 

“They’re spoiling our fun, little lamb,” she mumbled, shooting Z’rell a glare as she seemed to play with something wriggling between her fingers. 

Minthara’s eyes were wide, but she remained attentive. She’d learned to listen. 

“But I suppose the Absolute will grant her chosen the gifts she sees fit, in time,” she laughed, rolling her eyes as Ketheric glared at her. 

She sighed, crawling atop the rotten bed and straddling Minthara, but this time with grace. Her body moved in fluid motions, knowing just wehre to sit and just how to smile down at her eager pet. The fear in Minthara’s eyes as she looked back up at her spoke of the volumes she’d done to get her here, perfectly sat underneath her, painted with perfectly placed strokes of her blade and made to sing her name. 

 She opened her palm above Minthara’s head, showing her the acrid tadpole squirming in her grip. It writhed in time with the pounding of Minthara’s fear, her breath only drawing its attention more as it quickened in pace. Orin couldn’t help but enjoy the squirming; her eyes were aglow with wonder to match Minthara’s desperation. 

Orin’s eyes blew wide as she took in Minthara’s dying fortitude, growing addicted to the way she seemed to crack beneath the pressure of knowing what was to come. This was not a game to Orin; she’d already won the game. This was merely playing with her prize. 

“When it’s over,” Orin cooed, bending forward to let her breath whisper sweetly in Minthara’s ear, “you’ll finally know what it truly means to worship, True Soul.”

Minthara didn’t struggle underneath Orin’s weight as she took her blade forward; only as she started peeeling back the hood of her eye did she start to scream. She thrashed abouut beneath her to no use, new bruises forming atop the freshly healed ones on her wrists and ankles. She screamed her throat bloody, but it was no use: the tadpole had already wormed its way into her brain.

[keter-kannot]

MINORS DNI

THIS IS A "DEAD DOVE: DO NOT EAT" PIECE

Alright I know it's been a few days but I needed to edit this piece before I posted the second part lol ANYWAYS here's part 2 of orinXminthara 😈

Summary: after her first round of torture, Orin returns to Minthara's cell for round two. She's kept her there for weeks now, and she's slowly starting to break.

Word Count: ~4k

tw: NONCON/DUBCON, DD:DNE, death, corpses, rotting, BLOOD, KNIFE PLAY, needle/piercing play, grime/dirt, exhibitionism, degradation, bondage/restraints, @n@l, mommy k!nk, sex slavery, escape attempt

Pt. 2 under the cut

She didn’t know what she was laying upon, but the smell of it only became worse and worse as the puddle of her blood congealed beneath her. The dirt staining her face was only missing in the spots her tear stains had washed them away. Orin had left her where she’d first awoken, tellling her she was far from done with her yet. 

Minthara didn’t know how much time had passed between the first round and what would soon become the second, but her neck snapped towards the groaning stone as the door of her cell was swung open.

Orin’s gentle saunter towards her had her pulling against the restraints she was left in, the red and swollen bits of her skin pinching between the leather cuffs. Minthara winced against the pain, her mouth openeing against her own volition before snapping it shut, refusing to say anything. She wouldn't give her the satisfaction.

Orin dared her to say the first word, looking upon her with an expecting glare. She jingled the small ring of dainty keys she held in her hands, winking at Minthara as she continued stalking towards her. 

Minthara swallowed the lump in her throat, blinking rapidly and looking at her, then away, then meeting her gaze again. She seemed to enjoy her uncertainty; her fear. 

She looked upon her with wonder, tracing the ugly cuts and gashees she left over he stomach, waist, chest, tits, thighs… She was covered in the crust of her own dried blood, the smell of her something to gag over. Her hair was matted to her head where she’d struggled against her mattress of flesh, her face contorted with something that could only be a mix of disgust, defiance, and fear, wrapped all up in one. Orin let out the softest of pleasured moans, her hair fluttering in the ghastly breeze that the open door had welcomed inside.  

Orin huffed, annoyed with the silence of her pet. She rolled her eyes as she began to strip, knowing the only way she’d get her to make some noise would be through forcing her. 

She approached where Minthara lay, gently shaking her head, tutting her tongue. 

She jingled the keys again in her hand before bending forward, her perfectly rancid, gorgeously hideous naked facade the perfect show. She bent forward slowly, humming something to herself as she worked the keys into the lock of the leather straps keeping Minthara bound to the chains, somehow attached to the pile of corpses she laid upon. 

“My poor, poor pet,” Orin cooed, moving from one ankle to the other, working her feet over in small circles and massaging the soles as she seemingly was helping blood work back into them after being restrained for so long. The swollen skin surrounded by deep red and purple bruising made her salivate, but she was patient, taking her time as she continued. 

Minthara lay motionless upon her throne of death, her breath light and shuddering with each passing moment. The click of her bonds being undone made every  muscle in her body tense, causing some of the deeper cuts to open back up a bit, small drops of blood starting to drip across her stomach. 

Orin’s naked body was mesmerizing as she finally made her way to Minthara’s other hand, unlocking it from her straps and massaging her fingers, bringing them up to her lips and kissing them ever so softly as she rubbed life back into them, licking the bruised skin. 

She looked upon her expectantly, knowing she wouldn’t say a word but wishing she would, anyway. “They say having favorites makes me weak,” she spat between her gentle kisses, “but it’s inspiring,” she hummed, “fulfilling. I wonder; what must it feel like to be my muse?”

Her tongue dragged against the palm of her hand, licking away the blood and grime and dragging it along her arm, the crest of her elbow, up to her shoulder. Minthara trembled against the feel of her lips, held in her grasp. 

