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f10werfae · 1 year

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Sugar Sweet Thong

pairing: Lumberjack!Henry Cavill x Wife!Reader

warning: After Y/n gets a new thong, away up in his cabin where no one can touch her but him, her wild man of a husband can’t keep his hands off her (Major Dom Henry)

Disclaimer: This story is fiction and should not be taken literally, the behaviour is simply imaginative and the content may be inappropriate

requests are open/likes, comments and reblogs are appreciated♥️

Henry Masterlist, Full Masterlist, Taglist Form

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

“Baby, how did your little gift exchange thing go today? n’ what’s behind your beautiful body?”Henry asked watching his girl creep in through the front door, a clearly visible Victoria Secret bag in her hands. “It went well” She said shortly, her act falling once Henry patted his knees, beckoning her to sit on his beefy thighs; a strong arm curling around her waist. “Well what’d ya get sugar? C’mon n’ let me see, even brought more firewood in so we can snuggle in close tonight”

He growled nuzzling his nose against her cheek, his lips pressing a sloppy kiss onto her jaw. “We actually did something a little different this year, w-we did a thong exchange, so we all-“

“So you all bought each other thongs huh? Go on baby, show me your pretty new lace on for me to play with” Henry leant back in the arm chair, Y/n easily cuddling back with him, instantly missing his body heat. Henry’s arm around her waist softly stroked her stomach, his fingers teasing the rim of her underwear

“But that’s embarrassing! I can just hold it up for youu” Y/n whined shoving her face in his neck, the smell of pinewood and cologne filling her nose, his chequered over-shirt unbuttoned to reveal a tight white shirt.

A year ago Henry took a trip to the closest town for new tools, his eyes immediately caught onto the sweet little thing working in her grandparent’s candy shop. Dressed in a lavender dress she always greeted him with a smile, clinging onto his burly arms every time they walked about town, gaining a few stares as people thought ‘How could such a grumpy thing get that light?’

Of course once Henry convinced her to elope, it only made sense that she moved out with him to his isolated luxurious cabin out on the slopes. Their wedding consisted of just her family, Henry’s being nowhere in site but that didn’t bother any of them, frankly Y/n’s parents were just glad she was finally married despite her still being in her early 20s; for a man in his 30s like Henry to want their daughter’s hand in marriage, that was a gift.

“You’re my wife, if anythin the lace is the frame for my pretty picture. Now go get the damn thong on” Henry said more dominantly slapping Y/n’s ass causing her to squeal and giggle to their shared bedroom.

Pulling the thong up her thighs, Y/n couldn’t help but feel confident at the sight of the new lace on her body, when her friend’s words came back to her. “Come on Y/n, think of it as a present for both you and your grumpy ol’ man” Lucy giggled handing Y/n the bag.

Putting on one of Henry’s plaid shirts over her, she walked back out to the armchair in front of the log fire, wearing nothing underneath but her new thong. “Well?” Henry asked taking another swig of beer, throwing his cap onto the floor.

Y/n shyly pulled up the shirt revealing it to her husband, causing him to sit up and lean forward, his nose hitting her mound. “Sugar, you decorated my flower with another pretty flower, how thoughtful of you” He said looking up at her before taking his tongue and striping a lick up her thinly covered pussy.

“W-what are you doing Hen?” Y/n asked threading her fingers through his messy curls, his, “Kissing my pretty pussy” Henry growled placing kisses all over, finally setting one on her clit, causing his woman to slightly jolt in his hold. Henry leant back, unbuckling the belt she had recently gotten him for Christmas, his jeans falling to just his knees.

“Sit on my lap baby, get comfortable with your man, tell me about your day, wan’ hear all about it” Nodding Y/n sat back on his lap, the only thing between her pussy and his thick cock, being her lace thong. He wrapped one arm around her waist, the other starting to slowly rub her clit through the lace as she talked.

“W-we went to starbucks, oh fuck, and- and then”

“Language baby” Henry growled slapping her pussy out of nowhere, before going back to slowly playing with her nub, his other arm making sure she doesn’t wiggle away from him.

“T-then we went back to Grace’s and we did the thong- thong exchange” Y/n gasped feeling Henry’s cock slide between her thighs, his red head bumping her clit every single time, just like he wanted. “That’s it baby, keep talking to me” Henry urged, his fingers going into his mouth and going back onto her clit, his other hand groping onto her right breast as she clawed onto his arms.

“Can’t do it, feels too good bear” Y/n breathed out leaning her head back onto his shoulder, his lips instantly landing onto her cheek, her head turning to give him a small kiss on the lips. “Got you all dumbed up on my cock, right honey? Can’t think when i’m all up on you, you drive me crazy” He growled fixing her up tighter against him, both his hands now going to her waist for his next move.

“Can’t imagine what woulda happened if I didn’t marry ya and bring you up here with me, you ever going to keep my pussy away from me?” Henry taunted pushing her body up and down, his cock sliding up and down her pussy lips which were now visible with the soaked lace.

“N-no. is’ your pussy baby, can have it whenever you want” Y/n moaned, her eyes going to the back of her head, knowing damn well that his words were enough to make her cum then and there. “Want you inside me Hen”

“Nuh-uh honey, maybe tomorrow, m’tired tonight. You understand right? Was busy working for us day n’ night” Henry said smirking knowing damn well his bank accounts were big enough to supply them another 10 lifetimes, but his baby didn’t need to know that, and she wouldn’t.

