Twblood - Tumblr Posts - Page 2
My hand slipped...
"Some secrets are locked away for a reason..."
Arkadi could not have known what lay in wait beneath the ashen shell of the relic's exterior. His gaze had always strained upwards, past the heavens and deep into the realm of the stars themselves, hungry and anxious, desperate to reclaim the long lost glory of his now humble clan...Such a fiercely covetous prince, plagued by an obsessive sense of pride. How neglectful he's been. How utterly selfish...How tragically blind.
Arkadi has made this mistake before. How catastrophic must the consequence be for him to finally learn?
In-between artfight and work, I present to you ✨D O O D L E S✨ of the puppets doing puppet things as puppet should.
===
Sketch 1: Canary helping Cavortus tighten a screw behind his faceplate. It’s tedious but a needed repair.
Sketch 2-3: Unfinished sketches/concepts. More tune-ups and freaking out.
Sketch 4: Canary got into the strawberry jam again DAMNIT-
Sketch 5: Silhouette practice of Cavortus to ground his character design. BIG COAT <3
A Deadly Spider
Originally, I was gonna upload this in October but forgot to finish the drawing. Nevertheless, here it is.
This is what Specimen 4 does to her prey. She only kills Terrible human beings.
I'm happy about how she turned out, especially her body since I was going for a pear-shaped/triangle body type.
I first used Photopea to make the image of her transparent, then later used Canva to make the background.
OG Version:
The Na'vi of the Tipani clan might as well get used to Specimen 4 (Or as they would call her: Kali'tute) eating human flesh, since they are gonna use her abilities to aid them against the humans in their clan's territory.
One of them felt pity enough that she always ate alone, he didn't know the reason why, so he joined in to eat together and keep her company, he later found out the messed up way on why she ate alone.
Bonus, height update:
Updated the height difference between a Na'vi (10 feet tall), human (5 feet tall), and Specimen 4 (8 feet tall). Now this is just a quick doodle, so, not much.
Swamp elementals (Khyrtyqs) have many ways of showing love to their partner.
Some craft gifts, others cook, but one way of showing love is to hunt for prey.
Some even go out to hunt for bigger prey to show how much they love someone. The bigger the prey, the bigger the love.
Of course, they will eat their prey, they don't waste the meat.
content warning!! drawn/illustrated blood
Patroclus fans come get your juice
i hope we leave the soft boy thing behind and let patroclus kill in 2024. set him free
trigger warning: blood!!
(and kinda spooky)
finally, twin peaks fanart !! :] really enjoyed drawing it
Whumptober day 23 - Bleeding Out
For my 23rd fill for @whumptober2019, I wrote this pre-WinterIron story in an AU with supernatural creatures. It’s also available on Ao3.
----- ----- -----
It had happened so quickly that Tony honestly couldn’t quite recall what happened. One moment he was calmly walking down the street; the next, he found himself lying in an alley, bleeding out from multiple stab wounds.
Weakly, he tried to sit up, only to fall back down the one inch he’d managed when the pain hit him.
“Help?” he tried, but he couldn’t quite manage to speak any louder than a whisper.
Closing his eyes, he wondered if he should just resign himself to his fate. His attacker had taken his phone, though there was no way the guy would manage to hack his way in - JARVIS himself kept Tony’s phone safe and inaccessible to anyone but him.
At least it meant that JARVIS would be able to find the person who’d done this to him.
He wasn’t sure why, either. It had occurred to him that it might be a mugging, but his wallet was still safe in his pocket. Only his phone had been taken, making sure he wouldn’t be able to call for help.
Maybe it was because of who he was. An actual assassination attempt for being Tony Stark. He had no illusions about being perfect, but… He’d been helping, right? His weapons kept American soldiers safe, and his multitude of other inventions made lives easier and more comfortable. More and more, he’d been moving to the fields that had truly interested him when he’d been learning about engineering and programming.
He thought he’d been doing better.
No words had been exchanged, not as far as he could recall. Just gloved hands and a sharp knife, before he was left alone to die.
No reason had been given at all.
Cold was creeping up on him, but he couldn’t even shiver. Instead, all he could do was look up at the dark sky.
Weirdly enough, the thought hit him that he would’ve preferred to die under the light of the stars, however difficult they might be to see in the middle of New York City - instead, there were clouds obscuring them, making the sky look empty and dreary.
He tried to swallow, failing and coughing instead. It made pain rush through him once again, and he couldn’t help his stifled moan. Damn, but he didn’t want to die. Not yet. There was so much he still wanted to do, so much he still thought he could improve. Now that he was finally old and settled enough that the board listened to him when he suggested avenues other than weapons, he’d been getting to where he’d wanted to take Stark Industries since he’d been young.
He didn’t want to die yet.
Focusing on the clouds, however dreary they were, he tried to keep on breathing. The longer he could manage to keep surviving, the more time there was for someone to perhaps find him and get him to a hospital.
There wasn’t a lot he could move, but he did still have his expensive leather wallet and a somewhat functioning right arm. So, trying to keep his breathing steady, he slowly reached for his wallet, letting his arm fall back down once he’d gotten a hold of it. Victory. Then, slowly, he started slapping it onto the ground.
It didn’t make much of a sound, but at least it was more than his voice could produce.
Damn, Pepper would be so pissed at him. Not to mention Rhodey. And Obie, too.
He just hoped Happy wouldn’t feel too bad for suddenly falling ill. That wasn’t something he could help, after all, and there was no way Tony was forcing the man to keep acting as a bodyguard when he should be home and resting.
As he grew increasingly cold, he just found himself wishing he could get a message to them somehow. Not even to save him anymore - he wasn’t sure that was even possible, not with his injuries and the amount of blood he’d lost, though he was still determined to keep trying. But just to let them know that he cared, and that he knew how incredibly lucky he had been to have them in his life and caring for him.
Honestly, it wasn’t even that bad anymore. The pain was starting to fade out of awareness, and instead he mostly felt tired. It was becoming a struggle to keep his eyes open, and his slow tapping with the wallet was tapering off into a silence filled only with his increasingly strained breathing.
Until a shadow appeared above him.
It wasn’t much of a shadow, not with the lack of light, but it woke Tony up just a little. Not enough to speak, not with the way every breath was a struggle by now, but enough to look at the man that had appeared.
