#its more of a.. fleshed out doodle than a full scale drawing | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

exophile3d · 4 years

Photo

This is the last of my current Monster BF request ficlets. @ur-favorite-pincushion asked for naga mutual masturbation. It’s taken me a while as I struggled a bit with the inspiration for it, but it all came together today. Also doodled him, but I hate the pose and his crappy hand so meh.

Poison

Male naga / Female reader (NSFW)

“You’re poison running through my veins.” Alice Cooper.

-----------------------------

The familiar scent coils around you as you descend the stone path into the dark maw of the cave. The light from your torch licks the walls and leaves orange stains that fade to black as you pass. You know what awaits, far below in the depths. You need its aid, for it alone can give you what you need, and you know the price it will put upon its produce, a price that already has goosebumps setting the hairs on your arms on end. There is no other source for this unique toxin however, which paralyses then eats away at your enemies from the inside out while they still live. Your foes are many and foul, deserving of a horrific death, and this is not the first time you have bartered with the creature for its goods.

The narrow sloping tunnel opens onto a well-lit, circular cavern, no more than forty feet in diameter, which makes up the subterranean trader’s living space. The roof is hung with roots that have grown down from the daylit world in search of water, and now serve a new purpose as they form loops when they try to grow back out towards the light. Shelves and chests line the walls, filled with books, crafting and potion-making paraphernalia, and assorted trinkets. While the trader makes and sells his own ready-made potions, you have come to take directly from the source, to harvest the product in its raw form, and make your own, even deadlier brew.

The cavern appears empty as you step across the threshold, and for a moment you wonder if he has perhaps gone hunting, but a lazy hiss from above soon puts paid to that idea. Your gaze shoots up in alarm, and there, in an almost impossible position is the naga you have come to procure from. His upper body hangs free, dangling in mid-air about ten feet above your head, while the thick, lengthy coils of his tail are looped in and around the roots hanging from the ceiling. Black hair frames his slender face, and his scales glimmer in the light of the torch in scintillant shades of golden yellow and cerulean blue. Short, sharp horns protrude from his face at nose and temple, and put you in mind of some of the more dangerous vipers you have seen in the wilds.

“Hope I’m not disturbing you,” you say. He has never been bothered by your intrusions in the past, but there is always a first time, and you really do not want to be on the wrong side of him.

He descends smoothly towards the ground and you step to one side to allow him to alight, the coils above unwinding in stealthy silence as he does so. Once the last of his tail has reached ground level, he holds his torso aloft on the front quarter so that he is looking down on you from a height of around seven feet. He smiles, although the expression is one you had to come to learn, so different is it from a human smile. His mouth is stiffly edged, with no mobile flesh at its borders, just larger scales that hint at where lips would be on another being. It extends back to the base of his ears, and you know from intimate experience just how wide his jaw can open. Now it hangs ajar just an inch or so, and his forked, red tongue slips out occasionally to savour the air: his smile, or his closest approximation of one.

“Not at all,” he replies. The voice is deeper than you would expect from a creature with a face so slender, and it is as soft as velvet. You resist the urge to look into his eyes. You know the danger inherent in that, although he has already told you he is not in the habit of harming his customers: it would be bad for business. “So what will it be today?” he asks lightly. “I have some new brews that are colourless, tasteless and undetectable when added to wine, for example.”

You swallow, your eyes drawn up over his hard mouth as he speaks, and itching to wander higher. You both know that is not what you came for.

“I’ve also been working on a condiment, a spicy sauce that will leave the taster burning inside,” he offers. A normal trader would be lifting the relevant bottles now and placing them in the customer’s hands, enticing them to buy. He has not moved from where he hovers just before you, tantalising your nostrils with the dry, earthy smell of him. Your gaze passes the small, spiked horn on his nose and pauses at his cheek.

“My need is for something a little more … raw,” you say. You are swaying on your feet now with the effort of keeping your gaze away from his eyes and you can feel your resolve wavering. His hand catches you under the chin, the underside of it cool and soft, and one of the few areas of his skin that is bereft of scales. He helps you past the final few seconds of your resistance, tilting your face up until your eyes meet his and your surrender is complete. Twin orbs of gold, speckled with jade suck you into their depths and your entire body suffuses with warmth.