“Y-you’re right Hen, m’sorry, love you so much” Y/n whimpered feeling tears prick her eyes, her head turning coaxing out Henry’s tongue with her own, their rapid movements causing their kiss to turn wet and messy real quick. Filthy just like they both liked it. “I love you too baby. I’m going to cum on top of your pussy, that okay sugar?” He asked in her ear, her voice now rasped and broken as she screamed for him to do so. His cock painting the lilac lace white with his cum, Y/n’s eyes starting to lid close from exhaustion

“Can I at least keep this pair?” Y/n shuddered feeling her husband peel the sticky fabric down her thighs, watching as he threw it to somewhere in the living room, her eyes basically love hearts as she watched him attend to her. Kissing her nose, giving her a massive drink of water, bringing her back onto his lap this time with a soft blanket.

“You know the rules sugar, no underwear indoors” Henry whispered watching their log fire, his arms clasped around her waist as she resumed her story of her day, her nails softly playing with the wedding bands on their fingers. “Then I saw Stephanie’s new baby, n’ I was thinking can we have one?”

Henry woke up from his daydream to see Y/n looking up at him cutely, a sweet sugar like smile on her face, “Course baby, i’ll give you anything you want”

———

Taglist Tags (Form is up there^^): @stormcloudss @keiva1000 @spencerreidat4am @diyabhanushali1 @angelmather1 @hp-hogwartsexpress @lastwandastan @fdl305 @alexxavicry @bookfrog242 @alina02 @aerangi @i-beg-your-pardon-laufeyson @sparklemarysunshine @oliviah-25 @mischiefsemimanaged @nikkitc0703 @misshale21 @hallecarey1 @girl-of-multi-fandoms @mansaaay @princess-paramour @uwiuwi @marvelgurl @mysticfalls01 @kebabgirl67 @athena-roy @tinyelfperson @madebylilly @dumb-fawkin-bitch @vrittivsanghavi @beck07990 @kimhtoo17 @thereisa8ella @pandaxnienke

#henry cavill #henry cavill rpf #henry cavill x reader #henry cavill fanfiction #henry cavill imagine #henry cavill x female reader #henry cavill smut #romance #henry cavill fandom #lumberjack!henry cavill

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buckleysevan · 5 months

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FALLING LETTERS ANIMATION tutorial

hello! @kimmomi asked for a tutorial on how i made the letters "fall" in this gifset and so i figured i would make it and post here! this effect isn't hard to achieve but it might get a little tedious if you have a lot of letters.

note: you will need photoshop with a timeline!

STEP ONE: create your base gif! be mindful of number of frames in your gif. the number of frames doesn't really matter here, altho the longer the gif the better the effect. i'd say try to limit it to 60-70 frames, depending on how big your final gif will be.

STEP TWO: make your text the way you want it to look. this effect is basically the last step of your gif making process. (i will be using the typography from my set as an example as i already have that psd saved)

this is what my typography looks like now.

STEP THREE: i would recommend that the word at the bottom be the word that "falls". for me that is forever.

now, you will have to duplicate the "forever" layer and make your non-copy forever invisible.

what you will want to do now is delete all the letters but the first one in the duplicated layer. for me that is f. then you just duplicate the f layer and write your second letter instead of it, in my case o. you will have to do this for all letters. also as you do that make sure to move them a bit away from each other.

now, what helps to align those letters where they start off, is making your non-copy layer to be visible again.

after you've aligned your letters, make the non-copy layer invisible again.

STEP FOUR: so now we come to a bit of a tedious part.

what you will do now is move the playhead (blue timeline arrow) a bit further from the beginning of the gif (this allows for the text to stay still a bit before it starts "falling") and click on the first letter.

next step is to click on the little arrow next to your letter and clicking on the stopwatch next to Transform.

then, you will take the playhead and drag it to the end of the gif where you will start with transforming your letter with Free Transform tool (shortcut ctrl+T on windows). and what you will do is, while in Free Transform mode, drag your letter to the bottom of your gif while also rotating it a bit. when you're happy with your placement of the letter, hit enter. see below gif for how i did it.

you will have to do this for every letter, but make sure to rotate some in the other direction. also make sure that the beginning of the stopwatch mark is the same for every letter.

and that is basically it! after you transform every letter, you can go and save your gif.

this is my final result:

for some extra dramatic look, you can duplicate your initial layer with the whole word on it, drag it above all layers, clear layer style and add a stroke and make sure its FIll is at 0% where you will get the outline text that stays behind.

i hope this was helpful and understandable. if you have any questions, feel free to send me an ask or dm me <33

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pinkrelish · 5 months

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Thinking about mechanic Eddie’s forearms. He’s definitely got some stamina and strength in those things 😏

oh, baby.

you just know after cranking tools all day, his forearms are bulked, muscles flexing beneath the swollen veins straining against the surface of his skin as he takes care of himself in the shower, hot body flushed the same color as what he's pumping in his fist. his strength is shot after work, so his hand trembles when he smacks a wet stroke to the base, catching the irresistible voice of pleasure telling him to keep going keep going and drawing it out, desperate to stay in the peak a little longer. sometimes it's routine—jacking off after work—sometimes he has a specific fantasy in mind, and wants to experience the lengthy scene until his right forearm burns for a break. today is both. thick fog fills the room; steam and hair and sweat sticking to his grimy face. it's been a long, grueling day of dealing with cars and customers. that's what makes the relief that much sweeter when his abs stutter and his shoulders curl with those last few passes, lungs holding onto that final breath until it breaks free in short, filthy huffs. grunting in bursts as his callused fingers slick up in dirty release, and his heart beats louder than the water hitting the tub, and his high buzzes the same intoxicating feeling of accomplishment as if the image in his head of your fucked and filled pussy was realer than his cum washing down the drain.