He was attractive - shoulder-length brown hair, intense light eyes, and a highly attractive stubble adorning a jawline that had Tony envious. His broad build and dark clothes should probably have felt threatening, but he was honestly beyond that. Instead, he found himself wondering if it would be possible to experience one last touch, one last confirmation. If it would be possible not to die on his own.
“Oh, sweetheart… That don’t look good,” he said softly, and Tony managed the slightest shiver at the sound of his voice. It was like a warm blanket surrounding him, leaving him feeling peaceful and comforted.
Even more than before, he struggled to keep his eyes open. He wasn’t alone anymore, and he wanted to savor every moment of it.
Which was why he could observe the contemplative look on the man’s face as he looked down at Tony, as well as the exact moment he appeared to come to a decision. As well as the exact moment fangs descended from the sides of his mouth.
Rather than feeling afraid, or threatened, Tony just gave into it. The touch of lips on the wound that appeared to have just missed his heart was more gentle than he thought anyone but Rhodey had touched him in years. It didn’t take long, not with how much he’d bled already, and for a brief moment he wondered if the vampire had decided to simply take advantage of the situation and drain him completely.
Then there was a wrist in front of his mouth, the tiniest slice releasing a clear liquid. The moment the taste hit him, Tony couldn’t help but latch on, drinking as deeply as he could in his weakened state.
Vaguely, he was aware of a large hand cradling his head as he sucked, stroking his hair just a little. He leaned into it just a little, aware he was probably acting like a cat desperate for attention, but he couldn’t help himself. Already, it felt like coming home.
Still incredibly gently, the vampire pulled his wrist away. It was tempting to follow, to taste some more of that ambrosia, but that would mean pulling away from the hand still stroking his hair. So he leaned into it, into the vampire’s body. He knew it shouldn’t be, but to him, it felt warm and safe.
As the Change set in, he could feel the way he was picked up gently in a bridal carry, allowing his head to fall against that strong chest. In response, the arms tightened just a little to pull him even closer.
There was a soft whisper, barely audible. “I’ll take care of you now, sweetheart.”
Then, everything went black.
Catch a Ride to Heaven ❤︎ Arthur Morgan
Kinktober Day IV: Virginity
summary: rebellious reader is a sinner for her cowboy tags/trigger warnings: 18+, f!reader, virginity loss, p in v, praise, fingering, religious symbolism, cherry popping, midhonor!arthur, smoking, dom!arthur, sub!reader, rough sex, a bit of degradation, pet names, author attempts at accents wc: 5.7k
MASTERLIST
“Ma’am”
You looked up from your bible sitting on your lap, noticing a rather large man standing before you. His shoulder-length brown hair cascades down, framing his rugged features and intense blue eyes. A short beard adorns his handsome face, emphasizing the scar on his chin. Despite his rugged appearance, his smile reveals straight white teeth, complementing his sun-kissed skin with charming freckles. His well-worn cowboy hat had seen better days, colored black with a weathered rope tied around the middle and what looked to be claw marks running down the sides.
“Good morning, mister,” you answered, fiddling with the cross around your neck, trying to tame the sinful thoughts running through your mind. You had come to notice this man from afar. He would stop by your little town now and again, whether that was to buy guns or sell a suspicious amount of items at the fence nearby. Your eyes always followed him. You couldn't help it, although you tried to pray the feelings away many times. God never answered your prayers.
Your daddy was the local pastor. He was always smiling and friendly, claiming he prayed for every person he came across. He was a good man, always going out of his way to serve others. It seemed God had given him the gift of spreading his love all over, yet it seemed to run out when it came to you.
Your daddy had always been hard on you after your mama passed. Your brain was too young to remember much of her, but you could still remember the sound of her voice in your ears and the soft, comforting scent of her clothes.
Daddy said it was because he loved you; he was so strict, which you never really understood. Anytime you made a mistake or a mishap, Daddy would sharpen you back into shape, sometimes going to extreme measures. The bruises on your behind still stung when you sat down.
He never permitted you to be alone around other men, claiming you had to stay pure in the eyes of God or else you'd burn in hell for all eternity for spreading your legs for no-goods. He said men only wanted one thing, but he never specified what. It didn't take you long to figure it out. You were a smart girl. At least, that's what everybody said.
You didn't feel smart now as Daddy’s teachings drifted from the back of your mind like a cloud of smoke, thoughts of purity and maidenhood be damned. God knows you tried to resist them, and you really did. To push those thoughts aside, burn them, shut them out as much as you could.
But wouldn't he have answered your prayers if God were all-loving? Heaven knows you wanted to be a good girl. You did, truly! But there was something about this man that had your body growing warm, his deep southern drawl reaching into deep parts of you you never even knew existed. He had your voice growing shy, your hands feeling clammy as your thighs pressed together, desperate to soothe that sweet ache between your legs.
Sometimes, he would compliment you, saying he liked your dress or how you style your hair.
“May I say you're lookin’ lovely' today, little lady.” You swallowed deeply, your lips parting as you gazed up at him, eyes wide. “Thank-thank you, mister,” you stammered, your cheeks flushing in embarrassment.
“You…you're awfully kind.” You continued, not being able to help yourself. How could you stay away when you yearned for him so deeply?
“I ain’t really,” he answered bluntly, his eyes boring deep into yours, the corners of his lips twitching into a grin. You've seen that same look on many men before, but only he had your heart racing with want.
“Maybe just to pretty ladies like yourself,” he continued, his hand reaching up to scratch his stubble chin.
If your face wasn't on fire before, it sure was now. You didn't know what to say as you began to stutter, sweat building between your legs and inside of your bodice. “I don't—” Your fingers curled around your cross, praying to God to give you strength or show mercy.
“What’s your name anyway?” He spoke up for you, reaching into his back pocket to pull out a pack of premium cigarettes. He placed the stick between his lips as he held the lighter close to his face, raising a brow when you lacked a response.
You gave him your name. Your eyes were bashful as they looked down at his shoes, noting the quality of the leather and his metal spurs.
“Ain't that lovely,” he responded, gray tendrils of cigarette smoke escaping his nose, his eyes never straying from your face.
“What’s yours?” you asked, fighting to keep your voice steady as your subconscious body seemed to float away, high into the sky and never to be seen again. You've never felt so euphoric. If it was wrong, how come it felt so right?