“I think we can accommodate ‘raw’,” comes the silky response, but it sounds muffled, distant, external. All you care about is drowning yourself in those golden eyes. A familiar pressure begins to build, starting at your ankles, then working its way slowly up your calves and thighs as hard, gold-and-blue scaled coils are thrown around your body in quick succession, and you draw a deep breath, while you still can.

“Let’s see what we can … negotiate, shall we?” he asks. You nod, careful not to move your head too far in case those fascinating eyes are lost from view. The pressure is around your waist now, pinning your arms to your sides, and you are lifted from the ground as easily as you would lift a doll. You are aware of the cave ceiling above you moving as he transports you bodily to the pile of satin-covered cushions and plush furs in the circular depression in the far corner of the cave, and deposits you neatly in its centre. His coils undulate against you, squeezing and releasing as he rearranges you both to his liking, and in the process, he strips away your clothing in slow, efficient motions, holding your enraptured gaze through every last second of the undressing.

Presently, he hums in satisfaction. Your torso is secured in the lower, tapering end of his tail, while the thicker portion closer to his midriff is parting your legs as his upper body hovers above you. You can see the salacious enjoyment he is taking from having you trussed and yielding like this, and it alone would be enough to arouse you. But it is what he does to you physically, creating sensations no male of your species could ever emulate, that brings you back here time and again for the experience that only he can provide. His ridged scales tickle and tease where they rub between your thighs, and the length of tail he has pressed around your chest is moving from side to side incessantly, dragging cool and smooth against your nipples. With each movement, he constricts just ever so slightly, making each breath just a little more of an effort, and causing the blood to pound in temple and crotch.

He lowers his face to yours, brushing the cool scales of his mouth against your lips, and tasting you with a darting, forked tongue. “You know my price,” he hisses. You nod, heat snaking through your belly as you think about what is in store, and as always, you hope that this time, he will give you what you truly want.

“My arms,” you slur, appalled at the sluggishness of both your words, and your limbs as he releases them. His tail wraps tightly around your breasts as soon as your arms are free, and begins to constrict and slide against them once more, sending tingles through your body from breast to groin. You reach down, trailing numb fingers across the soft scales of his belly, down to where his vent awaits your touch. You find he has already broken free, and his twin shafts are emerging steadily from their sheaths, slick and hard beneath your fingers. You draw in a ragged breath at the evidence of his desire for you, and as you exhale, he closes his coils to the point where you know your next breath will be a tiny, shallow mockery of itself.

“Tell me what you want,” he breathes against your mouth. Those golden eyes seem to swirl in your vision at this intimate proximity. He knows. He has always known, but you suspect he likes to hear you say it while he denies you. You grasp a shaft in each of your hands, taking as firm a grip as you are able, and begin to slide the skin up and down in long, smooth motions. He gasps against your lips, and tightens his grip around your ribs until you squeak in protest.

“Tell me.”

“Inside,” you gasp. His fingers have reached your own heat now, and they run teasingly against your folds, circling your clit as the wider portion of his tail continues to slide between your legs, igniting its own heated friction.

“You’ll have to be a little more explicit than that,” he advises in a tone that could melt icebergs.

You groan, annoyed at him despite the pleasure that is causing little shivers and shudders throughout your entire core. You want to comply with his racy demand, and tell him how much you want him inside you, but not only does he already know, but you know it won’t make any difference. It is always like this: he teases you with the prospect of the full force of his twin rods plundering your depths, promising ‘next time’, ‘next time’; but he never does. He knows it will keep you coming back, like an addict, hoping that one day he will relent.

His fingers slip past your lips and pass easily into your constricting depths. You draw in a shallow breath, nowhere near as much as you need, and the sensations strengthen as he buries two fingers in you to the last knuckle.

“If you don’t tell me, how will I know?” he asks. His eyes burn, his scales chafe your nipples, and his fingers plunge in a steadily speeding rhythm while you consider how to respond. Your hands work at his cocks, sliding against them with the same tempo as his pounding fingers and you can think of nothing now but how they would feel inside you. They are smoother than the rest of his hide, but ridged in a million tiny scales that you know will set your insides on fire, and warmth floods your crotch as you imagine being taken and pounded and squeezed and ravaged by him.

“What do you want?” he demands, his voice close to a roar now as he finger-fucks you while your hands move in a blur against his slick dicks, and you know you are both close.

Annoyed at your silence, the very end of his tail, no thicker than your wrist, wraps around your throat and closes off what little air remains to you. Your chest begins to hitch. Each sensation blooms with added potency and you shudder uncontrollably as with the last of your air, you gasp, “I want you to fuck me.”