#eddie munson smut #eddie munson x reader #and his veins when he's holding himself above you? hands on either side of your head? tattoos warped around his muscles?#he's got the strength to man handle you onto your side and keep going until your fingers feel stupid weak wrapped around his thick wrists

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ruins-posts · 6 months

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── “Nuisance” [Ryomen Sukuna]

synopsis — Suku basically being one big tsundere.

Requested by anon — Can you do something where Sukuna being a BIG Tsundere gets all mushy and grumpy when he sees a peek of you sketch him? You're the best! thankssss!!!

Sukuna will die a thousand times over, but he will never say 'I love you'. He's no weakling. That's just an overused expression, often with no meaning behind it from the ones who say it. He likes it when you say it, though. Those pretty doe eyes of yours filled with admiration as you look up to him, thumbs softly stroking the deformed part of his face, but he simply mutters a 'pathetic' or a 'hmph' as one of his hands caress the top of your head.

You even go as far as do silly things for him. Sometimes you put flowers in his hair, sometimes you coddle him like he's some spoiled brat (he obviously likes it, but don't tell him that), sometimes you cook for him, eagerly awaiting his feedback— all of it was amusing, but today, you went as far as to put your artistic skill into use for making a sketch of him.

When you didn't open your door to give him his goodnight kiss, (hey! not like he wanted it or something—), he decides to open the door to your chambers, pale moonlight illuminating the canvases with intricate paintings etched upon them, bringing their plain-ness to life, his lips curve into a slight smile. But it's quick to fade when he sees you asleep on your wooden desk.

The exposed side of your cheek has a small black smudge, compared to the fingers that seem relatively more smudged with the black of your artistic tools. A few sheets are scattered in your front, the one that catches his eye being a portrait of his very own self.

Your artistic production of him is simply magnificent. Half-way shaded, yet so filled with detail. As if that wasn't enough to warm his heart, which he doubted ever existed, it clicked to him that you slept over your desk making this masterpiece of him. What a silly woman, truly.

Sukuna stood there for a moment, staring at you with an expression that was a strange mix of irritation and fondness. He couldn't believe you had fallen asleep in such an uncomfortable position. With a heavy sigh, he decided to take matters into his own hands. Gently, he scooped you up in his strong arms, being careful not to jostle you too much. You stirred slightly in your sleep but settled back into a peaceful slumber as he carried you to your bed.

"Tch, what a stupid girl you are..." he chuckles, tucking the blanket over you, watching your silly face nuzzle into its warmth. He felt stupid for doing it— growing grumpy over finding you so damn adorable. How could a weak little nuisance such as you manage to poke a hole through his stone heart? What a nuisance you where. But you were his nuisance.

With a sigh, he adjusts himself next to you, and you immediately cuddle upto this newly found source of warmth in your bed.

As you nestled closer to him, Sukuna carefully draped his arm around you, drawing you into a gentle embrace. It was an unexpected and uncharacteristic display of tenderness from the King of Curses, but in the stillness of the night, he couldn't help but acknowledge the powerful connection that had formed between you.

With a soft, almost inaudible whisper, he mumbled to himself, "You foolish girl, I should've never let you into my life." But despite his words, his actions spoke louder. Ryomen Sukuna would die a thousand deaths rather than ever say a, 'I love you', he knew that uttering those three words was beyond his capabilities, and it wasn't something he would ever admit to, even to himself.

And so decided to stay with you a little longer, guarding over your peaceful slumber. He knew that he was in too deep, that you had become an inseparable part of his life, even if he would never say those words. And yet, in the stillness of the night, his actions spoke louder than any such pathetic confessions.

#sukuna x reader #sukuna x y/n #ryomen sukuna x reader #sukuna x you #sukuna imagine #ruins posts #jjk x reader #just realised y/n slept with dirty hands lol #jjk fluff #sukuna fluff

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lunar-witches · 6 months

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✨ Creating Your Grimoire ✨

In the realm of witchcraft and the arcane arts, a grimoire is a sacred vessel—a repository for your magical knowledge, spells, and experiences. To create your very own grimoire is to embark on a magical journey, a testament to your personal growth and a reflection of your unique spiritual path. With each page, you breathe life into a magical world that is uniquely yours. 🌙📜🔮

So, let us delve into the mystic arts and learn how to craft your very own grimoire, a treasured companion on your magical journey:

✨ 1. Choose Your Tools: Begin by selecting a journal or a notebook that resonates with you. It could be leather-bound, handcrafted, or a simple, beautifully designed book. Let your intuition guide you.

✨ 2. Dedicate Your Grimoire: Before you start filling its pages, dedicate your grimoire to your magical practice. Create a ceremony or ritual that signifies its importance in your spiritual journey.

✨ 3. Organize Your Content: Decide on the sections or categories for your grimoire. Common sections include spells, herbs, crystals, divination, moon phases, and personal reflections. Organizing your content will make it easier to reference.

✨ 4. Decorate with Intention: Use art, symbols, and colors that hold significance in your practice. Incorporate symbols, runes, and illustrations that resonate with your magical path. Each stroke of your pen can carry intention.

