#d.darling's kinktober 2020

[delldarling]

good ideas | nileas

kinktober teaser ; day twenty-three merman x gender neutral reader 405 words lemon | fingering, bites, neck fixation, mentions of cloaca and an ovipositor (patreon rating includes the above, as well as: eggs! + citrus/lime-ish art)

The blanket was a good idea. Nileas had argued that it wasn’t, trying, and failing, not to be obvious about the smirk stretching his lips. He’d let you spread the thing out anyway, lounging in the shallow eddies, lamplight eyes tracking your every move. You’d known it was going to get damp, soaked even, had been planning on it. It wasn’t meant to keep you warm—though you wouldn’t complain about some extra insulation—but it would be useful as a barrier between your face and the sand. Better to have a bit of damp material sticking to your cheek than sand scratching your skin and crusting the shell of your ear again. 

Not that you need to worry about your face in the sand tonight. His left arm is banded around your throat, a chokehold that lacks ill intent. Your cheek is pressed tight against his bicep, the viridian green of his skin a dark grey in the low light, flashing silver whenever he adjusts. “I never thought humans would be so soft,” he rasps against the back of your neck, ignoring your panting as he pumps his fingers into you. He doesn’t need to prep you this way, not with how slick his ovipositor, his cock is whenever it slides free of his cloaca, sticky and warm. Nileas’ likes it though, the way you moan, the way your feet arch, the way you clench, trying to rock back against him.

 “You say that every time,” you grunt, half wishing you could see his face. For how rough he can be, Nileas always looks wrecked whenever he finally slides himself into you. His jaw clenches, the fins that crest the crown of his head, the ones at his temples, flaring and going limp. You’d been nervous, the first time, about how you’d both rushed, about the thought of his eggs being pumped into you. His tail slaps against the receding waves and you rock back, wishing the sand wouldn’t give so completely under your knees.

“I mean it, every time. Inside and out,” he says, thrusting his fingers as far in as he can. He scissors them, a low laugh escaping him as you gasp and strain, wanting more than he’s ready to give just yet. Nileas scrapes his needle-sharp teeth against the top of your spine, and then drags his thick tongue over the faint sting, groaning with pleasure at the taste of your skin.

[delldarling]

mi cridhe | morven

kinktober teaser ; day thirty male werewolf x gender neutral reader 410 words citrus | sleepy naked fluff (rating on patreon is as follows: lemon | knotting, sleepy sex, half shifted werewolf, established relationship, hint of Morven being ‘older’)

The bed dips near your feet, mattress creaking and slowly settling. There’s a soft shush of noise, a rustling, and then the bed dips again near your thigh. You’re warm and tired and not entirely awake, but even so, you recognize your name whispered in the dark. You recognize his voice, even with the edge of a growl accompanying every syllable, the low timbre he’s graced with every time he changes. The beginning of a smile tugs at your mouth, but turns into a yawn. Morven huffs, giving up on stealth, and flops down next to you. His bulk makes you bounce, makes you clutch to your pillow as the bed settles. The scent of the forest is heavy on him, the crispness of having just come in from the cold, crushed pine and freshly turned earth… And underneath all of that is the familiar tang of his shampoo.

You crack open an eyelid. 

Morven is limned with moonlight filling the window, elongated fingers just shy of touching your elbow. He looks like he’s been brushed with quicksilver, grey and white fur catching the light a bit too brightly for your tired eyes to focus on. When your eye falls shut, Morven finally reaches for you. His fingertips are caught between wolf and humanoid, thickly calloused, but with the give of paw pads. The drag of his fingers, of his hardened nails over your bare shoulder, makes you shiver. If he wasn't lying on top of the blankets, you probably would have tugged them back up to your chin.

“Open your eyes,” he coaxes, and that heavy voice of his makes you sigh. You’ve done things on reflex, listening to that lovely voice, but you’re a little too tired to hop to it. 

“‘M sleeping,” you mutter, half turning your face into the pillow, but that only makes Morven huff again. 

“You began to wake as soon as you heard me at the door, rabbit. Let me in?” He asks, hooking a finger in the blankets. He won’t pull them off, not at this time of night, not with how chilly his house is. Morven lowers his voice, leaning close, blocking the moonlight from your face. “Please?” He rumbles, a single finger stretching so his claw will drag over bare skin. Your heart skips and you have to bite down on the smile that wants to spring out. You open an eye again. 

“You’re the one lying on the sheets.”

