#perhaps I will sketch more later but for now! | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

impishjesters · 7 months

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I have this idea floating around in my brain for a while about a reader who likes to draw and because they have a crush on Jax they draw him. Jax eventually steals their notebook and probably teases them about it lol.

Jax x Crushing!Reader

warning(s): innuendos, bullying/teasing, Jax note(s): Look it's me and Jax, there's gonna be innuendos or some spicy wording and bullying. It's like a packaged deal or something. A/N: If you see me mixing Angel Dust's speech into Jax, no you didn't. If you didn't notice, I don't know how to tease and not be an asshole, so pretty on the brand I guess.

Caine had given you a sketchbook upon request, it was a little different than an actual sketchbook but it did the job regardless. Ever since your arrival, your fingers have been itching to draw, there were so many new sights and so much new inspiration.

There were so many things, so why did it seem like the doodles of Jax ended up on almost every page?

Easy, you had a crush on the apathetic, mischievous jerk named Jax.

Why? Well, now that’s the million-dollar question. He’s not inherently awful, no, that’s a lie, he’s an asshole. You don’t really have a good read on him yet but he’s funny! That’s gotta be redeemable, right? However, his jokes are usually backhanded and often involve being mean at the expense of others.

Okay so he’s a walking red flag but there’s something about him that has you crushing on the purple bastard.

Looking down at the sketchbook on your lap shows another two pages filled with sketches of random things, though most of the page is filled with Jax. You had taken to sketching things back in the real world to remind yourself of home, but eventually, those sketches would involve Jax doing mundane things.

Thing’s like sitting at a table eating real food, though you took creative measures when drawing an open mouth on him, it still looked off but it was serene and domestic. Then there’s the little sketch at the bottom of the page of Jax leaning against a window and staring outside. You’d manage to nab the pose and angle when he was leaning against one of the many random geometrical-shaped things in the main room and later added in a window.

It was embarrassing that almost more than half of the pages in the book involved Jax to some degree. Some pages weren’t even subtle, the whole page taking up a detailed portrait version of the male. Sometimes you even got creative and put him in different clothing.

Thumbing through the pages you saw there weren’t that many empty pages left. You’d need to ask Caine for another one and figure out what to do with this one. It couldn’t be left out in the open, you knew Jax had keys to everyone’s room and wouldn’t put it past him to go snooping. He’d already questioned you about the sketchbook before.

You’d been so focused on the sketchbook that you hadn’t noticed the man of the hour walking up. Jax noticed your intense focus and peeked over to see the infamous sketchbook on your lap, and with practiced ease managed to yoink it right off your lap.

“Well, well, well, what do we have here? You finally showing me what you keep your nose buried into?”

A yelp left you, stumbling to get on your feet you rushed to him and began swatting at the book and of course, he’d keep raising it just out of reach. “You took it! I didn’t say you could look at that!”

“Nah, pretty sure you said I could look at it.” He continued to lower and raise the book as you jumped to grab it. Sure he was curious before, but with a reaction like that? How could he not be even more curious? What kind of seedy shit were you drawing? Or perhaps some spicy nonfamily-friendly content?

Jax ignored your frantic words and opened the book to a random page, he was going to tease you about whatever dumb stuff you drew since you always had your nose in it but all he saw were sketches of himself.

A normal person might get embarrassed and hand the book back, but he’s not a normal person. It’s a little freaky, he won’t lie. A glance downwards shows him you’ve gone silent in front of him, simply staring down while he invades the privacy that was your sketchbook.

Your face is red and you look like you’re going to cry any second.

He’s a jerk, he was going to fuck with you, and he still is, but for the moment he’s taking in all the creative little pieces involving his face. Ya know, he never really thought much about how he’d look in other clothes. Gotta say he looks pretty snazzy in something that isn’t these shitty overalls.

“You know if I didn’t know any better,” his fingers still flip through the pages as he steps closer, circling you. “I’d say you like me.”

“I don’t.”

The reply is rushed and he rolls his eyes at the blatant lie, he’ll humor you this time. “Oh yeah? Does that mean you’ve got sketchbooks for everyone else too? Cause I’m pretty sure this is the only one I’ve seen you with.” He taps a doodle on the cover that gives away it’s the same notebook he always sees you with.

Tears trickled down your cheeks, you knew he was a jerk but this felt like too much. You just wanted your sketchbook back and to run away to your room, maybe pin something in front of the door that would render even the key useless.

His eyes roll the second he sees a tear, he’s not really seeing the problem here. You’ve got a book full of creepy—okay not completely creepy, he’s a good model so good on you for seeing that—sketches of him and he’s truthfully honored. It’s clear that you didn’t do this with everyone, so he’s honored to be your little model. Besides, it’s not like you actually have a crush on him, right?

Minutes tick by of him simply eyeing you, you’re still crying and it’s starting to get a little ugly and snotty, ugh. But you aren’t trying to further deny his little comment about you liking him. He’ll have to have a little talk about that later, what you could possibly see in him because he knows that you aren’t a sadist—oh, are you a masochist? That’d explain a lot.

Jax sighs and closes the book but doesn’t hand it over, simply putting the free hand on his hip. “You know if you wanted to see my face all you gotta do is ask. I’ll gladly show you this handsome face any day toots.”

Of all the things you thought he’d say, that wasn’t it. “H-huh..?” You embarrassingly wipe away the tears and snot before looking up at him.

“You heard me. Ya know I love this face too, very handsome. Maybe we can get Caine to put up some artwork in the tent of yours truly.” Jax wouldn’t consider himself vain, but you did have a way of making him look more, dare he say, attractive.

“I-I don’t… I don’t understand…” Was he still making fun of you?

He rolls his eyes before playfully hitting your head with the book. “Jeez, and here I thought you were smart.” Jax leaned over like he was speaking to a child and pushed the book to your chest. “I’m saying, the next time you wanna draw me I’ll give you a front-row seat. Maybe even take it to the bedroom so we won’t be disturbed.”

You push the book into his face to cover up that growing smirk and blush furiously. “Wh-what?! N-no I-I don’t…!” It’s hard to tell if he’s being serious or not in his offer to model for you, especially with the bedroom comment.

“C’mon, clearly you got taste. I mean that book is filled with sketches of me. I’ll commend you on your immaculate taste.” Jax taps the book before playfully bopping your nose. “At least let me give you the pleasure of seeing me close up. I’ve never been a model before so you might have to get a little hands-on to get me the way you want me.”

As the innuendos continue your face feels like it’s getting impossibly red and warm. Somehow this is worse than him telling you a sketchbook full of his face is creepy, in fact, you’d almost prefer it because your poor little heart can’t take anymore. You let out a yell and it stops his tangent but that stupid smirk of his never disappears.

“Offer still stands. You know where to find me.” Jax turns away but not before throwing a little wink over his shoulder. He still plans on pestering you about what you see in him, but for now, he’ll cut you some slack. You’re about as red as Ragatha’s hair and as much as he loves to see it, he didn’t plan to get this sidetracked when he saw you on your own.

He’s got a sucker to prank.

#tadc #the amazing digital circus #the amazing digital circus x reader #jax #jax x reader #tadc jax

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redslug · 5 months

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Helping Neuroslug help me

Admittedly it took me an embarrassing amount of time to figure out and start using inpainting, but now that I've had a taste of it my head is spinning with possibilities. And so I'm making this post to show the process and maybe encourage more artists to try their hand at generating stuff. It really can can be an amazing teammate when you know how to apply it. For those who didn't see my first post on this, I've trained an AI on my artworks, because base Stable Diffusion doesn't understand what anthropomorphic insects are. That out of the way, here we go:

I noticed that a primarily character focused LoRA often botches backgrounds (probably because few images of the dataset have them) so I went with generating a background separately and roughly blocking out a character over it in Procreate. Since it was a first experiment I got really generous with proper shading and even textures. Unsurprisingly, SD did it's job quite well without much struggle.

Basically masked out separate parts such as fluff, skirt, watering can, etc. and changed the prompt to focus on that specific object to add detail. There were some bloopers too. She's projecting her inner spider.

Of course it ate the hands. Not inpainting those, it's the one thing I'll render correctly faster than the AI does. Some manual touchups to finish it off and voila:

The detail that would have taken me hours is done in 10-20 minutes of iterating through various generations. And nothing significant got lost in translation from the block out, much recommend. But that was easy mode, my rough sketch could be passed off as finished on one of my lazier days, not hard to complete something like that. Lets' try rough rough.

I got way fewer chuckles out of this than I expected, it took only 4-5 iterations for the bot to offer me something close to the sketch.

>:C It ate the belly. I demand the belly back. Scribble it in...

Much better. Can do that with any bit actually, very nice for iterating a character design.

Opal eyes maybe?

Lol

Okay, no, it's kind of unsettling. Back to red ones. Now, let's give her thigh highs because why not?

It should be fancier. Give me a lace trim.

Now we're talking. Since we've started playing dress-up anyway, why not try a dress too. Please don't render my scribble like a trash bag. I know you want to.

Phew

I crave more details.

Cute. Perhaps I'll clean it up later. ... .. . SHRIMP DRESS

#neuroslug #slug's experiments #ai assisted art #moth #I need to retrain neuroslug on a more artsy checkpoint #base model leans more to realism and it affects the style a lot #not complaining but i want it to mimic my usual style better

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moiraimyths · 2 months

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Howdy, fateful friends! Are you an artist or illustrator with an interest in visual novels?

If so: Moirai Myths, creators of the visual novel The Good People (Na Daoine Maithe), are in need of guest artists! More specifically, we're looking for up to two artists to help us with the content graphics ("CGs") for Maeve and Shae's upcoming routes. All of the details will be listed on our application form (linked below), but here is the gist:

This is paid work with 20-30 business day deadlines per piece!

Complicated revisions in the post-sketch phase are compensated!

You will be prioritized for future guest artist opportunities!

You will be featured/credited on Moirai Myths' website and in the game itself!

Sound interesting? If so, apply here:

Click under the cut for some F&Q 👇

Who are you? (I'm new here!)

Hi! We're Moirai Myths: a small, newish visual novel company based out of Canada. We're making a game inspired by mostly Irish mythology, which was funded on Kickstarter in 2023! Our game's got fairy politics, a diverse cast, a Gaeilge-to-English translation tool, and routes that can be played either romantically or platonically! Also horses. An ungodly amount of horses, really.

If that odd pitch sounded intriguing, perhaps you'd like to play our demo! It's free on Steam & Itch.io.

Why are you looking for guest artists?

When we originally launched our Kickstarter, the plan was to have our three in-house artists collaborate on the CGs in the same way our header image was. However, we quickly realized that adding CGs, even if they're done collaboratively, onto the existing duties of our artists was a tall order. Add to that the departure of our original sprite artist (who has since been replaced by our graphic designer), and we determined that having our in-house team work on CGs was simply not possible if we still wanted our first release to happen in 2024. So, rather than omitting CGs or adding them in at a later time, we came up with the idea of hiring guest artists. Overall this means our CGs will be a bit more varied in terms of art style, but we like to think of this as a positive! NDM's development will take a number of years to complete in full, so we hope our CGs will allow us to feature a lot of artists either within the VN/indie dev community already, or artists who aspire to work in gaming and are looking for entry positions.

How long will applications remain open for?

This application will be open until Sunday, March 24 at midnight (EST)! If we intend to extend past that deadline, we'll make an announcement about it.

I can't apply right now. Will you look for more CG guest artists in the future?

Definitely! As mentioned, NDM will take a while to develop in full, so this is by no means your only opportunity to apply. That being said, we suspect we're going to end up shortlisting a number of artists over the course of this application period, and we intend to keep a list of all the runners-up. So, even if you won't be able to participate this time, it might be a good idea to apply anyway just to remain in our contacts! Either way, this will not be the last time we have apps.

Will you be looking for guest artists outside of CGs?

Maybe! We already have two guest artists (Nefukurou and Madi Funk) working on sprites and CGs respectively, so it's always possible that we'll have other artistic needs later down the line. Likewise, we may also reach out to past guest artists for future work with us, whether it's on this game or something else!

You say we need to sign an NDA. What does that entail?

The non-disclosure agreement essentially means you will be legally unable to publicly disclose any confidential information you become privy to as a result of working with us. This would include personal information about the developers, as well as spoilers from the game itself. In addition do this, you will be expected to sign over the IP and copyright of any artworks you produce for us.

Can I still use my artworks in portfolios, even if I don't own the copyright?

Yes! We'd only ask, if your portfolio is a website, that you wait to do so until after your art has been made public by us, either on our social media or via the publication of the game. Our first release is anticipated to happen later this year, most likely mid-autumn.