“Arthur,” he answered, tapping the ash from the end of the stick away into the dirt. “Arthur Morgan,”
“Well, it… it's very nice to meet you, Mr. Morgan,” you said politely, part of you hoping to appease him. It seemed to work as his grin grew wider, his teeth poking out from behind his pink lips.
“Yeah,” he agreed, his eyes looking you up and down. “You too,” he said, emphasizing your name before exhaling another cloud of smoke. You bit your lip to hold back the whine building in your chest. “Well, I’ll let you get back to it. I just wanted to put a name to a face s’all.”
You wanted to tell him, no, to please stay, just a little longer. And yet you only watch in silence as he dipped his hat to you before turning and striding in the other direction. You watched him go, eyes drifting low to his backside, appreciating the natural sway of his hips as he left.
My Lord, please give me strength.
You and Arthur had met several more times after that. He'd sometimes saunter up to you after church, asking about your day and flirting with you right in front of the house of God, sometimes even in front of your Daddy.
Daddy had given you a good whooping after that, reminding you to stay away from that man if you know what's good for you. But you just couldn't, no matter how hard you tried. Lord knows you did.
But like Eve and the serpent, Arthur offered you the tastiest treat you couldn't refuse. Why did it feel so good if these feelings were so condemned? You started questioning your faith the more Arthur lingered around, and you started to fear for your sake. Maybe he was no good after all. Perhaps this was all a test.
But no horns were sprouting from the outlaw’s head, no devil’s tail swaying mischievously behind his back, he had no red eyes, and no white fangs. And despite what the poets might say, he had no slimy forked tongue. And you would know, counting how many times your eyes had fallen to his mouth as he spoke. Each time his tongue ran over his lips, yours would do the same.
There came a time when he placed a hand on your shoulder, leaning close to your face when he asked to buy you a room somewhere for the night. His cold eyes burn through you. You knew you should've said no, refused the forbidden fruit, and asked him to leave you alone for good. You were a child of God, blessed without sin, and designed for purity. But those would all be lies. No one is without sin. You thought as you nodded, your breath shaky and your cheeks stained red.
Daddy will raise hell. You reminded yourself, but it was already too late. You sealed your fate when you decided to shake hands with the devil.
As Arthur led you up the stairs, his hand entangled with yours, his heavy footsteps echoed throughout the hotel, the wooden floors creaking under his weight.
He opened the door for you to enter the small and empty room, the hair rising on the back of your neck as he followed close behind you. “Arthur, I—” you stammered when it dawned on you, realizing what you were about to do.
“Shh, don't be nervous,” he soothed as a heavy hand rested on your hip, sliding up your waist. “I’ll take good care of you,” he reassured, gently removing his hat and placing it on the night table beside the bed.
Like a predator circling its prey, he stalked around your body until he stood in front of you, both hands on your hips as he smiled down at you. He was so close. You almost let out a whine of fear, eyes glued to his teeth to ensure he didn't have fangs, just in case.
“I promise I don't bite,” he chuckled, almost like he could read your thoughts. Maybe he could. He leaned close to your ear, his warm breath tickling your skin, sending shivers down your spine. “Unless you want me to.”
You couldn't hold back the whimper that escaped you, anxiety and desire twisting and churning in your stomach, leaving you speechless.
“I've never…” Your voice trailed off, the words getting lodged in you as Arthur hummed in response, seemingly unsurprised.
“I figured,” he chuckled, confirming your suspicions. “Sweet, innocent things like you usually are,” he grinned, flicking the cross against your chest. You weren't sure what to make of that.
“We just won't tell ‘em, ay?” he let out a huff of amusement, reaching back to unclasp the necklace around your neck.
“Wait,” you halted him, gazing at his confused expression. “I…I want to leave it on,” you murmured, eyes drifting downwards, hoping you hadn't disappointed him. You weren't sure why you wanted it to stay; it didn't make sense logically. He was right; you should put it away, considering what you were about to do—what you were about to let him do to you.
However, something about it gave you a sense of peace or reassurance: even though you were betraying everything you were ever taught, everything you've ever known, God was still there, and he still loved you. Maybe giving in to your deepest desires could reconnect you to him in some way, that finding pleasure in the most sinful of ways wasn't sinful at all. Wouldn't he want you to feel good if he really loved you? To take what you want?
He was silent momentarily before he removed his hands from your grasp. Here it comes. You thought, eyes shutting, waiting for his disapproval.
His fingers grasped your chin, tilting it upwards, his thumb rubbing softly over your bottom lip. “Ain’t nothin’ wrong with that.” his voice cutting through the silence. “You can do whatever you like, darlin’.” his low, warm voice was gentle and consoling, offering comfort instead of pain.
“Thank you,” you breathed a heavy sigh of relief, your eyes gazing up at him with adoration, yet your hands continued clutching your dress, unsure of where to put them.
He hummed again, taking your small hands in his much larger ones, gently urging them towards him. You gasped as your fingers made contact with his skin, like it was the most lewd thing you've ever done. It might as well have been.
“I should be thankin’ you,” he responded, lifting your right hand to meet his lips, kissing your knuckles with a sweet softness you've never known. “Ain’t every day I meet a pretty girl like you.” he charmed, stepping closer towards you, your body stiff with nerves.
“I thought you said you were always nice to pretty girls.” You recollected, thinking back to the time you were first properly introduced.
“Well, I might've lied. Just a bit,” Arthur smirked, chuckling at your shocked expression. “They're not always as sweet as you,” he whispered, his face inching closer to yours. As your noses brushed together, he tilted his face to the side, one hand reaching up to guide your face to do the same in the opposite direction.
“Arthur, I don't know–” “It's alright,” he hushed, his breath hot against your lips. “Just follow my lead, alright?” You nodded slowly, taking a deep breath when he requested you to. “Close your eyes,” he whispered, the thin hairs of his beard tickling your cheeks. “Now, breathe out. Slow.”
As the cool air inside your chest unfurled from your lungs, his mouth pressed against yours. You squeaked in surprise, squeezing your eyes shut as his lips moved against yours. His hands smoothed down your lower back, pushing you closer until his erection was pressing up against your stomach.
You moaned into his lips, your body set ablaze as you struggled to kiss him back, your movements stiff and uncoordinated. He pulled away, a deep chuckle leaving his chest, causing you to squirm in shame.
“Just relax, sweetheart.” he purred, the fingers undoing the top buttons of your dress. “Don't be so nervous,”
“Easy for you to say,” you huffed, watching as his hands descended to each button, opening it with practiced fingers. He laughed, kissing your forehead with a smile. “I know, but just trust me.”