[delldarling]

charging | bower

kinktober teaser ; day twelve male coded robot/construct x male reader 447 words lime | multiple dicks, a mildly bratty robot (Patreon rating includes the above, and as follows: double penetration)

“Solar charging is useless in this weather,” Bower explains, as if he truly thinks he has to convince you. His copper fingers, gone slightly blue and green at the tips with a fine patina, smooth over your knees. There are pressure pads installed where fingerprints would be, and you can’t deny that the steady click of them registering when he strokes his hand over your skin is strangely charming. “If I’m to be of any use to you,” he continues, stilted words pausing as he takes an artificial breath, “then I’ve calculated that this will be the optimal-”

“Bower,” you interrupt, trying not to grin outright and embarrass him. He would deny it, but you know he would sulk later if he thought for even a moment that you were trying to make fun of him. “You don’t need to persuade me. I’m here already, aren’t I?” You’re braced against the desk in your study, legs spread so he can settle between them—you’re definitely not planning on going anywhere else right now.

He’s been doing plenty of persuading as it is. As soon as the weather turned cold and gray, heavy mist rolling through the forest, he’d brought up friction plates for charging, and the multiple ways in which they could be used. Enjoyed. It hadn't been a hard sell, though Bower had done more than a fair amount of research to back up his claims.

“I’ve seen your research. And I rather think it’s time to show me what the friction plates are capable of, hm?” 

Bower’s faceplate is made of thick, darkly colored glass. He’s never been fond of having a humanoid faceplate, of sharing features that he doesn’t feel are his, but your suggestion sets off a chain reaction. Excited and nervous both, his faceplate grows darker, tints an inky black, the bioluminescent plants housed behind the plate suddenly flooding with softly glowing light. The faint shape of the leaves and delicate vines look like swirling stars—and then you gasp. Bower is gentle, but he’s still rutting against your ass, the friction plated charger already slick with warmed lube. You have to breathe deep to keep yourself still, excitement so sharp it’s nearly painful, even though Bower’s movements and the charger itself remain slow and gentle. He gives you a moment, waits for your eyes to unfocus and your hips to roll before he speakers again.

“Shall I show you both of them?” Bower asks then, and his voice takes on a mildly smug tone as he presses the head of the charger a little harder against your hole, thrusting shallowly to get the friction plates started.

Air leaves you in a rush. “Both?”

[delldarling]

minutiae | harnish

kinktober teaser ; day three male incubus x transmale reader 490 words lime-ish | wanting, impatience, use of the nickname pet (rating on patreon is as follows: lemon |  nipple play (pinching, sucking), piercings (not the act, simply having them), dirty talk)

Incubi can shift, can mold their appearance as easily as changing clothes. Harnish is no exception. The minutiae of his figure ripples out of the corner of your eye whenever you accompany him down the street, his nature reacting to the desires of those passing by. The spice of his power lingers in the air, just barely thick enough to taste. The changes wrought in him never last—his loyalty is fierce when he chooses to give it—and the only person he’s shown any interest in since the month prior is you. He keeps his own features in your presence ; his sharp smile, the warm amber of his eyes, and acts strangely delighted by your reaction to his true face. It isn’t as if you haven’t seen the real him before, but..

You understand how it feels, when someone sees the real you. How bright they make you feel. The overwhelming desire to find every- any excuse to touch them. Harnish is the same.

His hands always manage to touch yours, sweetly, intimately, if you hand him something. His touch lingers when he claims that your collar is crooked or that your tag is out. He presses in if you so much as graze him with a knuckle, eyes gone heavy lidded and dark- but he never kisses you. Not unless you’re home. Not unless the doors are locked and you’re feeling well. Not unless the both of you have hours at your disposal. You want the kiss though, sometimes, even though you know it’s ill advised. A little peck on the cheek or warm display of welcome in front of others. You like the thought of it, even though you wouldn’t dare ask him for one. 

You know all too well that an Incubus’ kiss is a double edged sword, and you’ve no desire to fall prey to desire in front of anyone else. It’s still hard to resist the constant temptation, some days more than others. It’s been like a distant ache in the back of your brain for most of the afternoon, only barely ignored because you’ve been focused on getting your errands finished. Harnish has been no better.

He’s been pressed against your side, flush from shoulder to hip, for the better part of an hour. His fingers are always warm, but now that the promise of home is close, they’re blazing, seeping through the layers of your clothes. Your keys are beginning to feel like a heavy stone in your pocket, weighing down every single step, and the way he keeps looking at you- You attempt to tug, discreetly, at the collar of your shirt, but Harnish notices, amber eyes following the slow descent of your hand back to your side.