How do you guys feel about AI? Do you intend to use it, or would you ever train an AI off of the artworks whose copyright you own?

No.

Making a game is expensive and time-consuming, but AI is no replacement for human artistry. We fundamentally believe that any advancements in AI should be used for the purpose of giving people more time to make art, not take away opportunities for it. Moirai Myths will never, ever use AI or train an AI off your work.

***

If you've got any more questions for us that we didn't think to include here, feel free to send us an ask!

#the good people #na daoine maithe #ndm #visual novel #interactive fiction #otome #english otome #amare #amare game #visual story #visual storytelling #romance game #otome romance #romance visual novel #dating game #dating sim #moirai myths

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deblklesb · 8 months

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[Head Over Heels — Abby x Reader Oneshot]

[rugby player!abby, artist!reader, fluff, pining]

cw: reader is a total mess, abby is brother's friend. there's not explicit content but still MDNI.

a/n: I've put my whole simpussy in this, like... reader is a loser lesbian and this fact is totally self-inserted, sorry not sorry. again, so so sorry for the wait! this is just some fluff with reader being a simp, a mess, all over the place for abby anderson teheehee 👉🏾👈🏾, i hope you like it anon!!!

word count: 3,4k | not proof read

!reblogs are highly appreciated!

The cool winter wind was reaching your face as you pedaled to your class, high speed across campus because you were late. The alarm didn't clock, you took too much time eating breakfast, and now you wish to all the heavens the teacher has not arrived yet.

Your brother was very much confused when you started to run around the house this morning.

"I didn't know you had class, you usually wake up first so I assumed…"

"The alarm didn't clock", you yelled from the bathroom, brushing your teeth as fast as you could, but decently.

Now, the open buttons of your shirt allowed the wind to come in so you wouldn't be as sweaty. Fixing your hair after parking and locking your bicycle, you greeted someone working and headed to the room, so frustrated to get late to your favorite class.

"You're lucky our model for today is more late than you", the teacher said as soon as you got inside.

"Sorry, Ms. Addams", your smile was weak. You wanted to disappear, that was your favorite teacher.

The only tripod available was in the front, no one liked it because the lightning from there was so confusing it messed up every sketch. Lucky for you, during winter the sun isn't that bright, so you fixed your stuff and just got a moment to breathe. Being a teacher's pet didn't mean sitting in the front, that was new for you.

"Hey, what happened?" Gloria, your friend, reached out. "You're never late"

"My alarm", you shudder, sighing. "Well, I'm here now. We just have to wait for the model"

"I heard is some girl from the rugby team"

Well, that's news. Your teacher is doing some work indeed, trying to expose her students to different body shapes and all.

"Nice. Perhaps she's nice and will carry me around, my legs are burning from pedaling so hard", it was a joke, a silly one, but as soon as a woman who wasn't enrolled in that class got in, you knew she could definitely carry you around. You also knew that because you knew her.

She was probably the biggest woman you've seen in person, and absolutely the most beautiful.

Freckled, creamy skin on her arms and face, honey-blonde hair in a braid that fell on her shoulder, a firm and strong body worthy of an athlete. Her clothes were simple, just cargo pants with a plain shirt and boots, but boy, oh boy, she was looking gorgeous. As always.

"Sorry for the time, boss, I had to get out later from early practice", for some unknown reason, her voice, too, sounded too good to be true and made you melt inside with just a simple phrase that wasn't even directed to you. "Hope it doesn't mess around with the class"

"It's okay, Abigail. And you don't have to call me boss, we've talked about it", your teacher smiled fondly, hugging the tall woman and making obvious the size difference. You were probably the same height as the dark-skinned woman, so that means you were as high as Abby's chin. Being next to her on other situations made you very self-aware of that fact.

This useless information would always make you squirm. This time it was on the chair in the middle of the class, hoping for all the God's nobody noticed.

"Kids, this is Abby. She will be our model for today and two other classes, so make use of the anatomy to study properly", she was very comfortable next to the rugby player, which made you deduce they knew each other well. "Well, now go prep yourself, darling, we have to start"

"Do I… Take everything, or something?" Just the mention of her being nude made your mind buzz around and it wasn't a good sign, considering you had to focus to draw.

"Keep your underwear, please", the older woman smiled sympathetically, turning around and heading to the back of the room, her usual initial spot in every live reference class.

Abby took off her boots and left next to an empty chair, starting to undress then.

Nobody was looking at you, but you tried to keep it cool and professional. Ignoring the heat on your face and the sweat arising on your palms, you looked at Gloria to hide your embarrassment and noticed she was looking back at you trying not to laugh.

"You're very gay", she whispered, making you roll your eyes and then look at your empty sketchbook. She wasn't wrong, though, you were very much a lesbian and it was obvious.

Those type of reactions were normal whenever Abby was around, but you could definitely go through that class without it.

You put effort into abstracting the sensations and feelings that make room into you as soon as Abby stands in the small, lifted platform in the center of the room, the ambient light hitting her just right. She positioned herself in a simple form, waving briefly at you from there when she spotted you in the front. You did the same back, a small smile to be nice - but not too big to give it away that being around her made you almost piss your pants - and then you all started to work

It was a figure drawing training, something you usually hated because you had to think too much about form, proportion, perspective and lightning. You loved to do loose sketches and grew very fond of gesture drawing, too much for your liking, so that now that you had to stick to the forms and not the rhythm and movement, your mind froze a little. Despite that, you loved doing art and loved that class even though it had nothing directly linked to your major.

Abby had strong features, in the sense of focus. The muscles of the arms and legs, the shape of her face, the abdomen and her whole posture caught your attention too much. It wasn't just the imagery, but a whole set of little elements that formed a distinctive energy. Even the braided hair was part of that, and at each second, each line traced and marked shadow, you tried to remind yourself that it was a class.

After 10 minutes or so, she took a break - admittedly, you had no idea how those models stood still for so long. While she stretched and relaxed her muscles, people started to talk with each other around the room, the small buzz of conversations surrounding, as you turned to Gloria.

"I'm dying here", you whispered, stretching your hands and fingers a bit. "She's so pretty"

"I have to admit… She is very handsome. I don't usually hang out in your brother's dorm so I don't see her often…"

"They're together all the time, I am very lucky to have my face shoved into a book all the time because then I don't have to have buckled knees around her" Gloria laughed at your despair, the whispers almost a cry for help.

"Let's gather our focus, people", Ms. Addams called, and just like that the break ended.

Although the object of analysis was Abby's body and structure, you just had to make a small drawing of her face. Shading and putting too much effort, you ended up doing another one. And by the time the class ended, you had a main figure drawing of her body in the first pose, two others of her face and another simple sketch. A very productive class, and you felt yourself bursting with inspiration still.

"I have a class in five minutes, so I'll have to go now, boss!", the blonde reached to her clothes as people started to pack their stuff. You tried not to look at her figure too much, but took your time putting the material in place just because, y'know… Care. It had nothing to do with the possibility to look at her from afar a little bit more.

"That's okay, Abigail. Thank you for your help, same time next week. Send a hug to your father!", Ms. Addams waved goodbye.

"Hey" you looked up from your backpack when Gloria tapped your shoulder. She pointed to the door, where Abby was standing, ready to go. The blonde was looking at you, a smile on her face. "Tell your brother he owes me twenty bucks. See ya!"

"Okay, bye", you nodded and chuckled lightly at the comment, imagining the type of bet they both must've done this time.

As soon as the other students started to get out, your friend gave you small punches in the arm, giggling.

"Stop!", you felt your face warm, it was so fucking ridiculous to be like this around her every time. And the worst part is that she didn't even notice you that much, so you were a head over heels with zero hope.

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

"What do you mean you were naked around my sister?!" You rolled your eyes with the discussion, ready for the mess your brother was about to make.

"Nobody was naked, I had underwear!" Abby's voice was playful, but you knew your brother was two steps from going serious about it.

"Stop being a drama king, asshole", you grunted while going to the kitchen, not even looking at them to escape the risk of drooling over the tall woman sitting on the couch.

"Hey, I'm the big brother here, I was supposed to be looking over you!" His voice started to get a pitch higher, you could imagine the indignant face already.

"You don't even give me rides home, too busy with your flings", you shout from the kitchen now, filling up your bottle.

You were trying so hard to focus on studying a subject you were not interested in, ready to throw it in the air to watch some Ghibli movies instead. Filling the water bottle was almost an excuse to get out of that madness, but having to hold your reactions because of Abby's presence was not ideal.

"That's right, get him again! Get him for me!" And now her voice is closer, almost like she's in the kitchen with you. It makes you flinch slightly, almost dropping the bottle before you turn around to see her strong figure on the entrance.

"Look, you touch her and I will fucking throw that rugby ball right into your face!"

"Jesus Christ, Matt, shut up! Nobody is keeping you from your shit, leave me alone?! It's just Abby!"

Your mom would be annoyed to be around you both, good thing you lived together alone.

"Yeah, Matt, it's just Abby!" She repeats.

You finally look at her properly. She has a simple shirt on and sweatpants, it's casual but it looks too good on her - as usual. Her hair is down - you loved her hair down - and a scrunchie lies on her wrist. Her freckles are so visible from where you stand, it's almost like cute details painted directly on her face to compose the most beautiful work of art.

"I would like to see it, by the way", you snap out of your trance with her words directed to you.

Her hips touch the kitchen counter when she's one step closer, a sympathetic smile making your hands tingle and her tone weaker now that she's just talking to you.

"What?"

"Your drawings. From the class"

"Oh-", you look away, trying to come up with an excuse. "But… We still have other classes to go. It's better to see it at the end and all… And they're not even that good", you're holding that water bottle for your dear life, afraid that it slips from your hands due to the sweat.

"You don't wanna show me, that's fine", she chuckle, hands up in acceptance.

"It's not that, it's just-"

"No, I'm not being funny, it's serious. If you don't wanna show me, it's okay. Was just curious y'know, after all I'm just standing there. Don't know how you do whatever you're doing"

That's the most you've ever talked to Abby, and she's so nice. Genuinely trying to make you comfortable. And it makes you fucking sick, you just wanna spit out that you would like to have her posing for you every day for ever, to have her like your muse, to kiss her face after drawing it millions of times- You're such a loser.

"Oh, I get it…" you nod, trying to come up with a good response. "Well, I guess after the classes, I mean when you stop posing for us, I could show you whatever I did. Just wanna be more confident, it takes a little bit more of time to be familiar to the subject"

"If that's your saying, boss lady, I absolutely believe it", she's smiling wider now and you just wanna scream into a pillow about how incredibly cute her cheeks are.

"Okay, ahm… I have to go back to the room… To study other stuff that is not art, unfortunately", you point to the corridor, mind going blank with the mere proximity between you both. "So, uh… See you later?"

"Hope so. Good study session", Abby gives you space to get out of the kitchen.

The rest of the afternoon you keep repeating that interaction in your mind. Analyzing you every word and wondering if she thought you were, like, embarrassing.

Still, the image of her cute cheeks when she smiled at you and the way she seemed really interested in your drawings took over your attention, it was all you could think about the rest of the day because you're such a simp and she's so beautiful. Fuck this.

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

It's now game season, which means that the college campus is a mess. Everybody seems so agitated, a buzz surrounds each corner while posters adorn the walls and murals, calling for the next big rugby game.

The hype around the event kinda mobilizes you too, even though you're not even that into sports. You're actually so out of this type of entertainment, but eventually if you sit to watch with your brother you get so excited and exalted that it almost looks like you've been following the teams forever. Matt actually thinks it is so funny that you keep asking him the rules and then start to scream at the TV once you'd pick it up enough to finally enjoy the match.

"If they don't kick their asses I'll actually lose fifty bucks" Gloria reveals as you both enter the building for the art class.

"Fifty?!" Your eyes almost jump from your skull. "Do you have that much faith in our team?"

"Well, don't you?"

"I don't know", she laughs. "Really, I don't follow them… But if you bet fifty bucks, they must be at least decent"

"Your girlfriend is a good player, if that's what you wanna ask", the taller woman smiles at you with that suggestive manner.

"I didn't ask!"

"But you were thinking about it"

"Shut up." You definitely were. "And she's not my girlfriend" Unfortunately.

As you both enter the room, early enough this time, you recall the fact that it's your last class with Abby as a model. Something inside of you mourns the future absence of such a big source of inspiration for you. Your sketchbook (the personal one) has pages filled with drawings of her - you didn't tell anyone, but you went through her instagram page and used some gym photos as references.

One night you brother stormed in your room and you had to close the book as fast as possible, trying to mask your embarrassment. If he knew that you were so into Abby, he would be a hundred percent more unbearable.

"Hey, teacher", the tall woman soon walked in the class, backpack and a massive bottle of water on one hand. "Last day, uh?"

