#knight's notebook
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Day 4: Size kink
Pairing: Grian/Docm77
Grian is running, running, running.
This is becoming a drug, he thinks, bitter. For him, and the others. The seasons are getting faster, closer together. But why wouldn't they want to do it, again and again and again? When the sweet song of adrenaline in their veins is so inebriating, when the sweet haze of red in front of their eyes, screaming for blood is the only thing that makes them feel alive?
Doc took to the formula of the game incredibly well, and incredibly quick. Joel had scoffed at the death messages in chat, but Grian, oh, Grian knew. He knows now, too, flittering between treetops, lost in the adrenaline of the chase. Doc's always been good at playing the villain: the forest is deadly silent, and he drops down on the ground to scout the clearing he ends up in. A noise behind him, like a twig snapping under heavy hooves, and Grian doesn’t have time to jump in fear: there are big hands closing around his waist, there are claws—it seems—thicker than his pinky finger tearing through his sweater, hot breath on his neck and the musk of fur and grime and bloodthirst surrounding him, and Doc is slamming him to the ground.
“You’re a sneaky little birdie,” he rumbles, sounding pleased, “but I’m faster.”
Panic sings through Grian’s bones, and he feels good.
“Doc,” he gasps, “Doc, Doc, c’mon, I’m sure we can…” by the Gods he’s big and warm and heavy on top of him and making his head dizzy, “Uhh, we can figure something out?”
Doc barks out a laugh that makes all the feathers on Grian stand on end.
“Oh yeah?” he purrs. “And what would you have that could interest me, birdie?”
Doc doesn’t wait for an answer before bearing down on Grian, grinding down on him. Something big and warm tents Doc's sweatpants, presses against Grian's crotch and belly and almost reaches his sternum and Gods Doc is so big it makes Grian dizzy.
"Doc, I know how you're feeling, I get it. I've been red before, I know how it feels. There's… other ways to satisfy this empty feeling."
"Such as?" Doc says, a low rumble that ricochets through Grian's brain.
"Such as…"
Grian bites his lip.
Is he really doing this?
God, that's hot.
Slowly, he wraps his fingers about Doc's wrist—as big as his arm—to drag it lower, from his shoulder, to his chest, to tickle at the hem of his sweater and slip under to touch warm skin. Doc grins, feral: his remaining eye shines red as bright as the metal one, and his hand curls around Grian’s waist so, so easily. He’s being manhandled like he weighs nothing to Doc, and he probably doesn’t. That big hand bunches his sweater up and up under his throat until his whole chest is exposed, and then a single clawed finger runs through it to rip it to useless little shreds: the same treatment is reserved for his pants, and Doc chuckles when he’s left naked on the grass.
“No undies, Grian?” He purrs, leaning down to fit his face in the crook of Grian’s now bare neck, so big his mouth wraps around his clavicle and chest and throat, sharp teeth leaving painful imprints.
“Eh, they get…” A shiver, because Doc has wrapped a hand around his hip and brought another between his legs to run two fingers along his slit, big and warm and calloused on his puffy cock, “... uncomfortable.”
Doc hums, and then a finger is breaching him. It’s big and warm and calloused and perfect and Grian keens, spreads his legs seeking more and more; Doc smiles and leans down to—Gods—spit on his hand, on the cunt it was buried in: he pumps his finger in and out a couple times to lube him up properly, swirls his finger in a circle, ridges and knuckles dragging against his walls until Grian wants to claw all of Doc’s clothes off and jump on his cock now now now just give me more for the love of all things holy. Doc seems to read his mind, because another finger is prodding at him and it’s so big and tight but it’s also not nearly enough, and Grian bristles.
“Okay, okay, you’ve had your fun, now will you just–”
Doc scissors his fingers open, and Grian is left speechless, whining out a high-pitched little noise.
“Hm. How can you think to take my cock, when two fingers leave you so dumb and whiny?”
Grian doesn’t answer, just grinds against the fingers inside him, tries to make his moans sound alluring enough that Doc might take pity on him.
Doc pumps his fingers in and out, in and out, in and out.
They’re as big as a cock, and Grian wants more.