As she was slowly lifted to sit, her head swam with the sudden perssure of the dizziness of moving. She gripped onto Orin’s arm for support, flinching when she realized she’d been there to support her. Orin smiled her ghostly smile, tucking a stray strand of hair behind her ear as she leaned closer to her. 

“Here,” she said, “allow me.” 

She stood and walked around the mound of meat Minthara sat upon. Now that she wasn’t forced to look straaight ahead, she saw the mangled bodies pileed beneath her, the flies and maggots working their ways through the edges of them. She gaggeg beside herself, spitting to the side before feeling Orin’s hands reach benath her arms,

For a moment, her touch remained gentle. Minthara let out first one breath, then another, Orin’s grip slowly hardening as she rutted her length against her ass, the feel of it slowly growing harder and longer against her. 

Orin let out a soft sigh against the back of her neck, her tongue flicking against her skin. “How I wish you would speak to me, my little lamb,” she cooed, “to hear you curse my name, damn me to the hells…”

It was in that moment that Minthara’s undignified yet still stoic facade suddenly seemed to crack. The goading, the taunting, the way Orin’s cold hands wandered about her blood-covered skin. She knew Orin would be the kind to boast of her prize, exclaim over the terrors she brought her; so many knew what had been done to her. Minthara looked towards the opened door, the smallest of shivers gracing her skin as her brows furrowed against the breeze it let in once again. 

Had she thought through her decision, she’d have known it never would have worked. But the instincts she’d so carefully honed had been destroyed by the days of starvation, pain, and fear; as soon as she’d registered that her restraints had been released and the door left open, she made a bolt towards her escape. 

Her mind rushed for just the smallest bit of a second with the adrenaline of it, the last bit of fight her body had left pushing her forward with the deep huff of a hot breath. She’d had plenty of time to hate herself being tied up here, and got lost in the prospect of getting her moment of redemption. 

Orin’s arm snapped forward as Minthara took the pitiful steps of a toddling infant, her limbs still sore and shaking and in no way fit to support her. As she stumbled, Orin’s claws snatched her skin, digging into cuts already made as she screamed while yanking her back towards her bed of rot. 

Orin threw her amonst the pile of corpses, her body thudding against its slick surface.  Her eyes flarring like that of an animal, she scrambled atop her, gripping her wrists atop the bruises still forming, sitting her weight on her back, letting her face get burried in the mess of decay beneath her. 

As one hand kept its grip on Minthara’s wrists, the other took its claws to her back, raking down her skin with a quick slash and leaving a trail of blood in its wake. 

“My lamb dares to run?” Orin screamed, slashing her once again as Minthara writhed beneath her against the pian, her muscles still tense from her feeble attempt at escape and her body still wanting to fight. 

“She thinks it so easy to leave me?”  She positioned her throbbing cock at the entrance of her ass, laughing when she started screaming against rotting skin in response. 

“Look at you!” Orin said, releasing her grip on her wrists and grabbing a fistful of her  wrecked hair, yanking her head back and smiling as she yelped. She leaned in, her lips against her ear as she held her there, her other hand reaching for her dagger. 

“You’re being broken,” she muttered against her, “ruined. You lay here, my bloodied mess, amongst rotting corpses that you will one day join. Your disgrace will be unknown, as you’ll never have the pleasure of becoming more than what I’ll make you in the name of the Absolute.”

She giggled then, biting her ear before whispering, “My True Soul,” she breathed, “my bitch.”

Minthara screamed her first plea of resistance as Orin slammed into her ass, bottoming out with her first violent thrust and refusing to let up her pace from there. She shouted against each tug of her hair, her spit and tears pooling around the corners of her mouth as the stoic facade of silence she’d been keeping had finally started to crumble away. 

Her arms flailed as she searched for anything other than a corpse to grip, trying and failing to pull herself away from Orin as she gripped her harder and pulled her back on her cock again and again. 

“I’ll be dead before you own me,” she raged between her screams, her voice cracking as the pain of Orin tearing into her again and again only grew with each thrust. 

Orin’s blade bit deep into her side, a thick gush of blood flooding down their thighs and onto the bodies beneath them. Minthara screamed against the pain, Orin’s fingers only gripping her tighter as she continue her useless struggle. 

She laughed at her pitiful prey, bringing her blade across her stomach in the twisted line of a smile, from one hip to the next, “Your ungrateful cunt doesn’t deserve the pleasure of me,” she said betweeen gritted teeth hiding behind a sick smile, “You better start thanking me before I see fit to spill your innards for our guests,” she nodded towards the open door.  

Minthara’s rage was eaten alive by her shame as she saw the onlookers standing there. Some were merely peaking around the doorframe, others inching forward with each passing moment. One had a hand deep inside their pants. All of their eyes were trained vicously on the scene unfolding before them, their hunger clear in the way they seemed to drink in Minthara’s helpeless flails and resistance. 

Her cheeks went hot as blood continued to rage through her veins, spilling from her new wound. She opened her mouth to scream her hatred yet again, but saw the way they seemed to take pleasure in the idea of it. She swallowed her words, her breath hitching as she forced herself to deny them. 

She squeezed her eyes shut tight as she fought against Orin’s grip of her hair to turn away, but failed. Orin only tutted in response, bringing her blade back to her waist. 

“Thank me,” she demanded, her length slamming deep inside of Minthara’s ass again and again, each thrust causing her to whimper in pain now that her mouth was shut tight. The tears brimming in her eyes spilled over en mass, the pain building inside of her too much to bear as Orin somehow managed to pick up the pace. 