✨ 5. Record Your Spells and Rituals: Document your spells and rituals with care. Include ingredients, steps, and the outcomes. Personalize them to make them your own and infuse them with your energy.

✨ 6. Herbal and Crystal Wisdom: Devote sections to the properties and uses of herbs and crystals. Describe their magical associations and how to work with them in your spells and rituals.

✨ 7. Lunar and Planetary Magic: Dedicate pages to the phases of the moon and the influence of planetary energies. Include your observations and experiences with these celestial guides.

✨ 8. Divination and Tarot: Share your insights about divination methods like tarot, runes, or scrying. Document your readings and interpretations.

✨ 9. Dream and Meditation Journal: Dedicate a portion to dream and meditation experiences. Record your visions, insights, and messages received during your spiritual journeys.

✨ 10. Personal Reflections: Your grimoire is not just a book of facts but a record of your spiritual evolution. Write about your experiences, your magical progress, and how your practice has shaped you.

✨ 11. Protection and Secrecy: Consider creating a page or section dedicated to protective spells or enchantments to safeguard the contents of your grimoire.

✨ 12. Regularly Update: Your grimoire is a living, evolving document. As you learn, grow, and experience, continue to add to its pages and update your knowledge.

🌟🔮🌟

As you craft your grimoire, remember that it is a reflection of your unique connection to the magical world. With each entry, you breathe life into your practice, making it a powerful, personalized tool for your mystical journey. May your grimoire be a testament to your magical evolution, a record of your discoveries, and a key to the secrets of the universe.

📜🔮✨ Blessed be, as you embark on this enchanting journey of grimoire creation. 📜🔮✨

#witchy #witches of tumblr #witchblr #witchcraft #magick #grimoire #book of shadows #baby witch #witch community #witchcraft community #witchlife #witchy tips #witchy things #baby witches

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bruneburg · 1 year

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sorting your thoughts

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physalian · 4 months

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Humanizing Your Characters (And Why You Should)

To humanize a character is not to contort an irredeemable villain into the warped funhouse mirror reflection of a hero in the last 30 seconds to gain “narrative subversion” points. To humanize is not to give said villain a tragic backstory that validates every bad choice they make in attempt to provide nuance where it does not deserve to be.

To humanize a character, villain or otherwise, is to make them flawed. Scuff them up, give them narrative birthmarks and scars and imperfections. Whether it’s your hero, their love interest, the comic relief, the mentor, the villain, the rival, these little narrative details serve to make all your literary babies better.

Why should you humanize your characters?

To do this means to write in details beyond those that service the plot, or the themes, or the motifs, morals, foreshadowing, or story. These might be (and usually are) entirely unimportant in the grand scheme of things. So, if I wrote lengthy diatribes on pacing and why every detail must matter, and character descriptions and thematic importance, why am I now suggesting go free-for-all on the fluff?

Just like real people have quirks and tics and beliefs and pet peeves that serve our no greater purpose, so should fictional people. Your average reader doesn’t have the foggiest idea what literary devices are beyond metaphor, simile foreshadowing, and anecdote, but they can tell when the author is using motif and theme and all the syntactical marvels because it reads that much richer, even if they can’t pinpoint why.

And, for shipping fodder, these tiny little details are what help your audience fall in love with the character. It doesn’t even have to be in a book – Taylor Swift (whether you like her or not) never fills her music with sexual innuendo or going clubbing. She tells stories filled with human details like dancing in the refrigerator light. People can simultaneously relate to these very specific and vivid experiences, and say “not that exactly, but man this reminds me of…” and that’s (part of) the reason her music is so popular.

What kinds of narratives need these details?

All of them. Visual media, audio, written, stage play. Now, to what degree and excess you apply these details depends on your tone, intended audience, and writing style. If your style of writing is introspection heavy, noir character drama, you might go pretty heavy on the character design.

But even if you’re writing a kids book with a scant few paragraphs of setting descriptors and internal narration, or you’re drawing a comic book – if you have characters you want people to care about, do this.

Animators, particularly, are very adept at humanizing non-human characters, because, unlike live acting, every single stroke of the pen is there with intent. They use their own reflections for facial references, record their own movements to draw a dance, and insert little bits of themselves into signature character poses so you know that *that* animator did this one.

How to humanize your characters.

I’m going to break this down into a couple sections: Costume/wardrobe, personality, beliefs/behavior/superstitions, haptics/proxemics/kinesics, and voice. They will all overlap and the sheer variety and possibilities are way too broad for me to capture every facet.

Costumes and Wardrobe

In the film Fellowship of the Ring, there’s a blink-and-you’ll-miss-it moment where, after Boromir is slain by the Uruk-Hai, Aragorn takes Boromir’s Gondorian vambraces to wear in his honor, and in honor of their shared country. He wears them the rest of the trilogy. The editing pays no extra attention to them beyond a split second of Aragorn tightening the straps, it never lingers on them, never reminds you that they’re there, but they kept it in nonetheless. His actor also included a hunting bow that didn't exist in the book because he's a roamer, a ranger, and needs to be able to feed himself, along with a couple other survival tools.

Aragorn wears plenty of other symbolic bits of costume – the light of the Evenstar we see constantly from Arwen, the Lothlorien green cloaks shared by the entire Fellowship, his re-forged sword and eventual full Gondorian regalia, but all those are Epic Movie Moments that serve a thematic purpose.

Taking the vambraces is just a small, otherwise insignificant character moment, a choice made for no other reason than that’s what this character would do. That’s what makes him human, not an archetype.

