#anyway first fic of pervtober woo 🎉

[cringecannon]

Hello not me sliding in to your ask box because I read your tag about Orin woundfucking and it reminded me of a long time ago commissioning a fic with skullfuckng in it. Sure Orin doesn't have a cock to shove in your ruined eyeholes but she'll put her fingers and tongue to work 👀👀👀

Tis the season and all that. I should’ve called this Orintober. Anyway, Orin typical grossness. You’ve been warned!

You wake, but you don’t see. You know you’re still in the temple. The cold, damp stone of the floor bites against your bare legs, rough edges scratching at already aching limbs. The smell of blood and viscera and decay invades your sense, overwhelming and all-consuming. Your face feels wet and sticky, licking your lips confirms your suspicion- metallic and unmistakable. The hands skimming up your sides are unmistakable too. You’d know the feel of them anywhere, even without her erratic giggling and frenzied breath. She’s excited about something. That’s never a good sign. The tip of her nose presses into your neck as slim fingers cup your blood-slick cheek. Her fingers twitch a bit as they creep towards your eye and you flinch instinctively. You can hear the grin in her voice as they creep closer, and closer, and closer, and then- nothing. Where eye should be her fingers meet nothing, and your heart drops to your stomach.

Pretty thing. So pretty. A gift. This is a gift. You wanted to be somewhere else, anywhere else, and she obliged. Aren’t you lucky? Her other hand slips between your thighs, lips kissing along your neck between words. Sporadically, randomly. No rhyme or reason. So lucky. So perfect. You don’t have to be here now, you can hide. Hide in the dark. Tucked away, slipped away.

Her fingers tease along the edges of your eye socket, smearing blood all the way around the hole. She dips a single finger in experimentally and you flinch. Instinct, again. You’re numbed. Not physically, mind you. She’d never be that kind. You can feel every ridge of her finger tip as it strokes along the inner wall. You try to take her advice, zone out and go somewhere else in your mind. It’s no mercy. Death consumes your mind. Wishing, praying, hoping beyond hope she’ll get bored and finally let you go.

No such luck. Your only warning is an erratic laugh that transitions to a low moan as she dips her tongue into the eye socket. Her hand drifts up to your other empty socket, fingers sinking in and going deeper, deeper, until they press against the back wall of it. You’re in such shock you don’t feel it at first, but another brush against the ruined flesh and it sends a jolt of horrible pain through you. You clench your teeth just in time to bite back a groan, an instant headache clouding your thoughts. You find only the smallest mercies in this state. At least she’ll never get the pleasure of seeing you cry again.