#lifeblood creature

[mebis-art-dump]

Two kindly bugs

Lie resting in grottos of their own

Their blessings, an aid

They ease passage

To the hiding place

Of Great Beings

And their boons

[fungal-wastes-my-beloved]

Maybe what the void city looked like in hollowknight before it's fall?

Or the entire body of the life blood creature?

fast and loose here, but i imagine that the creature would be more... oceanic? for lack of a better word. crustacean eel thing

[Start ID. The lifeblood creature, but with an eel like body that has characteristics of a crustacean. a.k.a. a segmented body with hard plates. The plates are oddly textured, covered in long rounded horn-like growths. Not unlike coral. Fins with translucent blue membranes protrude from the back of its head and along its back. The same membranes spread between legs on its abdomen. Presumably used for swimming. Blue light shines from behind. End ID.]

[blue-wings-of-life]

It's been so long since anyone's visited here- please do make yourself comfortable! I know there's not much here, but.. Well, it's nice to finally talk to someone that's not just my butterflies..

-

And enter Le'cya! The lifeblood creature, the goddess of life, consort of death and mother to reality... Sealed away the deep caverns of the abyss long before hollownest came to be, sealed away by gods wishing to take what was once hers. Take, and take, and take they did. But Le'cya holds no ill will, she just wants to see her family again, she just wants someone to talk to... Talk to her a little, won't you?

[xokaythebunnyig]

HI YA'LL I MAY BE DELUSIONAL BUT AREN'T WE ALL?-

Anyway. This is something I've wanted to do for awhile now, and that is Ask Hollow Knights Higher Beings!

Idk how this works, but I will try my best to make sense!

Most of these will be headcannons.. but isn't 90% of the internet headcannons? Idek- anyway! Ask questions! Please! I wanna interact with people online ;³;

(Also yes I gave them names fight me)

[novaloo]

@littlebittyhollowbugs

Hi again.

First of all, is tagging you like this every time okay? I just need to know if I'm not making you uncomfy this way since I feel like I do that too often.

Okay, now...

Lifeblood time!

Once again, the idea of lifeblood Markoth wouldn't leave me alone so I just HAD TO draw him. Tbh I'm pleased with the result. The lighting is a bit wacky as usual, incredibly sorry about that.

What would and wouldn't be affected by the lifeblood? I think that there would be slight changes in appearance, for example the dark vine growing around a limb or the butterfly plant blooming somewhere on the body. However, I don't think it'd affect anything about the person's personality. My argument is that we've seen lifeblood providing only perks, and so far we haven't discovered any cons. Come on, the Abyss Creature just wants to help, why would there be a catch?

With that said, I present another concept: my child finally has a voice

The lifeblood is now a part of them. It would whisper the thought they try to communicate. I don't know how else to explain it, but I think you get my point.

More stuff on the way, pinky promise

And I await the headcanons :>

[tzeimi]

i get the feeling from your reblogs that i should maybe watch Scavengers Reign

absolutely absolutely absolutely!! general content warning for body horror, gore, death, and Fucked Up Shit but good god it is such an intensely beautiful show and sooo compelling, there is clearly so much love and passion and thought put into every part of it. when i saw the trailer i thought it might be a thing thats visually stunning but doesn't grab me with the rest but i was SO wrong the characters are wonderful and really well written, and the story manages to keep coherence and intrigue despite the challenge of it all being a bit disconnected. one of those things that makes me go holy shit i cant believe this got made and i am so so glad it did everyone should watch it if they can

[aphrobites]

come along beloved i have found a most wonderful establishment… in it you pay to build a creature out of countless options, you are allowed to choose its voice and message (i have decided mine will say deranged things about you) then a servant sticks it in a machine that fills it up with its life force, a heart and even an artificial odour. then you must hug it so a piece of your soul is intertwined with the creature, daniel, and then you get to pick its clothes. the entire process reminded me of you, and how i filled you up with my lifeblood more than once, and chose your clothes, and how for years vampires could smell me on you through your amulet even after i was long gone and your memories of us together forgotten. … maybe if this build-a-bear had been around our separation would’ve been easier for me. i have decided. we shall each make a bear in the other’s image

[deadtired-highkeyenergetic]

The Scars On His Back

Just going to slowly reupload my fics...two at a time...

Summary: Astarion has a nightmare and goes out to the forest for a breather when he runs into you.

He’s back there again, with the feeling of a knife tearing into his back, carving up his flesh. Blood runs down his body, creating rivers of crimson on his pale skin and drips onto the floor, pooling between his feet. He can feel the stickiness of the liquid penetrating the gaps between his toes, the feeling sending shivers up his spine. His lifeblood drains with each moment, the pain overwhelms what is left of his soul and tears his body apart, sending screams ripping from his throat until his voice is hoarse but it never stops. The knife digs in again and again, the pain harshly dragging him back into reality each time he drifts off too far into the black void.

And then he wakes up with a start to the mess that is his tent, chest heaving out of habit and a sting in his eyes. His hands tremble as they reach up to wipe his weakness away, nearly causing him to nick himself. He presses his hands against his face, shakily drawing deep breaths.

He’s far far away from there now. He’s safe from him , with the tadpole in his head. He won’t have to bow and scrape to him as long as the tadpole remains. As long as you shelter him.

Hastily throwing on a tunic to cover up the scars, he heads outside his tent for some fresh air, to be away from the stuffiness that his tent brings tonight. The night air is cooling, a gentle breeze whistling through the still camp. Moonlight spills through the tree canopy, shining beams of silvery light upon the various tents pitched around the once burning campfire.

Quiet trills of nighttime creatures fill the silence, the smell of your blood wafting from…hold on. The smell of your blood? Ruby eyes widen and his feet move in the direction his nose is picking the scent up from before his mind can register anything. You are injured , his half-awake mind processes, a small pool of panic bubbling within his chest as he quickens his pace. How bad are your wounds? Have you been attacked? Will he make it in time?

He bursts through the trees, gaze frantically searching for any signs of an attack but all he sees was you. There is no sign or scent of enemies, only your lonesome figure sitting sheepishly on a rock, crimson liquid seeping through your fingers.

“Hi Astarion,” you smile, waving awkwardly.

“Y/N!” He hurries over to your side. “You’re bleeding.”