“I rather suggest we hurry,” Harnish murmurs, and his voice alone is enough to make your eyelids grow heavy, desire as tangible as the keys in your pocket. “My patience is wearing very thin, pet.”

[delldarling]

with you | sorsell

kinktober teaser ; day fifteen male orc x male reader 455 words sfw | a declaration, a hint of pining (Patreon rating is as follows: lemon | adrenaline, mild overstimulation, frotting)

For a moment, just a moment, the unyielding strength of Sorsell’s hands feels too much like shackles. The weight of his grip, of his arm, muscles tense as he yanks you along by the wrist, makes you want to halt, to pull back on his hold and let panic take over. Sense sweeps back into your mind when he glances over his shoulder though, the gold of his eyes absolutely piercing in his dark face. Part of you wonders if he knew. Could he feel the drag of your feet, the anxiety in your limbs? 

You know those eyes though. You know the way they look in the early hours of dawn, heavy lidded and soft. You know the near tangible weight of them, following you whenever you cross a room. You’re safe now. More than safe, whenever he’s within reach.

He takes a corner too fast, bouncing off the opposite wall and pulling you along with him like a ragdoll, nearly upending you. He drops your wrist, arm curling around your midsection to keep you from falling onto your face, and keeps running, lungs heaving with the force of his breath. 

“Sor,” you choke out, holding tight to his forearm, the toes of your boots just barely skimming the cobblestone. The shouts and chorus of following feet is gone now. “Sor, we’re-we’re good! They’re-” 

You know he hears you, some of the street peddlers are staring—some smiling momentarily before they straighten their faces, not wanting to attract the attention of the guard—but he still isn’t reacting. He ducks under a low hanging awning over a set of mildly familiar stairs and takes them three at a time, grunting with the effort. He all but bursts through the door at the top, slamming it closed behind him, and then carefully sets you on your feet. His uneven hair is a riot around his face, caught on the rings in his pointed ears.

“That was too close,” he mutters, wiping a hand over his sweating brow, pacing to the opposite wall. Dust billows with every step, trailing his feet like little storm clouds, leaving behind scuffed boot prints. “I thought we agreed that-” Sorsell turns and then stops, staring at your shocked face. His shoulders are still hitching, adrenaline thick in his veins. “What?”

“This is your place.”

Sorsell curses, gritting his teeth, and then crosses the room in barely two strides, seizing you by the shoulders. His pupils are blown, jaw working as he struggles to find the words he wants, the silver ring at the base of his left tusk catching the dim light. “It was my place,” he finally says, and your heart skips. “Now-now, you idiotic man, my place is with you.”

[delldarling]

fretting | grimshaw

kinktober teaser ; day two male giant x gender/body neutral reader 449 words  fluff/lime | suggestive flirting, established relationship (Friday’s this month will end up with my longest stories! Over on patreon, the rating is as follows: lemon | size difference, oral, and intercrural (between thighs))

You’re just shy of the shore, river water hip deep, when Grimshaw squawks like a wounded bird. The sound echoes, louder even than the waterfall, startling near-by creatures from their rest in the forest. The crash of the underbrush and the faint cawing of fleeing crows is just loud enough to reach you. As if that wasn’t warning enough, there’s a great splashing behind you as he shifts in the water, desperately searching. And then the water raises higher, spattering your back before it evens out.

“Oh,” he says, quietly, spotting you as soon as you glance over your shoulder, trying to hold back a smile. He huffs, bristly cheeks puffing out, brown shoulders slumping back into the water. It makes another small wave, but you’ve braced yourself by the time the water sloshes over your shoulders, toes digging into the rocky bank. Grim sighs, running a calloused hand through his dark hair, barely disturbing the long strands of lichen tangled in the locks, before he gets to his feet. The water rushes into the space he leaves behind, tugging fiercely at your calves until his shadow falls over your body. He holds out his hand, water dripping in rivulets over his naked skin. “It’s not nice to tease me that way,” he admonishes you, though his tone and crooked smile completely negate the potential seriousness of his words.

“You’ve never so much as rolled when I sleep on your chest!” You tell him, arching an eyebrow. You would have noticed, as it’s a little difficult to ignore when Grimshaw shifts in his sleep. “Why would you think you’d be so careless when you’re awake?”

“I fret over it constantly,” Grimshaw grumbles, though his lips twitch when you grab hold of his hand, letting him carefully pluck you from the water. You settle in his palm, enjoying the sunshine warmth of his fingers curling around your thighs, especially after the chill of the river, and glance up at his face. You’re just in time to see him worrying at his lower lip, eyes tracing a path down your shoulders before coming to rest on your thighs. He’s staring, and his hand tenses, like he wants to squeeze, to touch-  

“Grim?” You ask, heartbeat skipping when he blinks, focusing on your face. “..I recognize that look in your eyes.”