The soft mutters and moans of the onlookers wafted their way to her ears. The harder she tried to push them away, the easier it was for them to chip away at the meagre defenses she had left. She refused to fully look at them, but felt the hunger in their gazes nonetheless. She pulled against Orin’s grip, screeching in pain as her blade cut deep into her side yet again. Words tried to work their way from her lips–

“Thank me!” Orin said, pushing her head down into the cold skin beneath her. She groaned and yelped and her arms flew to the side as she cried, feeling the glares and hating herself for her pitiful display of such a lack in restraint. She choked on her own sobs of self pity, barely able to mumble into the mattress as Orin’s blade pushed itself deeper, slowly beginning its journey across her waist yet again, running over the other slashes Orin had previously left and smearing her gore across herself. 

“Th…Thank you,” she breathed amongst her tears. 

Orin pulled her back up again, her rancid smile glowing with power as Minthara gasped for breath. 

“Ohh,” Orin moaned with the strict haughtiness of hearing her give in; accepting her role. “You disgust me,” she spat, pulling her back further as her body seemed to slowly go limp against her own. Her tears were quiet whimpers amongst her louder chokes for breath, blood dripping from her waist, down her thighs, wetting the dried mess of it she’d been laying in for so long beneath her. 

Orin fed on her crumbling conscious, drooling along with the voyeurers who’d started unapolegetically enjoying themselves along with their Chosen. Her voice seemed to deepen as she growled, spitting on Minthara’s open cut. 

“You think you’re so worthy of sanctity?” she said, anger tainting her voice. “Of peace? Deserving of a child’s love, an obligation to be paid?” she questioned. She seemed to get lost in her anger the more she screamed, her voice cowering over the other’s moans of pleasure. She took her blade and held it against her throat, letting it just barely pierce the skin before drawing back and striking her, 

Minthara’s cry of pain was music to Orin’s ears, only inspiring her to hit again. 

She leaned forward, her grunts loud in Minthara’s ear as she rutted into her faster, barely pulling out before pushing her cock back inside, twisting it against her insides with each hot tug and rough pull.

“Tell me you deserve it,” she said, hammering away in her ass.

Minthara crumbled underneath knowing what a pitiful display she made of herself, all bent over and yanked back and crying while speared on the cock of someone she’d easily best in a fair fight. Her stomach coiled and clenched with her distatste for herself, the pain wrapping its gentle claws around her and dragging her deeper down into its pit of despair. She cried out to the onlookers, not daring to open her eyes but hoping–praying, even, to a Goddess she had already foresaken–to let someone see it in their heart to kill her now, and do it quickly. 

Of course, that refuge never came. 

The jeering and groaning mixing with the tear of her own flesh was a cocophany of  horros, Minthara’s thoughts falling further into that fear growing inside of her that she thought mere moments ago she had conquered, that she could escape. 

How wrong she’d been. 

Orin groaned against her skin as she came inide Minthara’s tight virgin ass, rocking in her pleasure, never stopping as she continued to pump it deeper inside. Minthara cried as she felt her let loose, knowing the mess she was of her former self and despising herself for it. 

“I…” she breathed between her choked sobs, “I deserve it.” She could taste the bile the words brought with them to the tip of her tongue. 

Orin’s blade started snaking down her waste, making its way towards her cilt with a trail of her blood following in its wake. She continued her onslought of her ass, her cock only throbbing quicker the longer she continued her assault. She gripped Minthara’s throat, her grip an iron fist as it clasped her airway shut. 

“Again,” she spat, “my rancid lamb, my worthless, sick excuse of a child.”

“I deserve it,” she barely managed to choke out, her eyes opening just slightly as they strained to see past her tears, past the blurred vision of being close to losing consciousness. 

“And what do you say?” Orin quipped with a sly laugh, the sharp, throbbing pain of a thick needle being wrung through one of her nipples. 

Minthara’s scream of pain was muffled by Orin’s tight grip of her throat, by the hard slapping of her skin on her ass. Tears fell liberally from her cheeks as her vision softly began to fade, barely even awake enough to comprehend the feel of the next thick rod of metal piercing through the same spot again, crossing over top of the first and liberally spouting blood as Orin continued to get more and more lost in Minthara’s pain.

Just as her vision faded to black, Orin’s grip loosened just a tad. She sucked in a deep gulp of air, coughing and choking on her drool as she fought her way back to feeling like she could breath. 

She felt her own warm blood dripping down her chest, over the others that had barely even been given enough time to scab over on her waist. She writhed in Orin’s unrelenting grip, coughing out pleas that were barely heard. 

Her grip began to tighten again as she came once more deep in her ass, letting the third and final needle pierce itself straight through the other two, tearing the pinched skin between them as it crossed over their center. As more of her blood trickled from the new set of wounds, her diziness came back with full force, but only for a moment before her vision began to blurr once more. 

Orin’s claws sunk deep into the purple and blue bruised-stained skin of her neck. “What  do you say?” she asked. 

Minthara struggled to suck in enough air to barely rasp out her words. 

“M…mummy… thank you, mummy,” she mumbled, so quiet she wasn’t even sure if Orin could hear her. Yet, she did, and she cackled her vicious laugh, the sound of it echoing through Minthara’s skull as her body became numb beneath her and she lost consciousness yet again.

[keter-kannot]

Another self-indulgent Karlach thing reffed off Rhea Ripley.

Dunno who's gotten her in the ring, but I'm sure it's a fine and good idea.