Trust me.
This was the most trust you've ever put in anyone you've ever met in your entire life. Here, this man was undressing you so calmly, like it was the most casual thing in the world. It probably was, to him. How many girls has he been with? You thought almost bitterly, jealousy spiking at him cherishing any other woman like this.
Every man you've ever met has bragged about how many girls he's bedded, whether they were modest wives or working whores, it didn't matter. It didn't matter if the man was handsome or ugly, rich or poor, dirty or clean. They all had the same goal in mind. Maybe Daddy was right. You thought anxiously as your dress fell into a pool around your ankles, leaving you in your bodice. Perhaps you were just another notch under Arthur’s belt. Even Daddy would stumble home with his clothes undone and lipstick stains adorning his neck.
Maybe Arthur is different. Maybe he's a good man.
“What's goin’ on up there,” Arthur asked teasingly, yet concern still laced around the edges of his voice. “If you don't want this–”
“I do!” You interrupted quickly, hands latching onto the front of his shirt, your lips puckering in embarrassment. “Sorry, I–I'm just nervous s’all.”
“I know,” he said, his arms resting against your upper arms, rubbing his calloused hands over your soft skin. “I understand. We’ll take it slow.” He promised, leaning forward to capture your lips in another kiss. He held his lips against yours this time, letting you adjust to him as his fingers deftly coiled around the strings of your bodice, slowly unlacing them one by one.
“S’been awhile myself,” he admitted, hoping to soothe you in some way as he took his time undressing you until you were left in only your bloomers, standing still with your face hot and your lips chewed raw.
“You don't…” you hesitated, wondering if you even wanted to know the answer. “…do this often?” You finally inquired as his eyes filtered over your exposed form. “Nah…” he answered, hands running all along your body.
“Well… once upon a time, maybe.” he grinned at you wickedly, his white teeth gleaming underneath his self-satisfied smirk. He laughed, finding the expression you subconsciously made amusing.
“Don't get all jealous now. It ain't like that anymore.” He promised, unbuttoning his clothes this time, undoing his vest, and taking off his short sleeve. “I wouldn't take advantage of someone like you,” he reassured, undoing his suspenders until he was left in nothing but his pants with his gun belt still sitting heavy over his hips and gun holster attached to his side.
Your eyes roamed to a large expanse of his chest, thick, coarse hair sprouting from his skin and leaving a path down into his pants. “Now,” he started again, your eyes snapping back to his face.
“Go sit on the bed for me,” he commanded, his tone firm yet tender, a heavy hand smoothing over your head. After letting his words sink in, you did as you were told. You knocked off your shoes as you sat at the edge, trying to avoid his gaze. With a simple click, he pulled the gun belt from around his pants and set it down near his hat, his holster following suit.
“Take ‘em off,” he instructed, his eyes studying your face as he undid his belt, waiting for you to undress. You clutched the warm off-white fabric of your clothes, your breaths coming in shaky, knowing you were about to expose your body to a man; you've never felt so vulnerable.
“I won't ask you again,” he threatened, his lips tightening as his eyes narrowed. “I have no problem takin’ you back home.” Just the thought of home had fear swirling in your gut. You'd instead take this than face your daddy. You knew it was unavoidable, but you'd rather it at least be worth it.
You nodded your head swiftly, standing back up to shed yourself of your underclothes until you were left in nothing but a necklace sitting on your naked chest. The cold surface of its metal and the cool air caused your skin to rise in goosebumps, your nipples perking in response.
“Good girl,” he purred, eyes drinking in your naked form with a dark hunger you've never seen. The spurs of his boots clicked as he reached forward, carefully sliding them off before setting them aside.
As you sat back against the bed, your fingers reached up again, clasping your cross, letting its sharper ridges poke against your skin.
“Don’t be scared now,” you gasped as his pants fell to the floor, his cock finally springing free mere inches from your face. Your jaw practically dropped to the floor as you stared. You've never seen one before. Do they all look like that? Are they always this big?
“You okay?” he laughed, strutting towards you, his cock bobbing between his thighs, hanging low towards the floor. Up close, you could see every vein protruding from underneath his foreskin, a strange liquid shining at the tip.
“Um…” you were at a loss for words, unable to look away. “What if it doesn't… y’know,” Arthur tilted his head to the side as he neared, hands on your waist as he urged you back further. “…fit?” You finished with a squeak as your head hit the pillow below, and your hair splayed out behind you.
You peered up at him, curious as his cheeks dusted into a dark shade of pink. Was he embarrassed? Did I offend him? “It’ll fit,” he said, looking away almost bashfully. “Gotta prepare you first,”
Prepare me?
He leaned forward until his forearms rested against either side of your head, trapping you underneath his body. Soft brown hair strands framed his face as he leaned closer, and front pieces fell over his thick brows.
You gazed into his clear blue eyes, deep as the sea, with a warm yellow ring around his black irises, reminding you of the sun’s rays casting light across blue skies. His eyes flickered between yours, seemingly searching for something before his lips connected to yours once more, his hairy chest pressing against your breasts.
Reaching up with shaky hands, you entangled them into his hair, resting them gently in fear of maybe hurting him. “That’s it…” he encouraged, his hand finding yours, interlocking your fingers, and pressing them to the bed.
“Just breathe,” he reminded before kissing you again, his cock twitching against your thigh, subtly rutting against you. You did as you were told: in and out. You thought to yourself as you practiced slow breaths until your heartbeat slowed to a semi-normal pace. “You got it,” he smiled into the kiss before continuing down your neck, rubbing his lips over sensitive skin.
You whimpered, your hand tightening against his as he lowered even further, reaching your chest. He let out a deep groan as he pressed his face against your breast, taking a nipple into his mouth to suck.
You looked down at him in shock, unsure what to do as he began rutting harder against you. Is this what people do? You were so confused, your thoughts racing a mile a minute. He let go with a slow suck, his heavy eyes meeting yours once more.
“Have I sprouted three heads?” he chuckled, worrying his lip with his top teeth. You shook your head, one hand gripping his shoulder to balance yourself.
“I don't… am I doing this, right?” As you whispered, your face flushed with warmth, and you squeezed his hand tightly, seeking comfort.