“So it seems,” you chuckle. “A small accident, really. I merely slipped on some wet grass and cut myself on the sharp edges of the stones.”

“You really are the clumsiest person I know, darling,” he shakes his head with a sigh, taking out some bandages and ointment. “Let’s treat this wound of yours before it gets infected. Wouldn’t want a small accident to turn into a big mess now, would we?”

You nod, biting your tongue before words that will ruin the mood slip past your lips. It’s better to keep to yourself how prepared he was to treat your injuries, and especially the fact that you could tell he was worried about you. Then an idea hits you.

“Since I’m already bleeding, do you want to feed on me?” The question sends his head shooting upwards, a quizzical look on his face.

“Feed…on you?”

“Yeah, like drink my blood since it’s leaking out of my body anyways, would be a shame if so much of it went to waste,” you can’t help but grin, “I can see your fangs peeking out, you know. Go ahead and drink, I don’t mind.”

He opens his mouth, moving it closer to your wound. The sweet scent of your blood hits his nostrils hard and they flare in response, hunger gnawing in his chest. You had offered your blood to him, what did you want in return? His body? His services?

Ruby red eyes search your face, waiting for you to lay down your conditions but you simply press your bleeding arm to his lips with a small smile, dabbing a sliver of blood on his lips.

“I mean it, Astarion. And no, I don’t want anything in return. I promise.”

A small puff of breath leaves his lips at your words and his tongue darts out, gently licking a stripe up your arm. When you don’t pull away, he gets a little bolder, sucking blood from the open wound. You hiss softly when his fangs dig in, drawing more blood from your body but keep your arm steady. He hungrily drinks it all in, the sweet flavour bursting in his mouth.

You don’t know what compels you to do it, but your other hand moves towards his hair, gently running your fingers through his silver curls, twirling the longer strands around your index finger. You carefully avoid touching his ears, knowing how sensitive they are and instead tangle your fingers in the hair at the top of his head.

He quietly purrs against your arm, pressing his tongue against the wound to staunch what bleeding he can before cleaning the wound thoroughly with a damp cloth, sending vibrations running up your arm. Gently dabbing the ointment on your arm, he wraps a bandage around the wound, pressing one last kiss to it before standing back up, offering a hand.

“Shall we return to camp before the others begin panicking? I doubt they can function without the both of us.” The smile on his face is filled with apprehension, a fact that doesn’t go unnoticed by you.

“Astarion –”

“Don’t you worry, my sweet. I’ll repay this debt of yours as soon as possible,” he winks, pulling you to your feet. “You won’t regret it in the slightest.”

As he turns to leave, you shout.

“Astarion!”

He stops in his tracks, turning around. Muscles tensed, he tries to cover up the fear that is thrumming through his veins with a feigned smile, hoping it’d mellow out your anger. After all, you could neve resist his smile…right?

You see the way fear flashes in his eyes and immediately regret raising your voice, even if it was out of frustration directed at yourself. Taking a deep breath to clear away your anger, you hold out a hand in peace offering.

“I’m sorry for raising my voice at you. I’m not mad at you, I’m just…” Your voice trails off. How do you even justify what you just did? You know of the horrors Cazador inflicted on him, and yet you still lash out.

“It’s quite alright, Y/N,” he chuckles nervously.

You vigorously shake your head, “I really am sorry about it. There’s no way I can justify raising my voice at you, you didn’t do anything wrong. I was really frustrated at myself for not being able to convince you I didn’t want anything in return, I shouldn’t have taken it out on you.”

Astarion searches for any sign of a lie in your words but finds nothing. You really meant it. Every word you said. Your apology, your insistence on needing nothing from him after he had just fed on you, all of it was sincere and genuine. His undead heart skips a beat and suddenly the night doesn’t feel so cold anymore.

You care about him.

Before he knows it, his feet carry him over to you once more, his hand sliding into your outstretched one. The warmth blooms from your palm and winds around his cold one as your fingers intertwine with his.

“Y/N,” he breathes.

“Will you accept my apology?” You ask softly, eyes downcast.

“Of course, dearest. I always will,” he leans in, lips hovering over your forehead. Can he kiss you? Will he taint you if he does?

You tilt your head upwards, meeting his lips with yours and he immediately melts into the kiss. Unlike his previous kisses, this one is filled with care and love, not the usual lust and passion he’s used to receiving. Your arms wrap around him, hands resting on his back where scars tell of his past and he reflexively tenses. But this time, the hands on his back mean him no harm. They lie there to pull him closer into your warm embrace, to protect him from those who seek to harm him. So he lets them rest on his vulnerable back, soaking in the strange warmness that the simple action brings.

Astarion closes his eyes, putting his own arms around you. It’s weird, hugging someone for the first time. You don’t mind his cold dead fingers resting on your back and even press closer against him, enveloping him in your warmth.

When your lips part ways, he doesn’t say a word lest his voice wavers and betrays him. He lets you do the talking, relishing in the way you hold onto his hand tightly. Not a single move is made when you lead him into his tent, only letting go of his hand to help him tidy up his bedroll. You make sure he’s comfortable before turning to leave, pausing when he calls out your name in such a gentle manner.

“Stay…with me?” He begs. Your heart aches from his tone and once more you’re reminded of how much he hurts on the inside, so you backtrack and wrap your arms around him.

“Always.”

[beausbugbiome]

Bug and Seek!

“Being developed by a husband-wife dev team living in the woods, Bug & Seek is a relaxing, open-ended, bug catching simulator with a mystery twist. In Bug & Seek, you've just sunk your life savings into buying an abandoned Insectarium (bug museum)! Once the lifeblood of the town and its economy, someone stole all the bugs in the dead of night. Now it's up to you to catch and sell bugs to fulfill requests from collectors, neighboring towns, schools, and universities, all while building your personal collection. Become a master bug hunter as you grow level up your skills and expertise, upgrade your equipment, and expand your Insectarium. Meet the locals and complete quests to earn special items and discover what really happened during the Great Bug Heist.”

https://www.kickstarter.com/projects/bugandseek/bug-and-seek-a-cozy-bug-catching-sim-creature-collector

[xoxoangelllcake]

The Huntress and the Hunted

Vampire Caitlyn, Huntress Vi, Maddie being eaten by Caitlyn(well not literally just having her blood sucked by Cait), Period sex, Lesbian sex, Cunnilingus, Dom!Caitlyn, Sub!Vi, Noncon

Vi wandered through the alleyways of Piltover, the cobblestone streets slick with rain. The neon lights above cast eerie reflections on the puddles, creating a dance of colors that she found oddly mesmerizing. Her eyes, usually sharp as a hawk, were momentarily drawn to the fleeting patterns, a rare moment of distraction in her otherwise focused hunt. The city's usual bustle was muted by the downpour, leaving only the occasional distant sound of a carriage and the rhythmic tap of her boots to keep her company.

