Kinktober 2025
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Midnight finds you in the supply closet like some desperate thief.
Because apparently, good sense is another casualty of this fixation.
The rope feels different here- heavier, more substantial. You brace against the shelving and attempt another configuration, sweat beading as you fumble through increasingly complex knots.
Pathetic doesn’t even begin to cover it.
Or; watching Captain Price tie a knot becomes an obsession
Kinktober 1: Bondage
Series
- Part 1 of Kinktober 2025
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You push him first- palms to his chest, teeth bared. He catches your wrists, slams them to metal above your head, pinning you with the lazy strength of a man who never doubts he’ll win. You buck; he cages you closer. Your noses nearly bump. His eyes go bright and mean.
You swallow rage like whiskey. “I hate you.”
His mouth curves. “Good. Hate me with your legs open.”
Or; Kinktober 2: Breath Play with Bully!Graves
Series
- Part 2 of Kinktober 2025
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Keegan is the kind of man who makes rules and then waits for you to break them just so he can punish you for it later.
He isn’t loud about anything. He doesn’t posture, doesn’t gloat, doesn’t even breathe hard when you start to break. He just… watches you. Decides. And then does whatever he wants with your body until the lesson sinks bone deep.
Tonight the lesson is simple: you don’t come unless he says so.
Or; Kinktober Day 3: Orgasm Denial
Series
- Part 3 of Kinktober 2025
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They don’t give you time to enjoy the small victory.
“If she wants better, let’s give it to her. Mask her,” Price says, and a blindfold drops like mercy and cruelty married: the thick cloth pulled down over your eyes so the world disappears while your mouth is left to the air. Foam cups settle over your ears and the room collapses into hush. Your breath is your own weather. The chair. Your wrists. The press of zip ties. Hands you can’t see.
The dark is soft as velvet.
Silence sits on your ears like a held breath.
And then a thumb brushes your hipbone and you jolt, breath caught, the sound swallowed by foam around your ears.
Or; you’re captured by the 141 and interrogated.
Or; Kinktober: Sensory Deprivation
Series
- Part 4 of Kinktober 2025
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Summary
You’ve felt boar stumble near the mouth of the cavern sometimes, watched them blink at the light and run. You’ve watched frogs sit on your palm, their translucent bellies ticking. You’ve learned the humming language of the plants and the shapes the river makes when it’s pleased. But a man- warm and loud and alive- you only knew from bones the water polished into stories.
You’ve never seen anything like him.
Or; Soap falls into a glowing cavern beneath the jungle and meets something that looks human, feels divine, and doesn’t plan to let him leave.
Or; Kinktober: Sex Pollen
Series
- Part 5 of Kinktober 2025
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Simon Riley has an aversion to touch, but god, he wants to touch you. Years of training made him quiet. Months of wanting made him stupid.
Or, Kinktober: Knife Play
Series
- Part 6 of Kinktober 2025
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Summary
After, silence, except for your breathing. Usually this is where men go soft. He doesn’t. He stays heavy in your hand, overfull, sensitive to pain and pleasure at once, pulsing against your palm like his body refuses to accept the idea of finished.
“Still with me?” You ask, amused and sweet.
“Ja,” he says, wrecked. Panic edges in. “I am…still. I am sorry, I- ”
“Don’t apologize,” you say, and lick him slow, from base to tip, a filthy benediction that wipes the word from his mouth. “Lucky me.”
Or; Virgin!König with hyperspermia
Or; Kinktober: Glory Hole
Series
- Part 7 of Kinktober 2025
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They test you in small ways. A hand on the small of your back that lingers. Sitting too close during briefings, shoulders pressed against yours. Comments that could be innocent or could be invitations, depending on how you choose to hear them. Each time you don’t pull away, don’t object, don’t call it what it might be, you feel something shift inside you.
The lamb learning to ignore the scent of wolves.
Or, Kinktober: Sharing / Corruption Kink
Series
- Part 8 of Kinktober 2025
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Soap should’ve died tonight. Instead, he comes home fever warm and chasing proof that he’s still alive- and something to leave behind if luck runs out next time.
Or, Kinktober: Creampie / Breeding
Series
- Part 9 of Kinktober 2025
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Summary
Price sits hot and heavy inside you, seated deep, stuffed to the hilt, the blunt, burning stretch locked in place by the weight of his palms between your shoulder blades, the other braced easy on the desk blotter where a half finished after action report waits for signatures.
“Since you can’t keep your hands to yourself,” Price says without looking up from the file, “you can keep my cock warm while I work.”
Or; Kinktober: Cock Warming
Series
- Part 10 of Kinktober 2025
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You whisper his name, cracked and half mad, and the sound seems to tremble through the wood like an offering.
He fills the doorway, forearms braced high, nothing hurried about him. Eyes rake over you: flushed throat, blown pupils, the way your thighs can’t decide between together and apart. His mouth curves.
“Look at you,” he drawls. “Heat-drunk little omega, crawling on my floors.”
Or; Kinktober: A/B/O / Degradation
Series
- Part 11 of Kinktober 2025
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Nikolai doesn’t look at his card. “Tell me something true,” he says, almost lazy. “I’ll return the favor.”
“Like what?”
“Like your favorite sin.”
You huff, incredulous. “Pass.”