Grimshaw clears his throat. “It’s nothing.” He takes two steps before he’s well away from the shore, heading for the trampled clearing where you’d both abandoned your clothing. You tilt your head, ignoring the drop to the forest floor below and glance down his body. You don’t even try to hold back your snicker.

“I would hardly classify that as nothing.”

[delldarling]

trouble | suileabhan

kinktober teaser ; day sixteen male selkie x gender neutral reader 394 words lime | for mention of bare skin (rating on patreon is as follows: lemon | foreplay, oral, hands, hint of exhibitionism) note: Suileabhan is pronounced soy-li-vahn or soo-li-vahn

Someone is near. Faint voices, caught on the wind, carry down to the rocky shore. Down to the cluster of rocks you’re hiding among, barely loud enough to catch over the steady rush of the waves. Suileabhan freezes just shy of kissing you, his sealskin hanging loose on his elbows and around his hips, caught in the push and pull of the ocean. Salt water drips from his hair, rolls down his shoulders, small pinpricks of cold scattering over your bare flesh. When the voices grow louder, rowdy, Suileabhan grimaces, sharp teeth catching at his lower lip, and lets the receding wave lower him. He doesn’t let go of your thighs, just loosens his grip until he can dip beneath the water, leaving only his black eyes and the salt and pepper froth of his hair visible in the gray waves.

You turn your head, glancing up at the four people creeping down the far off hill. They’re tourists, ill prepared for the sharp zig zag of the path, laughing and ragging on one another to hide their nerves as they sneak down to the nude beach. If they make it down all the way though, you doubt they’ll want anything to do with you. They don’t have tackle boxes or a picnic basket, which means they’re not planning on lingering, and all of them are clothed anyway. They might not even realize that this is a nude beach, and even if they did? It is October. There’s no one else here, and you’re well hidden by the jagged outcropping of rocks. As soon as they reach the beach proper, you won’t be able to see them. One of them shrieks about the cold, which only makes you smile, curling your toes in the frigid water. Not that the chill is affecting your partially submerged limbs—not with Suileabhan’s blessing still fresh on your naked body.

“I doubt they’ll come this way. They’re probably looking to snap a picture or two and then they’ll be heading back—one of them is already shivering.” You turn back to Suileabhan, still smiling, but the sight of him sets your heart to pounding all over again. His clawed fingers are curled over your knee, and his round cheek is pressed against his knuckles, eyes zeroed in on your face. The smirk curving his mouth spells out nothing but trouble.

[delldarling]

distraction | xathiel

kinktober ; day one non-binary celestial x gender neutral half-demon!reader 404 words (+ more on patreon!) lemon | sensory deprivation, hint of enemies to lovers

————-　❈　————-

You don’t flinch when Xathiel takes your face in hand, but it’s a near thing. Their touch leaves a physical ache in your skin, their long, spindly fingers pressing into your cheeks and popping open your lips. Their energy, the polarity of their presence is enough to make your half demon blood shriek, twisting in your veins, insisting you flee. A few years ago? You would have. You would have run at the first hint of a wingbeat, ready for a blade through your spine.

Now though, you hesitate whenever your instincts tell you to escape, wondering if it’s Xathiel. Hoping it’s them, hoping you know them well enough to recognize the lightning strike of their arrival.

“You’re distracted,” Xathiel murmurs, and you can feel the rumble of their speech down to your bones. “Am I so boring?” They tip their eyeless face close, the icy burn of their breath swirling against your ear, forehead pressing and rubbing against the short nubs of your horns.

“No,” you get out, though the word is slightly garbled, Xathiel’s fingers still pressing tightly to your cheeks. “Not b- hng.” Breath whooshes from your lungs, eyes fluttering shut as Xathiel nips your earlobe, wide mouth grinning against your skin. Their hold on your face loosens, just enough for you to speak a little more clearly. “You’re being- being needy. Did you miss me that much, or just, just touch in general?” Your hands curl around their shoulders, thumb smoothing over the clean angles of their collarbone. You’re still not used to the warm stone feeling of their skin, as smooth and unblemished as dark marble.