As she turned a corner, her heightened senses caught the faint scent of iron in the air. Her grip tightened on the stake hidden within her leather jacket. She had been tracking this vampire for weeks now, a creature that had been leaving a trail of drained bodies in its wake. The scent grew stronger, and she quickened her pace, her heart racing with a mix of excitement and trepidation. This was it, she could feel it. The creature was close.

The alley opened up to a dimly lit courtyard, and there she saw her. Caitlyn, a vampire with hair like spun silver, was crouched over Maddie, a local barista who had been reported missing just the night before. Maddie's neck was a mess of torn flesh, and her eyes were glazed with the haze of a feeding victim. Caitlyn's fangs were buried deep, her cheeks flushed with the crimson of Maddie's lifeblood. But it wasn't just her neck that the vampire was attending to; her other hand was busy inside Maddie's soaked underwear, stroking her sex with a hunger that was equally terrifying and intriguing to Vi.

Vi's instincts screamed at her to attack, but she remained still, hidden in the shadows, watching the erotic scene unfold. The vampire was too engrossed to notice her presence, and she felt a strange heat spread through her body. She had never seen a creature of the night act with such carnality before, and the sight of it sent a thrill down her spine that she couldn't quite explain. She took a deep breath, willing herself to push aside the sudden, unbidden attraction and focus on the task at hand.

With a roar, Vi lunged forward, her stake aimed at Caitlyn's heart. But the vampire was fast, faster than she had anticipated, and she evaded the blow with an elegant twist of her body. Caitlyn's eyes snapped up to meet hers, filled with a fiery hunger that seemed to pierce through the rain. The two locked gazes for a moment, the tension in the air thick as the scent of blood and desire mingled together. Vi could feel the vampire's power, a dark allure that threatened to overwhelm her.

Their battle was swift and brutal. Vi swung her fists, each hit landing with the force of a hammer, but Caitlyn was a shadow, dodging and weaving with inhuman grace. Her fangs glinted in the moonlight as she taunted Vi, her movements deliberately seductive despite the ferocity of their struggle. Vi felt her body responding to the danger, a primal instinct that she had never felt in the presence of a creature of the night.

Caitlyn's hand shot out, grabbing Vi's wrist and yanking her closer. The vampire's breath was hot on her neck as she whispered, "You're different, aren't you?" Vi's heart pounded in her chest, her fear giving way to a strange excitement that she didn't understand. She tried to break free, but Caitlyn's grip was like iron. The vampire leaned in, her eyes locked on Vi's, and licked the rain from her cheek.

The taste of Caitlyn's tongue sent a bolt of electricity through Vi's body. She gasped, the stake slipping from her grasp. Caitlyn took advantage of the opening, pushing Vi against the cold, wet wall. The vampire's hand slid down to cup her breast, thumb flicking over the hardened nipple beneath the drenched fabric. Vi's breath hitched, and she felt a betrayal from her own body as it responded to the vampire's touch.

Their eyes remained locked, the intensity of their gaze unbroken even as Caitlyn leaned in closer, her fangs grazing Vi's neck. Vi felt a sharp pain, and a warm trickle of blood ran down her throat. But instead of fear, she felt a pulsing heat between her legs, a wetness that had nothing to do with the rain. Caitlyn's eyes widened, and she inhaled deeply, a smirk playing on her lips. "Ah, a little surprise for me," she murmured, her voice thick with lust.

Vi realized with a start that she was on her period, a fact she had hoped would deter the vampire. But instead, Caitlyn's eyes gleamed with excitement. "Your blood is… exquisite," she purred, licking the blood from Vi's neck with a delicate flick of her tongue. The sensation was both soothing and maddening, sending a shiver of pleasure down the huntress' spine. She tried to push the vampire away, but her legs felt like jelly, her body responding to the touch in a way she couldn't control.

With surprising strength, Caitlyn pinned Vi to the wall, her legs spread apart. Vi's eyes widened in shock as the vampire's hand slid down her stomach to the apex of her thighs. The fabric of her underwear was already soaked with desire, and Caitlyn's touch sent a jolt of pleasure through her. Vi bit her lip, trying to stifle a moan that threatened to escape. The vampire chuckled darkly. "Fight it all you want, but your body knows what it wants."

The vampire's fingertips traced the outline of Vi's sex, the roughness of her calloused skin a stark contrast to the softness of the rain-drenched fabric. Vi's eyes fluttered closed, and she felt a warmth spreading through her core, the pressure building with each caress. Caitlyn leaned in, her breath hot against Vi's ear. "Your fear is delicious, but your arousal… it's intoxicating."

Vi's body arched involuntarily as Caitlyn slid two fingers beneath her underwear, the coldness of her touch sending a shiver through her body. The vampire's eyes glowed with triumph as she felt the warm, sticky proof of Vi's attraction. "I can taste your desire, even through the coppery scent of your cycle." Her voice was low, a seductive whisper that sent tremors down the huntress' spine.

Caitlyn's thumb found Vi's clit, applying just enough pressure to make her gasp. "Your blood is a feast, but your pleasure… that's something truly divine." Vi's eyes snapped open, the reality of the situation crashing down on her. This wasn't just about bloodlust; the vampire was playing a game, a game she didn't know the rules to.

The vampire's mouth hovered over her, fangs gleaming in the moonlight. "I'm going to devour you," she whispered, and before Vi could protest, Caitlyn's tongue slid into her folds, lapping up the rainwater and her own blood. The sensation was unlike anything Vi had ever felt, a mix of terror and pleasure that left her trembling against the wall. Caitlyn's fingers danced over her clit, the pressure building, as her tongue delved deeper, tasting every inch of the huntress's most intimate flesh.