[keter-kannot]

MINORS DNI

MERRY CHRISTMAS EVE, FREAKS 🎄🎅

So I did this absolutely insane art trade with anon who has the best lesbian torture porn prompts that anyone could ever come up with so here's a lil treat 😌 this one ended up being just over 10k words lmao, so I'll be breaking it up into thirds to post. Enjoy!

Summary: "I want this one." Orin keeps Minthara as her pet, breaking her and taking pleasure in it.

Word count: ~3.4k

THIS IS A DEAD DOVE: DO NOT EAT PIECE

tw: NONCON/DUBCON, KNIFE PLAY, BLOOD, spit, degradation, restrains, mentions of death/dead bodies, resistance, r*pe, Orin is literally keeping Minthara as her torture sex slave, dead dove

Pt. 1 below the cut

“I want this one.”

The way she danced across the guilded table tore a hole straight through the idea of comradery that was expected. Candle flames danced in the freezing breeze as her arms and legs contorted with each forward stretch, bones grinding against their sinews as her blade slit throats. Each stroke of her arm called more flames into silence, the welcoming warmth of the room falling victim to her grasp. 

Blood painted the tablecloth shades of glorious red, mouths hanging agape as their heads flew back, hanging on by a thread as the deep cuts severed almost everything that held them there. The smell of heavy iron permeated around the madwoman as she continued her dance of death, smiling wider with each life she ended before her cold hands had cupped Minthara’s cheeks. 

The paralytic agent coursing through her veins was bitter and crisp, fighting against the rage broiling within her. She could do nothing but watch as Orin slayed every assassin she’d taken with her, playing in their blood and innards before her attention was fully focused on her. 

Sharp bits of broken glass scattered across the lake of gore forming on the table, all attendants but that of Ketheric at the opposite end murdered at Orin’s hand. Z’rell stood behind the general, emotionless just as he was as they watched her onslaught. 

The blood of Minthara’s assassin's–the best the house of Menzoberranzan has ever raised–started congealing as it made its way through her elaborate dining plate, off the side of the table, and dripped ever so slowly into her lap. It was thick, warm, and would’ve been comforting had it been someone else's. 

Minthara’s grip on the arms of her chair was frozen in time, her clasp on the edge beginning to dig into the skin of her palm with a sharp pain. Her eyes were the only part of her she still held control over, trying her best not to let them shake as she bore into Orin’s own while she held her cheeks. She could only imagine the shape of her face, the way it must have looked as she swallowed her first sip of wine before refusing to move all together. 

She looked upon the dead who had been sworn to protect her, damning their souls to a bitter hell as she understood the bait she had taken, the game she’d played into just as they’d wanted her to. She looked to Ketheric, hearing his praise of her house and her stature and title with a new mind now. 

She was a fool.

“It doesn’t become you to play with our prey,” Ketheric grumbled from his seat, his platemail clinking as it rubbed against itself while he crossed his legs, tapping an impatient finger on the table. 

“Oh, grandfather spoiling our fun,” she hissed, her breath hot and acidic as it hit Minthara’s face, the smell of decay overwhelming. Orin dropped her hold on her cheeks, crouching on the table like a lioness, her hands covered in the blood of Minthara’s men, making swirls in the lake of it she’d  created. 

“Z’rell, take our prisoner down to–”

“No,” Orin snapped, her neck bending back to glare at Ketheric, “this one is mine. I’m taking her myself.” 

—

Minthara was comfortable, but cold. For a while, she kept her eyes shut, willing every thought out of her head in hopes of being able to once again lose herself in the abyss of nothingness she’d come from. She held that emptiness for just a moment, the peace barely finding her before her sick voice cut through the abating silence. 

“Sweet, sweet lamb,” she sang to her disciple, the stench of death beneath her words. “Primed for precious slaughter, born to be brought to me, born to be butchered, but–”

She felt herself to come to her body beside Orin’s words, the blood working its way through her veins never having felt so sweet. As she struggled to force her body to move, she felt the soft, wet flesh beneath her rubbing against her naked skin.  

Fear invaded her mind then, warm rot worming its way between her skin, inside her very pores, the bed of dead meat she laid upon masking any other thought–any other senses–as she continued to struggle against restraints she couldn’t see. Time seemed to slow as Orin watched her struggle with attentive eyes, drinking in the sight before her. 

The walls dripped with terror as Orin’s cold hands graced Minthara’s body, tentatively getting to know each and every nook and cranny. letting her movements wander the more Minthata seemed to resist. 

“There is so much I’d like to do to you,” Orin whispered, crawling atop the flesh bed Minthara was strapped to, “if only She didn’t have a vision; a plan.”

Each touch sent a jolt through her body, her convulsions against her restraints only forming small bruises the more she pulled. Her mind raced through all of her worst possible fears, the worst torture she’d ever committed on another, the way Orin’s deep red blade looked as it flickered in the dim light, how it’d look while flaying her open…

But she wasn’t trained to give in; she wasn’t taught to let them see her weakness win. 

Fire burnt through her as she realized the mistakes she’d made, those she’d walked straight to their deaths. She could feel the very weight of her house crumbling beneath her, her own life meaning nothing when it finally hung here in the balance. It didn’t matter how afraid she was to die; she wished now it’d come swiftly, knowing the horrors that would await. 

“She calls to me to make you a True Soul,” she said, her sick smile growing wider. She leaned over Minthara, sitting atop her waist, finally daring to meet her gaze, “and so I shall comply.” 