Then the fingers pop out, leave him dreadfully empty, and Grian doesn’t even notice the rustling of cloth, of Doc pulling his sweatpants down, because now something much bigger and much warmer and much wetter than Doc’s fingers is pressing against his entrance; Grian looks down. Doc’s clit—though it’s so big Grian is willing to put it to the test against any cock he’s taken—is beautiful, peeking out from under all the fur: dark green and pink, flushed and weeping, standing at attention from its cocoon of pillowy looking, slick folds, spread open like a flower: Doc pushes in and Grian immediately forgets the game, the lives, himself, everything. His whole world is reduced to Doc’s fat, puffy cock filling him up perfectly, pressing against his walls and what he’s deliriously sure is his cervix, just long enough to fill him to the brim but so thick it’s making it hard to breathe.
Doc trills a pleased noise, almost like a purr: his big hands move until he’s got Grian perfectly still, holding him by the hips like a little fleshlight; like a little fleshlight, he starts to move him. Up, down, up, down, slap, slap, slap, slap.
Doc is enjoying himself, muttering half-niceties in the murmuring hiss that is the language of Creepers; Grian lays limp in his hold, fucked stupid on Doc’s cock and the way it presses every button inside him while, at the same time, rubbing deliciously against his own.
It’s quick, for both of them: one moment Doc’s growling, the next he’s roaring his pleasure in Groan’s shoulder, pistoning his hips into a punishing, uneven rhythm until there’s slick splashing on the floor, and the next Grian is enveloped by pleasure, so much he has to scream it, and is coming around Doc’s cock.
It takes a moment for them to regain their breath. Doc slips out of him, pulls up his sweatpants, tumbles to the ground next to him. They stay still for a while, enveloped in comfortable silence, shoulder to shoulder as they get their breath back.
Then Doc sits up and snaps Grian’s neck.
Dammit.
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Sharing my frustration with all of you
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Quirrel Quirrel Quirrel
#I was listening to my hand crafted Quirrel playlist and by the time I was finished#My notebook was filled with all this#Love these bugsss#I haven't posted in quite a while but yes I am still obsessed with these bugs#hk quirrel#hk hornet#hk ghost#hk little ghost#hk monomon#monomon the teacher#hornet x quirrel#quirrelnet#hollow knight
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Hi, I know I've been dead for like a month, but I am back to post this.
I made a gjinka of she for funsies. <3
#hollow knight#hollow knight art#she <3#Radi <3#the radiance#I don't think I've ever drawn her before#I just sketched her in my maths notebook and I liked it enough to line colour and fully render it#I'll probably be posting some more gjinkas sometime soon#I've drawn Auri and Grimm like several times#I just haven't lined or cleaned any up yet lmao#gjinka#hk art#hk gjinka#back into hiding for the next month lmao#oh right and the gradient on her hands isn't indicative of anything#I just think it looks cool#cool long nail hands scratchy scratchy my beloved#rot's art
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So that new costume
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video game hand-embroidered notebooks // amethyst alchemist on Etsy
#pokemon#celeste#animal crossing#celeste animal crossing#night in the woods#mae#mae night in the woods#hollow knight#vaporeon#embroidery#art#crafts#notebook#bookbinding
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Here’s some casual modern AU writing cause I felt like it 🙈
It was a day like any other and Maya made her way to the school grounds to meet up with her friends for lunch, like she did every day.
Lunch breaks were always fun.
Her friends’ laughter, Halea’s enthusiastic chatter and even the constant banter between Aiden and Talon made delightful background music for a nice dinner out in the fresh air.
Maya enjoyed those moments, she wouldn’t want to trade them for anything in the world.
As she almost reached her destination, a big tree that they always used to spend their breaks under in the warmer months of the year, she spotted something that made her stop dead in her tracks.
There under the tree sat Aiden and Talon, waiting for their other friends to arrive.
That itself wasn’t the unusual part, what was unusual however was the way they sat so close that their legs were touching, with Aiden’s head resting on Talon’s shoulder.
It looked so peaceful and so unlike the two that Maya was stunned.
Sure, she knew that Aiden and Talon were getting along a lot better, now that Talon started tutoring the younger and they spent more time together.
It was something that made both her and Halea really proud, considering the rocky start the two boys had.
Yet this sort of interaction seemed completely out of character for the two that still mostly communicated through banter and teasing remarks (though now laced with much more fondness than at the start).
Seeing them like this surprised her.
What surprised her even more was when Aiden lifted his head from Talon’s shoulder and Maya saw that they were apparently listening to music together, sharing earphones.
Talon’s earphones.