"Yes, dear", people started to settle for the beginning of the session, fixing materials and angles. "I would like to thank you for your time and disposition, I imagine it isn't easy to stand in front of a class of stranges that are meticulously looking at you", everybody chuckled. Abby took her shirt in the corner, putting the clothes on a chair. Against your will, you absolutely checked on her. But life wouldn't let you have it, and so, like being conscious of your actions, the blonde glanced back at you, which caused you to face away immediately. Jesus fucking Christ, could you be more obvious? "So thank you, again, and I hope you somehow enjoyed the experience"

"I certainly did, boss" She smirked friendly, going to the small platform in front part of the room and standing with arms on her back, legs slightly spareted. Why on earth was she so good looking? "I don't really mind the looks, after all there are dozens of people staring at the games and judging us all the time, so… Well, thank you too for inviting me, it was truly nice! Needing againg, I'm here for it!"

You felt a tap on your shoulder and looked to the side, Gloria was smirking like she knew something you didn't.

"You'll get your pages wet with all the drooling", she muttered.

"Wanna see who gets the pages wet?" You playfully put a hand on your own watter bottle, having her giggling.

"Well, let's begin, shall we?"

Einstein for sure had a point with relativity, because that class flew away like a lightning for you. The biggest pity of all, since Abby wouldn't be there after that day.

Once again you end up doing a main drawing of her body, using the remaining time to put some doodles of her face around it. It was like this for every class, different than the ones she wasn't the model. However, by that time you were already used to sketching her - hence the alone sessions in your room - so you could do much easier work now. You hoped no one noticed this fact, because a question about how you got so instinctive when drawing Abby would be blatantly dodged.

You already could tell in detail the difference between her arm muscles and the last model, for example, but not only the imagery of it: you thought about the biological singularity of her muscle development.

As soon as the class ended, you closed the sketchbook and tried not to think too deeply about the whole situation. It would be fine. Abby would stop being the model and so you would see her less, consequently thinking about her less and moving on so easily. Like, so easily.

"Hey", you froze with her voice, more specifically when noticing that it was almost next to you. Her face was the first thing you saw when looking up from your backpack. "Are you coming to the game tonight?"

"Should I?"

"Well… I could use some cheers", she was still shirtless. Heck, she was still in her intimate clothes.

You were not thinking about how she used a simple bra and nice black boxers.

"I thought you had plenty. With all the staring", why were you being so sarcastic?

"Your staring is kinda different, if that's what you wanna hear", she smirked, crossing her arms. Good lord, save me from barking in front of her with all this attitude. "And I would like you there"

"So maybe I'll go", you shrugged, trying to be cool about it. Something inside of you said that maybe you were being too cool about it, maybe she would think you don't really care; that's not what you want her to think. Shit, were you doing this wrong?

"Don't tell your brother I asked you this while almost nude, I don't think he would let me get close to you ever again", her chuckles were so cute, she was so cute. You were so done.

"Oh, do you want to get close to me again?" Abby stepped back while still smirking, everybody seemed to be out already - though you couldn't tell exactly, she was still your main focus.

"Maybe" Now she shrugged, finally getting close to her clothes again. "Preferably when he's not around"

What was that? Oh, probably your heart skipping several beats.

"Talking like that, I might as well think you're hitting on me, Abby" The most surprising thing was how you weren't laying down on a puddle at this point. Instead, you were chuckling back, hands sweaty and stomach twisting in a rush.

"Am I?" She grabbed her pants. "You'll probably have to come to the game and see!"

After another smirk from her, you just shook your head and walked away from the room with a simple "See you later then".

The interaction started to play again in your mind, Gloria was standing outside with wide eyes and a smile fighting to appear. That adrenaline rush made your mind a whirlwind.

"What the fuck was that?!" Your friend whispered, holding your arm and following your steps.

[png dividers by @cafekitsune]

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dedalvs · 3 months

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Hi David! Hope you’re having a nice day.

Do you have any tips for people who want to create a casual conlang, as in only for like a pen & paper game or a story they’re writing, where they want to coin some phrases and have a recognisable and somewhat realistic sound but can’t put in all of the background work that really goes into what you do?

Thanks for your time!

Yes I do! I recommend you read a short paper by Jeffrey Henning called "A Naming Language" (you can find it at Fiat Lingua). This will tell you how to create a small language sketch that will allow you to create just enough of a phonology and basic grammatical decisions to create names in your language. What it won't help you do is create complex syntax and inflection required for full scale translation. Now, when I say that, you might be thinking, like, to translate a novel or a political tract, or something like that, but frankly, translating something like, "Can you hand me that wrench over there?" is complex enough. Embedded in that one sentence is choices you have to make about:

Polar question formation

Abilitive/permissive modality

Potential subject/object concord

Demonstratives

Spatial location systems

Pronoun systems

Now this all works in a specific way in English, but it will work in a different specific way in every other language. Some things that English is sensitive too others may not be (for example, English changes word order when changing from a statement to a question; other languages don't do that), but other languages may be sensitive to things English isn't (for example, a language like Georgian has verbs that agree with both the subject, direct object, and indirect object. English doesn't do that). All of these are decisions you have to make (or make implicitly) when designing a language.

I mention all this so you understand what exactly you'll have when you create a language sketch—what you can do and what you can't. With a language sketch, you can create names, you can create single words, you can create derivations, even phrases that don't resolve to anything (like "Cool!" that is a word with one meaning but used to mean something else). You can't translate full sentences. If you do, what you'll either be doing is either (a) creating actual grammar, which is what you do when creating a full language, or (b) unconsciously recreating the grammar of another language (e.g. unconsciously copying the grammar of English).

It is within everyone's capabilities to create a language sketch in no more than a week—perhaps even an hour or two. As long as you know exactly what you can and can't do with it, you can plan accordingly for your fiction—and a sketch can always be expanded into a full conlang later!

#conlang #language #jeffrey henning #fiat lingua #language sketch

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the-colourful-witch · 4 months

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~* Narcissa Black *~ The youngest of the Black Sisters. I can't believe she fell in love with Lucius Malfoy (barffff) but here we are.

I drew her very girly. Now, that is my opinion. I think, as a teenager, Narcissa was probably the most vain of her sisters. She cared about clothes, about her appearance. She knew she was pretty and would not shy away from using that to her advantage from time to time. I drew her with curls as well. This, I haven't really seen around much. I think that people have drawn Narcissa with straight hair so much because the actress who portrayed her in the films, Helen McCrory; may she rest in peace, had a straight-hair wig. The same applies to the black and blonde strands, although let us be honest... that style really pops off, damn. I've seen people on TikTok dye their hair like Narcissa Malfoy and I couldn't agree more. It's so badass. Anyway... I drew her with curls because it is a Black family thing. Bellatrix and Andromeda have curls too. Perhaps, later in life, Narcissa found a way to permanently straighten her hair, or she does it every day. The way I see it, her natural hair is curly and I think it looks great on her :) The outfits were a real struggle... I like the middle one, it feels very playful and fashionable. Narcissa gives all the 'youngest sibling' energy. The world definitely revolves around her :) So, yeah, I'm a bit torn about how this turned out, but I'm excited to continue figuring out the Black sisters. It's fun and new for me.

To finish, some outfit sketches. See you next time, people! xxx

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buckets-and-trees · 6 days

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I’m so happy to see you back on my feed 😍 An ask for your sleepover! Do Cedar Trees!Steve and his Queen have any ::ahem:: spring rituals*? 👀

*Make it dirty lollll.

Title: Love That's Laid Beside Me

Collection: CEDAR TREES Characters/Pairings: King!Steve Rogers x Queen!Reader Word Count: 5k

Summary: With the first spring equinox, Steve shares a tradition from his past before he was royal. You broach something that's been on your mind for your future.

Content & Warnings: royal au, discussion of children, explicit smut - NATURE/OUTDOOR SEX (bahaha YAY), nipple play, cock stroking, brief cock warming, vaginal fingering, unprotected vaginal intercourse, slight dirty talk (it's still royal Steve, so...), breeding kink, potential pregnancy

Logistical Notes: I knew the second you dropped this in my askbox that I wanted outdoor sex for the spring equinox, and when I started it, it was timely, but I have worked on this installment of their story now for six or seven weeks. I've rewritten it a couple of times, wrestled with parts of the emotional journey. Steve surprised me in the middle portion by opening up with a lot more nostalgia than I knew was going to insert itself into the story. And then with the rest of their conversation for the final third of the story, I went back to the drawing board a few times. Thank you @biteofcherry and @stargazingfangirl18 for being instrumental in talking through what I was working on with Steve and his queen at vital points when I needed it!

Narrative Notes: Steve and his queen were married in June, and this takes place during their first spring together. To read previous pieces chronologically, refer to the masterlist of this collection's pieces.

↠ Masterlist | Aspen's Ask Box | Field Guide to the Forest

You look up sharply at the sound of your name. “Mmm?”

“You seem distracted, my love,” Steve says, his brow furrowed in concern.

You shake your head slightly. “I am sorry, it was perhaps a longer day than I anticipated it would be.”

“We can dispense with the dessert course if you are too weary,” Steve suggests.

You scoff. “Dare not speak of such a thing!”

He chuckles, and you smile broadly at him. “I withdraw the proposition,” he says, his eyes sparkling with mirth for a moment.

But as you both savor the exquisite chocolate mousse presented a few minutes later, you notice his frequent gaze on you is more scrutinizing. You do your best to engage again in the conversation.

Truthfully, you have been distracted, but you did not wish to draw his concern. In part it is because you do not want him to worry about you, but more so you yourself do not want to dwell on the issue that has begun to encroach on the edges your thoughts these past weeks. But the exquisite taste of chocolate and his striking blue eyes do serve to draw you back into the moment.

You do your best to gracefully scrape every last bit of mousse from the small crystal goblet, and once the service is cleared away, Steve stands and extends his hand toward you. You stand and go to him. This is familiar now.

He draws your hand to his lips, presses a kiss to the backs of your fingers, then tucks your hand in the crook of his arm. “May I escort you to your chambers to retire for the evening?”

“Yes, of course, my king,” you respond warmly and fall into step with him, leaving the dining room behind.

You have fallen into certain routines after dinner, and while the two of you do not do the very same thing each night, you do spend nearly all your evenings together, the only exception if he must be away on royal business. This evening you read while he sketches before darkness seeps through the windows and you two begin to get ready for bed.

Once you’re both fully freed from the entrapments of your elaborate day wardrobes, you catch Steve studying you again through the reflection of the mirror as you stand in front of your vanity.

“What is that look?” you ask, frowning at him.

“You are very quiet tonight.”

“Again, I am sorry, I must be tired.”

You can see in his eyes that part of him wants to press you further, but he chooses not to. At least not about that.

“Too tired for a little adventure?” he asks.

You turn and fix him with a playfully scrutinizing look. “Pray tell what adventure a king thinks he can get up to in the twilight hour when he’s in his bedclothes?”

“Come with me and find out.”

His eyes are full of mischief, and there is no way you could resist him with that look on his face.

He picks up your velvet cloak and hands it to you before donning his own.

You reach for some boots.

“No,” he stops you, “no shoes.”

“Barefoot?”

“Slippers should do.”

He grins and reaches for your hand. The two of you go hand in hand as you sneak out of your chambers. Steve gives the men standing guard a look that says they are not to appear to know the two of you have left or which way you have gone unless the situation is dire. As king and queen, you can only be so discreet on this adventure as you pass enough guards and servants that your movements cannot in any way be a secret. But it is still a bit of a thrill to skirt through the castle swiftly in the dark, fingers twined together, escaping out onto the grounds. You wind through the gardens as dusk turns starts to turn to darkness, beyond the stables and more gardens, past the royal orchard, and across even more ground until you ultimately reach a thicket of trees. This, you know, is the south side of the royal grounds, and if not for an eventual stone wall to secure the castle, it could have been any common forest you were ambling into.

The moonlight is just beginning to cast its silvery glow across the night, and it only adds another layer to the novelty of the moment. The two of you follow an almost-path into the trees, and it continues further than you expect it to go. It is clear Steve is familiar with this path, his steps through the trees and the brush steady and sure.

As you move along, your steps hadn’t been rushed once you’d escaped the castle proper, but Steve starts to slow significantly, and you step closer to him with the relaxed pace, able to walk with him rather than follow through this part of the landscape that is new to you. Steve brings your hand up to press a kiss to the back of it and smiles down at you.

“When I was young, my ma used to try and find ways to lift our spirits. We were so poor, but she never wanted us to want for reasons to be happy. She thought it important to make any occasions special as they came our way with our own rituals and traditions.”