He thrusts forward with his hips, forcing your hands to the very base of his twin shafts as your simple expression of desire, spoken with the very last of your breath, causes a veritable explosion of cum, and he empties himself onto your belly in hot, spurting gouts as his fingers curl inside you and send you shuddering into your own breathless climax.

Panting, red-faced, but tingling with satisfaction, you suck in a huge, noisy breath as his tail unwinds from your chest and throat. You can look him in the eye with no effect now that his needs are met, and you find there the same lazy delight that you are sure marks your own features. You stay still for a while, basking in the afterglow, until he releases you from his coils to perform the service for which you came. You watch fascinated as he opens his jaws to their full extent and milks his own four-inch fangs into the glass jar you brought for this exact purpose. You dress quickly, not wanting to outstay your welcome, and take the jar as he hands it to you. He keeps a grip on it, causing you to falter and glance to his face as you try and fail to take it from him. His eyes sparkle and threaten to draw you in again, and you drop your gaze quickly, noting the jar has twice as much venom in it as the last time you came.

“For your enemies,” he says, and the ‘s’ comes out as a low, vocal rumbling ‘z’ that sets your skin tingling. “May they die in pain and regret the day they crossed you.” Your brows twitch. He has never expressed interest in your use of the toxin before, and you wonder if perhaps it signifies a change in your relationship.

Whether it does or not, you both know you will be back, for next time, next time, he may just fulfill your wish.

#naga #monster x human #monster love #monster boyfriend #monster fucker #monster lover #snake man #poison #venom #toxin #naga lover #naga fucker #naga boyfriend

231 notes · View notes

icantw84it · 5 years

Text

Acquired Savant or TBI leading to Talents

Who is icantw84it and how did he come about…….

Hello, My name is Scott Mele. I was in a wreck 3.5 years ago. I was hit at 70mph from behind which split my head open and gave me a concussion that went untreated. No scans were made at the hospital I was sent home after 5 hours of waiting in the ER to get 11 staples. Best part, prior to the wreck I couldn’t Draw or Paint but after I could paint Portraits and even Spray paint murals.

Before all of that, I met the woman of my dreams. Unlike anything I ever felt for anyone, instantly I was taken by her, and she felt the same. TBH she was actually on her way to get the last of her things and move back to WV, when we met. We were together for about a month…she need to go back home to get somethings from West Virginia. Where her mom and friends lived. She had so much anxiety from trying to leave she couldn’t make herself leave. She called me on the day of my wreck, prior to…. to let me know she wasn’t coming back…..Trust me no one ever says they want to live in WV. Jk I am sure its beautiful.

It was pouring down rain and I shouldn’t have left. I was driving slow like everyone else, but it was coming down so hard. My car instantly turned side ways, and just like that, I was facing the wall. Now, I had been driving rear wheel vehicles my whole life. This had never happened, not instantly! I gained control of the vehicle but it stalled out. Everyone stopped. I looked to make sure behind me. I didn’t hit anyone Thank god! I put it in gear and hit the start button. Bang!

About a mile back at the exact same time, a guy swerved 4 lanes of traffic at 70 mph and saw the last lane was stopped swerved back lost control and like a missile shot into my car.

Brooke, that’s her name, she drove 5 hours to come take care of me. She spent 2 weeks with me and then had to leave to go back to work. At this point I had not really noticed anything. Two weeks later she was coming back to be with me for a few days, then head back to WV to get the rest of her things. She came back stayed for one night and left for WV. That’s right, she did it again. I was devastated.

I am not sure if it was this moment or the wreck or both. But from here I can feel myself splitting in two. I woke up one day and it was like I didn’t associate with anything in my life……. “Why am I staying in this luxury apartment.” “Why are my bills ridiculous?” ” I don’t want to work with these people or even be associated.” I was a car sales manager and a very successful one. I didn’t want this life. I felt trapt and alone. I didn’t know who I was or what I wanted anymore. Which made me feel even more trapt and alone. Everyday I would disassociate myself with another part of my life. I use to work out twice a day. I LOVED IT! I remember saying I don’t want to waste my time with that. I was a douchebag. Maybe part of me still is mostly in part from the intense feeling of not wanting to be alone and doing what I had to, to feel someone next to me. I wasn’t ugly and I was a great salesman. A very avid Online Dater and was always keen on finding niches and solutions to problems. So I milked an online website for as many dates as I could until I got tired of one night stands. But I digress….