Vi's hands clenched the fabric of Caitlyn's shirt, trying to push her away, but her body was a traitor, arching into the touch instead. The vampire's mouth was relentless, her tongue flicking and swirling around the sensitive bud that was now swollen and aching for more. Vi's breath came in ragged gasps, her mind a whirlwind of confusion and need. She could feel the beginnings of an orgasm, and the knowledge that it was brought on by the enemy she had sworn to destroy only fueled the fire within her.

The sound of Caitlyn's eager lapping grew louder, and Vi's hips began to move of their own accord, grinding against the vampire's face. The cold stone of the wall bit into her back, sending shockwaves of pain and pleasure through her. She didn't know if she wanted this to stop or never end. The tension grew, a coil tightening in her belly, and she could feel her muscles tensing, her body on the brink of release.

Caitlyn's fangs grazed her thigh, and Vi's eyes shot open, the stark reality of the situation slapping her across the face. She had to regain control, had to remember why she was here. With a roar of defiance, she bucked her hips, throwing Caitlyn off balance. The vampire looked up at her, eyes flashing with hunger and amusement. "You fight a losing battle, little one," she said, wiping her bloody mouth with the back of her hand.

Vi took the opportunity to shove Caitlyn away, her own strength surprising her. The vampire stumbled back a few steps, giving her enough space to draw the stake again. But Caitlyn was unfazed, a wicked grin spreading across her face as she slowly regained her footing. "Your kind never learn," she sneered. "You can't resist the allure of the night."

The air grew thick with tension, the rain seemingly pausing for a brief moment as the two adversaries circled each other. Vi's body was a battleground of emotions, torn between the instinct to fight and the traitorous desire that still pulsed through her veins. She could feel her own blood, hot and sticky, running down her neck, and the ache between her legs was almost unbearable.

With a snarl, Vi lunged at Caitlyn again, the stake held firmly in her grip. This time, she aimed not for the vampire's heart but for her throat. Caitlyn anticipated the move, darting to the side with a grace that seemed impossible. Vi's stake sliced through the air, missing her by a hair's breadth. The vampire's eyes gleamed with amusement, and she flicked her hair out of her face, leaving a crimson smear on her cheek.

"You're quite the little fighter," she taunted, her voice a seductive purr that made Vi's skin crawl. "But you can't deny what you feel. Your blood calls to me, and your body… it's begging for me to claim it."

Vi's mind was racing. She knew that succumbing to Caitlyn would mean giving in to the darkness, but her body was a traitor, her heart hammering in her chest and her core throbbing with need. The vampire's words echoed in her ears, a siren's song that she was finding increasingly difficult to resist.

With a guttural growl, Vi forced her body to cooperate, dropping to her knees before Caitlyn. The vampire's smirk widened, her eyes gleaming with victory. But instead of attacking, Vi leaned in, her mouth hovering over Caitlyn's sex, her own blood mingling with the rainwater that coated the vampire's thighs. Caitlyn's eyes widened in surprise, and for a brief moment, the tables turned. Vi's tongue darted out, tasting the sweetness of the vampire's arousal. It was a heady, intoxicating flavor that made her want more.

The vampire's grip on her wrists tightened, but instead of pulling away, Vi pushed closer, her mouth engulfing Caitlyn's clit. The vampire's legs trembled, and she let out a gasp of pleasure that was music to Vi's ears. The taste of her, the scent of her, it was all too much to handle. Vi felt her own orgasm building, the pressure in her belly tightening like a noose. She had never felt so alive, so consumed by desire.

Caitlyn's eyes rolled back in her head, and she let out a low, throaty moan. "Oh, fuck," she breathed, her voice thick with need. "I wish I had my strap-on with me." The words sent a bolt of surprise through Vi, but the vampire's praise only served to spur her on. She could feel the power shifting in their battle of wills, the huntress now the hunted.

Vi's tongue worked Caitlyn's clit with a fervor that belied her inexperience, each stroke eliciting a whimper of pleasure from the vampire's lips. Caitlyn's praise was like a drug, making her bolder, her strokes more confident. "You're a natural," the vampire murmured, her voice strained with arousal. "If I had my strap-on, I'd show you just how good it could be."

The words sent a shiver down Vi's spine. She had never felt this way before, never wanted to please someone so badly, especially not a creature that had taken so much from her. But here she was, kneeling before Caitlyn, her tongue buried in the vampire's sex, drawing out her pleasure with every flick and suck. The vampire's hips began to buck, her movements growing erratic as Vi brought her closer to the edge.

Vi felt a strange thrill in knowing that she could make this creature of the night feel such intense pleasure, a creature that had brought nothing but pain and fear to the people she swore to protect. She could feel Caitlyn's orgasm approaching, the muscles in her thighs tightening around her head. With a final, desperate lick, Vi sent her over the edge. The vampire's scream pierced the night air, a sound that was equal parts pleasure and shock.

As Caitlyn's body convulsed with the aftershocks of climax, Vi took a moment to revel in her victory, the taste of triumph on her lips. But she knew she couldn't let this distraction last. With a swift movement, she pulled away, the cold rain hitting her flushed cheeks like a slap of reality. She stood up, the stake now pointing at the panting vampire's chest. "You think I want you?" she snarled, trying to keep the tremor out of her voice.

Caitlyn's smile was predatory as she met Vi's gaze, the rain plastering her hair to her face like a crimson waterfall. "You don't need to want me, darling. You just need to accept me." She reached up to gently trace the line of Vi's jaw with her thumb, the gesture oddly tender despite the circumstances. "But for now, watch yourself."

Maddie's unconscious form lay forgotten on the ground, her limbs sprawled out in the puddles, a stark reminder of the violence that had occurred. Vi's eyes darted to her, guilt and concern warring with the rage and desire that still coursed through her. She knew she had to end this, had to save Maddie from becoming another of Caitlyn's playthings.

The vampire's eyes followed Vi's gaze, her smile never wavering. "Don't worry about her," Caitlyn said dismissively, her voice a silken caress. "She's just taking a little nap. She'll be fine." The nonchalance in her tone was a stark contrast to the passionate hunger she had shown moments before.

Vi's hand trembled, the stake still pointed at Caitlyn's heart. "What…what do you want from me?" she asked, her voice a hoarse whisper. The vampire's smile grew wider, her eyes dark with an emotion that was both thrilling and terrifying. "Everything," she replied, her voice a seductive whisper. "But for now, let's just say I want to keep playing this little game of cat and mouse."