Xathiel hums, dragging their lips, and then their tongue, wide and long and hot, across your jawline and their own fingers. “You’re the only thing I want to touch,” Xathiel says, tongue brushing over the arch of your upper lip. “And yet still, you were distracted. Shall I help you focus?” They squeeze again, fingers making your cheeks hollow and your lips part, and then the world around you dims, falling away. All you can feel are Xathiel’s legs between yours, the icy burn of their wings pressing in against your back and then the flicker of their tongue against your lips. You can’t see, can’t hear- and part of you wants to quail at the lack of sensation. You know what this ability is normally used for, but...

But this is Xathiel.

————-　❈　————-

...turn the page?

[delldarling]

both? | tobias

kinktober teaser ; day six male bat monster x gender neutral reader 403 words lime | implied strip tease, mild dirty talk

⊱ ────── {⋅. 🦇 .⋅} ────── ⊰

Tobias’ eyes are closed, spindly fingers wrapped too-tightly around his knees, as if he’s trying to will himself to wake up. For a moment, you wonder if he’s scandalized, if he even saw anything—but you took your time. You did hear a rough little groan earlier, followed by the clacking of teeth snapping together, and... Your eyes catch on his jeans, arousal tenting his fly. 

“Are you looking or listening?” You ask with a laugh, kicking the last of your clothes away. You’re still a little nervous—maybe you should have let him in on your plan to act out his fantasy? But then Tobias’ eyes open, stark against his pale fur. His gaze immediately follows the bare lines of your body all the way down to your feet, before he looks back up. Your heart speeds, and his sensitive ears twitch.  

“Both?” He says quietly, brokenly. His smooth tenor voice has grown rough around the edges. His mouth is still open, as if he’s prepared to speak, the sharp edge of his teeth just barely visible. His eyes track your slow crossing of the room, breath growing short, but as soon as you’re close enough to touch his mouth is closed again. 

“Shall I speak a little more for you then?” You ask, stopping just shy of his spread legs. His fingers flex, long nails digging into his knees as he inhales through his nose. You lift a hand, stroking a single fingertip around the leaf shape, thrilled by the soft whisper of a groan that escapes him. Tobias tilts back his head, eyes nearly closing as you run your hand along the curve of his jaw, dragging your nails gently through the short fur. 

“I’m going to undress you,” you tell him, voice dropping, as if you’re trying to keep someone else from hearing. “I’m going to climb onto your lap-” His lips tremble, momentarily distracting you, and you lean forward to brush a kiss across them before you continue. Tobias chases after you, grunting when you gently push him back into his chair. His expression turns pleading, hands flexing on his knees again, but you can’t stop now. If you do, you doubt you’ll be able to speak at all. Tobias will keep your mouth much too busy. “You’re going to take your fingers-”

“Please,” Tobias whispers, the membranes and tendons of his wings shuddering as he tries to keep still.

⊱ ────── {⋅. 🦇 .⋅} ────── ⊰

...turn the page?

[delldarling]

be selfish | vale

kinktober teaser ; day twenty-four male harpy x female reader 400 words lime | mirror, UST (rating on patreon includes the above, and as follows: mild ‘topping from the bottom’) 

Vale’s breathing is ragged in the dark, loud in your ear, echoing in the suddenly small space of your room. He’s hesitating, second guessing himself, now that he has you in his lap, feathered arms circling you like a cloak. It sounds like his mouth is dry, tongue too-thick in his mouth as he searches for words, trying to hide his nervousness against the hollow behind your ear. 

You wonder how long he’ll stay here in silence, clutching you to his chest, burying his face in the crook of your shoulder. A moment ago, Vale was bursting with confidence, tugging you down into his lap when you’d turned to go, voice low and full of promise. And now... Now he’s trying not to look at the full length mirror on the wall, lit only by the streetlights shining in through the slatted blinds.

“Vale,” you say softly, and his arms tense, squeeze tighter. “I’m listening.”

He huffs out another breath, warm, almost enough to tickle against the baby fine hairs along your neck. “You’re tired,” he says quietly, like he’s half hoping you’ll take the statement as an opening to end things. To put this off, yet again. 

You shift your thighs on purpose, robe riding up high around your hips, and Vale groans, eyelashes fluttering. You can feel it, the swift, barely-there caress of them. “Tired, and listening. I’m not ready for bed yet.”

For a moment, it feels like his lower lip quivers, and you can see his clawed feet curling into the carpet, but then he lifts his head. Your eyes meet in the mirror, the gold of his irises tinted orange by the streetlamps. “You… You act like this shouldn’t matter,” he begins, like you should know exactly what he’s talking about. You almost wish you didn’t. That you could act dumb, if only to spare him a modicum of hurt. “You feel it. What we have. What we’ve been building since you rescued me. But you won’t-” He makes a soft noise of frustration, and then you see his eyes dip to the way your thighs are spread, the way you’re sitting in his lap, with nothing but a robe on.