The weight of her cold body descended upon Minthara’s chest like cement pouring through its mould, perfectly meant to sit there yet heavy and nothing but dead weight holding her down. She breathed once, then twice, forcing the air into her lungs as the pressure of Orin seemed to slam into her at all once. 

“She gives me leave to take you,” she giggled, leaning close to Minthara’s ear as she pressed a freezing lip to its shell before nibbling it with the tenderness of a forsaken lover. “Chosen’s favorite True Soul,” she sang, her lilt grating, “butcher’s favorite lamb.”

The pressure on her body shifted, Orin sitting up once again to let her hands gingerly grace across Minthara’s chest, tits, waist. Across her shoulders, collarbones, rubbing against her cheeks. They wouldn’t stop moving, discovering her, testing her, pushing her. The cold feel of her hard knuckle gracing across her exposed clit while it trailed up and down her thighs… 

Minthara’s eyes went wide at the touch, sucking in a deep breath as she understood the extent of her tortue. The fire in her veins began to run cold, fear replacing the furrow in her brow with the thought of being forced to submit to her. She said nothing, but pulled against her restraints. 

Orin’s sick smile only grew, her hands finally ceasing in their wandering as danger flashed in that glint in her eyes, crawling back off of Minthara and finally giving her a moment to catch her breath amongst all the tension. 

She heard the ringing of metal dragging on rock as Orin’s feet made their way around the room, her laugh following each step as she stalked her prey. 

“I’ll make you sing,” she said, stopping her pacing at Minthara’s feet, letting her hands climb their way up her legs but, this time, with intent. “And all will know of the ruin I’ll make of you.”

One dead hand gripped at her plush thigh, the other splayed its fingers through her folds, the hunger in her eyes showing how eager she was to rip her apart from the center. A sharp nail pulled her apart from herself, a yelp finally emerging from Minthara’s core as she shrieked against the sharp pain. 

“Ah, and her voice finds itself,” Orin cooed, sliding two fingers inside before letting her nails sink deep into the thigh she was gripping, holding her leg to the side as she began her rampant assault, letting the soft trickle of blood from the puncture wounds flow over her palm as she plunged her fingers deeper and deeper with each flick of her wrist. 

Minthara’s hips buckled as she winced against the pain, rage finding its way through her again as she resisted the assault. But the more she writhed, the more she moved, the harder Orin would grip, the deeper her fingers would find themselves in not just her cunt, but the flesh of her thigh. 

“I have fun when you fight,” she giggled, leaning down to bite a chunk from her leg and humming to herself as she swallowed the bit, letting the blood drip from her chin as she smiled once again down at her victim. 

Minthara gritted her teeth, clenched her eyes shut tight, and held her breath as she tugged again and again against the chains holding her down, willing for their release and losing herself in the pulsing of the forming bruises; anything was better than the onslaught of her own blood in her cunt, worked over and over by Orin’s unrelenting fingers. 

She held herself in her mind, going over all the potential revenge she would one day inflict before the sharp drag of the blade caught her attention yet again. She stilled herself, shaking her head with what little movement her restraints allowed, the feel of her pussy clenching tight around Orin’s fingers sending a shiver up her spine and a hiss through her lips. 

Orin let out a sickly moan, the feel of her rotting breath swirling through the room around her. The sight of Minthara’s blood as she let her blade glide through the soft purple skin of her thigh seemed to set her off into a spiral nothing could control. 

Her breath became ragged. Her lungs heaved, growing heavy as they filled with the scent of iron. It was a sight to behold just how drunk she became from the pain she could inflict, from the blood staining her hands. Her giggles became resounding laughs, bouncing from each crevice of the stone walls surrounding them. The harder she gripped, the further she dragged her blade, the more lost she seemed to become in her art. 

The more Orin flayed the skin of her legs, the harder she pushed with her fingers, digging one after another inside of Minthara’s cunt. Her steady breaths grew rigid the harder Orin pushed, only fueling her desire to further break her. 

“Who would you have me be?” she asked between her sickening laughs, the feel of her cold hand between Minthara’s folds seeming to change as she heard a low and guttural groan accompanying the stretch and twisting of skin. 

“One of the men you’ve killed, perhaps?” someone else’s voice said, anger and guilt tainting its words as it flicked its fingers inside of her before becoming someone else. 

“Or a sister you’ve fought beside?” she said, the sick power of a dead warrior Minthara once knew causing her breath to falter. 

“Maybe mummy dearest?” The voice was cold and unforgiving, one she knew all too well. Tears started to brim at her eyes as she closed them shut tight, pushing away the fake sound of her fake voice. 

“Your false bitch goddess?” she laughed, her fingers in Minthara’s cunt becoming a sharp claw as it pulled against her insides, her hips bucking forward as the pain seared through her core while she screamed through her tears, only for Orin to change back to the beautifully sick visage of a woman that Minthara knew her to be. 

“Or, perhaps,” she sang, twisting her hand through her mangled folds as she pushed it completely inside, enjoying the way Minthara continued to fight against her while her blood spilled from between her legs, “it’s simply me who you’re most afraid of.” 

Minthara had the briefest of respites as Minthara withdrew her hand to climb atop her once again, the shine of her white skin making her sickly veins more prominent as she straddled her. With her blade in one hand and Minthara’s blood covering the other, she hummed a soft tune as she started rutting her hard length against the blood leaking from her folds. 