[mebis-art-dump]

SaviaVida

[lipglossanon]

The Old Ways

Leon S. Kennedy x Priestess fem!reader

A little more savory tier commission from the lovely @porcelainseashore 💜 thank you for your patience 😭

Word Count: 2318 🫣

Warnings: 18+ MDNI, alternate universe, paganistic practices, animal sacrifice, slight gore, blood, blood sacrifice, bloodletting, predator/prey, sex magick, biting, marking, scratching, rough sex, voyeurism, kissing, unprotected sex, creampie

proofread

Mother Moon wanes in the sky, like the sly grin of a fox. Turning your gaze from her cool light, you continue with your toiling. You gather herbs along with the other village women, whispering chants over the brambles and plants. Tomorrow you welcome the birth of a new moon and winter—and with those, the ceremony of oblation. 

The wights of the land clamor for your attention, whispering in your ear of the hunger for blood to be shed. As the priestess, you’ve led many rites to the elder gods. Every full moon a calf is sacrificed at the altar in the center of the village, followed by dancing and merriment. A wooden goblet is filled with its blood and poured upon your nude body, anointing you with its life so you can pass it on to the village. 

The women and men are gifted with innate power, dark arts to help keep your community prosperous and safe. These sacred practices have been passed down through the ages, the covenant with the Dark Ones holding fast and true with every new generation. It now falls upon you as the newest priestess to keep up these traditions.

The air is sharp and cold, furs keeping the soft animal of your body warm. Your fingers curl like the gnarled hands of the older women beside you, a fate you hope to see in your future. A few of them catch your eye and nod, solemn gazes and voices when otherwise there would be singing and joy.

Your gaze alights upon a party of the men returning from their traps, various animals thrown over their shoulders or writhing in sacks gripped in their fists. A few of them spot you and nod in respect. As you watch them walk back to the village, you muse that one of these men will partake in the ritual with you tonight. Many of them are a stranger to your eyes, but if it is the will of the ancient ones, then it shall come to pass.

Once enough has been gathered, each of the women rise and follow along the winding path back to the village temple. Fires burn bright and hot in the night, dancing shadows cast upon the men while they skin and flay the carcass of beasts in preparation for tomorrow night.

Entering into the temple last, the other women have formed a circle around the altar. The red-stained surface feels cool under your fingers when you press your own herbs down onto it. Words spill from your lips like wine, an ancient chant of embracing the dark for its sinister gifts. Other voices join, swelling to fill the chamber with their ambiance. 

Hands raise in supplication, feet stamp against the cold, earthen floor, and you slice open your palm to rub blood across the runes etched into the stone altar. Once filled, you turn, chanting softly, to paint symbols across each of the women’s faces. They bow their heads and sink to their knees once they’ve been anointed. Before reaching the final woman, a wisp of a boy—straddling the line of manhood—enters the doorway with a plump hare in hand. 

He waits until you beckon him forward with blood-coated fingers. Placing the warm animal in your arms, he leaves the temple. The chanting of the women ebbs and flows like the wind in a storm, the sound bolstering and soothing. An elderly woman steps forward and holds the hare against the altar’s face. Pulling out the same blade you used to slice your hand, you wait until the old woman snaps its neck, then you plunge your blade deep in its soft belly. 

Lifeblood runs hot and thick across the stone. Each of the village women comes forward to gather the blood, bathing their arms and necks with the dark liquid. You skin the chosen creature, gutting it quickly before the innards grow too cold for use and drop the heart and lungs in a separate wooden bowl. Finished, you pick up the bowl and walk outside to the center of the village. You toss them into the fire with a smattering of herbs gathered earlier. 

You shout out an incantation, tossing more herbs and branches into the fire. Voice growing quiet, you bow to the flame, ending the ritual. Everything is now in place for tomorrow’s oblation. A few of the women help you to your home, exhausted as you are from the fervor of performing your duties.

The next morning dawns brightly. You rise along with the burgeoning rays. Dressing for the cold, you join the congregation of people at the temple. The scant time of daylight is spent readying the skins and headpieces for the ceremony. Masks and furs are to be given to those joining, a trickery of confusion to one chosen to Hunt for the priestess. The times when the Hunter has become confused and chosen poorly, the dark gods were unkind, and many perished.

The village elders now choose more carefully lest it happen again. For as long as you’ve been alive, every chase has ended with the priestess caught, ensuring the village is secure until the next ceremony of oblation. The sun begins to set, signifying an end to preparations. 

Everyone begins to gather outside the temple. The elders talk amongst themselves, narrowing down who shall become the Hunter—who shall be the one to find you amidst the trickery in the dark of the forest—the one who shall perform the ceremony and satisfy the lust of the ancient ones.

“Leon, come forth.”

A young man with blonde hair and blue eyes is brought forward. His strong arms, offset by scars, signify battles won, someone who must be from the war party. You’ve seen him before, but with his task of being a fighter, he is rarely in the village. This ceremony, however, requires everyone to partake. All of the war parties and hunting parties made the trek back home in time. 

A loud cheer goes up when the man accepts the crown of raven’s wings, letting one of the elders anoint his brow with blood before placing it atop his head. He shrugs on the sacred skin of the bear, cutting a formidable figure against the dying sun. You hope he is up to the task. His serious blue eyes seek you out amidst the villagers, nodding in deference once he locks eyes with you.

You join the elders and enter the temple. They strip you of your warmth and paint your body with runes and symbols of the dark gods you worship. Herbs are crushed into a paste and smeared across your belly and breasts. Chants and incantations are murmured while they ready you for the ritual. Dressing you in the coat of a freshly skinned stag, they adorn your brow with a headdress of antlers.

Guiding you from the temple, you join the group of men and women joining the chase, each dressed in skins and masks. Now that you’re ready, they’re off, running into the dark of the forest with you trailing behind. The elders will release the Hunter once they’ve completed the blessings for him. It’s not long before villagers begin to split off. 

The chase warms the blood. It’s why this part of the ceremony has lasted the test of time. Warm blood is the preferred offering of your dark gods. The antlers snag on a low branch and keep you in place. You can hear the others running, footfalls muted on the soft, damp earth. It gives them time to distract and escape from the clutches of the Hunter. 