“Mm.” He knocks a chip forward with a gloved knuckle. “Then I’ll start. Mine is patience.” His knee nudges yours under the table, a precise, claiming touch. “I like making a pretty little cunt ache without a single touch until it’s wet enough to shine.”
Kinktober: Dirty Talk
Series
- Part 12 of Kinktober 2025
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“Good girl. We’ll raise the pressure. If you can keep your words while I’m trying to take ’em, you can keep ’em while a dozen bored bastards count your breaths.”
Heat blooms low and you nod.
“Atta girl.”He bolts the door. He doesn’t rush, he never does, and that’s why you trust him. He sets you where he wants you with the calm of a man laying out kit: elbows braced either side of the folio, skirts rucked high, his belt hanging open. His palms settle on your hips, warm weight; his breath finds your ear.
“Stay still.”Or; Kinktober: Distracted Sex feat. Tutor!Price
Series
- Part 13 of Kinktober 2025
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Summary
You peel the tape in slow, careful inches. He doesn’t make a sound, but his shoulders tighten. Lateral flank, deep graze stitched neat, the surrounding skin still angry but clean. You flood the pad with saline, tip your head, blot with gauze and patience. He watches your hands, not the wound.
“Does it sting?”
“Nah.” Beat. “A bit.”
You smile. “Nearly done. This looks like it hurt.”
Ghost huffs, aims for light and misses. “Add it to the collection,” he mutters. “Another disgusting mark for a bloke who looks like a patchwork dog.”
You freeze.
Or; Kinktober: Sthenolagnia / Body Worship
Series
- Part 14 of Kinktober 2025
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“Aaand that’s four, love.”
He says it against your clit, voice all warm velvet and terrible patience, and the wand buzzes where his thumb pins it, a high mean hum that makes your thighs shake over his shoulders. Your hips jolt away; he follows, mouth sealing around your poor sensitive clit where he sucks and your head throws back against the pillows with a sob.
Or; Kinktober: Overstimulation
Series
- Part 15 of Kinktober 2025
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You’re already in his lap when the door swings without a knock. Four Shadows step in on momentum and then freeze on the spot. Phones, folders, mission faces. Then: you, sundress rucked up, Graves buried in you under his desk nameplate, your thighs braced on either side of his hips in his chair while you ride him slow and greedy.
“Sweetheart,” he murmurs against your neck, voice private and wicked, “we got company.”
You don’t stop. You bite your lip and give a little roll that makes his breath punch your mouth. Then you look over his shoulder at the line of men and smile, soft and dangerous, eyes wet eyed and wicked. “Don’t send them away,” you tell him, still moving. “I like them watching.”
Or; Kinktober: Exhibitionism
Series
- Part 16 of Kinktober 2025
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Summary
“Alright, love.” He checks the framing on Cam 1, glances at your reflection in the mirror, then at your face. “Last notes: I steer. They can suggest. If you hate a suggestion, I ignore it. If something’s off, you touch my wrist twice.” He catches your hand, taps the inside of your wrist to show you where he wants the signal. “You’re not a prop. You’re the point.”
You swallow. “Understood.”
“Good girl.” It lands like heat. “You ready to make ‘em pay through the nose?”
You laugh; it shakes. “God, yes.”
He smiles, half wolf, half warmth, and hits Go Live.
Or; Kinktober: Mirror Sex (feat. Pornstar!Price)
Series
- Part 17 of Kinktober 2025
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“Braves Mädchen,” he coos, condescending in that indulgent way that turns your bones to warm water. A drag of his knuckles down your throat. “Sweet little mouth.”
He feeds you half an inch, then another to start, letting your mouth ease onto his girth. Saliva slicks and strings; he follows a thread with his thumb, smearing it back across your bottom lip like gloss.
Or; Kinktober prompt: Face / Throat Fucking
Series
- Part 18 of Kinktober 2025
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Summary
The first press is only the head, just enough to part you and rest there. He lets the heat get acquainted, the ache spread to a throb, your muscles think this is happening, and then he pushes slow, slow, a steady, greedy slide that takes two breaths and every ounce of patience he’s got. You don’t startle; your mouth opens a little more; your fingers soften in the sheet. He fits all the way in with a low, helpless noise and doesn’t move.
“Fuckin’ hell,” he says, almost soundless. He sets his palm at your belly, covers you there like he can keep his own heat from spilling out just by holding it in. “Good, yeah? S’hard not to wake ye up and tell ye how good it is.”
Or; Kinktober prompt: Somnophilia feat. Incubus!Soap
Series
- Part 19 of Kinktober 2025
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Summary
Another cube. This one travels the ridge of your collarbone, settles for a beat in the dip between them, then draws a slow line downward. Your mouth opens. She follows the track of the sweat that was there, pressing the ice along the path as it melts over sternum, between your breasts, into the shallow bowl of heat pooled at your belly. Your hips twitch when the meltwater trickles into the band of your waistband.
Valeria sees and you see something click.
“Ah.” Her mouth tips. “Te gusta.” You like it.
The cube thins. She slides the slick flat under the edge of your sports bra and circles a nipple once, twice. The cold bites; the air bites harder. Your back bows against the hot chair; your breath tears, a whimpering moan spilling past cracked lips. Her eyes go heavy and pleased.
Or; Kinktober prompt: Temperature Play
Series
- Part 20 of Kinktober 2025