She was eager, but patient. Orin took her blade and drew it upon Minthara’s waist, the jagged lines only being deep enough to sting as she worked her way over them once, then twice, then again, the searing tip of her cock pushing at Minthara’s entrance. She writhed there, humming with pleasure as she refused to push herself fully in, getting distracted by the beautiful scarlet lines. Minthara was her canvas, the blade her brush, and each stroke of it brought forth another cry of pain. 

Minthara swore under her breath with each further drag, each soft push, whining as Orin’s cock slowly began pushing itself inside as she took her artist’s weapon and drew a line from her navel to her sternum, pushing harder the further she went. 

“Maybe I’ll claim you for Bhaal,” she said, her other bloody hand grabbing Minthara’s chin, forcing her to look up at her, “making you a vessel for another murderous spawn,” she giggled. “How pleased He’d be to have such… noble lineage intertwined with his own,” she continued her ceaseless laughing. 

The longer she rode her, the hotter the room seemed to become. The smell of the rotting pile of flesh beneath her only grew with each fowl movement made atop it, her own blood seeping between the skin of the already damned. She writhed against the pain of her cunt wrapped around Orin’s seemingly ever growing cock, her blood liberally coating each and flowing amonst the bed of rot they lay upon.

 With each tug of her restraints, each whimper and growl of pain and noncompliance, it only lifted her further and further from herself. Orin’s relentless butchering continued through the layers of flayed skin, over cuts already made and against skin that was barely holding itself together. With each thrust inside of her, her pace quickened, fueled by her desire to wreak havoc upon her. 

Minthara’s legs quivered in the restraints that held them apart, the pounding in her head matching the pressure in her chest; each strained gasp for breath only had her body shaking more, her cries and tears brewing a sweet song when mixed with her strained moans of pleasure. 

Each sound had Orin’s knife making another mark, pulling away more skin. She treated the torture as a reward for her pleasure, of which she couldn’t help but hate herself for not being able to control. As her thighs fought against the restraints to snap shut and failed, Orin’s dagger-sharp grin only growing to see her fight against such a good fuck. 

It was as Orin had taken her chin in her hands yet again, tilting her face forward ever so slightly to watch as the tears dripped from her eyes, that she seemed to slowly come undone. Her breathing–already hitched–folded in on itself, her eyes rolling to the back of her skull as her salty tears stained her cut-ridden chest, stinging as it washed over Orin’s creation. She gritted her teeth the higher she seemed to be thrown, her body convulsing in its chains as Orin rode her through her high. She cried out against her will, Orin’s laugh puncuating her cries. 

While Minthara came hard beneath her, Orin widthdrew her blade. Her eyes glistened as they looked upon the blood dripping from it, her tongue flicking against it quickly at first, then with intent to savor the taste. She smiled down at Minthara, bringing the tip of the blade to her mouth and pressing it against her lip. 

She rolled her hips into hers harder, the throbbing tip of her cock hitting the entrance of her cervix as her walls continued to pulse against it. She swore to herself, cried with how deeply she hated the pleasure she was taking, and the pleasure she was giving. Orin’s quickening pace faltered as she pushed the tip of her blade against Minthara’s lips harder, forcing her to open her mouth. 

“Open,” she commanded behind her angry, crazed smile. Minthara choked through another sob as she convulsed yet again. The bit of blood dripped down her chin as her tongue met the blade. She swalllwed hard against the warm metal, shuddering at the taste of her own acidic blood in her mouth. 

As it was pushed against her tongue, Orin leaned down against her chest, her free hand playing violently in the mess of skin and muscle and blood she’d created, the sting of the feeling driving Minthara to scream out yet again, cursing the woman as she pressed her harder against her bed of flesh beneath them. 

“Sweet pet, sweet…” Orin muttered, her hot breath burning against Minthara’s neck. Her teeth graced her collarbone before gently clamping down, a deep moan falling between Orin’s lips and against Minthara’s bruising skin. 

She let her fingers dig into the cuts she’d made, causing more hot blood to spill across her fingers as Minthara arched her back against the pain. As her tears mixed with more fresh blood, Orin let herself get lost in the taste as her tongue ran rampant over Minthara’s shaking body, another orgasm tearing through her as Orin pushed herself deeper inside  still, finally, finally bottoming out. 

She growled with assurance, the bloood painting her lips and tongue a horrid shade of dark, dark umber as she slammed them into Minthara’s own. forcing her to taste herself again but, this time, from Orin’s tongue. She bit down hard as she explored Minthara’s mouth, gripping her tight as the throbbing of her cock became quicker, harder to fight through. 

“This’ll be the first of many times,” she huffed against the shell of Minthara’s ear, “that I get to spill Bhaal’s seed in you, little lamb,” she groaned, biting down on whatever flesh was closest to her mouth as she came deep inside her, smiling down at the tears she’d drawn out of her.

[keter-kannot]

MINORS DNI

IT'S FINALLY HERE 😫

The Minlach brainrot is,,, SO real. So, so real. You will 100% get more of them: this is only the beginning lmao IVE BECOME A SUB MINTHARA TRUTHER IM SORRY

Summary: Minthara wants to worship Karlach and does. LMAO THATS IT 😭

Word count: ~2.3k

tw: piv, the tiniest bit of breathplay and tears (of pleasure), tieflings have knots i don't make the rules, mentions of scars

Minthara’s eyes grew wide as she watched Karlach undress. 

She was all the majority of the day with Wyll, doing whatever they could in order to rebuild the city after such destruction was wrought by defeating the Absolute. Somehow, although Minthara seemed to find a sort of comfort in the desolate chaos of destruction, knowing that Karlach was rebuilding what was once her home brought a soft bit of warmth to her heart the more she pondered the idea. 