The heavy coat of the stag drips against your skin, sticky blood running down your naked body. You finally snap the branch that’s keeping you from moving, feet picking up speed until you’re running through the winding trunks. The silver birches gleam like ghosts in the murky night. You catch fleeting glimpses of other animals—deer, rabbits, a fox or two. Your eyes have yet to see the Hunter, clad in the finest bearskin with a crown of raven’s wings atop his brow.

No matter how cold the night is, the heat of the chase keeps the chill at bay. You’re close to where the ritual needs to take place. This Hunter is smart, corralling you close enough that he can catch you more easily. The elders chose wisely this time. The tree comes into view. A horrible wretch of a thing. Legend tells the screaming face embedded in its onyx-colored bark is the combined souls of those who would do the village harm. Another reason why the covenant with the dark gods is so necessary. Its thorny branches are sharp enough to slice into flesh. 

A thick arm bands around your waist, stopping your momentum and sending you stumbling back against a warm, fur-covered chest.

“I’ve caught you, priestess.”

You can see the smoke of Leon’s breath passing by the side of your face. A low humming chant begins deep in the forest, the elders leading the procession of villagers to the site of the ceremony. He manhandles you until he’s pressing your back against the rough bark of the dead, wizened tree. The antlers are tossed from your head onto the ground along with his own crown before he takes your lips in a rough, hungry kiss. 

The men and women begin to form a semicircle around the tree, witness to the ritual about to take place. They’re only a minor distraction before Leon rips the stag coat from your body, dropping it at your feet. Skin scraping against the bark makes you hiss in pain, small cuts forming along your back and arms. He kisses you again, parting his own animal skin to bare his naked body. 

You pull away and sink your teeth into his shoulder, biting hard enough the tang of blood fills your mouth. He grunts, cock thickening against your leg. Shoving you more firmly against the dead tree, he slots his leg between your thighs, pressing the damp lips of your cunt against the warm skin. Hissing, you rock down against him, pleasure zipping through your body. 

The ritual is meant to be bloody and rough, an offering to the dark gods that bay and howl for life. Leon moves to kiss you again at the same time you dip forward to bite his other shoulder. His chin knocks against your cheek, making you shift, arm catching on a thorn-covered branch and slicing open your flesh. Pulling you into his chest, he braces his forearm against your side, the branch cutting into his flesh and preventing it from sinking into yours.

You admire his care; the ancient ones have no preferences whose blood is shed as long as it is human and it is fresh. He kisses across your jaw before sinking his own teeth into your neck at the same time he lifts your leg to wrap around his waist. Your eyes catch sight of the villagers, standing solemnly, watching as Leon and you perform the rite. He brings your attention back when he ruts his cock against the seam of your cunt. Notching the head of his dick at your hole, he bullies his way completely inside, stuffing and stretching your pussy so suddenly you can’t breathe. 

He groans like a wounded dog, pulling halfway out before sinking back into your pliant flesh. Your nails scratch and claw at his back, shredding the skin underneath. He retaliates by biting and snarling, teeth maiming your neck and shoulders until it’s a bloody mess. All thoughts of higher thinking are lost to the frenzy. Leon mates you like some rabid animal. You're biting and clawing at each other—blood spilling from your bodies to coat the imposing tree at your back.

At some point, Leon pulls out to spin you around, pressing your stomach and chest against the rough bark. Keening like a bitch in heat, Leon pounds your cunt with hard, powerful thrusts. More cuts open against the soft meat of your belly and breasts, palms scraping against the tree while Leon fucks your pussy into submission. His palm cups above your mound, angling your body back in a way that makes you clamp down around his cock. 

Groaning, he keeps up the fast pace—his dick plunging in and out of your wet, dripping hole, the tip grazing something so delicious it’s making your brain light up in ways you’ve never experienced. You can’t stop the noises escaping you, like a stuck pig braying for help. Leon rams into you, cock thick and heavy, stretching you out. A pleasure unlike anything you’ve experienced is overcoming your senses. Your fingers curl into claws, mouth open in a silent scream as something in your brain snaps. 

Everything goes silent except the pleasure engulfing your entire being. Time is infinite in this space. Tears streak down your cheeks, eyes open yet unseeing even as Leon buries his cock to the hilt to fill you with his sticky spend. You come to yourself when a heavy fur is draped around your exhausted body. 

“Priestess, the ceremony of oblation is complete.”

Turning, you look into a pair of blue eyes. 

“Thank you,” you rasp, voice scratchy. 

He shifts on his feet, nude body covered with his own animal skin. The various men and women are walking back to the village, preparing the feast that is to follow the ritual. Leon stands next to you, a warm and quiet presence while you gain your bearings once more.

You walk in silence, side by side, through the forest. It’s a companionable feeling, a sense of peace that pervades you. The man beside you coughs lightly. 

“Priestess,” he pauses for a breath. “May I dance with you at the fire tonight?”

Heat suffuses your chest, and you smile at him, dried blood flaking from the movement. 

“I’d like that, Leon.”

[blue-wings-of-life]

Why are you all alone here? Or well, mostly alone I guess, considering the butterflies

but hah, it's not all bad! You're here now, after all!

[xokaythebunnyig]

GIGGLES HI IM ALIVE AND WELL, AND UH NOT DEAD :DDDDDD

I uh, have some pictures of the sillies.. we got Grimm, TPK aka Abner- We got Lurien the Simp and The Lifeblood creature :]

Basically got new markers and coloured in some old pics. Also yes I did forget to date the colouring for Grimm. Hope you enjoy these human designs of silly bugs ♡

[dhampling]

lifeblood 18+ (astarion x fem!reader)

As you step closer and drop the basket on the ground he throws a palm up at you. Short, ragged groans. “That… tea. It’s done something to me. The old wretch.” - astarion discovers an aphrodisiac during a trip to the night market, and only one thing is on his mind. cw: breeding, afab reader, mommy kink (brief), sex pollen, comfort, sexual frustration, zero plot, p in v wc: 2.5k, if there are errors no there aren't; enjoy!

The Night Market is particularly vibrant this evening, people and creatures of all description wandering the streets browsing various wares - and so when Astarion feverishly takes your hand and pulls you away from your browsing in a staggered gait; your immediate thoughts are all telling you to watch for danger.