“You don't gotta worry your pretty little head over nothin’,” he said as his fingers dipped between your bodies, tracing over your thighs before nearing your pussy. You could feel its dampness trickle between your legs and into the sheets, your little pearl throbbing with need.
“You're perfect,” he murmured, his gaze softening into an emotion you've only seen flicker in his eyes and disappear as if it was never there. But this time, it stayed; it settled for you.
You didn't know what to say, so you opted not to speak; the silence spoke for itself as you stared back. The hand in Arthur’s hair cupped his stubble cheek, urging him closer before kissing his lips. He grunted at the contact, his tongue prodding the entrance of your mouth, forcing it to open before it slid inside.
No fork. The thought popped into your mind as Arthur’s tongue slid against yours, massaging the wet muscle with flicks of his own.
The hand against your leg reached underneath your thigh, lifting it around his waist before dipping back between your legs. You gasped into his mouth as his thumb reached underneath your hood, finding your pulsing clit and pressing down, moving in slow and deliberate circles. You moaned out; never once had you felt anything so amazing in your entire life. You had never touched yourself down there before; shame always held you back, and now you regret it.
All those times you refused your aching body with release almost seem abusive looking back now.
“Oh, Arthur,” you gasped into his mouth as he continued, your hips lifting to try and chase the addicting sensation.
“It feels so…” You couldn't even find the words to describe the feeling. It would be useless to try to explain it now.
“Like that?” he groaned, picking up the pace of his movements as his other fingers teased your entrance, coating his calluses in your essence. You nodded, mouth still open as broken whines and whimpers escaped your wet lips. You arched your back, your face falling to the side as you squeezed his hand, nails biting into the flesh of his skin. Arthur didn't seem to notice; if he did, he didn't show it, fully enraptured by your sensitive flesh.
“Christ, you're so wet.” Arthur didn't mean anything by it, but the mention of a name so holy during a time like this had your thighs closing around his forearms, trapping his hand against you.
He was also right. You don't think you've ever been this wet in your entire life. “Don't stop, Arthur.” You pleaded, trying to reopen your legs to give him more room.
“Wouldn't dream of it, sweetheart,” came his husky reply. You sighed at his words, more so the thickness of his voice.
“Wider, darlin’,” he grunted, his middle finger catching onto the rim of your hole. “Gotta stretch you nice and proper, so you can take my cock.”
“Arthur!” you whined, embarrassed by his words, throwing an arm over your eyes. He laughed breathlessly, his movements slowing down. “Thas’ what you want, ain’t it?” He urged his finger, slowly inserting itself as you bucked upwards, trying to chase the dwindling pleasure.
You whimpered in reply, opening your legs further, allowing him to slip his finger in deeper. It was so thick and so warm, your pussy welcoming him with wet pulses as he slowly moved it in and out. The pain was sharp but was slowly replaced as his finger curled deeper, reaching places you weren't aware even existed.
“There’s a girl,” he rasped, eyes glancing between your face and your slippery cunt before adding a second finger. He wasn't deterred by the small amounts of blood coating his digits, only focused on making you feel as good as possible while preparing you to take him.
“You're doing so well.” he sighed, twisting his fingers before spreading them into scissoring motions, completely enraptured as your pussy convulsed around him, spilling more and more slick as his fingers quickened their pace.
The only sound in the room was your deep moans and the sloppy sound of your wet pussy getting fucked by his hand. Arthur shifted his wrist so the edge of his palm rubbed against your sensitive button, curling his hands deep against your G-spot and smirking in triumph once he found it.
“There it is,” he chuckled as he gazed upon your expression. Your thighs slammed closed around his wrist as you arched your back deeply, feeling your spine ache in protest, but you didn't care.
“Ah! Right there!” You squeezed his hand with all your strength as a new sensation built in your stomach. Something was coming.
“Arthur!” You whimpered; your free hand reached towards his wrist, which was now twisting with more force as his fingers pumped faster, harder.
“Wait! It’s—I’m,” Arthur was quick to silence you with another deep kiss, yet you couldn't kiss him back as much as you wanted, your mouth struggling to stay closed as whorish noises forced their way out.
“Just let go, honey,” he groaned, the heel of his palm digging deeper. “It's alright, just let go.” His voice was so thick and coarse, so warm and so rich, so deep and so guttural you couldn't help but fall victim to his spell.
With one final wail, you felt something rush out of you, something liquid but didn’t quite feel like pee. All you knew was that it felt good.
I hope this is what heaven feels like.
Your eyes rolled into the back of your head, your voice growing tight as Arthur continued his pace, helping you ride out your high before eventually slowing, dragging out your orgasm for as long as he could.
“Fuck, that’s it,” he moaned, taking in your debauched state with a proud smile. Your hair was in disarray, strands sticking to your sweaty skin as your eyes fluttered, lashes resting against your darkened cheeks, and your eyebrows drawn close. Your lips were wet and rubbed red from his kisses, drool lewdly sticking to the corners of your mouth. Your naked chest heaved, your cross still sitting in between your breasts.
“You alright?” Arthur chuckled, slowly removing his fingers from your wet heat and wiping the mixed residue on the sheets.
“I never wanted it to stop,” you whimpered at the empty feeling inside you.
“I know that's right,” he agreed with a chuckle, squeezing your hand one final time before letting it go. You gazed up at him sheepishly, your hands reaching out to grab his forearms, letting your hands feel the warmth of his skin.
He hoisted your hips upwards, wrapping your thighs around his waist before leaning forward, his palm cupping your cheek before slotting his mouth against yours. Your eyes fell closed as you lost yourself in the kiss, unaware as his hips shifted forward.
With one hand around his cock, he pumped it generously, coating his dick in precum as he guided it toward your entrance.
“Big inhale for me, darlin’,” he requested one final time. You did as you were told, breathing in a large gulp of air before you felt something catch against your rim and push inside, filling you inch by inch as the air caught in your throat.
“And out,” he grunted, pushing his cock to the hilt, forcing himself deep inside, cursing as you clamped around him. He swore he'd felt traps looser than this.
Your exhale was probably closer to a sob. You've never felt so full in your whole life. Although the stretch wasn't nearly as painful as you imagined it would be. There was just so much pressure.
“You're doing good, fuck, just keep breathing.” he panted, barely even able to pull back with how tight you were clutching him. You nodded when trying to focus on his words as his cock throbbed inside of you.