If you don’t speak now, you might as well keep your feelings locked up forever. You try and ignore the way his feathers ruffle, the way darkness is swallowing his pupils as he stares.

[delldarling]

problem? | calandra

kinktober teaser ; day twenty-nine female naga x gender neutral reader 412 words lemon | restraints, perhaps a hint of voice kink?, mild voyuerism

“Surely there isn’t a problem?” Calandra asks, soft and sweet, like she can’t see the way you’re struggling. It’s all for show, of course, all a game. She bats her eyelashes and drags her nails over the hollow of her freckled throat, all silver screen innocence, with her gleaming green eyes and dark lips. She ignores your huff, pressing in close to your side to look down the length of your body, as if she’s searching for no small amount of trouble.

Calandra is the complication. It’s not a problem, exactly, because she’d asked for this. She’d draped her arms over your shoulders, lips soft against your ear while she’d asked for all of this—from your bared skin, to your own hand between your thighs, to her coils, wrapped snug around you from chest to waist. You’re touching yourself, or trying to, while she teases with the end of her tail, dragging it along your calves and knees, and just barely skimming your thighs. She’s grown warm, in contact with your skin, but her tail is still slightly cool, and the whispery drag of scales on your skin is enough to make you shiver. The only actual problem is that you want more than you’re getting.

You know what you like, how soft or fast to move, how much pressure to use when stroking, but you’re pinned. You can still move a bit, but between the slow friction of your touch, and the swift promise of Calandra’s tail, flicking back and forth over your legs, frustration is building. “Only a small one,” you confess, planting your feet, preparing to try to change the angle. If you could just move your hips, then-

“Oh,” Calandra whispers, tail slowing when your hand stops moving. “Impatient, are we?” Her coils shift down, tail weaving between your ankles and then tugging to keep you still. Your disappointed gasp makes Calandra grin. When you meet her gaze though she clears her throat, putting a false pout on her lovely mouth. “I thought we were going to take our time?” She turns her head towards you, forked tongue teasing over the seam of your lips, forehead pressing to yours. 

“Y-yes, but Calandra—” Your eyes snap shut. Her tail strokes over you, the pressure enough to make you buck, a pleased little sigh escaping your mouth. She laughs, and the sound of it makes you ache, repeating her name as she gives you the friction you’d been desperately seeking.

[delldarling]

trust | anthos

kinktober teaser ; day twenty-eight male rose fae x gender neutral faerie!reader 419 words lime | knife play (patreon rating includes the above, and as follows: lemon | marking, scratches, mild hinting at blood, and hot dogging)

Rumors are passing like wildfire in the Court of Land. You can see the word built torches tilting, blazing, with every bent head or turned ear, can feel the weight of their eyes on your back as you pass them by. It won’t spread to you, no matter how curious you are, no matter how much it might weigh on the tip of your tongue, desperate to ask. They wouldn’t dare risk it, knowing whose bed you share, and Anthos wouldn’t thank you for it. 

It’s still weighing on you though, even with your head laid upon his lap and his thumbnail pricking your chin. Even with his crimson hair unbraided and spilling over his bare shoulders, just shy of tickling your nose.

“This isn’t the place for idle thoughts,” Anthos says softly, voice as soft and sharp as the thorn blade tracing down your throat. He pauses at your collarbone, resting the back edge of the blade gently on the bone as he meets your eyes. He’s right. This isn’t the place. Whatever trouble is brewing with the Queen has no place in the shelter of your bedroom. Either you will learn about it in time, or the trouble will pass without you any the wiser. 

“It’s hardly a place for sleep now, is it?” You ask, archly, trying not to smile as his red eyes narrow. The movement of your mouth makes his thumbnail dig a little too deep. You don’t feel anything wet, no bead of blood, but it stings. You’ll likely bear a scratch for a day or so. You lower your voice, speaking a little slower, trying to keep from making it worse. “Will you be leaving the Court again, after-?”

Anthos doesn’t smile, but the petals of his lashes flutter, eyes closing momentarily before he breathes deep and resumes the meandering path he’s taking with the blade. Down the middle of your chest, just shy of your navel, and then he turns the blade, dragging it back up. He doesn’t meet your gaze when he answers: “I would rather stay, if that means anything.”

“It means everything.”

