Kinktober 2026 - A Collection

CONTEXT: From an upcoming potential project: Wolfblood. A dark folk romantasy. The Veldraya (wolfblood) use blood for their magic, be it the death of an animal or human. The Sevmazh (fruitflesh) sacrifice the land or crops for their magic. The two groups do not trust one another and are in active conflict... Tsenra was captured by Ruvan and has been locked in his cellar for several days.

TRIGGER WARNINGS: Fantasy Bigotry, Interrogation, Mentioned Murder, NonCon Object Insertion, Unsafe Sex Act

KINKS: Dacryphilia, Object Insertion, Whipping

Ruvan shut the heavy cellar door behind him. The Veldraya was chained to the far wall, stripped down to her boots and wolf pelt—silver-gray fur draped over her shoulders like a cloak. She did not need more protection: unholy heat radiated from her, the blood of The Stranger in her veins.

Rage and heartache lanced through Ruvan’s belly. This could have ended before it began, had he let the wolfsbane do its work. His father might still be alive. He would still be Ruvan Teskin. Instead of just Ruvan.

“The little healer, all grown up. Authority looks good on you,” the creature rasped.

Her eyes caught the light of his lamp, a flat golden shine.

“If you have enough energy to talk, you can answer my questions,” Ruvan’s fingers drifted down to the handle of the whip at his hip, “Tell me: why did you kill my father?”

Her teeth where sharp and white in the shadows, “You do not command me, Sevmazh.”

Crack!

The whip made an ugly sound as it met her flesh. Thighs. Belly. Breasts. Even the thin skin of her cheek, which opened up and filled the room with the iron scent of blood. Red ran over her trembling jaw and spasming throat. And still, she did not speak. Not even a whimper.

Ruvan’s grip tightened on the handle of the whip, feeling the leather bite into his palm. He turned it hin his hand, spitting down on it as he strode forwards. Forcing his knee between her legs, he watched those flat, cold eyes go wide.

Her mouth opened in a silent scream when he thrust the warm leather deep inside of her.

Ruvan fucked her in short, ugly movements. He waited and watched for the moment she would break. It never came. Even when his thumb found her clit and he felt the first traces of wet heat. This close up, he could smell the woods on her. The image of her blurred and swam. Trails of salt ran down his cheeks. But when she leaned forward and licked the mess from his flesh, he ripped the handle from inside of her. It was abandoned at her feet. Raw, raging, and harder than he had ever been—Ruvan turned towards the door.

“You’re still too soft, fruit-flesh,” The creature purred.

Her laughter haunted him, even as he slammed the door and locked it.