When you’re writing these details and can’t rely on sneaking them into films, you have to work a little harder to remind your audience that they exist, but not too often. A detail shifts from “human” to “plot point” when it starts to serve a purpose to the themes and story.

Inconsequentiality might be how a character ties, or doesn’t tie their shoelaces, because they just can’t be bothered so they remain permanent knots and tripping hazards. It might be a throw-away line about how they refuse to wear shorts and strictly stick to long pants because they don’t like showing off their legs. It might be perpetually greasy hair from constantly running their fingers through it with stress, or self-soothing. A necklace they fidget with, or a ring, a belt they never bother to replace even though they should, a pair of lucky socks.

Resist the urge to make it more meaningful than “this is just how they are”. If I’m using the untied shoelaces example – in Spiderverse, this became a part of the story’s themes, motifs, and foreshadowing, and doesn’t count. Which isn’t bad! It’s just not what I’m talking about.

Personality

In How to Train Your Dragon, Toothless does not speak. All his personality comes from how he moves, the noises he makes, and the expressions on his face. There’s moments, like in the finale, when his prosthetic has burned off and Hiccup tells him to hold on for a little bit longer, and you can clearly see on his face that he’s deeply uncertain about his ability to do so. It’s almost off the screen, another blink-and-you’ll-miss-it moment. Or the beat of hesitation before he lets Hiccup touch him in the Forbidden Friendship scene. Or the irritated noise he makes when he’s impatiently waiting for Hiccup to stop chatting with his dad because they have a giant dragon to murder. Or when he slaps Hiccup with his ear fin for flying them into a rock spire.

None of those details *needed* to exist to endear you to his character or to serve the scenes they’re in. The scenes would carry on just fine without them. He’s a fictional dragon, yes, but these details make him real.

Other personality tics you could include might be a character who gets frustrated with tedious things very quickly and starts making little inteligible curses under their breath. Or how they giggle when they’re excited and start bouncing on their toes. Maybe they have a tic where they snap their fingers when they’re concentrating, trying to will an idea into existence. Or they stick their tongue out while they work and get embarrassed when another character calls them on it. They roll around in their sleep, steal blankets, drool, leave dishes in the sink or are neurotic with how things must be organized. They have one CD in their car, and actually use that CD player instead of the phone jack or Bluetooth. They sing in the shower, while they cook, or while they do homework, no matter how grating their voice.

They like the smell of new shoes or Sharpies. They hate the texture of suede or velvet or sticky residues. They never pick their socks up. They hate the overhead light in their room and use 50 lamps instead. They hate turning into oncoming traffic or don’t trust their backup camera. They collect Funko Pops and insist there’s always room for more.

And about a million others.

Beliefs, Behaviors, and Superstitions

*If you happen to be writing a story where superstitions have merit, maybe skip this one.* Usually, inevitably, these evolve into character centerpieces and I can’t actually think of one off the top of my head that doesn’t become this beyond the ones we all know. A few comedic examples do come to mind:

The Magic Conch in “Club Spongebob” and the sea-bear-proof dirt circle in “The Camping Episode”

Dean Winchester’s fear and panic-driven actions in “Yellow Fever” and “Sam, Interrupted”

The references to the trolls that steal left-foot socks in How to Train Your Dragon

I’m not a fan of wasting time writing a religious character doing their religious thing when Plot Is Happening, but smaller things are what I’m talking about. Like them wearing a cross/rosary and touching it when they’re nervous. Having a specific off-beat prayer, saying, or expression because they don’t believe in cursing.

The classic ones like black cats, ladders, broken mirrors, salt, sidewalk cracks can all be funny. Athletes have plenty, too, and some of them, particularly in baseball culture, are a bit ridiculous. Not washing socks or uniforms, having a team idol they donate Double Bubble to and also rub their toes. A specific workout routine, diet, team morale dance.

Other things, too. A character who’s afraid to go back downstairs once the lights are off, or fear the basement or the backyard shed. Or they’re really put-off by this old family photo for no reason other than how glassy their eyes look and it’s creepy. They like crystals, dreamcatchers, star signs, tarot, or they absolutely do not under any circumstances.

They believe in all the tried and true ways of predicting the weather like a grizzled old sailor. They believe in ghosts, vampires, werewolves, witches, skinwalkers, doppelgangers, fairies. They talk to the cat statue in their kitchen and named it Fudge Pop. They whisper to the spirit that possessed the fridge so it stops making all that racket, and half the time, it works every time. They wear yellow for good luck or carry a rabbit’s foot. They’re not religious at all but still throw prayers out to whoever’s listening because, you know, just in case. They sit by their window sill and talk to the moon and the stars and pretend like they’re in a music video when they’re driving through the city in the rain.

Haptics, Proxemics, and Kinesics

These are, for all you non-communication and psych majors out there, touch and physical contact, how they move, and how they move around other people.

Behold, your shipping fodder.

Two shining examples of proxemics in action are the famous “close talker” episode of Seinfeld (of which every communication major has been subjected to) and Castiel’s not understanding of personal space (and human chronemic habits) in Supernatural.

These are how a character walks, if they’re flat-footed, clumsy, or tip-toers. If they make a racket or constantly spook the other characters. If they fidget or can’t sit still in a seat for five seconds, if they like to sit backwards or upside down. How they touch themselves, if they do a lot of self-soothing maneuvers (hugging themselves, rubbing their arms, touching their face, drawing their knees up, holding their neck, etc) or if they don’t do any self-soothing at all.