I had so much anxiety from being in my life that I had to find a way to express myself. One day while in Marshalls(Popular Home crafts store) with my kids, I bought $400 worth of art supplies. That Night I started Painting. Granted, before this I couldn’t draw or paint. My dad painted Bob Ross style when i was a kid but I hated it. I would run when the show came on. I did take 4 years of art when I was in HS but everyone did. I hated everything I drew. I think I even have a drawing book from back then which I am embarrassed over. I doodled in Highschool because I had ADD and that’s what I did. It helped me pass because I believe it kept my brain active while I digested part of what was being taught.

Anyways, When I finished my first painting that night…..It was the first time in 4 months where I felt like I recognized a part of me. Something clicked for the first time. I became hooked, and started painting everynight from 9pm-4am in the morning and going back to work at 9am in the morning. I did this for 9 months.So not only was I splitting in two feeling depressed, alone, confused as to who I was, Anxiety from being trapt in my life, heart broken, angry , Disassociated, and drew away from being with people, I also added lack of proper sleep to the list.

So, I wasn’t painting like someone who just started painting. I was painting bodys and forms expressing emotions. However, I needed a challenge and I started painting Portraits. About 6 months in, I got bored of pumping paintings out every night start to finish. . My small canvas was 48in by 24in. Which is larger than scale. Not only could I paint portraits I could draw them. Where as before I couldn’t draw something that looked appealing by any means. When I did my first Portrait with flesh tones I nailed it. Something happened during the wreck its like I took on an artists life. I don’t even know what I am doing when i am doing it. I just do it and if I mess up I bounce off it instinctively like I had always done it.

The painting was the only thing keeping me somewhat functional.�� I needed it like it was a drug. I eventually found a way to leave my job and do art full time. Which was beyond dumb, but I couldn’t keep my focus in the dealership while I was there and I was losing positions like soccer player in the world cup who cant stop fighting. I wanted out. So I found a way out.

I was surviving on my art alone for a good 6 months…Until I got into another wreck. Same hit from behind at 20mph faster than what I was going. My body locked up and I stopped working out so I was 15lbs lighter. I through one of my hips out of whack by 3/4 inch. My muscles were inflamed all around it and were hard as rocks 24 hours a day. I was passing out every 4 hours. I had no insurance and no money. I couldn’t work a regular job. I became even more depressed. I couldn’t keep my apartment that was feeding me all my commissions. I had to leave Raleigh NC, my hot spot. This is where it gets real dark. I remember feeling so lost and calculating the amount of time I had left and what I could do to stay. Before this I never worried about money. I was alone without help. No one really knew what was going on with me. I didn’t go to a doctor for my brain injury. I still haven’t. I was afraid I would lose my ability to paint. IDK So no one really took my accident seriously because I never talked about it. The only people who knew were my fans on instagram. I lost the one thing that was keeping me sane. My ability to do art whenever I wanted. I moved to a smaller town and attempted to make it there. At this point my credit was garbage, i had to leave my apartment so I couldn’t get a place of my own. I found a house with two bedrooms and I converted one of the rooms into a paint room. But without constant conversations about my art it didn’t matter.I was behind on my child support. I was even told that I needed to come up with $800 by next month or I was going to jail. Even though I was passing out every 4 hours. I lost everything and I could barely keep myself fed.

I started making calls to break Timeshare contracts over the phone. This saved me financially while the leads were good. Then I went on the road to do it in person in different cities. The hours were easy and predictable so I could work around them.

I finally got help from a pain specialist. She looked at me and knew exactly whats wrong with me. She fixed about 90% of me. I still have some lingering issues like fatigue and exhaustion after extreme exertion in short bursts. All things I can hopefully fix. So back to painting…..

So great i can paint portraits who cares. Two years after the wreck during the time I was breaking Timeshares, I got bored with portraits and needed a challenge again. I picked up a spray can, mind you I never liked graffiti or even cared for it. I thought murals were pretty but never even really noticed. I never even drew a graffiti piece. I picked up a can and did a graffiti piece on the side of a building that said for lease. 4 colors blended with a bubble and not bad at all using cheap spray paints from walmart. Then a 8 ft tall crushed coke can. nailed it. Then a guy drove by and asked me to do something for him in his gym. I sprayed a 10ft by 30ft Graffiti piece that said The Dungeon, for his gym where he had 40 people work out in front of on the daily. Huge for someone just starting out. but nailed it. By this time I had been spraying for a total of 10 days. I told the building owner that I was ready to paint my mural. He asked, ” have you ever done one before?” No, but I got this!