Married less than a year, you are still learning much about each other in this relationship – there were so many things in the present, you had spoken of some hopes for the future, and much of the vast troves of the past lay behind you to explore. You knew his father had been killed as a soldier in a war between kingdoms when he was still a toddling child, and his mother had been lost to a plague just before he’d come of age. The few times he’d spoken of his mother, it had always been with such warmth that it made your heart swell and grew your affection for him even more.

“I don’t remember how old I was when she started this tradition, but one night instead of having me get ready for bed, she bundled me up enough to keep me from catching cold in the March evening air, put on her own cloak, and we ventured out into the night, just outside of the village, and into the forest. It was the spring equinox, and she said if we walked into the clearing, left an offering, and made a wish, then the magic that came with the awakening of spring would make that wish come true.”

He'd stopped at some point during those words, and as you look around, you see you are in a very small break in the trees – not quite big enough to be called a clearing.

There weren’t big festivities and royal duties around the equinoxes in the kingdom as there were for the solstices, but there were still rituals and traditions in the days leading up to and following, so you knew the significance of this day, and tonight was the last night where darkness held equal balance with the day, and then daylight would take the reigns for its share of the year.

“I love that you’ve kept that tradition in her remembrance,” you say, running your other hand up and down his forearm. “What sort of offerings did you leave?”

“It would depend on the year,” he responds, plaintive in thought, “sometimes whatever small token we could scrounge, others perhaps a specially baked good or honey if we could spare it. When I began to draw in earnest, sometimes I would leave a sketch for those forest sprites, or fairies, or deities, whatever you would believe ruled the trees.”

“And your wishes came true?”

His gaze lifts to the starry sky for a moment, then he looks down into your face. “Perhaps one or two, but some of the wishes were too foolish and did not need to be granted.” He laughs softly, and you grin and press closer to him. He then turns fully toward you to envelop you in his arms. “I think her wishes probably came true – she always wanted more for me, happiness, a good life. I have so much of that now.”

You reach up and gently cup his face in your hands. “I never planned on an unhappy life, but I think fortune granted us more happiness than either of us anticipated.”

“Indeed,” he says resolutely, bowing his head to capture your lips with his.

You kiss him back fervently. One of his hands moves down your spine, coming to stop at the small of your back, pressing you into him. You hum into the kiss, relishing the closeness and connection between the two of you.

Steve draws his lips away just before you’re at the point of breathlessness, but he presses his forehead to yours, and you continue to breathe each other in.

“I think I have something that would work for an offering,” you pipe up after a few moments of the tranquility in his embrace.

He doesn’t say anything but loosens his hold as you shift your arms back down and tug at the silk ribbon at the cuff of one of your sleeves, drawing it out of its casing.

“A fine token from my beautiful bride,” he remarks.

“And what are you giving up to the wood?”

“A piece of my heart,” he says with a grin.

You tsk at him and roll your eyes, but you do feel a small rush of heat in your cheeks and the butterflies stir in your belly because even though his tone was playful, there’s an undeniable intention in his eyes.

“No, what did you really bring, husband? I know you well enough to know you came prepared.”

He draws a small, folded piece of parchment out of his breast pocket, holding it up before pressing a kiss to your forehead.

“Come,” he inclines his head over his left shoulder, turning and stepping toward one of the nearby cedar trees. One of the branches hangs near shoulder height to you. Steve places the folded drawing onto the branch, holding it in place, and you step up to tie it to the branch without him needing to explain.

“I don’t get to see what you drew?” you ask as you arrange the loops for a bow and work the silk with your nimble fingers.

“If you tell a wish – or show it in this case, then it might not come true.”

You know he is not one to believe in silly superstitions, but you have your own wish you hope this ritual might help along, so you just smile and nod. “Fair enough.”

The two of you step back, and you admire the simple beauty of the ribbon and think you could very well tie many more ribbons to this tree in the coming years together. You hope that is the case.

Steve takes another few steps back into the open space between the trees, draws his robe off his shoulders, and spreads it out over the ground. You pull off your own robe and join him as he lays back and holds his arm open for you. He assists as you drape your robe over your lower halves. The air is crisp but not cold, but the warmth of his body against yours is wonderful, and you nestle into him.

The stars dotting the heavens are bright skirting around a full moon, and as the two of you gaze up at the night sky, you twine your fingers with Steve’s at your shoulder. You have maintained who you are, who you were raised to be, strong and steady, noble, regal, with your own sense of purpose and fulfillment, but the wholeness you feel when you are with Steve enriches your soul. You are not empty without him, but more full with him. Laying with him right now is a balm you did not know you desperately needed tonight.

Steve begins to speak again. “After she passed, I kept the yearly tradition for the equinox, but especially after I inherited this kingdom.”

His voice was another comfort. You loved hearing more of what made up this man who held your heart.

“I never sought the crown,” he continues, “but after I suddenly found myself king, I held onto anything that kept me grounded. Bucky has been a constant, but I spent much time in these woods to clear my head, work out answers I needed to sort through on my own, or simply sit with feelings or difficulties I could not suffer in the palace in front of anyone else.”

Given that admission, the semblance of a path and his familiarity navigating to this glen in the trees made perfect sense.

This man was strong and stoic, and your husband had the heart of a lion, but you could only imagine what it must have been like to inherit a kingdom and all the royal duties of being its king overnight. You had grown up as the second-born in a royal family, able to learn and prepare, with parents, governesses, advisors, tutors, and your royal siblings being brought up alongside you to prepare for a life of duty and the unique difficulties it would present for the entirety of your life. Steve had been plucked out of obscurity by fate with no training, orphaned, only a soul who had always worked hard and possessed a deep-rooted a sense of duty and desire to serve those around him in any way he could.

He speaks again, an abundant warmth in his tone. “In you I have found yet another boon and have had fewer occasions where I needed to seek out the solace of this place.”

You shift to your side to lean up and look into his face. This was not a surprise revelation. His words and actions have demonstrated consistently how much he values you since that night you had pledged your true love and affection to each other so many months ago, but him vocalizing this sentiment still means so much and makes your heart soar because your relationship is still so new.

You move down to kiss him, and he lifts his head to meet you halfway. He holds your face in his hands, and his thumbs brush gently over your cheeks.

He pulls back, presses another brief kiss to your mouth, then traces a finger over your parted lips. His blue eyes connect again to yours.

“I don’t know if you are holding back the thoughts that trouble you because I’m king and you think I have royal matters to occupy my thoughts, but something is on your mind,” he says quietly.

Your heart stings a little at his accusation – but he is not wholly wrong.

“Please,” he presses, “we said we would be husband and wife to each other, we vowed a true and unfettered love. As your husband I can see it, I know it, and it’s eating at me that I can’t share whatever is burdening you. Do not hold matters so important and worrisome back from me.”

Your throat feels thick and though you are still unsure of the words and the feelings yourself, you cannot deny Steve’s fervent plea to open up to him, and you trust that the foundation you’ve been building together will guide the two of you through however this conversation will go.

Carefully, you settle back down against him, wanting to feel his closeness. You press the side of your face to his chest, over his heart, and drape your left arm over his torso. His hand trails up and down your arm tenderly, while his other arm holds you, patiently waiting.

You take a deep breath and then let your thoughts flow into words. “Are you at all worried that we have been married three-quarters of a year,” you begin, “time enough for me to be with child, and yet we have no heir on the way?”

He hums in thought, not immediately answering.

You know the silence is short, but it feels long because you anxiously await his thoughts.

“No,” he finally answers.

He does not elaborate, and though when Steve chooses to speak and when he chooses to keep his thoughts to himself is something you have noted and admired in his character as a king, on this matter you crave every word of his thoughts.

“No?”

He sits up and pulls you into his lap, arms encircling you entirely.

“I am realizing we have never spoken about this with each other,” he says.

“And?”

“And I imagine we have spoken about it or been spoken to about it with others before our union.”

You nod.

He furrows his brow slightly, studying your face.

“Steve,” it’s you ushering the conversation now.

“Is anyone pressing you on the matter?” he asks, tone serious.

“No,” you reply.

He raises an eyebrow.

“Truthfully,” you reassure him.

“Then truthfully, you asked if I am worried – but I had not realized so much time had already passed. The longer we are married, the more it feels as if I’ve known you for ages, but it also feels as if it has been no time at all.”

You nod. “I think that is one of the reasons I have been hesitant to broach the subject now since it has been many months and we had never once spoken on the matter. It had never crossed my mind, and I didn’t know if it had yours.”

You had wondered why. You wondered if it was a mark of selfishness, or merely a mark on how devoted the two of you had been in building your bonds as husband and wife in your time as newlyweds – newlyweds in a cordially arranged marriage that turned out to be a true love match.

He remains quiet for another moment, and you place your hand on his cheek, relishing the feel of his beard against your palm.

His tone is soft when he finally continues. “I want children, not heirs.”

Your melt into his embrace, heart skipping a beat. Why had you let yourself worry at all?

“But what do you want, my love?”

“I-“

His question gives you pause. You know the most vital duty of a queen is to produce an heir, but the way Steve looks at you in this moment, so intently, you want to give him the true answer, not merely the answer you were raised to give.

And it’s in those fervent blue eyes of his that you also seem to find the truth of it.

“I want to have children with you.”

He does not ask for you to clarify or repeat the sentiment because he knows you do not speak to placate him in any way, the same way you know he does not try to placate you now.

“You know that I was not raised to be a king or with all the expectations that come along with it. Since the time the crown was bestowed upon me, I did learn the import of all the duties that were suddenly expected. Bring peace and stability to the kingdom, serve the people, and much of that was tied to expectations that I take a wife to give the kingdom a queen, and ultimately produce an heir to secure the line of succession, so I can only imagine what the duties and obligations felt like if one had been shouldered with them from birth.”

You sigh. “I suppose it is a different kind of weight as it’s all I’ve ever known, and it wasn’t thrust upon me as it was you.”

“But that does not minimize its weight, nor am I saying it was an unbearable burden for either of us. But I did feel the weight of it for all the years I ruled alone before you, and yet I stood firmly against any pressure to rush me into matrimony. Call it patience or obstinance, but I was rewarded for my waiting beyond anything I hoped for in that wife being you, and I know I was not your first proposed marriage contract either.”

“You were not, but you were the first I felt confident in, even when it was an arrangement that was amicable, not one with romantic notions or intent.”

“With that,” Steve continues, “I can do nothing but trust that there is no need to rush fulfilment of any of our duties. If and when children come into our life, it will be precisely when providence deems they should.”

“How is it you always say such wonderful things?”

He tilts his head, and the look on his face turns so soft it makes your heart ache. “Your heart inspires my heart.”

You close the small gap between you and kiss him fiercely. This man continue to show he is more than you could ever have dreamed, worthy of anchoring your soul. Your tongue teases the seam of his lips, and he opens his mouth to you immediately.

His hands are a little cold, but you do not mind the chill of his fingers as one of his hands moves under the hem of your nightdress, lands on your knee, and begins to move purposely up your thigh.

“Now, we ought to give providence every opportunity to send a child our way, should we not?” he teases.

You laugh and tug at his shirt. “We should, my king.” He lifts his arms to allow you to pull off his garment. “My love,” you add more tenderly before kissing him again.

He eases back to the ground, pulling you with him, lips locked together. The sentiments shared between you, the always enticing closeness, the novelty of having Steve outdoors, the magic of the spring equinox, all of it comes together to drive the two of you quickly into a frenzy of immediate need and want. You shift to straddle Steve and reach down to tear at the front laces of his breeches. The places where your naked thighs tuck in on each side of his bare torso relish the warmth and the beauty of the skin-to-skin contact. He hitches up your nightdress and his hands caress up and down your thighs as you reach for his cock. Steve hisses at your cold fingers wrapping around his hard length but bucks up into your hand as you stroke him.

“Inside you,” he insists. “Need to be inside you, filling you, planting my seed inside the cunt of my queen.”

You gasp at his desperate words as he moves your hands away and lines up his cock with your entrance, slamming your hips down to take him in the space of one heartbeat. You were not as wet or prepared as he usually took care to take you, but both of you groan as he slots in to the hilt, and you throw your head back, a broken groan escaping your throat. The pain is surged with pleasure, and you rock eagerly against his pelvis. The friction sends a shiver down your spine, and you close your eyes.

Steve’s hands move from your thighs to gripping your hips. You lean back just enough to plant your hands on his sturdy thighs, as he drives your hips back and forth with more vigor. The grind as his cock shifts it angle inside your pussy has you panting quickly. He squeezes your hips. “Just like that, my love, take your pleasure, let me give you what you need.”