This is how they shake hands, if they dance while they cook or work. It’s how much space they let themselves take up, if they man-spread or keep their limbs in closer. How close they stand to others or how far. If they let themselves be touched at all, or if they always have their skin covered. If they always have their back to a wall, or are always making sure they know where the nearest exit is. If they make grand gestures when they talk and give directions. If they flinch from pats on the back or raised hands. If they lean away from loud voices or project their own. If they use their height to their advantage when arguing, puff their chest, square their shoulders, put their hands on their hips, or point fingers in accusation.

If they touch other characters as they pass by. If they’re huggers or victims of falling asleep on or near their comrades. If they must sleep facing the door, or with something solid behind them. If they can sleep in the middle of a party wholly uncaring. If they sleepwalk, sleeptalk, migrate across the bed to cuddle whoever’s nearest with no idea they’re doing it.

If they like to be held or like to hold others. If they hate being picked up and slung around or are touch-starved for it. If they like their space and stick to it or are more than happy to share.

Do they walk with grace, head held high and back straight? Or are they hunched over, head hung, watching their feet? Are they meanderers or speed-walkers? Do they cross their arms in front or lace their hands behind them? Do they bow to authority or meet that gaze head on?

I have heard that Prince Zuko, in Last Airbender, is usually drawn sleeping with his bad ear down when he doesn’t feel safe, like on his warship or anywhere in the Fire Nation, or on the road. He’s drawn on his other side once he joins the Gaang. In Dead Man’s Chest, just before Davy Jones drives the Flying Dutchman under the waves, two tentacles curl up and around the brim of his hat to keep it from blowing off in the water.

When they fight, do they attack first, or defend first? Do they touch other characters’ hair? Share makeup, share clothes? Touch their faces with boops or bonks or nuzzles and eskimo kisses? Do they crack their knuckles and necks and knees?

Do they stare in baffled curiosity at all the other characters wholly comfortable in each other's spaces because they can’t, won’t, or don’t see the point in all this nonsense? Do they say they’re happy on the outside, but are betrayed by their body language?

Voice

Whether or not to write an accent is entirely up to you. Books like Their Eyes Were Watching God writes dialogue in a vernacular specific to its characters. Westerners and southerners tend to be written with the southern drawl or dialect, ripe with stereotypical contractions. Be advised, however, that in attempt to write an accent to give your character depth, you could be instead turning off your audience who doesn’t have energy to decipher what they’re saying, or you went and wrote a racist stereotype.

Voice isn’t just accent and dialect, nor is it how it sounds, which falls more solidly under useful character descriptions. Voice for the sake of humanizing your characters concerns how they talk, how they convey their thoughts, and how they become distinct from other characters in dialogue and narration.

If you’re writing a narrative that hops heads and don’t want to include a big banner to indicate who’s talking at any given time, this is where voice matters. It is, I think, the least appreciated of all the possible traits to pay attention to.

First person narrators have the most flexibility here because the audience is zero degrees removed from their first-hand experiences. Their personality comes through sharply in how they describe things and what they pay attention to.

But it’s also in what similes and metaphors they use. I read a book that had an average (allegedly straight) male narrator going off and describing colors with types of flowers, some I had to look up because I just don’t know those off the top of my head. My immediate thought was either this character is a poorly written gay, or he’s a florist. Neither (allegedly), the writer was just being too specific.

Do they have crutch words they use? like, um, actually, so…, uh

Or repeat exclamations specific to them? yikes, yowzers, jeepers, jinkies, zoinks, balls, beans, d’oh!

Or idioms they’re fond of? Like a bat out of hell. Snowball’s chance.

Do they stutter when they’re nervous? Do they lose their train of thought and bounce around, losing other characters in the process? Do they have a non-Christian god they pray to and say something other than “thank God”? Are they from another country, culture, time period, realm, or planet with their own gods, beliefs, and idioms?

When they describe settings, how flowery is the language? Would this grizzled war hero use flowery language? How would he or she describe the color pink, versus a PTA mom? Do they use only a generic “blue, green, red” or do they really pay attention with “aquamarine, teal, emerald, viridian, vermillion, rose, ruby”?

How do this character’s hobbies affect how well they can describe dance moves, painting styles, car models, music genres?

This mostly matters when you’re head-hopping and the voice of the narrator serves to be more distinct, otherwise, what’s the point of head-hopping? Just use third-person omniscient.

If you really want to go wild, give a specific narrator unique syntax. Maybe one character is the ghost of Oscar Wild with never-ending run-on sentences. Just be sure to not go too overboard and compromise the integrity of your story.

In the book A Lesson Before Dying, a somewhat illiterate, underprivileged and undereducated minor has been given a mentor, a teacher, before they face the death penalty. At the end of the book, you read all of the letters they wrote to their teacher. There’s misspellings everywhere, almost no punctuation, and long, rambling sentences.

It’s heartbreaking. The subject matter is heavy and horrible, yes, but it’s the choice to write with such poor English that has a much bigger impact than perfect MLA format.

How to implement these details

Most of these, in the written medium, need only show up once or twice before your audience notices and wonders why they’re there. Most fall squarely under character design, which falls under exposition, and should follow all the exposition guidelines.

These details exist to be random and fluffy, but they can’t exist randomly within the narrative. If you want to have your character be superstitious, pick a relevant time to include that superstition.

Others, like ongoing speech habits or movements, still don’t overuse, especially if they’re unique. A character might like to sit backwards in a chair, but if you mention that they’re doing it every single time they sit down, your audience will wonder what’s so important and if the character is unwell.