A twitch of his mouth, and then his hold on your chin changes. He cups your jaw, careful with his fingers, which end in thorns sharper than any you might find on the roses growing in the Court, and brushes the pad of his thumb over your lips. The blade in his hand traces your nipple, slowing when your tongue flicks out to taste his skin.

[delldarling]

stubbornness | shorn

kinktober teaser ; day four female orc x elf!male reader 406 words lemon | pegging, orgasm delay, mild praise kink

You’re laying flat on the bed, clinging, cock rubbing against the material when you realize you’re not going to last much longer. You’re so fucking close you can almost taste it, the steady ache of an orgasm building with every second. Every roll of Shorn’s hips, every slick thrust of her strap into your ass, the steady tensing of her muscled green thighs- You’re going to make a mess of the sheets, and you can’t bring yourself to care in the slightest.

“Look at my lovely elf,” Shorn croons, and her thrusts slow. You think she might be adjusting, that she might finally give you a little bit more control, get you onto your knees so she can reach around and take your cock in hand. Her weight stays on the back of your thighs though, and then she stops, orgasm still well out of reach.

“Shorn,” you choke, tilting your head to the side so you can catch sight of her, hoping that’s all it will take to keep her going. She tilts her head so you can focus on her face, smiling brightly. Her short tusks gleam like bronze in the lantern light,  short dark hair a tangled mess from all the grabbing you’d done earlier, all too eager to draw her into bed. “Why are you- why-” you gasp, shifting just enough to press yourself back against her strap. Her brows arch, smile growing wider as her eyes dip down to watch the motion. “I- keep going,” you demand, but that only makes her laugh, calloused hand smoothing over the base of your spine. 

“But I’m tired, sweet one,” she teases, and your blood pressure rises, knowing she’s going to drag this out. “Surely you can take over for a bit? Use some of that elvish stamina?”

“Let- let me up?” You ask, barely daring to hope. 

“Tired,” she repeats, a single dimple appearing on her right cheek. She squeezes her thighs, pushing the cheeks of your ass together and making you whimper. Then she eases, giving you just enough space to rock back onto her strap- if you use all your strength. “Let me watch, hm?”

“As if you couldn’t watch before,” you bite out, but Shorn won’t be changing her mind. She’s always been stubborn, always been wonderfully amused whenever you’re impatient for her. Bracing your hands on the mattress, you press back, eyes falling closed as the strap slides deeper.

[delldarling]

translation | gethen

kinktober teaser ; day twenty-two male death’s head hawkmoth x gender neutral reader 458 words lime | wings, UST (patreon rating includes the above, and also: spanking + more of Gethen’s tart temperament)

You’re coated in Gethen’s Dust. Copper and yellow streaks of it glimmer faintly across your chest and shoulders, while still more peppers the front of your legs. You can see faint speckles of it along your cheekbone and caught in your eyelashes, a dull sparkle out of the corner of your eye. Your back though, is covered. From your neck to the backs of your thighs, it feels as if you’ve been rolling through powdered sugar. There’s no coarse grit, no scratching sensation. There’s just the smooth glide of his wings over your bare skin, wrapping around you like a cloak, hiding his impatient, roving hands. 

You tilt your head back, trying not to suck down air too greedily because you can taste it. Dust when purposely shed, when used for speech, leaves an aftertaste in the air. It lingers on the back of your tongue like the first twist of campfire smoke.

“I think,” you gasp, eyes fluttering shut, Gethen’s long tongue tracing the hollow of your throat, “you’ve-you’ve made your point. With the Dust.” 

Gethen huffs, fingers circling and then pinching your nipples, making you rise on your tiptoes. He pulls, not enough to hurt, just enough to sting, and let's go, raising two hands to cradle your face. The other two slide down to your hips. “Have I?” He asks, voice genial and sweet, tone completely at odds with the heavy press of his fingers. He’s holding you like he thinks you might twist away, but you’re exactly where you want to be, aching and warm with his wings draped over you. “Did you seek out a translation spell?”

You open your mouth, but Gethen squishes your cheeks, forestalling whatever you might end up saying. He knows you haven’t though. Translation spells for Dust are pricey, and they’re hardly something you pick up on a whim. Not unless you plan on permanently moving to Eclipse, or you’re planning to marry one of its citizens. In both cases, you would have needed Gethen with you to obtain it.  ...Unless someone was peddling the use of spell illegally. You try and say no, but all that comes out is a garbled “Mo,” that makes him smile. 