“Good?” he grunted, his face twisted into something akin to pain, his heavy brows pulled forward, his face creasing as his eyes threatened to squeeze shut despite his resistance to keep them open. He sucked on his lower lip, struggling to concentrate as your wet heat pulsed around him.
“It feels… full.”
He groaned in response, thrusting up into you until his pretty cock punched against that spongy spot, causing you to kean, your body squirming, unsure if it wanted to pull away or chase the feeling.
“It's too much,” you whimpered, your hands pushing against his abdomen before he took your wrists in one hand, forcing them above your head as he rocked against you, fucking his cock in and out in slow yet deep thrusts.
“Take it,” he practically growled, his warm gaze turning cold as he towered above you, one hand enclosing around your hip as leverage, manipulating your body up and down in time with his thrusts.
“God, fucking take it,” he accentuated each word with a powerful shove, your skin slapping loudly each time they met. You couldn't even use anything to stabilize yourself, his fist wrapped firmly around your hands, holding them down with ease.
You were forced to take the onslaught of pleasure, tears welling up in your eyes as you cried out with movement, each jamming of his cock against your sore, sensitive pussy.
“Arthur!” you sobbed, your body squirming desperately underneath him, attempting to run away from his battering hips that grew faster with each minute that passed.
“Yeah, say my name,” he moaned, his eyes falling shut as his lips parted, deep pants escaping his chest with every movement. “Go on, say it again,” he reopened his eyes, glaring down at you with a look of something fierce.
“Arthur!” You moaned, pleading with your eyes for him to slow down. He smiled wide, letting go of your wrists, urging you to wrap your arms around his shoulders as he leaned in close, chest to chest.
“Am I being too rough?” he teased, pecking your lips tenderly as he slowed to a softer grind, allowing you a bit of grace.
“It's okay,” you panted, nails digging into the hard muscles of his back, closing your eyes in bliss as his thick cock ruined you for anyone else. “You can go faster… if you want,” you gripped him by his arms, burying your face in his neck, shyly kissing the expanse of his throat.
He let out another deep groan, his hand resting behind your head, pulling you closer as his other curled into the sheets below you, fucking up into you at a steady pace. You held onto him tightly, knowing you wouldn't last much longer.
“It's coming again,” you warned, your voice high-pitched and airy as you struggled to breathe, feeling as though he was fucking into your lungs.
Arthur leaned upwards, letting you fall back onto the bed as he took hold of your waist, his unoccupied thumb pressed down against your clit, rubbing fast circles as he urged you to finish.
“You’re almost there,” he grunted, watching as his cock reappeared before disappearing back inside you, the base coated in your milky arousal.
“You got it, c’mon,”
You reached behind you, fingers curling into the sheets below as you arched in his touch, gasping for air as the sweet pleasure built quicker, coming in faster and harder. “M’so close, Arthur.”
“Yeah, I know,” he cursed, fucking himself deeper, trying to get as much of himself inside as possible.
“I can feel you squeezin’ me,” whines began to escape his lips, sounds you never thought you'd hear him make.
“Does it feel good?” you asked, barely holding on as the thread threatened to break. You watched Arthur’s shoulders shake with what looked to be laughter, his thrusts stuttering before picking back up again.
“Yes,” he dipped his head to the side with a hiss, his thumb pressing harder against your delicate pearl. “Feels so fuckin’ good, sweetheart,”
Something about the nickname did it for you. It was said with affection and lust, smooth as silk and sweet as strawberry wine. Arthur’s voice was thick and rich, slipping into your ears and knocking around in your brain.
You came with his name on your tongue, crying to the heavens above, knowing that even if God has turned back on you now, at least you’ll suffer knowing you were loved in some way by someone. You felt his nose nuzzle into the side of your neck, his hips slowing into something almost romantic.
You felt him place a kiss on your shoulder, almost as a silent apology, before drawing back and slamming forward, fucking you so fast and so deep the frame of the headboard knocked against the wall over and over. You held onto him for dear life as he used you for his pleasure, groaning uncontrollably in your ear.
“Almost there, fuck,” he whimpered, his hold on you tightening to something almost painful before he pulled out swiftly, pumping his cock at an inhumane pace before shooting white ropes across your stomach. He came loudly, teetering near a shout. Every time you thought it was over, more and more kept coming out, eventually spilling onto his hand and running down his length.
He glanced down at the cross, rising and falling with every movement of your chest. He smirked, holding it up in his clean hand, his thumb smoothing over the protruding patterns.
At least now he can say for certain where he’s truly going.
“C’mon, darlin, let's get you cleaned up.”
main masterlist, rules
A Little Blood Never Hurt Nobody ✦ ︎John “Soap” MacTavish
Kinktober Day VI: Period Sex
summary: the best boyfriend in the world relieves you of your pain tags/trigger warnings: 18+, f!reader, period sex, vagina blood, john being the sweetest gentleman, fluff, soft sex, p in v, pet names, praise, author tries really hard at accents wc: 2k a/n: not me being on my period rn
MASTERLIST
You settled into the cozy embrace of your makeshift cocoon, surrounded by layers of warmth - a plush comforter and soft blankets enveloping your body. Nestled within this comforting sanctuary, you applied a heating pad to your stomach, its gentle warmth soothing the persistent discomfort caused by the pinching of your uterus. A full bottle of water stood within easy reach on your nightstand. Despite the discomfort, you found solace in the carefully prepared comforts that eased the pain sensation, allowing you to find a semblance of relief within the embrace of your bedding.
All you need is your man, the one you were missing dearly.
John had went to the store to buy you some supplies: enough pads and tampons for the week and a list of your favorite snacks so you won't get hangry.
As you lay in bed, struggling to keep your heavy eyelids from closing, you were jolted awake by the distinct sound of the front door clicking shut. The rustling of plastic bags filled the air, growing louder as the footsteps approached the door to your room.
“Ay, sweet bonnie,” he says as he enters the room. He greets you with a warm smile, his eyes lighting up as he steps closer. He carefully places the bags on your bed, the weight causing the mattress to dip slightly. You slowly peek out from underneath your cozy bedding, feeling curious and excited as you glance from the bags to his face.
“Thank you,” you say, sitting up, digging through the grocery bags, pulling out the treats waiting inside. You heard John laugh, taking the boxes of feminine products in his arms. Never mind a week; these will last you months.
“Anythin’ fer ye’” he winked, adoring you with his loving gaze.