She didn’t want to seem too eager to help, but offered her small suggestions where she felt it was appropriate. The sooner the city was rebuilt, the sooner the two of them would start building their own home; a new home made just for them. Something they could grow their love in. 

As she watched her now, though, there was something standing on edge inside of her. Her wires started winding around themselves as her eyes continued to drink in the sight before her, unable to tear her gaze away. 

Her lips moved ever so slightly, soft words fluttering out before she caught herself. 

“Y… you…”

Karlach smirked as she chuckled a bit to herself, raising an eyebrow as she managed to unlace the front of her dirty tunic, slick with sweat and sticking to her body, perfectly hugging the honed muscle underneath. 

“What was that?” Karlach asked with a smile, an air of nonchalance about her as she grabbed the hem of her shirt with either hand, pulling the fabric away and lifting it up over her head, making sure not to get any bits or bobs stuck on her horn. 

Minthara’s response was an urgent gasp followed by a hard swallow. She could feel herself salivating as she watched Karlach from behind, her gaze searing as it lingered upon her bare back. 

She drank in what she saw, watching the way her muscles would move and clench and shift with each lift of an arm or twist to the side. Her vibrant skin, glowing from beneath, ruminated with a heat that she swore she could feel even from where she sat. The ridges of her spine leading down to meet her tail was an intricate pattern Minthara felt as though she could get lost in.

 And, oh, her scars. 

Proof of battle after battle fought and won, victim and foe conquered with the strength of a warrior showing off her talents, someone practiced in the art of being cut and cutting back. The way they crossed atop one another, shaped one another, became an intermingling story of Karlach’s defiant triumphs and much deserved victories…

Minthara felt something stir within her, Karlach’s body the perfect sign of strength and fortitude. She watched as Karlach continued to peel off first one boot, then the next, stretching this way and that to work out her tired joints. Each movement was made with purpose, Minthara’s hungry eyes eating each one. There was a tiny quiver in her lips as she fought against the urge to lick them, feeling this driving motivation in her core to get on her knees and worship the godlike woman before her. 

“Minthy?” Karlach chuckled, her smile still bright as ever and radiating that comforting warmth Minthara never tired of. 

She sat a bit straighter, blinked one, then twice, folding her hands in her lap and closing her mouth which she hadn’t realized was hanging open. 

“I–Yes?” 

She blushed. She still wasn’t used to being caught feeling things, even if it was by the person who taught her to feel them. 

Karlach turned, facing her. She smiled down at her, her eyebrow still raised as she took a small step forward, slowly starting to work the ties of her pants undone. 

Minthara couldn’t help but to squeeze her thighs a bit tighter together as she watched Karlach tower over her, the heat radiating from her wet body all but calling to her as she continued to stare. She could smell her sweat as it glistened off her skin in the dim firelight, drooling at the thought of licking her clean.

Karlach laughed, clicking her tongue. “Are you alright?” 

She nodded, looking away for a second only to not bIe able to keep her gaze aside for very long and turning back to face her. Was she… flustered? Blushing, squirming, eyes darting around the room, only to land on Karlach’s pulsing body calling to her to… to…

“You’re…” her breath caught in her throat, her eyes glistening with the wonder of the sight before her, “otherworldly,” she muttered, her breath hot,”the perfect image of strength, dedication, fearlessness…” her voice trailed off. 

Karlach involuntarily flexed, her abs tightening as she took another step towards the drow, her hand gingerly stroking the silken hair on her head as she looked up at her with infatuation. 

Karlach chuckled with the way Minthara seemed to push herself into her touch, the need in her eyes only growing at the touch she so desperately wanted. Karlach couldn’t keep the smirk from spreading as she reached for one of Minthara’s hands, ever so slowly taking it to grace upon her skin, snaking slowly across her waist, up her chest, across each warm tit and over her shoulder. 

“While I love the flattery,” she smiled, sucking in a hot breath as Minthara’s fingers graced her nipple, “there’s no need for it, princess,” she cooed. 

Minthara’s mouth hung agape once again, Karlach’s hot breath hitting her tongue as she tried to swallow the taste. Her fingers ran across her hot skin, tracing each scar and dancing along each divot. She watched herself play gently with Karlach’s body, too stunned by the idea of getting to touch the very thing she’d grown to worship between her fingers. 

As her stomach turned over itself once again, another hot flush made its way to her cheeks, and something within her finally fell into place. 

“I want to devote myself to you,” she said, meeting Karlach’s adoring gaze with her own hungry one. “I look at you and see… I see someone worthy of being called Valsharess.” 

She slunk from her seat on the bed to the hard wooden floor beneath them, gently settling on her knees as she let a hand trail up Karlach’s leg, her eyes still focused on her lover’s.

“I see proof of all the battles you’ve fought, of all the ways you’ve suffered marked upon your skin,” she all but whispered, leaning her head against Karlach’s leg for a moment, letting her tongue grace her skin for just a second as she shuddered. 

“You’ve earned more than my respect,” she said, looking back up to meet Karlach’s eyes yet again and, this time, seeing the fire of need burning within them. “Let me worship you.”

Karlach’s pants were around her ankles, her eyes flaring with the underlight of a brewing barbarian’s rage, her lust coursing through her veins like the hot fire beating through her heart. 

“I…” she stammered, already growing hard at the sight of her precious lover looking up at her with wide, expectant eyes, waiting so patiently to serve her. “My princess,” she all but growled, “please, you don’t have to–”

Minthara let her hand keep trailing up her thigh, tracing over the few scars she found there with the softest touch of her fingertips. She was already lost to the woman she wanted to pleasure, her breath hot and low as she let out a quiet mutter while letting her hand finally make its way to her shaft. 