Your movement grows more frenzied, and you whimper, not quite able to achieve the release you crave. But he knows this, has made a study of your body since your wedding night, and he knows you need more. One of his hands moves up to palm your breast, while his other hand moves to your core, and his thumb quests for your clit, applying tight, insistent circles to the pulsing nub. The waves of pleasure build even more quickly now, and when your fingers curl against his thighs, he tweaks your nipple, pinching, and it pushes you over the edge. You cry out, and every muscle in your body seizes to absorb the ecstasy of your orgasm.

Steve smooths his hands up and down your sides, then moves them around to the small of your back and coaxes your body back down to his chest, his cock still inside of you. He presses kisses along your collar bone, up the column of your neck, and along your jaw, letting you catch your breath. His hands continue their sensual and soothing movements over the expanse of your back, and he cradles your shoulders in his hands when you finally adjust your head to meet his lips once more with your own.

When you suck on his bottom lip, his cock twitches inside of you, and you let out a shaky breath.

“Can I have more?” he murmurs against your lips.

You manage to nod and mewl in assent, rocking where you’re still joined together.

Using his gentle strength, Steve rolls you beneath him, keeping you on the plush velvet of his cloak, settling in the home he loves between your thighs. He cups the side of your face in his hands, and his kiss now demands, belying his eagerness. Though his lips move against yours, tongue licking into your mouth, entangling with yours, kissing, kissing, kissing until neither of you can breathe anymore, when he draws away, your mouth chases his. He grins, and his eyes dance with satisfaction as he presses his forehead to yours.

You’re his, you have been his, but the way he reverently gazes at you as he trails his hand down your neck, over your chest, cresting over your breast, down your ribcage, circling over your hip, and then coming to rest over your stomach, it’s filled with a fervent fire. His hand splays out fully over your womb, and he slowly draws his cock out halfway before giving an even slower thrust back in, clearly wanting you to feel every inch of his thick member and the action has him groaning and you keening beneath him.

“I’m going to fill this womb with my seed,” he vows with another thrust. “Going to keep you full as often as I can.”

“Please,” you beg.

He has never been shy with you, but neither spoken so directly of the physical or biological in your intimate moments as he has tonight, and it adds a new level of pleasure to the experience that fuels a primal part in your core. You thread your fingers in his hair and tug urgently as his thrusts begin to pick up speed. His kisses turn fierce bruising, and you welcome it. But when he can’t seem to keep kissing and breathing and thrusting inside you, he abandons your lips and buries his face in your neck, grunting as he presses on and on. The angle of his pelvis drags just perfectly across your clit as he adjusts and speeds up. Your walls flutter around him, and he rasps, “Go on, give me one more before I fill you up, my love.”

And his rough thrusts laced with his tender words, the way he grasps at your hip, his belabored breathing at your neck, it all overwhelms, and you release a debauched, shuddering moan when your second orgasm washes over you. Steve does not relent, and follows you over the edge with only a few more thrusts, the way your channel squeezes his cock giving him the final push, and he groans, satisfied, as he empties his hot spend inside of you. You don’t scratch, but you draw your fingers forcefully down his back, wanting to feel the tautness of his muscles. You knead his ass, holding him joined into you as he ruts slowly against you, wanting to deposit every last drop your insides milk from him in the aftershocks.

You feel deliciously spent and welcome his weight as he relaxes his body on top of you. He lays his head on your chest, and you hum and press a kiss to the top of his head, drawing your fingers back up to lightly stroke his hair, his shoulders. He caresses your sides, your legs where they are still wrapped around him, anywhere his fingers can reach, but now it’s all languid and soothing touches between you. The weight of him is so grounding in the afterglow, and it begins to lull you to sleep.

You are vaguely aware as somewhat later Steve lifts you up from the ground to carry you in his arms back to the castle. Your body was sated, and your mind as well. You have more to share with Steve soon. You should have had your monthly bleeding last week, and so the possibility that you were already with child before tonight was a very real prospect. Tonight served to quell any doubts you may have had about the prospect of you two becoming parents – that he wanted it, and so did you, and that you were both ready to pursue that journey – but you would wait a few more weeks to ensure it wasn’t a fluke before you told Steve.

And in the meantime, you knew there would continue to be more pleasurable opportunities to put a babe inside you if there wasn’t one already.

I HOPE YOU ENJOYED THIS NEW PIECE OF THEIR STORY!

As ever, I'm always eager for any morsel of your thoughts as to what you thought and questions about where they may go next...

↠ Masterlist | Aspen's Ask Box | Field Guide to the Forest

#steve rogers #steve rogers smut #royal au #steve rogers x reader #royal steve rogers #aspen wrote something #cedar trees au #askpen

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aviduringgremlinhours · 21 days

Text

My Muse

~content warning: slightly nsfw~

Mizu x artist!reader

Authors note: I am not a writer so I apologize for any mistakes! Enjoy!

"Somethings' off...I can feel it..." you say as you squint at the canvas before you. Wether its the shape of the head or the length of the torso, you could TELL something was off. "Two years of art school and yet I still can't seem to get body proportions right. Ugh, maybe I should just find a different career path-"

You hear a knock on the studio door "Y/N? You in there? I made us some tea, can I come in?" you hear the voice of your partner, Mizu, behind the door. "Oh! Yes! Come in!" You exclaim. Upon your approval she comes in with two cups of tea and sets them both at the break table nearby. Deciding to take a break, you get up from the frustrating sketch before you to spend some much needed time with Mizu.

"Hows the art going? What are you working on?" She asks curiously. Mizu has always loved your art, and though she was a woman of few words, you could feel her admiration and respect coming off of her as she gazed fondly at the paintings made by your hand.

"I feel like if I try to fix it any longer I'm going to jump off a bridge" you sigh, half joking at this point. "Ouch, that bad?" She raises an eyebrow as her eyes scan the canvas. "It looks a little off but its not bad. Perhaps you should do some model studies. Who knows, maybe seeing the body up close will help you figure out what you're missing." The idea sounds good in theory, but theres a problem with it "Where would I find someone willing to strip down and let me stare at them for hours while I draw them? I don't really have the cash to pay someone for it." You ask her earnestly.

"Well..." she contemplated "I could be your model, if you want." Your eyes widen at the thought, it makes sense, and its not like you haven't seen her naked before, but you feel a blush crawling up your cheeks regardless. "A-are you sure you're comfortable with that?" "Absolutely sure, I'm comfortable with it if you are. We can start after we finish the tea" She says, her ice blue eyes seemingly brightening up with excitement.

A brief moment later, and Mizu stands before you, a robe being the only thing covering her up. "I'm ready. Where should I stand?" She asks you. "Oh, just go sit on the lounge right here, I want to try capturing you in a leasurely pose." You say. "Just lay back with your back proped up on the arm of the lounge, have one knee bent, and your arm resting on the bent knee. Look off to the side as well." she nods and gets into position as you ready your pencil. "Ready?" You ask, "Ready."

You begin sketching out her figure, glancing over at her every now and then for reference. Every curve, every scar, every fold of her body carefully replicated onto your canvas. From her slender yet defined arms to her lean torso and model-eque long legs. "She's so beautiful..." you think to yourself. You sketch more. Her breasts, her gorgeously long dark brown hair, her breathtaking blue eyes-

You notice her glancing at you, flinching away your daydream as you hastily hide your burning red face behind the canvas. You hear a soft chuckle emit from her as she looks away, a warm smile fixed to her face and a light blush forming. The silence in the air that followed was not a suffocating one, but one that carried a sense of quiet intimacy between two lovers. Warm, soft, and inviting. You feel yourself beginning to relax as you continue to sketch the beautiful woman in front of you.

You finish your sketch up and exhale deeply "Its done! It came out so well! Would you like to see?" You ask her excitedly as she rises from the lounge and reaches for her robe. "Hell yeah I would." She replied. As she scanned over the canvas, her eyes widened with awe. "Its...amazing love, is this how you see me?" She asked "Of course!" You tell her "You're the most beautiful and amazing partner in the whole world, you could say you're my muse..." she looks away bashfully, a shy but happy hum coming out as a response. You gently turn her head to face you a plant a loving, soft kiss on her lips, one which she reciprocates in kind. "Thank you Mizu, you've been a great help. I love you." She beams at those 2 magic words "I love you too, Y/N"

#mizu #blue eye samurai #blue eye samurai mizu #bes mizu #mizu blue eye samurai #mizu bes #blue eye samurai netflix #mizu x reader #mizu x you

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acourtofquietdreamers · 1 month

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“Why don’t you ship Elain with her mate? Don’t you know Sarah is a fated mates author?!”

Let’s take a look at Elain’s mate vs….

The person Feyre pictured with Elain and smiled.

“Autumn Court males have fire in their blood—and they fuck like it, too.”…Lucien caught me cringing at him when her words replayed for the tenth time an hour later…I shook my head, trying not to imagine Elain subject to that…fire.

“And I think Elain—Elain would like it, too. Though she’d probably cling to Azriel, just to have some peace and quiet.” I smiled at the thought—at how handsome they would be together.

The person willing to save her himself.

Lucien was shaking his head, panting, and whirled to us. “Get her back,” he snarled at Tamlin over the ranting of the king.

From the shadows near the entrance to the tent, Azriel said, as if in answer to some unspoken debate, “I’m getting her back.” Nesta slid her gaze to the shadowsinger. Azriel’s hazel eyes glowed golden in the shadows. Nesta said, “Then you will die.” Azriel only repeated, rage glazing that stare, “I’m getting her back.”

The person who made her feel at ease during their first meeting.

As Lucien took off his jacket, kneeling before Elain. She cringed away from the coat, from him

But Azriel’s attention was on my sister, a polite, bland smile on his face. Her shoulders loosened a bit.”

The person she can sit in comfortable silence with.

It was the most uncomfortable thirty minutes I could recall.

Elain sat silently at one of the wrought-iron tables, a cup of tea before her. Azriel was sprawled on the chaise longue across the gray stones, sunning his wings and reading what looked to be a stack of reports—likely information on the Autumn Court that he planned to present to Rhys once he’d sorted through it all. Already dressed for the Hewn City—the brutal, beautiful armor so at odds with the lovely garden. And my sister sitting within it.

The person who knew she didn’t need anything.

Lucien murmured to me, eye still fixed on Elain, “Should we—does she need …?”

“She doesn’t need anything,” Azriel answered without so much as looking at Lucien. Elain was staring at the spymaster now—unblinkingly. “We’re the ones who need …” Azriel trailed off. “A seer,” he said, more to himself than us. “The Cauldron made you a seer.”

The person who understood her and saw her when no one else did.

“Did you sense anything?” “No—I didn’t have time. I felt her, but …” A blush stained his cheek. Whatever he’d felt, it wasn’t what we were looking for.

Lucien just stared and stared at my sister, as if he’d never seen her before.

It made sense, I supposed, that Azriel alone had listened to her. The male who heard things others could not…Perhaps he, too, had suffered as Elain had before he understood what gift he possessed.

The person Elain enjoys spending time with.

Elain, at least, would be too polite to send Lucien away when he wanted to help. She was too polite to send him away on a normal day. She just ignored him or barely spoke to him until he got the hint and left.

Azriel and Elain remained in the sitting room, my sister showing him the plans she’d sketched to expand the garden in the back of the town house, using the seeds and tools my family had given her tonight. Whether he cared about such things, I had no idea.

The person she has palpable chemistry with.

Cassian’s heart strained at the pain etching deep into Lucien’s face as he tried to hide his disappointment and longing. Elain only shrank further into herself, no trace of that newfound boldness to be seen.

Then his gaze shifted to Elain, and though it was utterly neutral, something charged went through it. Between them. Elain’s breath caught slightly, and she gave him a shallow nod of greeting before brushing past, leading Nesta into the room.

The person who gives her a gift that she wants to wear right away.

He and Lucien did not exchange gifts, though the male had brought a gift for Feyre and one for his mate, who barely thanked him after opening the pearl earrings.

“It's beautiful," she whispered, lifting it from the box. The golden faelight shone through the little glass facets, setting the charm glowing with hues of red and pink and white. Azriel let his shadows whisk away the box as she said softly, "Put it on me?"

The person who looks at her and only thinks of her.

But there she was. His mate. She was nothing like Jesminda.

Soft steps padded from under the stair archway, and there she was. The faelights gilded Elain's unbound hair, making her glow like the sun at dawn.

This supposed “fated mates author” has made it really difficult for me to ship Elain with her mate when a much more compatible option is right there. Four books with moments that solidify Azriel as the person for Elain, mate or not.

#pro elriel #elriel #anti e/ucien #Elriel rambles

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devildomwriter · 1 year

Text

Diavolo Absentmindedly Doodles You

It was another morning in the Devildom. Clear dark skies, brilliantly glowing stars, covering the shadowy Devildom in their light as the birds crowed loudly.