“Ah’ll go stash these aweay,” he ducks into the bathroom, boxes in hand. Your eyes were glued to his large biceps, each covered in intricate tattoos running up and down his muscular arms. You bit your lip as your gaze traveled lower, noting the plush roundness of his ass and the thick hardness of his thighs.
“John?” You called out, setting the bag of snacks to the side. He called back, the sound of boxes knocking around before the swift sound of a cupboard closing followed.
"Can you come here?" You asked, your fingers gently grasping the edges of the soft sheets. Obediently, he reappeared in the doorway, his eyes meeting yours with an expectant gaze. "Need somethin’ else, princess?" he teased playfully, his tone warm and affectionate. You knew he would go to any lengths to fulfill your requests, whether big or small. His willingness to please you was evident in every gesture and word.
"Yes," you respond quietly, meeting his piercing gaze with apprehension and anticipation. You hope that he'll understand your unspoken message. A faint smirk tugs at the corners of his lips as he crosses his arms, his icy eyes never leaving yours. His gaze briefly flickers to your concealed body before he takes a silent step forward, his presence looming over you from the edge of the bed.
“Ye gonnae tell me, or am I gonnae have tah figure it out?”
"Please, John," you pleaded, your heart racing as you reached out for him, your small fingers sliding against his warm, calloused digits, urging him to come closer. John hesitated momentarily, his eyes searching yours for reassurance, before finally complying with a mix of a weary sigh and a grunt. He shifted in front of you, his muscular frame towering over you, and with a gentle yet firm touch, he peeled back the soft comforter as he settled in facing you.
“Only because ye look so desperate.” he chuckled, taking the heating pad and tossing it to the side, replacing it with his hands. His touch caressed and massaged your lower stomach, pulling an airy sigh from your chest. After a few moments, he slipped them up higher, pulling your thin tank top from your body and tossing it to the floor.
His hands cupped your tender, swollen breasts, gently squeezing them as he sighed; his gaze zeroed on your body with a burning lust as he kneaded the soft, doughy flesh of your chest. You let out a soft whine, your body sinking further into the mattress, enjoying the feel of John’s large, warm hands pawing at your pliant body.
“Gorgeous girl,” he purred, his fingers dipping into the seam of your shorts before slipping them off your legs, leaving you fully nude in front of him.
“Gonnae make ye feel all better,” he promised, reaching behind his back to tug his shirt over his head, showcasing his thick and hairy chest trailing down his hard muscles and into his jeans. He tugs off his belt before sitting to the side to shuck off his pants, followed by his briefs.
“I love you,” you whispered as he crawled back over you, bracketing you with his thick arms. He grinned down at you, his smile toothy and his eyes crinkling.
“I love ye too, sweet girl,” he pressed a gentle kiss to your forehead before descending to your lips, groaning into your mouth as his hand pumped his growing erection, preparing himself to enter you.
You looked down, moaning as you watched him jerk himself off. As he slowly pumped closer to his tip, you licked your lips as pre dribbled from his slit, sliding down towards his fingers. You reached outwards, wrapping your hand around him, your fingers barely touching with how thick he was. Collecting his pre cum in your digits, you swiped them down his cock, coating his cock in his slippery essence for a smoother glide.
He grunted above you, his eyes narrowing as his lips parted, moaning from your soft touch. You squeezed his base, guiding him towards your bleeding hole, pulsing with desire.
The moment his tip caught against your entrance, John was pushing his hips forward, his cock sliding inside, filling you up completely with little to no resistance.
“Steamin’ Jesus, yer so tight!” John hissed, his hands wrapping around your middle, burying his face in your neck as he pushed his hips forward. His dog tags clinked as they pressed against your chest, the cool metal causing you to shiver.
You whimpered as his hips pulled back before pressing back in. You could tell he was trying to be gentle, but if his loud noises were anything to go by, you knew he wanted to pummel you into next week. You wrapped your arms around his neck, gripping your nails into his back as he picked up a steady rhythm, his deep strokes punching the air from your lungs.
John leaned up on his hands, his chain dangling in front of you as his blue eyes stared down into yours. One hand curled over the headboard as the other planted against your lower back, arching your hips closer to his thrusting cock.
“Fuck, ye feel so damn good,” he moaned, more words of praise spilling from his mouth as he pounded you into the bed, his fingers trailing toward your pussy before reaching underneath your hood and rubbing circles onto your clit.
You glanced downwards at your combined bodies; eyes glazed over as his cock pulled out before sinking back in, coated in a mixture of your blood and arousal, creating a thick and slimy texture that stuck to your thighs.
“John,” you whimpered, mouth falling open as your cunt clenched around him at the sight, his thumb rubbing faster at your sensitive nub as his pace quickened. You tossed your head back, hands reaching behind you to grasp onto the pillow underneath your head, eyes squeezing shut as you moaned uncontrollably.
“I ken, I ken,” he grunted, his pace faltering slightly, hips stuttering as his cock twitched hard inside you, hitting your G-spot over and over with each involuntary jump.
You were so much more sensitive than usual, not just your quivery pussy but your body as well; each touch and simple caress of his rough hands felt like they were melting away your skin, their heat licking fire into your veins, causing your head to spin and your limbs to tremble.
“M’gonna cum!” you wailed, crying out as John lifted your hips higher, his cock slamming even deeper inside you, barely pulling out as your greedy pussy clamped around him as if it couldn't bare the thought of him leaving you like it had a consciousness of its own.
“Me too, fuck!” He whimpered, his blunt nails digging into the flesh of your waist, tugging you down onto his prick with every forceful thrust of his hips.
With one final thrust, you felt his warm cum spurt inside of you, rope after rope, as John’s slow grinds triggered your release; you both moaned in unison, clutching onto each other for dear life as you both rode out your highs together, debauched sounds of pleasure filling the confined space of your bedroom.
As John pulled out of you, a pink mixture of your combined fluids leaked out of you, paused by John’s thumb as he pushed it back in, groaning at the sight of your stretched hole spreading wider to accept him.
"Feel better?" he asked, his voice slightly breathless as a proud smile spread across his face. His chest rose and fell with each deep breath as he looked down at you, studying your expression for any signs of discomfort.
You smiled a lazy, contented smile, your eyes barely peeking open to look up at him. A warm, post-sex glow illuminated your face as you nodded slowly, still trying to catch your breath.