“Let me.” 

Karlach’s hands shook as she fought herself from letting them grab hold of her right then and there, letting the knot slowly building at her base take hold as she relentlessly pounded into her mouth. She didn’t, though. She let Minthara’s silken hands start making a slow pace, both wrapped around her cock, neither able to wrap themselves entirely around it. Her lips graced her tip, a shudder running up her spice as she leaned forward, a deep groan escaping her lips. 

“Let me serve you,” Minthara whispered, her breath against Karlach’s hot, supple skin making her shiver and moan more, her eyes wide as she watched Minthara keep eye contact while taking the whole tip of her in her mouth. 

She trembled, taking a shaking hand to the back of Minthara’s head and letting it press just ever so gently, guiding her forward just a bit and seeing the eager willingness in her eyes, then pushing just a bit more

Her moans were short and breathy as she watched her head begin to bob up and down, her mouth stuffed full of even just half of Karlach, the tiniest bit of drool starting to drip from the sides of her mouth. 

She pulled herself away, letting her hands continue their work as she squirmed where she knelt, her cheeks flushed as she gasped for a quick breath. 

“Let me be nothing,” she panted, already heady as she pulled in another breath, “but a vessel to serve you.”

Her mouth met Karlach’s tip again, her tongue dancing over its ridges as she took it further into her mouth. Her hands traced lost patterns over the scars of her legs and waist as she pushed herself further, Karlach’s hand guiding her movements as a little gag escaped her. 

Karlach couldn’t help but to throw her head back and let out the breath she’d been holding, the deep and guttural moan coming along with it only encouraging Minthara more. She seemed to wriggle a bit as she picked up her pace, knowing she was pleasing Karlach only heightening her need to please her more. 

“Gods,” Karlach panted, smiling as she let out a huff, “you’re perfect.”

Minthara hummed against her cock, a hard hiss leaving Karlach’s mouth as she felt the way it went straight to her core. She looked down for a moment, seeing Minthara pushed hard against her hips, tears beginning to brim at the edges of her eyes as she gagged on the full length of her forced down her throat. 

Karlach released the hard grip she didn’t know she’d had on her hair, letting her stumble back just a bit as she gasped for a deep breath. 

She dripped concern as she dropped to her own knees, eyes wide with panic as she lifted Minthara’s chin ever so slightly. 

“I… I’m sorry, I didn’t mean–”

Minthara smiled, a faint trail of a few stray tears having dripped down her cheeks, drool dripping from the corner of her mouth before she licked it away with her tongue. There was a brief flash of hunger in her eyes before they shone again with her desire to worship, pushing herself against a naked Karlach as her lips met her own. 

Karlach’s arms wrapped gently around her waist, but gripped her just a bit tighter as Minthara kissed her with a fierce desire. She let her take the lead as she’d asked, Minthara climbing quickly into her lap and rocking her hips against Karlach’s hard length. 

Karlach gripped her hips at that, a growl ruminating from deep within her as she finally felt the hard release of her knot popping against Minthara’s warm thighs, the fire blazing in her eyes only growing when she looked up to see Minthara smirking down at her. 

She bent down just slightly, her breath gracing against the shell of Karlach’s ear, “Use me, Valsharess,” she whispered. 

Karlach gripped her hips with fierce purpose, lifting her to line up her swollen cock with her entrance before plunging deep inside, pulling Minthara down hard and letting out a grumble as she watched her smile widen, her brows furrow, and her head throw back in pleasure. 

She couldn’t help but to start with a relentless pace, lifting her just enough only to slam her hips against her own again and again. As Minthara’s hair became undone, she leaned towards her, moaning her thanks for being used against Karlach’s hot skin, lapping up her beads of sweat as they formed and tracing her scars as she was pumped into again and again. 

She whined as she smiled in pleasure, using her mouth and tongue to kiss and trace and suck and bite each and every inch of her skin that she could get her lips to touch. 

“My matron,” she muttered between her moans and cries that began a sweet song as they mixed with Karlach’s own, “my queen,” she breathed, her tongue working its way up the center of her chest. 

“My warrior,” she stuttered, Karlach’s knot fully working its way inside her as she quickened her pace, making sure to savor the way Minthara looked while serving her so well. 

“My God,” Minthara cried into her skin, wrapping her arms around her back and letting them run rampant over every part of her that she wished to praise.

Karlach chased her release with purpose, each slap of their hips meeting resounding in the small room, creating a harmonious rhythm. She let Minthara’s hands explore her, her heat only growing with each gentle stroke, every sensitive touch. Each word that left her lips only fueled her more, her growling matching Minthara’s moans of praise and worship. 

Minthara left messy, drool-stained kisses up Karlach’s burning chest, over her shoulder, up her neck. “Cum for me,” she breathed as her lips met her ear yet again, “deep inside,” her breath hitched, “and mark me as yours, forever to serve you.” 

Karlach pulled Minthara harder against her as she felt herself growing higher, higher, then plummeting down hard, her cum painting Minthara’s insides as she twitched and shivered beneath her, only gripping her harder as she breathed hard against her. 

Minthara let Karlach hold her there for a moment before ever so gently rolling her hips against hers as she gripped tighter at her skin, another hot hiss escaping Karlach’s mouth as every muscle in her body tightened at the sensation. 

“I’m yours,” Minthara muttered.

“Mine,” Karlach smiled.