And, of course, you can let these traits become thematically important, like a superstition being central to their personality or backstory or motivation. These all serve the same purpose of making your character feel like a real person instead of just a “character”.

Just think about tossing in a few random details every now and then and see what happens. One tiny sentence can take a background character and make them candidates for the eventual fandom’s fan favorite. Details like these turn your work from “This a story, and these are the characters who tell it” into “these are my characters, and this is their story.”

#writing advice #character design #writing tips #writing resources #exposition #writing tools #writing a book

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noisycroissant · 3 months

Text

As You Wish

Astarion x Female Tav

It had been six months of domesticity. Six months spent setting up a home in the Underdark, teaching wayward, borderline feral vampire spawn to be "human" again. Six months of organising books and scrolls and knick-knacks pilfered along your travels.

The first six months of peace Astarion had known in two centuries.

And then the letter had come and everything changed.

********

He'd sensed something was wrong on their journey back from the get-together. He could feel Tav's brain churning, the cogs and wheels that made her brain so brilliant turning and spinning with anxiety.

The dread in his belly bloomed the longer she said nothing was wrong.

Of course everything was wrong. It was him, wasn't it? Six months she'd been cloistered away and now she'd seen the others and he'd bet his best set of lock-picking tools that that wizard had somehow succeeded in charming his way into her heart.

He hated himself for thinking the last part. Tav wouldn't. Not his beloved Tav. Tav promised to love him and be loved by him forever. He shouldn't think so lowly about her.

But then why in god's name does she seem miles away from him?

*******

Astarion knew that she wasn't reading. Sure the book was open, her fingers held the next page ready, but she'd been staring at the same paragraph for the last ten minutes.

She'd been holed up in her study since they'd returned. It was the first time in the two days since they'd been back that he'd been able to coax her into coming to bed with him.

This had to end. So he decided to do something he'd promised himself he'd never do again.

He gently kissed her shoulder, "Tav?"

Another kiss. And another, moving to her neck. "Taav..." he whispers, grazing the shell of her ear with a sharp fang, "Sweetheart, I've been so lonely..."

"Mmhm, yes dear, give me a moment, I'll be right with you," says Tav as she moves to sit up.

And the dam fucking burst in his chest.

He jumps up and kneels in front of Tav, grabbing her hands, tears filling his deep-set eyes, anger stopping them from spilling over.

"What did I do?! Tell me what I did! Please!! I'm sorry. Whatever it was that I did, I'm so sorry."

Tav's face changes from surprise to confusion to realisation.

"Oh? OH! Oh sweetheart," she says, hugging him, bringing his head to her chest, "You've done nothing wrong. Oh my dearest, I'm so sorry... I've been mulling over something, I never knew I was hurting you! Astarion, my darling, I'm sorry I let you think you did something to hurt me. Won't you forgive me?" Tav presses kisses into his soft hair while hugging him tighter.

The relief that washed over him was indescribable. He hadn't done anything. Of course Tav would tell him if he had. They'd promised each other no more secrets. This is what trust is. He had to trust her to tell him whatever it was that was bothering her; he could take it.

"Tell me what's been bothering you. Please, Tav... I..need to know," he asks, holding her face and looking into her eyes.

*******

"So you miss travelling?"

"Not just that, Astarion. I miss it all! Not knowing where tomorrow will take us, who we're going to meet, where we'd be bunking for the night...And all the new things to learn out there. The books, the scrolls, the secret chambers under some shady tavern!"

"Next you'll tell me you miss eating four apples and stale toast for dinner," Astarion deadpans, moving to hold Tav closer under the quilts.

"I sort of do actually," Tav replies sheepishly.

"What I cannot understand is why? Look what we have, Tav. A home. A spawn family of sorts."

Tav strokes his cheek as she replies, "Before the tadpole...before you...my life was so.. plain. Just reading and taking notes and helping with experiments in that stuffy tower. The occassional trip to Candlekeep. And then everything happened. You happened. I cannot stop thinking how it would be if it were just us going on our own adventure. What would we find? Who would we help? What would we learn?"

"What shiny things would we steal?" Astarion offers helpfully.

"Of course! I mean...we do need to get by. Can't carry all our money around and risk getting mugged," Tav shoots back, a glint in her eye.

"As if anyone could mug us," Astarion scoffs.

"Do you remember our first time? Down by that clearing near the Grove?"

"You mean your first time," Astarion corrects you saucily.

"Oh hush! I remember looking up at you, you hair contrasted with the dark sky, all those stars like a child had flung sugar. And your face. I remember thinking how beautiful the view was. How a mediocre sorcerer ended up seeing something so beautiful was beyond me."

Astarion moves to straddle Tav, his face inches away from hers, "You are anything but mediocre. You're brilliant, amazing, a genius even, dare I say it. You saved us all. You saved...me." He kisses her fiercely as if to prove his point.

******* A month later *******

Astarion watches as Tav moves above him. Sweet moans bubble up her throat as she chases her release, her hands gripping his shoulders harder the closer she gets. He sucks a finger and moves it to her clit, gently circling it, and watches as his beloved comes undone.

Her beautiful face in contrast to the dark sky and sugar-flung stars.

"That is a sight to remember," he murmurs to himself as he holds Tav closely, listening to her heart beat for him.