He leaned down, pressing a hard and wet smooch to your stomach before pulling back to kiss your clit, sucking it into his mouth with short flicks of his tongue.
“John!” you whimpered, tugging him away by his hair. He let out a loud bark of laughter, slapping the side of your thigh before reluctantly pulling away. “Jus’ showin’ her some extra love,” he winked before laying beside you and pulling you into his chest.
“Wan’ me teh run ye’ a bath?” he asked, nosing his face against your cheek before kissing your temple. You nodded before burying your face into his chest, letting out a deep sigh as you closed your eyes, letting sleep overtake you.
You were awakened when you felt arms scoop underneath you, gently carrying you into the washroom.
“Sorry, I had teh wake ye.’” you looked up at John’s face as he settled you into the warm water, bottles of bath oils, and a bag of bath salts sitting on the side.
He settled in behind you, wrapping his arms around your waist as he pulled you into his chest, resting his head over your head. You could feel his cock begin to harden behind you before his mouth began pressing messy kisses against your shoulder.
You looked behind you, meeting his lips with a slow yet passionate kiss of your own before turning around to face him, before reaching behind you to grab his cock. His hands traveled up your waist as you sat down, his cock slipping back inside you, pushing his cum back into your body.
You slumped against him, pressing your cheek against his chest as you warmed his cock. Closing your eyes again with another pleasure-filled sigh, you buried your nose into his neck, relishing his gentle touch as his hands massaged your back. John watched you with a loving smile, kissing your head as you fell back asleep in his embrace. He knew he would take good care of you—just like he always did.
main masterlist, rules
Magic Circle: Fire by zepher234
The book had not seen the light of day in a very long time. It’s binding crackled each time he turned a page. But he had to get this perfectly right, and if it meant some of the pages came loose, so be it.
Ewan carefully went over the ingredients again, making sure he had everything. The lock of hair he’d retrieved from an old brush. Her great treasure was a locket given to her by her mother that had been left in the family vault. The traveling clothes had been harder to find, though he’d managed a pair of her old boots from the back of her wardrobe and a cloak she’d hung up but never sent out to be cleaned.
Finally, the blood. The hound he’d bought had been old, sick, and dying. His master had been glad to be getting money for an animal he’d have to put down anyway. But Ewan had had to be the one to slit its throat, watch as it gulped in his last, panting breaths before the light went out of its eyes.
Afterward, Ewan had sat with the corpse for nearly an hour, crying over the life he’d taken. Killing wasn’t new, but this felt...wrong. Necromancy often used blood -- he knew that from Jules -- but usually the blood of the caster. But this spell called for hound’s blood specifically. He was opening himself up to darker things that he wasn’t sure he could handle. That he wasn’t sure he wanted to deal with.
But it was for Isidora. Even if she was fine, her father needed her. And he respected and cared about the old lord enough to want to make sure he had his daughter with him at the end of his life.
The blood had stained his hands, gotten deep under his fingernails. Even now he thought he could feel it in the creases of his knuckles.
With great precision he marked out the magic circle in the middle of Isidora’s room where he’d pulled away all her rugs. The blood dried a rusty red on the hardwood. Once he was done, he wiped his hands on the cloth he’d brought with him. More blood to be removed. Hopefully the last.
The items were placed in a bowl in the center of the circle, then he stepped back, opening the book. He read the incantation aloud, enunciating distinctly. The green potion bottle the old woman had given him flared to life, the cork whizzing away into the corner of the room. The metal bowl began to spin in the center of the circle. The hair fizzled into little sparks. Then the cloak and shoes rose and formed a sort of square shape, floating just above the floor. The locket rose and floated around the ‘neck’ of the square. Then the blood burned bright, searing the green light to red.
Before him stood a spectral outline of the bloodhound, the cloak and boots having become its body, the blood bringing it to life. The locket hung around its neck and the hair floated before it. The hound sniffed the hair, absorbing it into itself. Without hesitation, the hound bounded from the room in pursuit of its quarry.
Unprepared, Ewan scrambled after it, leaving behind the remains of the spell. Little more than 20 minutes later, one of the servants found the room a shambles, the bloody mark upon the floor. Of Ewan there was no trace at all.
Her hands were red and she was angry. So very, very angry. Aerie’s pale skin, beautiful and freckled, was even paler now, nearly translucent. The woman’s hands, chopped off raggedly at the wrists, were in the corner. A wound in her upper abdomen kept her from speaking clearly or for long.
Long ago, Suzie’s father had taught her how to deal with their foes. Disable the hands. Cut out the tongue if you can, otherwise fill their chest with blood, make them gasp out their words. Don’t let them cast their spells, summon their demons.
“You lied to me.” The words Suzie ground out felt like broken glass on her tongue. This woman had cared for her, laid with her, laughed with her. All while secretly being the thing Suzie hated most.
“I…didn’t…know,” Aerie gasped, her lips stained red as her blood bubbled back up her throat. “P-please. You don’t have to do this. Please Suzie–”
“That’s not my name,” she said, each word low and deliberate. “And I won’t be deceived by your lies. You act so sweet, like you want to do good.” In a flash of movement, Suzie was kneeling at Aerie’s side again, knife pressed to her throat. Watching the girl tremble and arch to get away was almost satisfying. “But I know about necromancy. It corrupts even the purest heart.” She shook her head. “This was always how it was going to end. But if you’d been honest about it, I would have made it quick.”
“No…” Aerie moaned, but Suzie was already striding around the room, cleaning her hands and blades. She pulled a small device from her pack and wound it, setting it near the fireplace.
“It shouldn’t take you more than 10 minutes to bleed to death.” She told Aerie. “If you live longer than that, consider the bomb my mercy.”
Suzie walked out of the small cabin at the top of the hill. Someone would come from the camp at the bottom when the explosion happened, but likely not before. She set out east.
Her abdomen ached still. The necromancer’s traitorous magic had not left her fully recovered. She couldn’t return to Maguuma, where the easiest hunting lay, at least not yet. And if she could find the group who shared her views in Kryta, the people her father had told her were trustworthy, then that would be enough.
There was another ache, this one in her heart. Betrayal. It would be hard to get over.
There’s something about seeing a character with some blood on them yet looking so calm and collected that has my brain buzzing..
"I am the monster you created."
Prince Zam Gouache Painting
—
massive shoutsout to @tomssobbingcorner for letting me use aspects of their zam design, which i LOVEEEEE.