Diavolo was alone at his desk with his piles of paperwork as always. Between every few completed papers he’d let his mind wander to other things.

What was Lucifer doing? Did Simeon and Luke manage to avoid Solomon’s cooking last night? And how were ‘they’—The intriguing human he’d brought to the Devildom as an exchange student.

He wasn’t sure how or when but they’d begun taking up most of his thoughts.

Diavolo sighed and looked back to his paperwork, trying not to get lost in his thoughts once more.

He signed his name at the bottom of another paper and set it aside for Lucifer to add his signature to later.

His ears perked up as he heard a faint knock on his door.

Barbatos opened the door carefully as he strode in with Diavolo’s late-morning tea and snack.

“Blood Orange tea and complimentary Orange macaroons, my lord.” Barbatos announced as he placed the tray in front of Diavolo.

Diavolo smiled eagerly and began to fiddle with the pen between his fingers, clicking the pen mindlessly as he tried one of the macaroons.

“Mmm,” he beamed with his mouth full and nodded his approval. “These are amazing Barbatos, how do you always make them so much better than the time before?”

“With practice my lord. I’m glad it’s to your liking.”

Barbatos bowed but Diavolo noticed a small smile flash across Barbatos’s face.

“What amuses you?” Diavolo asked curiously.

“Oh nothing, my lord…it’s just a wonderful sketch of ___ you’ve done, very in their likeness.”

Diavolo looked puzzled, confused until he realized he’d mistakenly and sloppily drawn MC on the bottom of one of the contracts he had yet to sign.

“Oh,” he exclaimed, turning red as he attempted to correct it through magic.

Barbatos chuckled at Diavolo’s flushed expression, shuffling papers and making sure he hadn’t drawn on any others.

“Perhaps I’ll call ___ over this evening, maybe that will help the young master focus?”

Diavolo cleared his throat and set the papers aside, neatly stacked once more.

“That sounds like a wonderful idea.”

“Good. Now why don’t I make another copy of that document you drew on.”

“I—…yes, please. Thank you, Barbatos.”

“Hehe. Of course young master.”

Barbatos left the room and Diavolo looked down at the sheet of paper with his new doodle. It was rather cute if he did say so himself, maybe he’d show you when you came over this evening.

How was he supposed to focus now? He was far too excited to see your lovely face again; maybe drawing it a few more times would help?

#obey me shall we date #obey me fluff #obey me drabble #obey me diavolo #obey me diavolo x reader

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theheraldsrest · 1 month

Note

Hey! I really really love your blog! If I may request, during downtime, how would the members of the inner circle react to find the Inquisitor drawing/sketching them?

“Companions react to Inquisitor drawing/sketching them”

After our *cough* little thing with Bull, let’s have some fluff, shall we? Thank you anon for the ask!

-Lord Lex

Cullen

“You did this? It’s certainly…it’s…how did you even…it’s amazing.”

-So surprised, no words. It makes him feel a little special that you’d choose to sketch him but also very embarrassed. In return, he tries drawing you. Might not be as good and there are a few rough sketches that were thrown in the fire, but he wanted to return the favor.

Josephine

“Oh! Look at the detail and the softness! I wouldn’t have even thought it was me from how stunning it is!”

-Absolutely gushing over it. Josey’s always had a fascination for the arts and to be the subject of the piece from someone close to her? Adores it, even asks to keep it. She has it tucked away in one of her favorite books. Will always compliment your art even when talking to dignitaries.

Leliana

“I commend you on your artistic talent. Though, I’d ask you not to sketch me. Perhaps one of the ravens would make better practice?”

-Like Josephine, Leliana has an eye for art. She loves looking at the little details in your sketches and finds it a surprise that her face is amongst the papers. As much as she appreciates it, she’d rather her face remain a secret. She is your spy master, after all. Though, if she becomes Divine, she keeps the sketch as one of her favorite pieces of her.

Vivienne

“Darling, as much as I’d like to say you're wasting your talents by leading the Inquisition instead of honing your skills, you are equally talented in both. Most usually fail to make me look this stunning.”

-It might not show on her face or in her words but she loves it. Several times people have been commissioned to paint her yet none come even close to your level of detail. More points if it’s of her smiling or laughing, the lines on her face as well as the wrinkle around her eyes gives her a sense of…normalcy. If she becomes Divine, she commissions you to do her portrait, no one else.

Varric

“You drew me? I think that’s gotta be one of the scariest pieces of your art I’ve ever seen! When you're done, can I keep it?”

-Though it doesn’t sound like it, he brags about it constantly. Even when he’s making fun of his slightly crooked nose or how his eyes might seem smaller than other dwarves, he’s complimenting the skill you put into the very minute details of his face. Varric will try to pay you for it even if you refuse, later trying to commission a drawing of Hawke when they come around.

Cole

“Oh, it’s me! Not really, but it’s Cole. But you’re trying to draw me…I can still remember his face, then.”

-He’ll stare at it for hours, his shoulders down. It’s been sometime since he’d been able to see his own face, forgetting that he even had a face. To see you draw that face, the real Cole, just from looking at him makes him happy. Will ask to look at it every now and then, just to make sure it’s still the same.

Solas

“I must say, you are quite talented and steady with your hands. It does allow others to see how the artist sees. You certainly make me seem…at peace.”

-From one artist to another, he gives you high compliments with very few complaints. It is unusual to see him drawn in such a way since he’s so used to seeing only the mosaics. He meant to get rid of it when he left the Inquisition, but just couldn’t bring himself to do it.

Cassandra

“Inquisitor, though your craft is very beautiful and I admire how you can make these pieces, I must ask you not to sketch me.”

-Don’t get her wrong, she loves seeing your sketches but it’s mostly out of formality (and somewhat embarrassment) that she asks not to be your subject. If she becomes Divine, it’s one of the only pieces she prefers over the paintings. Though she does ask you, if you have the time, to draw something for her. When you give her a perfect picture of her brother and her, it’s one of the few times she truly hugs you.

The Iron Bull

“Holy shit. I’m alright when it comes to sketching, but you make it look pretty damn easy while so complicated! You even got my scars and the detail on my patch! Damn, boss!”

-Bull is used to doing quick sketches, usually of small details to make sure he could track someone or to remember something easier. Never had he really seen himself drawn so picture perfect that it completely baffles him. He looks at all the details with a smile on his face.

Dorian

“I can’t believe you managed to get my good side! In all honesty, though, this is remarkable. And not just because it’s me.”

-He had studied some art pieces before and never really found any he liked, but he has now found one of his favorite artists. Constantly asks if you’ve done any new pieces just so he can look at the heart that goes into them. Ask if you could teach him to sketch as such so that he can add better drawings to his research notes.

Sera

“What the fuck! That’s me! How the fuck! How did you do this! You even got my eyes to be lined up! How the hell did you do that?!”

-We all know Sera’s drawing style. She keeps saying the same things over and over again because she’s at a loss for words. Except for cuss words. Along with the rooftop hangouts, she insists that you two just draw together sometimes. Some of the goofiest drawings come from these times, especially one of a cartoonish Coryshit falling from a very detailed tower.

A little speech bubble near it says “Oh shit, I shat myself!”

Blackwall

“I…I’m honored to be one of your subjects. Not to blow my own horn, but this looks stunning. You really are something special, hm?”

-Blackwall has done a lot of sketching himself and finds your art a breath of fresh air. Other than looking at bits and pieces of his reflection, he usually tries to avoid seeing himself. So when he sees your drawing of him, he almost doesn’t recognize himself. You both trade sketches of each other just for fun and even sketch together.

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sseniita · 21 days

Text

"what if you regret it when you're older?"

“Ok go.” Although the rough hand on her right shoulder kept her grounded, the tattoo gun vibrating dangerously close to the left side of her collarbone sent a shock through her system. The slightest prick was more than enough to sober her up immediately. “Wait. Wait! No!” The hero squirmed away, losing her balance and promptly falling off the kitchen barstool and onto the cold tiled floor.

“Coward.” The villain started down at her. The gloved hands that had hurt her so many times, gripping onto a tattoo gun. “Get your ass back up and on the chair.”

The hero could taste the bile rising in her mouth. Her excessive drinking paired with being inside the villain’s house was not a good combo. Add to that her tiny tank top she unveiled to give the villain access to her desired area of her very first tattoo. The villain drank as much as the hero did, but his steady hands suggested he was stable. Definitely not sober considering he invited her into his apartment and situated her in his kitchen, regardless he remained stoic if a little determined as he helped her back onto the stool.

“You said you liked the mock up. What now?” The villain’s voice was harsh as it always was, but perhaps the buzz of a few too many softened it into something the hero shivered at. Perhaps the hero really did drink too much. She took another look at the sketch book on the kitchen island, crowded between masterful doodles and absentminded pen strokes, was a clean lined and minimalist illustration of a sun. The hero had totally lost her mind.

“You said it’ll hurt.” the hero confessed.

“Getting a tattoo close to your collarbone probably doesn’t compare to being stabbed.” He traced a finger down a thin scar on her bare bicep. His hand lingered there like it did when he plunged the knife in oh so long ago. The stab back then was slow and deliberate, just like his touch was now. “I promise you can handle it, Sunshine.”

The hero burned red at the familiar nickname, a reminder and confession about the meaning behind her tattoo. They had coincidently been at the same bar, alone at that, and the villain hadn't mentioned it, but the way the edge of his lips quirked up at the bar when the hero brought the idea up meant he knew. He immediately seduced the hero by saying he dabbled in tattoos and had a kit at home. Extremely sketchy, but the hero had drank enough courage and recognized this would be her only chance.

“Why am I doing this?” she asked herself but the villain responded.

“Because you’ve never done a stupid thing in your life.”

“I got drunk and followed my greatest enemy home, that sounds worse than this.”

“In that case this should be nothing.” The tattoo gun started buzzing again. “Stand still.”

And the hero did. She definitely wasn’t drunk, if anyone ever asked she’ll say she blacked out and woke up in a tattoo shop. The villain’s gloved hands were cold on her collarbones, a shiver made its way through her body when the villain leaned in close and whispered in her ear.

“This'll hurt. Just hang on, Sunshine.”

The hero closed her eyes, took a deep breath, and nodded. The pain came sharp, and the villain found the hem of his shirt being gripped in the hero’s hands. He chuckled at her display and made sure to finish as soon as possible. When he finally stepped away the hero’s face was red and her eyes wide with excitement. It was a simple tattoo, a variation of which he'd done a million times but the villain had never been as proud and blown away by his work on someone before. They both looked at her tattoo through the bathroom mirror for a very long while, the hero relished in the sting, the villain taking in the view.

Years later, when the hero finally got back at the villain for the scar he left on her with a knife, she noticed a small crescent moon tattooed on his own left collarbone, right above where her knife plunged into him.

#hero x villain #villain x hero #original fiction #writing #enemies to lovers #to enemies againhahah #angst #missed yall #not proofread!!! sorry #i actually have no tattoos LMAO #like i want one but also i dont want one ykno

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fatuismooches · 2 months

Note

OMG!! THE STEM STUDENT ZANDIK x ART READER ONE HAS MY HEART AS AN ARTIST AND WRITER 😭😭😭 imagine him growing to appreciate art and once you guys are dating you have trouble hiding sketches of him and he finds them..... I imagine his reaction would be priceless and he would tease you when he realises your embarrassed, secretly keeping the drawings of him in certain places of his lab so that he can always remind himself of how much you love him

You started drawing Zandik way before you two started dating, at first you thought he was simply pretty to look at and draw, but it spiraled to the point where you found yourself doodling his bored expression in class on the side of your papers. It was swiftly erased before your friend could find out. But after you two get together you find yourself drawing him way more often, not just him but you two with each other as well. You don't tell him though because you're aware of his feelings about the arts but also because it may seem strange you have a whole book dedicated to pictures of him. However, considering you are dating the eccentricity which is Zandik it probably really isn't that weird.

When Zandik finally finds your secret stash, he finds your attention to detail rather superb and admirable. You probably also end up drawing stuff he likes (Ruin Machines, tools, ... a variety of desserts) which are also quite a sight to see. He knew you had a skilled hand because there were times in the past when it was necessary to sketch for classes, but he never paid much attention to it. Though the arts isn't a subject of much interest for him, he finds himself intrigued by your skill. And also why you didn't tell him you possessed such a skill.

In the Akademiya, his teasing would be a bit more rough when you drew him ("Perhaps you should put those hands to better use and start working on your assignments... however, I am still looking forward to the fruits of your labor.) But now, Dottore would be a lot more forward ("Drawing me again, my dear? One would think I own these hands of yours, from how they're always itching to draw my likeness, hm?)