Maya couldn’t believe her eyes. Talon’s earphones were holy to him, he didn’t share them with anyone. He always claimed that it was “too personal” and also pretty gross and annoying.
He didn’t even share his earphones with Maya and they were best friends since primary school.
That he was willing to share them, with Aiden no less, was close to a miracle.
She wondered why he allowed it.
“Here you are,” someone pulled her out of her thoughts. Halea kissed Maya’s cheek in greeting.
Maya turned away from the boys to smile at her girlfriend. “Hi.”
Halea smiled back. “Why are you standing here? Are the boys not there?”
“They are,” Maya said, nodding in the direction of their tree. “But look at them.”
Halea looked confused at Maya’s behavior for a second, but then she looked over to their friends and let out a gasp.
“Wow, they get along.”
She sounded genuinely impressed and it made Maya laugh.
“Weird, right?”
The boys were still oblivious to the world around them and their two friends watching them from afar.
Aiden happily sipped on his apple juice and as Talon nudged his side, he held the juice box out to the other boy, who took a sip without even looking.
Out of the same straw.
Maya thought she must’ve imagined it, but Halea had seen it, too.
“Damn,” she said, “Aiden usually doesn’t share his apple juice with anyone. Last time I tried to take a sip he growled at me. Strange.”
Strange indeed, Maya thought.
Back under the tree, Aiden said something the girls couldn’t hear from where they stood, probably a joke or teasing comment, judging by his smug grin.
Usually Talon only ever rolled his eyes at that, or bit back with a probably borderline insulting reply.
But today nothing was like it usually was, apparently, because Talon started to laugh, loud and genuine, before bumping his shoulder against Aiden’s playfully.
Aiden’s grin only grew and he rested his head back against Talon’s shoulder.
Maya and Halea stared at each other with a matching expressions of disbelief, then back to their best friends.
“Did you see what I saw?” Halea asked, bewildered.
Maya nodded. She watched as Talon leaned his head against Aiden’s, content smile on his face and suddenly it all clicked into place.
This explained a lot. Talon’s behavior the last weeks.
How he had tuned down the mocking words, how he handed Aiden an apple juice box for lunch last week, how they spoke more and bickered less, how softly and proudly he looked at Aiden as he told them about passing his maths exam.
How Talon would blush when Maya commented on all of these things.
She smiled. Then she took her girlfriend’s hand.
“Come Halea, let’s have dinner at the Cafeteria today.”
Looks like their boys could use some alone time.
#writer speaks#writeblr#wip: the knights of the alder#modern au#writing#my writing#the fun thing about this is that I think they’re not even dating yet#or maybe they are I don’t remember when that scenario took place I only have a note in my notebook#yes Talon is someone who normally considers sharing earphones and drinking from the same straw gross but not if it’s Aiden
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Fictional Black Princesses Appreciation Post
#disney#winx club#marvel#mcu#nella the princess knight#princeless#tlc#from the notebooks of a middle school princess#blackexcellence#multicomparison#comparison appreciation#representation matters#royalty#expy idea#my posts#exude excellence
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In the vast sky, a tale unfolds,
Of lovers, mysteries yet untold.
The sun and the moon, with hearts so bright,
Playing hide and seek, day and night.
As dawn awakes, the sun takes flight,
With golden rays, it paints the light.
Stretching its beams, spreading a glow,
Chasing shadows, high and low.
But the moon, in silvery attire,
Yearns to bask in love's desire.
As twilight beckons, it enters the scene,
A celestial dance, tranquil and serene.
Behind the veil of darkness and sleep,
They meet, their affection divine and deep.
In a cosmic embrace, they twirl and sway,
As the earth spins, meandering its way.
And when their love aligns just right,
The world is swept into their sight.
An eclipse emerges, enchanting all,
A spectacle that leaves us in thrall.
In this rare moment, time suspends,
As the universe subtly amends.
The sun and the moon, forever entwined,
Their love's display, truly refined.
Their celestial love story, a sight to behold,
A saga of passion, untold, untold.
As they chase and seek, never apart,
Love's beauty radiates from their heart.