In 10 days I spray painted a 50ft by 50 ft tall mural on the side of a building.This was the first time I painted about Brooke and the wreck….Honestly I picked some photos of random things built up a story in my head and painted it. When I was done I realized it was Brooke and I painted about where I met her and overcoming adversity by using Koi fish. Which before I researched it I had no clue that’s what it meant.

Subconsciously, I was telling myself to get over it I guess. It felt like a huge weight was lifted off my shoulders and I felt like a big piece of me was healed. For the first time I was able to think about Brooke without feeling extreme emotions… I felt I was going to be able to paint murals for my living but realized that my location, bills, timing, were all working against me. I had to make a choice to support myself and make myself not feel like I was going to be homeless everyday, or continue fighting for something that I wasn’t sure I could do for very long without any support. After almost being homeless 3 times during this period I decided to go back to car sales.

Today I sit in a car dealership and I bite my tongue about the leads and the traffic and opportunities and remain grateful I have a job. After a year of not painting I finally picked a model on instagram to paint and have been painting her on a 89in by 72 in Canvas. I can only give 2 hours at a time to it. And I haven’t lost any of my ability to paint. I can’t commit to it like I did because that would mean going back down that rabbit hole

I fought so hard to get out of. But I give what I can to it and then try to appease the other side of me by sustaining my lame but stable Car salesman position in a small dealership. I say this because of my other sides I have ruined my opportunities in other dealerships by wanting more power, control, leads because of my previous experience and knowing I can do more and make more if I had those things.

To the best of my knowledge its like having a revolving glass door of personality strengths, and depending on the situation and what I am doing that side is more prominent and in control or acting and making decisions:

One side of me is a salesman, a damn good salesman that thrives on Power and Control and financial gain.

Another side of me is the Artist that is Content with just being alone and Creative. Getting lost in my work and not being social. Still desiring the need to see people but not really wanting to be a part of a group.

The last side is the side of me that wants to do nothing but loathe on my self pity and depression, play video games to distract myself and not accomplish anything. He can’t remember to do things. Constantly distracted worthless in almost every way to the other two sides of me. I think collectively we all hate him even he hates him. Which I have identified and am trying to change.

No, I don’t black out when one side takes over. So maybe its not Multiple Personalities. Yes, I remember everything. All I know is that its confusing when I try to decide who I am and what I want to do for the rest of my life because its a constant tug of war. When I am selling I want to be with people and spend money, find girls I want to succeed and have control. When I am painting I want to be alone and lost in my art for ever not caring about anything else. When I am not doing either of those and not on adderall, I want to play video games and be left alone dwelling on my life and what I lost.

By writing that I understand that I haven’t made much progress. But to be honest and for you to see the full spectrum of things I had to say it. I take adderall because I hate being him. I had been taking adderall before the wreck so those two personality conflicts were preexisting. I remember calling him the other guy. Or I would mention that the Other guy would leave adderall lying around the apartment in different places each time. And while I am working on a painting and get stumped or frustrated with my thought process I would sigh and as I am exhaling I would be in plain view of an adderall that the other guy left for me. Genius! lol

Anyways. This is a detailed snippet of my last three years after my wreck. Outside of hating myself the only other thing all three of me share, is the desire to want to find someone that understands me and to be with.

I think we all want to get my story out now, and find a way to make it known. Its inspiring for some reason. I don’t know why, but I do love when people feel inspired to do something they have been afraid to do. Or to take another shot at life.

Has my experience been for the better. I don’t know it depends on who you ask of the three. I did gain the ability to paint and pick up styles of art I haven’t been exposed to over night.

Why did I write this…..I figured it would help someone in their research, maybe it will lead to shedding some light on my situation, help me in some way. IDK, but I find that every time I tell my story it helps with my anxiety.

Thank you for reading.

Sorry if it was all over the place. My grammar is horrible and I haven’t really had a chance to sit down and proof this, so again…. I apologize.

-icantw84it

This is a link to my art.

from WordPress http://bit.ly/2SaOPEp via IFTTT

#IFTTT #WordPress #Social Growth #Socialgrowth #icantw84it

0 notes