Even centuries later, Dottore somehow managed to preserve all of your artwork for himself (even you don't know this, it's his little secret perhaps.) He loves to see how much your creations and skills have grown since way back then, and he's truly excited to see how far you'll continue to go.

#smooches talks #dottore love notes <3 #reader has like... a dozen sketchbooks bc each one is dedicated to a segment #they get such big egos over whether they have more drawings than the other so u try to keep it balanced

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figgrrr0 · 1 year

Note

Hiii!! I love your writing, especially with Tighnari. He’s one of my favorites, and I love that you write for a dominant reader.

Can you please do a fic (plot) with Tighnari and a female reader who comes to the forest to study fungi, and they bond over being forest nerds? And then, he’s kind of pining for her, and when he confesses he admits he wants her to take charge, because he loves seeing her like that—and she uses a fungus to make him more sensitive when she does?

Want to skip the lead up? Look for the NSFW sign that marks the smut!

Cordyceps mishaps

Character: Sub!Tighnari // Reader: Dom!Afab

Genre: Smut // CW: Handjob, aphrodisiacs, slight teasing, brief masturbation, implied vaginal sex, slight power imbalance (he's your mentor)

Plot: Yes // Word count: 5.5k

When you'd made plans to come to Sumeru, this wasn't how you'd planned your first day to go.

With the climate being much hotter and humid than you were used to, it was understandably hard for you to acclimate to the differences fast enough to be totally comfortable. However, it all would be worth it for the new plant species that you'd get the see, the forests of Sumeru providing a scale of plant life larger than in any of the other nations.

Sure, you had read books about the trees, the flowers, the fungi; but words on paper were never a match for real-world experience. For years, you'd wanted to see them first-hand, to find them in the wild and study them to find your own consensuses. And now, you finally had the chance to do so. The only downside was that, since you didn't know anyone in Sumeru, you'd had no idea what to expect. Or where to go.

Which is how you got yourself lost within the first two hours of finally making it across the border of Liyue.

"Follow the paths." They'd said.

"Follow the paths." You'd repeated to yourself.

But, of course, through the gap between the trees, you'd seen an interesting flash of colour. Perhaps a new plant you'd never seen before? Maybe one from the sketches you'd seen in the books?

You didn't stay on the path.

And, now, half an hour later, you were lost, distressed and disappointed, because there was no flower at all. And from what you could tell, there was no one else around that could help. The silence in the air felt unnatural and precise, as though the forest itself was watching you, waiting on your every move, every thought, every breath. And with dusk not far from falling, you really didn't want to spend your first night here cold, alone and frightened of your surroundings, let alone lost.

... But there was nothing else for you to do. You'd tried turning back the way you'd came, but you still couldn't find the path. Plus, you didn't want to accidentally stay further into the forest. If you had any hope of being found by someone who could help, you had to stay at least close to the paths. Your common sense told you you'd be better off just staying exactly where you were.

Until you got distracted again.

Out of the corner of your eye, half hidden by the shadows cast down upon them by the surrounding trees, lay a patch of small orange mushrooms, all intertwined and reaching outwards in awkward angles. To you, they looked quite familiar... where had you seen them before?

Moving closer, completely focused on trying to identify these strange mushrooms, you pay no mind to the shadow shifting behind you.

From what you'd read in the books, there were no known species of fungi that were dangerous to touch, only causing problems when ingested. Taking mental notes of your findings, you examine them: the unusual slim and long form of the mushrooms set them apart from the common crowd of fungi, looking suspiciously similar to the cattail reeds which grew to the side of rivers and ponds. Putting on some spare gloves to prevent harmful juices or powders getting on your hands, you remove a small mushroom from the cluster, bringing it to your face while maintaining a safe distance and inhaling the scent that it emitted.

Cocoa.

... Well then. These were rare, that much you knew. And they weren't poisonous, either, from what you can remember – though you're hardly going to trust your memory when it comes to a plant you can't remember the name of. But you did remember the properties and effects. They were... interesting, to say the least.

"Cordyceps militaris."

"Agh-?!" You let out a shrill scream, whirling around on your feet and coming face to face with the man who had snuck up on you, an amused smile plastered on his face. Upon realising that he wasn't making any threatening advances towards you, you rest your hand on your chest as you calm down, your panicked breathing evening out.

Even though he clearly felt no shame in sneaking up on you like that and scaring you half to death, he was at least gentlemanly enough to allow you time to recover before he started talking again.

"This fungus is Cordyceps militaris. You should be careful interacting with it if you don't know what you're doing." He then proceeded to lean against a tree to the side, glancing down at the said fungus as if in thought.

"Excuse me? I know perfectly well what I'm doing!" You huffed, crossing your arms. Who was he, anyway? He finds a random girl in the middle of the forest who is obviously not from here, barely any daylight left, and instead of offering to take her somewhere safe, he wants to criticise your mushroom handling skills?!

"Oh, my apologies." He looked back up at you, tail flicking as though he were agitated with you, "I'd assumed that if you knew what you were doing, you would've worn appropriate gloves." He gestured to your hands, a humorous glint in his mischievous eyes.

Confused, you turn your own hands over to inspect them, only to be met with a glaringly obvious hole directly across the palm of the glove. Huh... must've snagged them on a branch at some point.

Embarrassed and left with little argument, you settle for staying silent, admitting defeat before you were further humiliated. It wasn't that bad, really. You just got caught out being a bit careless.

"...Anyway, mind handing that over?" He points to the small mushroom still held between your fingers, holding out a small pouch for you to place it into. Wordlessly, you drop it into the bag, stepping back upon doing so to create some more distance between you. "For a newcomer, you sure do know how to pick a good sample instead of just breaking it off at the base."

"I studied in some of the other nations, but Sumeru's variety was much more appealing. I thought I'd learn faster if there was more to see and do."

"I see. If I may, I think you made a good choice. Sumeru has lots to offer for both academics and plant life." He reaches out to take your hand, his gaze softening to be more friendly. "I'm Tighnari, Forest Watcher."

You hesitate slightly before placing your hand in his. "Y/N."

"Well then, Y/N, seeing as it's getting dark and you've been stumbling around the forest for the better half of an hour, what would you say to me taking you back to our main outpost? It's not much warmer, but the people there are friendlier than anything you'll come across in the wild late at night."

"...I'd say that I'd appreciate that very much, Forest Watcher Tighnari."

And so, without another word, you follow him to Gandharva Ville, where you stay for the night.

...

Tighnari couldn't believe how far you'd come in such short time. When you'd told him about your previous meticulous studies on wildlife –particularly plants and fungi – of course he'd believed you. He'd seen your proficiency that very same night that you met, discarding the... incident... with the gloves. Though he did still bring it up every now and then, just to keep you on your toes. He loved to see how flustered you'd get when he mentioned it, the little pout accompanied by the scowl you'd shoot him before the full sentence had even left his smiling lips making all of your sneaky little revenge plots well worth it.

However, that thought process had brought to mind the very serious problem that had been plaguing his mind as of late – or, really, since he had met you.

His feelings for you.

How passionate you were about learning the ways of the forest. How determined you were to improve at the job and impress the people around you (himself included). Even the way you held the other Rangers accountable for their mistakes, scolding them with no remorse, only to soften as you carefully explain the correct conduct, guiding them through with a gentle yet stern voice. He loved to see it.

He'd never say it out loud, except to himself, that your harsh words and strict voice had caused him to grow hot under the collar on quite a few instances. Even if he was just barely in earshot, he'd have to scurry away before you rounded the corner to see his blushing face, heading straight to his own quarters to... ahem... "make himself presentable."

At least, that was what he'd always said upon being asked, but it never made sense to you. He looked the exact same every time he came back! What could he possibly be doing in there that was so important?!

He hoped you wouldn't find out... not before he revealed the truth – well- half of it – tonight, resigning himself to whatever fate you had in store for his highly strung heart.

It had to be tonight. He couldn't drag this out for any longer.

...

One book; two books; three books; four. All stacked relatively neatly atop each other, placed next to a quill pen and subsequent pot of black ink.

Once a week, you meet up with Tighnari to go over all of your recent notes: mainly focused on any incidents or warning signs you find out in the field and comparing your new notes on the fauna with previous ones. This helped to tell if any differences were arising with the locale, and it made clear the progress you were making when it came to your studies on the plants.

Considering you were usually a bit later than agreed upon, Tighnari knew that he'd have a spare few minutes to prepare himself for your arrival. Perfect. His nerves had been catching up to him all day since he'd decided to finally talk to you about his feelings tonight. His hands were shaking, his tail stiff between his legs and his breath was hard to catch. Tighnari paced back and forth through the room, rethinking his plans as he straightened out his hair, which had gotten ruffled from his continuous gripping and pulling.

This wasn't like him. He couldn't remember the last time he'd been this affected by someone. But... he was officially your mentor... was it wrong for him to have feelings for you of this nature? He'd rifled through his thoughts too many times to count, arguing with himself about how inappropriate it was for him to act like this around you, to think of you in this way, but all he could ever come away with was hardly comforting to his confused mind.

You were mostly on par with his own knowledge on the ecosystem, having almost completely caught up with him due to how eager you were and how often you insisted on having these meetings. It wasn't as if he were at much of a higher level than you, nor were your ages out of balance. Really, you were both the same. It was just the job title itself that separated the two of you and made him cast some doubt on himself.

However, the situation wasn't as big a deal as Tighnari's mind made it out to be. He knew it wasn't.

The other Forest Rangers and Watchers murmured and gossiped about the two of you near daily, that much he knew. They weren't very subtle, and they did know of his heightened hearing, so surely they didn't care if he heard or not? But... what if...-

Tighnari stood stock still in the middle of the floor.

What if they were all letting him hear on purpose to push him into confessing?

His face reddened slightly as he overthought every little interaction he could remember between the two of you, where the other Rangers had been able to see. Had he been too obvious all along?! Did you already know and by confessing tonight he would just make a fool of himself?!

*Knock, knock*

Tighnari sighed, his ears falling flat to the sides of his head as he tried to push the tension from his shoulders and creased brow.

He couldn't tell you.

...

Already, it was half way through the night. The candles he had set through the room had slowly dwindled until barely three remained alight: the first, on a shelf behind you, giving the perfect backdrop of warmth for him to see you in from his seat across the table. The second, on a counter to the side, directly between both of you, illuminating the profiles of his and your faces. The third, on the table you're both sitting at, on the far end at a safe distance from all the vulnerable paper, but close enough that it prevents your shadow from obscuring your vision of the paper in front of you.

When the final candle melted down to the last of the wick, you took it as your que to leave. It symbolised the night coming to an end, and really, by the time the candles had burned all the way down, you were too tired to continue. What Tighnari had hoped you didn't notice, was that throughout his year with you, he had been slowly introducing new candles to his home, until now, there were almost double the amount he'd started with.

You had noticed.

Currently, only a few note sheets remained to check through. You carded through them, rearranging the ones you'd already read into a neater pile, before picking up your quill and sprawling some more notes onto the paper on the table in front of you.

Tighnari watched as you wrote, your handwriting had slowly descended over time as you got more and more tired through the evening. At this point, I was messy and scratchy, and half of the page didn't match the other half. From where he was sitting, he couldn't read what you were writing. He knew for a fact that you wouldn't have a clue in the morning, either. But he didn't tell you, because you always came to see him again for further clarification. That, and he thought it was cute.

Just as he was getting lost in his thoughts, gaze caught on the movements of your pen, a flicker behind you caught his eye. When he looked up, his eyes finding the candle at the back of the room, the flame drew its last breath, dying out not even two seconds later.

His eyes catch on the scene, watching as the final drops of wax drip down the side of the candle –or what is left of it, at least. The room behind you has been swallowed by shadows, only a faint glow from the remaining two reaching across the floor. But when he drags his eyes back to you, you haven't even noticed, completely transfixed by your notes.

The quiet scratching of the quill against parchment lulls the both of you into a serene silence, feeling no need for conversation, just enjoying each other's presence. Even though he'd started the evening feeling more anxious than he felt he'd ever been, by now, Tighnari was completely comfortable and content to share his space with you. He's glad you feel safe in his company, too.

Waiting, in case you need any help with the papers, Tighnari gazes upon your candle-lit face. Your hair falls around you messily from the night of work, your mindless movements and adjustments making you look ruffled in the best possible way. The shadows of the room lay across your face, contrasting with the low glow of the candle light. It makes you look ethereal in his eyes, as if you would disappear should he close his eyes for too long... or maybe that's just the exhaustion from the day leaving its impression on his eyes. Either way, it left you looking nothing less than gorgeous in that very moment.