#my words#my writing#poem#poems on tumblr#poetry#emotinal#notebooks#sun and moon show#moony wormtail padfoot and prongs#sunset#sunrise#lovely#love poem#sunshine#moon knight#late night thoughts#late night thinking#morning thoughts#the sun and moon show#the sun and her flowers
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Doodling a smiley Hollow because they deserve to be happy
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Soul master for the soul. On lined paper of course, why would I ever draw anything on proper paper
#Cursed with the tendency to draw things only on the far right of my lined paper notebook#I think this was for hk tober with the prompts by @fly-sky-high-bug-games#But I don't remember which prompt and I haven't been drawing them consistently#I am very sorry it's so messy and pointless don't look at me#yet another fandom unrelated to the other ones I've posted about please help me#it's so messy but I liked some of the highlighter bits so here it is#whelk's traditional doodles#hollow knight#soul master#hk soul master
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Day 13: Intoxicated Sex
Pairing: Scarian
Scar kind of gets the appeal, by now. He drank the tea Mother Spore offered him, and now his head is pounding, his limbs are heavy, his mind filled with cotton. Grian—Mother Spore—dragged him away from his hall, away from safety, deep under the ground and the ocean in her lair, and now he’s stuck under here, on a rickety wooden chair, being tortured.
Well.
It’s not really torture, to be fair.
Grian is beautiful and ethereal, clad in dark, earthy shadows and colourful wings vibrant with purple on his back, lit by trembling torchlight. He's shed all his clothes, standing stark naked in front of Scar, who's pliant and too soft to wonder about it, or really, formulate any coherent thought past how pretty he looks like this, how soft his skin seems, how lovely the cunt glistening behind a cloud of curly hair.
"Oh," Mother Spore chuckles, and it sounds like a thousand voices at once, "Mister Mayor, how uncouth. Getting hard over little old me?"
Is Scar hard? He hadn't realised.
Mother Spore climbs on his lap, tepid and sharp. He leaves purple dust all over Scar’s pants and jacket, draping himself over him. He smells intoxicating, strong and musky and earthy, floats around and surrounds Scar like a cloud. He’s even harder now, tries to lean forward to bury his face in the soft skin of Grian’s neck. Grian chuckles, even as Scar’s teeth close sharp around his jugular, vex magic sharpening his teeth into fangs and still not enough strength in his jaw to draw blood. Everything around Scar has sharpened into pinpoint focus, his skin feels on fire, his head is swimming, he wants to get naked and just take a dip in the cold ocean that surrounds the island.
“Feisty, feisty.” Mother Spore tuts, but he’s grinding down on Scar’s erection, and he’s so fired up he can almost feel his plump lips rub against the tent in his slacks.
"P-please," Scar pants, not even sure what he's begging for, "Please, Grian."
"Grian's not here currently." says Mother Spore, distant, resonant. Then he's back on Earth, smiling oh-so-sweet. "But I am. Tell me what you want of me, mister Mayor, and I'll do my best to satisfy you."
Scar tries to think, really think. What does he want?
But his brain feels empty and mushy, full of cotton and pollen, soaked in arousal and ready to be set on fire with a match. Why are his limbs so heavy? Why can't he remember why he did this? Why does Grian smell so good and intoxicating?
He can feel the thrum of his own magic whirring, trying to combat whatever Mother Spore is doing to him, but this is the spores' home field. He so wants to grab Grian and throw him to the floor and have his way with him until he's a writhing mass of feathers on the floor, but as it stands he has to sit limply as Grian pushes his jacket off his shoulders and undoes the first few buttons of his shirt, down to where his waistcoat stands, to close his lips around a tender patch of skin. His warm mouth tickles on Scar's clavicle, teeth sharp. He tongues at the mark left as if in apology and starts mouthing a meandering line of fire, every touch leaves tingling in its wake. He wants to beg more, but his jaw feels locked shut, so he lets—lets, hah, as if he has any choice—Grian keep undressing him, the vest, the shirt, the pants, the boxers, the gloves. He’s left naked on a chair in just his socks and brogues. Oh, Gods, his cock is so hard. He can see it at the edge of his vision, standing at attention, tip flushed and weeping. Mother Spore coos something at it, like its a cute little pet to look at with pity, and leans down to lap at the tip. His tongue is wet and rough and warm but not that warm, and coupled with the just-too-tight hold around his base keeping him still, it makes Scar’s head spin. It’s electric, how good it feels. He wants to buck into the stimulation, finds his hips heavy like lead, and a low, pathetic little whine makes its way out of his throat.
Mother Spore chuckles, drags his tongue across his cockhead to dig in the little divot, pleasure clouds Scar’s mind like a fog machine.