Wicker basket in arm, flailing as he weaves you both through the tepid mulling crowds - a harsh whisper when you scramble close enough to ask ‘what is it?’ - he’s unrelenting in his pursuit, eyes searching off to each alley and aside between stalls. It’s not until he finds a gated passage a little along that his momentum stops and he drops to his knees to pick the lock; then jumps up and pulls you through with a harsh grasp on your upper arm.

You await the slam. The frantic recollection of whatever it is that has him so wary, the whispers and heads over the gate as you duck your way back home from wherever you’ve now ended up.

Had he been caught thieving? Surely not.

Instead though, he surprises you.

He begins to fiddle with the laces of his trousers. Panting. Brow furrowed into a crease and typically-deft fingers losing hold of the lacing with a pained yowl.

“What is this?”

As you step closer and drop the basket on the ground he throws a palm up at you. Short, ragged groans.

“That… tea. It’s done something to me. The old wretch.”

You bypass his hand and bring the back of your own to his forehead, feeling a clammy sweat atop his brow and a slight heat broiling. The tea you’d turned down around half an hour ago, before you’d split for your own respective market gains.

“Gods - Astarion, the aphrodisiac? Of course it has - you okay?”

As you speak he brings your wrist to his nose and huffs it. A haggard wail. Snorts the salt of your skin and gives a strangled curse. He finishes the laces of his trousers and works to free his cock, looking from it to you in a desperate plea.

“Here? Now? What in the hells is going on?!”

“I can smell it. You. You’re so…’

Another huff. His other hand bounces his cock in his palm, spidery strings of prespill linking pale skin.

‘Fertile. Like a cat in heat. Gods, I- I don’t know what this is.”

His hips rut with insatiable want into the air. 

“How do you feel?”

You take him in one hand while wrapping the other around his shoulder in a soothing sail. A few gentle pumps to bring the skin around the head down; a thumb down his slit, literally leaking now. He sobs. 

“I’m burning.’

He writhes against the wooden gate, still standing. Tender cries from his wet, wanting mouth.

‘It’s painful. I- I need you. Please.”

“What do you want from me?’

A deliberate, slow jerk; your wrist turning effortlessly.

‘How can I help you, angel?”

For the first time in this whole sorry sequence his eyes meet yours, red turned a dangerous carmine.

“Don’t make me say it.” 

You squeeze him in your palm and he wails.

“Maybe I want you to say it.’

He thrusts deeply into your hand and screws his eyes closed, panting in habitual breaths. You lean close to his flushed ear and kitten-lick the inner skin with an intentionally wet tongue.

‘Say it for me. Say it for mummy, darling.’

When the word leaves your lips, his head whips to you furiously. Eyes round and brimming with tears. Bottom lip trembling. Your foreheads meet and you soften. Your poor boy.

‘Do you want this? Or would you like to go home, Astarion? I’ll draw you a bath, we can-”

“I want this. I need- I need to-’

You shuffle away, lifting your skirts and fiddling at your own underclothes to loosen them down your thighs. When he sees your own spool of arousal connecting cunt to cloth he jerks furiously and advances behind you, this time in your ear.

‘Let me fuck you. I’ll make you a mummy. I need to-’

Your fingers disappear deep between your legs, arching your ass into him; and emerge drenched in clear jelly slick - a film connecting them as they splay. 

He’s shaking now. He can smell it more vividly than he’s ever been able to smell anything. His hands press over your lower belly; the womb ripe for fertilisation, the way he can envision himself sunk to the hilt and ebbing at the entrance to your cervix, his seed leaking directly into you with each prespill pulse and throb. 

‘I need to put a baby in you. I need to breed you.’

He regains control for a brief moment as deft fingers work their way down your front and to the top of your pubic bone. If you were to stop and consider then you know there’s categorically no way he could impregnate you, and even if so; it’s not something you’ve considered to any realistic extent. 

‘This won’t go away until I do, sweetheart. I can feel it.”

There’s a solemnity to his whisper, you note. A consideration. 

A sadness, maybe? 

You wonder how literal he is. If this has triggered some latent need to knock you up. If your fertile days will be spent with him filling you to the brim with his undead spend, over and over; until he somehow manages the impossible. 

A stack of crates nearby. They’ll do for this. 

You lead him now, a shepherd; to the boxes and hitch your skirts over your ass while you bend over the dry wood. 

“If you let me do this, I won’t be able to stop.” Astarion’s voice cracks in the whisper while looking at your glistening cunt with admirable restraint. You feel yourself leaking down the soft skin of your thigh - your own arousal catching on the cool night air. 

“I don’t want you to stop.’ 

He descends on you after a dazed moment to steep in your words, testing the waters with nimble fingers edging between your swollen lips. 

‘Fuck me full. Breed me.”

“You’re so ready, aren’t you? Little minx.’

A wretched groan. 

‘You want me to get you pregnant? I can feel how ruinously soaked you are - tell me, is this what you want? Have you wanted this for a while?”

When he speaks it’s simply silken. Syrup. His fingers feel excruciatingly good as they round your lust-engorged clit, babbling nonsense in a lusty haze.

“Gods. Yes. Yes. Please, please fuck me. Spill into me.”

The fingers are merely customary. He knows what he wants, and you want it too. Each wanton wiggle of your hips, each brush against your ass cheeks. The blunt head of his cock settles just broaches your entrance as you hear him suckle on his fingertips coyly behind you. 

A low hum of approval.

“Good. My darling girl.”

On darling, he begins his relentless campaign. 

Once settled at the hilt he stops for a moment in a weighty groan, eyes rolling back into his skull as you turn over your shoulder. His hands settle in a firm grasp on your hips. At this moment he’s determined. Needy. Your cunt is the relief he so desperately seeks and he takes a second to adjust so he can hump you properly. To ensure the seed settles once he’s gathered the momentum to have it spurt deep into your womb.

He feels ridiculously good like this. 

Like a meal to the starving, water in the desert. The wet glubs accompanying his shallow thrusts are evidentiary to just how much you need this. Him buried inside you - rattling on like a madman. Talks like his mind will never be the same again. 

The only thing in his brain being the unfettered desire to make you round. 