Off to the side, the candle on the counter slowly extinguishes itself, though neither you nor him take any notice. The candle left on the table casts enough light for you to still see your paper. Tighnari, so mesmerised by your peaceful countenance, takes no notice because of the sudden lack of warmth colouring your cheek, but instead because of how the waning in competition between the two flames allowed the one that won to reflect brighter in your eyes.

The spark glints and glitters in the shadows around your eyes, like a field of fireflies against the backdrop of the midnight sky. Tighnari leans forward in his seat, the play of the light inviting him to get a closer look. The rustling of his clothing against his seat disrupts the stream of your focus, and you look up to see what he's doing.

Finally looking into your eyes, having your focus entirely on him...

He has to tell you.

...

(Not the actual smut yet but there's a little bit here. Idk... be warned)

Tighnari's back meets the table, his hands coming behind himself to steady his balance. Your body is slotted against his own, keeping him tight to the wooden surface with no option to move away. His tongue eagerly meets yours, lips opening wider upon your prompting. With his eyes closed, it's so much easier for him to take in everything about you; to just feel the effects you have on him.

His sensitive ears pick up on every noise in the room around you. Your breaths, mixing in the short space between your intertwined lips, the slight creaking of the wood beneath his body weight... it all sends a shiver down his back, an itch being scratched by the tingling just within his ears, the odd sensation making his head fuzzy and clouding his senses further.

His heightened sense of smell relishes in the newfound closeness of your body, his careful and unsure hands coming to rest against your waist. His uncertainty is reassured when your own hands, smaller than his own, though surer in their actions, come to press his tighter to your body, his nails digging in at the display of your want for him. Like this, your scent swirls around him, giving him no choice but to get drunk of the essence of you that sticks to his clothes. Suddenly, his cheeks heat a deep shade of red – deeper than they'd already been just from the warmth of your body against his – knowing that the smell of you will cling even to the pages of paper that you'd held between your fingers just minutes before for days to come.

Lost in his thoughts, Tighnari separates from your kiss with a gasp, his eyes rolling back when your leg presses into the bulge between his thighs, already hard and twitching against you. A drop of spit slips from the corner of his mouth, glinting in the remaining candle light as his thighs clench around the one you pressed against him. Grinding insistently and slow, you draw low groans from his open mouth. You quickly take place with your head in the crook of his neck, nosing and kissing along the surface that becomes available to you when Tighnari stretches his head to the side, giving you complete access to his most vulnerable points. You take advantage of the opportunity presented before you, taking the skin between your teeth and nipping until he whines and presses himself further into your hold on his neck.

He wants the pain. Wants to be bitten, to be marked. He wants everyone to look at him and know that he's been claimed by you.

But you won't give it to him. Not yet.

While his tongue flicks over his bottom lip to collect the mess of your combined spit, he looks into your eyes, the difference between each other immediately apparent:

Tighnari, eyes wide and dark, pupils dilated while he tried to commit the way you're looking at him to memory.

You, leaning over him as you push him down against the table, lidded eyes boring into his own with a passion that would make him fold to your every command.

You're leaning forward then, intending to continue exploring and taking the moment further, when–

The last candle flickers out, and darkness falls upon the room – encasing you both within.

It feels as though someone had walked in on the both of you, rudely unannounced and uncaring of the moment they'd ruined. You both stood stock still, completely frozen as you took in the sudden contrast (as little as it was, considering it was only one candle). It brings the both of you back to the present, clearing the haze that had befallen your minds as you take in the compromising position you'd gotten yourselves into. Panting and flushed, rumpled clothing and tangled limbs, crumpled paper and ink knocked over; how had your study session, professional and calm, turned to this?

Hesitantly, being careful not to bump into anything, you take a step back. You look away, despite the fact that it would take another few minutes for your eyes to adjust enough to see the other, and clear your throat, clearly feeling awkward.

Tighnari straightens himself out too, no longer leaning on the desk as he allows himself to wait for your next move. His ears point forward, zeroing-in on your spiking heart rate.

"...Well then... I suppose I'd best get going. Long day of work ahead tomorrow, right?" You're cut off before you can continue, a yawn pushing through your lips before you can stifle it. Despite his disappointment, Tighnari can't help but look at you endearingly. "Or today, I guess?"

"...That seems more like it, yes."

You let out what seems to be a content sigh, turning to head towards the door, still in complete darkness. Tighnari moves with you, going to your side to prevent you from walking into anything. He even opens the door for you and allows you to pass through.

"Thank you for tonight, mentor Tighnari~ I really learned a lot!" Just from the tone of your voice, he can tell that you're purposefully trying to make him embarrassed. After all, you must've noticed his discomfort every time you called him that through the past year, and you'd definitely put the pieces together after his confession. "I'll meet you here again tomorrow night."

And then, the door shuts behind her before he can even start to think of a response. He stands in the darkness of his own doorway for a few long minutes, going over the events of the night. Eventually, he lights another candle, deciding to leave the mess on the table for tomorrow... or later today, he guesses.

The enticing scent of you dances on the air in his room, smothering him and pulling him further into his growing need for you.

That night, Tighnari goes to bed later than usual; his hand fisted tight around the base of his swollen cock, and the other pressing painfully into the mark you'd left on his neck, already bruised and aching. His mind retraces the silhouette that you left imprinted in the shadows of his room, playing the scene over and over again behind his dilated eyes, wondering what would have happened if your time together hadn't been cut short.

At least, now, he can rest easy, knowing that his time truly being yours was soon to begin.

...

That day, work just seemed to drag on and on and on...

The job that usually captivated Tighnari's attention only kept him from you for longer. The co-workers and lower-ranking rangers, whose presence he didn't mind so much as others, even they couldn't stop him from wanting to get away from it all. Tighnari grinded his teeth, looking out at the sky, just waiting for the sun to hurry up and make way for the moon to rise.

It didn't help that every time he'd see you, you'd shoot him a teasing wink accompanied by a sly smirk, only to leave without a word... At this rate, with how you were both acting around each other, it wouldn't be long until gossip starts to spread through the camp.

That's why, when Tighnari finally gets you into his room later that night, he couldn't possibly be more relieved, shutting out the rest of the world behind that door and instantly forgetting about everything but you.

No words are exchanged as you direct him over to his own bed with just a look, following close behind and pushing him to sit down upon arrival. Tighnari faces you, then, feeling the urge to shrink in on himself when he sees you towering over him, the light from freshly-lit candles flashing in his peripheral like the stars that he knows are just outside. Only, this time, the candles will last much longer than usual, and even if they do go out, there's no way either of you will be stopping. Not tonight – and probably not any other night after this.

From behind your back, you reveal a small bowl cupped perfectly in the palm of your hand, part of the mortar and pestle kit he'd gifted you early on into your partnership. Inside lays a fine paste, brown in colour, with that distinct scent that always reminds him of your first fateful encounter:

Cocoa.

Tighnari gulps. His tail gives away his excitement, thumping erratically against the bed behind him, and you have to stifle a laugh at the display, as well as the embarrassed smile that tugs at his lips.

"And you..." His head tilts inquisitively as he once again inhales the sweet scent, "You're sure you know what this is? You're absolutely certain you remember?"

You show a mischievous smirk. "Cordyceps militaris."

Damn... using his own words against him... that's just plain cruel! Though that is a large part of what drew him towards you... But Cordyceps are a natural stamina enhancer! Why would you need to use them this late at night? You'd already made it very obvious that you wouldn't be studying tonight. And he's a fox! He has plenty of energy to do... that... without the added aid of an energy booster–

Ohhh...

Tighnari's eyes darken upon realising your plan.

They're also a natural aphrodisiac...

You sidle closer, moving to straddle him upon the bed, your thighs on either side of his own. Tighnari shuffles further onto the bed to make space for you, silently welcoming your presence. Distantly, he notices you putting the mortar bowl off to his side, but he's much more interested in whatever you're reaching into the pouch you set beside it for.

He doesn't have to wait long, your hand displaying an orange mushroom, long and thin, before you take it between your fingers and cup his cheeks with both hands. Your thumb slides against his bottom lip, and Tighnari automatically lets his mouth fall open without a second thought. You share eye contact, dilated pupils showing the love and respect you have for each other, among other things, while you slowly push the small piece of raw mushroom onto his waiting tongue.

He bites down instantly. It's un-needed, really. He'd feel the effects of the Cordyceps after ingestion, regardless of how it was done; but he wanted the full experience of being with you. He wanted to know everything that you had in store for him.

That doesn't mean he enjoys the burst of salt that assaults his taste buds, or the nutty after taste, but he knows that what will come after is worth it.

He must've made a disgusted face, the twinkle in your eyes and amused expression showing that you'd expected his reaction. "How is it? As good as you'd imagined?" You ask, a laugh on the cusp of your lips.

He swallows down, the saltiness drying up his mouth and making his salivary glands overcompensate. "Bitter."

You move on, pulling him into a kiss as your hands tugged at his clothes, slowly removing them and letting them fall haphazardly onto the floor. You pull away briefly to breathe out, "Effects should start in about 10 minutes," before you take his tongue into your mouth once more, hands running over his skin as more of his body is revealed to you. Suddenly, you quickly move away, reaching for the mortar. "Think you can wait that long?"

Tighnari huffs, looking annoyed that you keep depriving him of your kiss to speak more – even if he did previously encourage your teasing. "Seems to me that you're the one that has to worry about waiting. I wonder how long you've been planning this?" You ignore him, removing the last layers of his clothing until his cock, already half hard, is revealed to your hungry gaze. You take him into your hand, stroking him as he hardens further under your touch. "Look at you, you can't even keep your hands off me~" The Cordyceps must've been starting to work, beads of sweat beginning to form on his flushed skin proving that he was not as unaffected as he showed.

At this, you look up, an unimpressed expression on your face. "When this kicks in you'll be desperate for my touch. You'll be begging and writhing in the sheets of your own bed, all with the risk of me leaving you alone to try and deal with it yourself."

That manages to shut him up, his eyes widening with the threat in your tone. The expectant silence urges you to move, scooping a dollop of the brown Cordyceps paste from the bowl and lathering it over your palms.

Tighnari's breath hitches when you take his dick in your hand again, the coating feeling odd against the sensitive skin. Already being room temperature, the mixture warms quickly between your fingers, soon becoming pleasurable and aiding the slide of your hand. Meanwhile, your other hand spreads the paste across his inner thighs, working it into the skin.

Soon, Tighnari is showing more and more symptoms brought on by the mushroom, his eyes clouding and breaths coming shorter and more laboured. His eyes clench shut and he flinches when you nip the soft plush of his thighs, the pain blurring into bliss by the time the shocks make it to his brain. He's too overcome to make much noise, only small hums breaking through the silence, except for the slick noises coming from below.

He's starting to feel unusually hot where the mixture touches him, the sensation gradually growing as you continue your ministrations, but he doesn't speak up, doesn't complain. Because, the longer he puts up with this... the better it feels. The warmth on his cock, on his thighs, and even the occasional drop that had splattered up to his navel on the downward 'slap' of your hand, it all multiplied the pleasure he was feeling. It kept building and building, overwhelming him the longer it lasted.

Every time Tighnari thought he was going to cum, thought that it couldn't possibly get any more intense, the constricting heat in his loins would double, his muscles getting impossibly tighter, until–

He came, suddenly and without warning, pushing into your hand. His cum spouted from the slit, dribbling over to meet the brown paste, leaving a sticky mix of brown and white to pool at the base of his cock, like paint dripping down a fresh canvas. The picture he paints is lewd to the very meaning of the word.

Having to focus all of his energy into collecting his ragged breaths, he holds onto you with an arm thrown over your shoulder, relying on you to keep him up. Of course, it wouldn't be a problem were he to fall, the welcoming and familiar pillows obviously being cushioned enough to break the landing. But it's so... cute, so endearing, to see Tighnari, the Head Forest Watcher, completely reliant on you to take care of him during the most vulnerable moment you've witnessed him in to date.

Broken from his reverie, Tighnari stirs in your hold, his eyes lighting excitedly at the rejuvenated energy he feels running through his veins. His cock, still messy and lewd from his orgasm, hasn't gone down, only growing harder as the Cordyceps that he'd eaten finally takes its full hold on his mind.

He thrusts up into your hand that still encases his cock, whimpering when you lift yourself up and line him up with your hole, already wet from the high of seeing what a needy heap you'd reduced him to. Looking down at the sight with lust-fueled awe, he's only pulled away when your hand grips his chin, making him look up at you. His tail starts wagging again when he sees the dangerous look in your eyes and the hint of your teeth when your lips pull back into a mocking sneer.

"You're not gonna stop cumming until I've milked you dry... we've gotta get that aphrodisiac out of your system, right, mentor?"

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