“I didn’t think so. But I’ve made my point?” He tilts back your head, dark eyes catching what little light there is in the room, fractals of copper and a faint green in their depths. You don’t even try to speak, not now that he’s moving back towards the bed, wings sliding away from you and flaring to either side. As soon as he sits, he lets go of your hips, but holds fast to your face, making you bend at the waist. His grip loosens and he waits, silent, expectant.

[delldarling]

resting | yeva

kinktober teaser ; day seventeen female succubus x gender neutral reader 367 words lime | hair pulling (patreon rating includes the above, as well as: begging, pleasure-pain of condensed arousal) 

“Breathing is important,” Yeva says sweetly, dragging the back of her pink knuckles over your cheek. She tilts her head on the pillow, long hair catching on the point of her ear. “If you tire yourself out too quickly I’ll never get my fill of you.”

“I won’t. ‘M not tired, just-”

“Resting?” Yeva teases, fingertips ghosting along your hairline. The edge of her long fingernails tickle, enough to make you blink, to make you lift your head from her shoulder to look her in the eye. “Yes, of course. You’re not tired at all.” 

You scowl, but your vision is slightly hazy, all the pent up, excess energy of the day having been drawn from you over the past hour. She’s probably still feeding on it, with you still slumped over between her thighs, pressed against as much bare dusky skin as you can touch. 

Yeva hums, slipping her fingers over your skull, until she’s tangled them into the hair at the crown of your head. She pulls, exposing the line of your throat and braces herself on an elbow, long, violet tongue licking a stripe over your pulse. “Shall I give it back?” She asks and pulls harder, until your back is starting to arch and you have to push yourself up, kneeling between her thighs to keep the pressure from being too much. 

She’s done it before, pressed the well of energy she’s siphoned off back into your skin. Unlike when Yeva takes it though, she can only give it back all at once. There’s a bright heat to it, like liquid lightning surging through your veins, and the rush is always borderline overwhelming. It leaves you babbling and grasping, eager for everything Yeva has to offer. Absolutely desperate for more of her. “Please,” you whisper, eyes falling closed. 

Yeva laughs. She shakes her hand, making your head move with the way she’s pulling your hair, back and forth, like you’re shaking your head. “You are tired then, to ask so graciously. But I’m nothing, if not a little selfish.” She pushes your head down, capturing your lips in a soft kiss, and then her power lights up all the neurons in your brain.

[delldarling]

defenseless | kharis

kinktober teaser ; day eleven female siren x werewolf!female reader 438 words lemon | multiple orgasms, hint of voice kink

Kharis laughs, sweet and low, like she knows exactly what’s coming, and then it hits you.

You’re thrashing in her arms, head thrown back over her feathered shoulder, thighs trembling like you’re going to burst. Your eyes snap closed and the hold she has on one of your thighs slips, talons digging into tender skin. 

At any other moment, the pain would have felt like a threat. It would have shot through your senses and forced a change—which Kharis is ready for. She clamps her arms tight around you, whipcord muscle bulging and doubles down on the rough, tight little circles she’s making on your clit, letting you buck into her touch. “What a song you make for me,” she whispers, lips warm against the shell of your ear. The friction is getting to be a tad too-much, too intense, but she doesn’t back down, doesn’t loosen her hold. Kharis helps you ride the crest of pleasure, slowing only when your limbs start to grow slack. She laughs again when the aftershocks make your thighs shudder, when you start to gasp for breath, and finally pulls her scaled fingers from between your thighs.

“I almost had you,” Kharis sing-songs, gently dragging her talons over your still quivering flesh. Even speaking, even with her playful tone, her voice is still entrancing, still has you swaying. “You almost lost it, almost shifted.”

“You shouldn’t, shouldn’t push, Khar,” you murmur, and realize your throat is aching. You must have been howling, which means sometime tomorrow Kharis is going to get another noise complaint. Not that she’ll care. She almost revels in the little notices she finds on her door, especially since the building manager is too chicken to do more than give her a slap on the wrist. All Kharis has to do is smile—though truly it’s more of a baring of teeth—and hum a single note and the man flees, unwilling to risk ensnarement. “One of these days I will shift, and then you’ll have to deal with-” You grunt, cutting yourself off when one of her fingers slips back inside you, just the tip, back and forth, careful of her talons.

“You, but covered in fur?” She sniffs, and even though you can’t see her face, clutched with your back to her chest, you know exactly what kind of haughty expression she’s making, eyebrow raised and all. “Believe me, I’m hardly helpless.” Kharis’ blue-black feathers ruffle, and you can recognize the next drag of her talons for what it is: a warning. Not that Kharis would hurt you, but she’s right. She will never count as a defenseless lover.