I FINALLY got the motivation to make something. These past 3 days seem to have just not been very nice to my art inspiration and motivation. But thanks to varsyl, rykitsu, and nymphveon I finally got the inspiratio to create a thing.
Btw this is a 6 armed alien bab, the floating had is a ref for me when I actually start to draw them in and he’s got antenna and horns.
klarolineauweek | day six: Mythical Creatures ♣ Satyr and Nymph
may i feel said he (i’ll squeal said she just once said he) it’s fun said she
(may i touch said he how much said she a lot said he) why not said she
(let’s go said he not too far said she what’s too far said he where you are said she)
~ E. E. Cummings
The first time he sees her, she’s laughing and
dancing with her sisters near a river, surrounded by flowers, tiny rivulets of water
dripping from her hair down between her pale breasts. Her Lady’s deer are
nearby, quietly grazing on a patch of soft grass, heedless of the humorous
Her companions are quite beautiful, but the
satyr doesn’t pay them mind and his eyes don’t leave her for more than a second
– his hooves scrape the ground, his ears strained to hear the smallest tinge of
her laughter. He wishes to grab her, held her, run his hands through her golden
tresses and shedding the flowers wreathed in them. He can almost feel under his
palms the softness of her fair skin kissed by the sun; can even smell her
But watching from afar is not enough – why simply
admire her when he can have her?
He follows her for a long time before acting on
his desires. The hunt is exciting, but he finds himself hungry for more – he dreams
of losing himself in her embrace, letting her cradle his head on her lap while
he plays his flute, kissing the laugh from her mouth and breathing the summer
in her hair and licking the sweat of fierce embraces from her plump flesh.
He patiently waits for her to be alone: her
companions are somewhere else, hunting with their Lady, and she wishes for rest
– she lies undisturbed and unaware over an alcove of fragrant flowers, the
candid fairness of her skin like a clove of moon over the darkest glade. His hooves
are silent while he approaches – his breath barely a whisper in the breeze. His
eyes hungrily run through the expanse of her body, his arousal thick in the
air, the anticipation leaving his mouth watering.
The excitement of being so close to his prey makes
him careless – and his hooves crunch a branch.
That’s all it takes to break the spell – she
starts awake and her crystalline eyes shoot open, falling on him. She doesn’t
even have the time to scream – he’s on her before she realizes it, a calloused
hand over her mouth, his large body covering hers, her breasts finally pressed
against his chest.
But he doesn’t touch her more than that. He
hears the frantic rhythm of her heart inside the little cage of her chest and tastes
her fear, and he finds he doesn’t like it. So he affectionately nuzzles her temples
and whispers reassurances, promises, pledges of love. He murmurs how beautiful she is - he admits her light has drawn him in, he swears he means no harm - if she only would give him a chance?
Hearing his softly muttered words makes her heart surprisingly slow down
and her dread recedes - and her legs opens slowly but instinctively to make more room
He watches with awe her lips curling in a soft
smile - a smile which is only for him - and he finds he likes it very much.
Those nymphs of the river who never stop running, chasing fish and dreams from mountains to the sea; whose fingers are wrinkled and whose mouths are full of water-songs; whose necks are strung with ropes of freshwater pearls.