“I’ll take you back here again, in a few months. When you’re- when you’re round and aching. Keep your arm in mine at all times so- so they all know just who did this to you.’

A few shallow ruts before he ploughs back in deep.

‘You’d like that, wouldn’t you? I- I feel your heart racing, darling. You want my babies? You want to make me a daddy?’

He cants his hips at the breech of your cervix, not pulling back, simply moving to adjust himself inside you. Ensuring his prespill leaks into your waiting womb with each rock of his pelvis.

‘Because I’m feral thinking about making you a mother. All glowy and swollen, my baby inside you.”

His clammy hand slaps your ass, heavy balls smacking on your clit with his terse thrusts.

“I- I want it. I need it. Please.”

Your moans are directly into the dry wood, face now pressed to the side against the crates. Lips swollen from your own attempts to bite back your lewd proclamations. Spit forming a glob of drool in the resting corner. 

You’re smiling. Beaming. Gods. 

Had you wanted this? Had it been some subconscious desire of yours to mother his children? Has some sketchy tea from a Night Market vendor done this to you through his prespill seeping in? Made you realise just how you wanted your life with him to look? 

You’ve not planned for this, but no fear overwhelms you at the thought of the possible outcome of your breeding session. The thought of him sat beaming over your child. The most beautiful man you’ve ever seen; yours, your family, everyone knowing your devotion to each other in the most lifelong sense. Infallible and real and capable of producing something beyond yourselves.

As he continues his pursuit you wonder if they’ll have his eyes. Fangs. Dhampir aren’t a common breed. They’re far too difficult to rear.

But there’s something potent in the way he piles into you where you can begin to see an entire brood of them. Dhampir. 

The sheer determination behind his smacks, the way you ass burns each time his palm meets it in a sharp slap. His chuntering warbles - moans, grunting, the light pleading;-

The light pleading.

He’s reaching around your front and holding your lower belly as he fucks you, a slight falter to his pacing.

Poor thing. 

“Feed.” You whimper, brushing all hindrances from your neck and arching into him once more so he stops his thrusting.

“I- I can’t. I can’t risk it not taking. This isn’t going away, love.”

His voice cracks, a desperation once more.

“I said feed. Feed on me, my angel. Then fuck me full of you.”

He keeps inside you as he leans over your back, hands moving to feel for your nipples under your blouse and lightly jerking the peaking skin. He stills for a moment in an attempt to regain some of himself.

“Yes, mother.” 

You both fall about laughing until he corrects your stance with an urgent tug and waits no time to sink his teeth into the long-standing wounds on your neck. 

From his position he can’t thrust, stretched over your back like some heavy battlecloak of old. 

You warm him with genuine delight at no risk of him growing soft and feel the way his pretty cock pushes against your ridges in the most minute way. His suckling from you in order to eke out your lifeblood, becoming his own once swallowed. The saccharine pool of metal red gathering under his tongue with each lap. 

Once finished, he lifts with renewed vigour. Wipes his mouth on the back of his hand and cackles something wicked.

He gives you no time to adjust before he resumes his conquest on your body, a brutal thrust giving you cause to wince into the crates below you. You whip your head around to sneer at him which earns you a sheepish smile.

Each snap brings you closer. The white heat boiling, spluttering in your gut threatens to spill with each mutter from his blood-smeared mouth.

“I’m close.” You whimper. 

He leans over you once more.

“Milk it from me, love. Cum for me.”

The whisper tips you over. Each rolling tidal wave of ecstasy as his thumb strokes the side of your distended clit is molten in extremity, each clench of your cunt vice-like around him. His roaring laughter ecstatic as he rides you through your peak like some seasoned rancher.

Whoever has set up stall by the alley is definitely aware of your brutal fucking. The thought of them discovering you has you in near shambles as you reach the end of climax. Being discovered. Something else that’s relatively new to you, but not unpleasant.

Then, he gasps. Trembles. Shatters. Through the haze of your orgasm you feel him stutter on weak legs and the vulnerability you’ve come to know so well has blinked back into the frame. 

“Tell me I can. Now. Quick.”

“Knock me up. You can do it, baby.”

Eyes still round, Astarion humps your ass in anticipation one more time and spills with such force it sends him reeling into audible ecstacy. Each twitch of his cock inside you milky smooth in your combined secretion, blood-pinkened slit spurting, the sheer control as he presses impossibly deep into your waiting cunt. You find yourself rolling back in your own delirium. 

His orgasmic rutting doesn’t stop for a long while. A series of beleaguered moans, the way his humming pitches with each slap of his hips; each of his taps against your cervix causing you to clench further and therefore feeding the cycle.

When he does eventually stop, his face buries in between your shoulderblades; arms wrapping around your waist. Silence. 

“Astarion, love - are you okay?”

A feeble whisper. Back still arched, his weight on you.

“I’m- I’m so sorry.”

There’s a teary singe to his quiet words, reverent kisses planted on your own now-sweat laden skin. He sniffs. 

“It’s okay! We all make mistakes. She did say it was an aphrodisiac, to be fair to her. Is it still affecting you?”

“No, not that.”

“Then what?”

He sniffs once more and wipes his face with the back of his hand, using your hips as leverage to stand. 

“I- This. All this. I didn’t want it to come out like this, ideally.”

You shuffle a little and he slips from between your legs, taking your underwear from the floor and turning to face him whilst you roll the garment over your thighs.

“What? That you have a raging breeding fetish?” 

He taps your arm lightly and laughs a little, lacing up his breeches.

“Well. Kind of?’

He pulls a face and brings you close, moon overhead gleaming in the cool night. A slight breeze.

‘I don’t know what I want, per se; but I think I like the idea of… Well. This.’ 

His hands roll over one another as he plants a soft kiss atop your head. You lick your thumb and wipe any remaining blood traces from his lips.

‘It feels ridiculously sordid and entirely dangerous, but the moment that… stuff hit my blood I knew what I needed. I could smell you miles off. Still can.”

“You want to put a dhampir in me?” You laugh, waggling your fingers near his face. He groans.

“You’re not going to let this go, are you?”

“Nope.’

You kiss the back of his hand as you reach for the discarded basket.

‘Not until you’ve done it, anyway.”

[aria-greenhoodie]

Drawing this stupid tiny fucking creature interacting with the Pines is my lifeblood actually

Click for Quality!