“Feels good?” He asks, and Gods, Scar might be a fae but this man—man?—is a demon.
He shouldn’t be as aroused as he is, Scar remembers.
But then Grian is pumping his fist up and down around his cock, too tight, perfect, and Scar forgets sense. He’s climbing in his lap. He can feel, now, his warm wetness, hovering inches from his cock.
He sinks down, takes him to the hilt in one fell swoop.
Oh, he’s warm inside, tight and wet all around his dick like a vice. The pace he starts on is brutal, lifting himself up and letting himself fall back down, a sick, moist slap-slap-slap of wet skin on skin, a barrage of sensation around Scar that he can do nothing about but sit for the ride, and he couldn’t wish for anything more, not right now. It feels so good, so tight, so perfect for him, pleasure tight around him like a pressure, around his lungs; perhaps it’s just all the pollen flying from Grian’s skin and into his lungs.
Grian–Mother Spore has both hands on Scar’s chest, bouncing on his lap with earnest abandon, lips ajar and pretty, musical moans falling from them, rumbly like the hum of the earth.
“I know it feels good,” Mother Spore says, hiccupping from pleasure, “I can feel your dick twitch in me. You’re so pretty for me, all still and motionless and empty-headed.”
Another thrust, so good and so much that Scar wants to cry with pleasure. He can’t bring his tear ducts to make water. “You feel good in me, too, you know? So big and warm. I’m about to cum, do you want to help me? Make me feel good?”
He’s mocking him, Scar knows. He wants, clouded mind as it is, to reach his hand to swirl his fingers around Grian’s stiff, flushed cock, like a jewel between the petals of his folds, but his limbs just won’t obey his brain.
He doesn’t know if he really wants to, but he feels this need.
Mother Spore chuckles, wraps a sweaty little hand around his wrist to bring it between his legs for him. Scar's fingerpads touch slick skin. He can't move his fingers. Another chuckle, low and pleased, and Mother Spore's movements become more precise, thrusting into the fingers on his cock with a purpose.
He comes quickly, movements efficient, and his cunt quivers and clenches around Scar's dick, waves of sensation and pleasure that have him sobbing his own orgasm.
He comes hard, and Mother Spore makes sure to be seated on his lap when it happens, taking all the spunk he has to give deep, deep, deep.
He slips off his lap, and Scar can't tear his eyes from the strings of pleasure dripping from his fluttering lips, painting his own cock white.
He pats his cheek, a pleasant smile on.
"Go to sleep, mister Mayor. You'll be safe when you wake up."
Ah, so that was it?
No ultimatums, no conditions, no requests? Just an excuse to mess with him?
Scar closes his eyes.
He'll worry about it tomorrow.
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The closer the release date the more I think about this
#jason todd#red hood#gotham knight#did i really go through shrek 3 to find that specific look on his face? yes yes i did#untitled notebook entries
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Listen I will be the first to admit CW’s Gotham Knights wasn’t the best show in the world but I am disappointed I’ll never see Two Face being Duela’s girldad
#dc#harvey dent#duela dent#he’d stop in the middle of a bank heist to go “so proud of you kiddo#Gotham knights#gotham knights tv#two face#he’s ready to take her on a fishing trip that may or may not involve kidnapping#he’d have a notebook full of dad jokes#girl dad#girldad
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william wheeler > michael byers
#michael byers sounds like a shitty knock-off michael myers AND mike isn't even the biggest horror fan out of the two of them AND#will wheeler rolls off the tongue AND alliteration isn't bad AND they're both comic lovers so they'd love it AND mike doesn't#hate his parents enough that he'd want to change his name or whatever angsty reason AND yo mama#will didn't draw mike as his knight in shining armor with a literal heart on his shield A HEART WITH A CROWN AKA CALLING MIKE#THE KING OF HIS HEART AND THEN LATER SAYING OUT LOUD WITH HIS MOUTH 'YOU'RE THE HEART' for you guys to disrespect#his dreams like this#boy prob has notebooks full of MW + WB and MW with a heart around it etc etc be serious. he is a sappy hopeless romantic.#he goes 🤢😒 when he sees other ppl being lovey dovey but then does the same shit in private like be serious. BE SERIOUS#no reblogs bc i kno i'm in the minority and i don't want to see ppl reblogging a post they disagree with to tell me tht they disagree
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examples of my pride notebooks. I'm gonna start making new ones soon
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