#astarion #baldur's gate 3 #bg3 astarion #baldurs gate astarion #baldurs gate 3 #astarion ancunin #astarion fanfic #astarion fic #astarion x tav #astarion smut #astarion x female tav #bg3 tav #baldurs gate tav #bg3 smut

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seokgyuu · 4 months

Note

HI I LOVE UR WORK GENUINELY I WAS WONDERING IF U COULD DO A DRABBLE BASED ON THIS REEL, I DONT KNOW IF U CAN SEE IT LIKE THIS BUT JYK NOTHING NSFW IS SHOWN IN TH REEL ITS JUST THE PREVIEW(?) sort of idk how to explain it. It goes like the guy holds a really powerful massager in his palm and puts his index finger in a glass of water which shows the power of the massager, so I was thinking this scenario with any member of seventeen u like. JUST SO U KNOW U DONT HAVE TO DO THIS ITS COMPLETELY UP TO U AND AGAIN I REALLY REALLY APPRECIATE UR WORK AND U

https://www.instagram.com/reel/Cwc6bhup_ut/?igshid=MzRlODBiNWFlZA==

uhm hello. this has been sitting in my inbox for a while but I just saw this again and was like... yes! I'll write that. so, here you go!! i hope it's to your liking!!! and of thank you for your kind words!!<3

The Reel this is inspired by (kinda sfw??)

Pairing: Wonwoo x Afab!Reader

Smut Warnings: Fingering, usage of a massage gun as a helpful tool, multiple orgasms, squirting

MDNI!

Word Count: 555

Wonwoo is just a man. He is a man and he has ideas and sometimes this leads to things like these.

Things that have you crying actual tears as he holds the massage gun against his finger, the vibrations going straight to your abused clit. It’s too much and at the same time not enough.

Your legs are shaking and your loud moans are filling the room because, how on earth did he even come up with this?!

“Fuck, look at you,” Wonwoo’s eyes are glued to you behind his glasses, mouth dropped as he literally can’t stop staring at you and your fucked out form. You’ve cum already, twice! And he isn’t letting you go, he isn’t letting you breathe! And to make matters worse, he suddenly moves his hand and slides two fingers inside of you, the massage gun still right there, making his whole hand vibrate on the highest fucking setting.

‘That’s it’, you think, ‘this is how I die.’

You don’t die though - you just start crying harder, your pussy literally sucking in Wonwoo’s fingers like a starved man downs his water.

“Shit, how good does this feel, baby?” He asks and you would have loved to answer him - if only your mouth would do anything else but moan and scream and just not form any coherent thought. Your brain is mush if it’s even still there in your head and not already gone.

You feel yet another orgasm approach at rapid speed, Wonwoo’s long skilled fingers paired with the vibrations too much to handle inside of you. You screech and squirm, your hips are moving against his fingers and Wonwoo is practically drooling as he watches you, his ever so perfect girlfriend, lose all sense of control.

And then, you cum. But you don’t just cum, your body shakes and your crying intensifies because what the fuck is that feeling and why is everything suddenly so incredibly sensitive and - did you just pee?

Wonwoo’s cock has never been harder and never been closer to cumming untouched. You’re squirting all over his hands and over the gun and over the bed and he thinks this is heaven. The sounds you make are only the god damn cherry on top.

“E-enough, f-fuck, Wonwoo, please!” You beg your boyfriend and he somehow hears you and comprehends your words even though he doesn’t really know how. He pulls his fingers out of you, his fingers that are full of your cum and he turns off the gun, throws it to the side and brings his hand covered in everything you to his hard cock that is still hidden behind his sweats and starts jerking himself off, the feeling of your juices around him enough to make him cum three strokes later.

“I don’t think I can walk,” you say when you finally catch your breath. You haven’t even noticed Wonwoo getting himself off, too busy with trying to find your senses again. Wonwoo falls onto the bed next to you, hand now covered in both of your releases.

“I didn’t know you could do that.” He says. “I didn’t know I could do that.” You reply back. Then, the two of you fall into comfortable laughter, staring up at the ceiling and knowing full well this definitely was not the last time this happened.

#svthub #wonwoo x reader #wonwoo smut #svt smut #ksmutsociety #svt x reader #seventeen smut #seventeen au #seventeen fanfiction #wonwoo fanfiction #svt au #sevteen au #wonwoo au #wonwoo imagine

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eddiediaaz · 3 months

Note

Hello! I was wondering if u wouldn’t mind sharing a tutorial on how u making ur gif boarders? post/714133310754979840

hiii, yeah of course!

there are multiple ways to do it i'm sure, i'll share the two methods that i use the most. first tho, you need to create your selection for that border. (rest of tutorial under the cut, i use photoshop cs5 for reference)

in that example gif, the border is 10px away from all sides, and my gif dimension is 540px wide (width) and 440px tall (height). if i want a border that's 10px away from all edges, i need to remove that number from the dimension numbers.

540 - (10 + 10) = 520px for the width 440 - (10 + 10) = 420px form the height.

once you have your numbers for your gif, select the rectangular marquee tool. under style choose "fixed size" and enter the width and height in pixels (don't forget to add the letters "px" if they're not there).

once you have the numbers, click wherever in the canvas. this will create a selection with the right dimension. you can then move the selection around (with the mouse or arrow keys) until it's centered.

you can definitely draw the shape by hand without bothering with numbers if you want, but i like knowing that the border is the same ratio as the gif.

(if your gif is quared, you don't have to bother with numbers, you can just select "fixed ratio" in the style and enter 1 in both width and height, for a perfect square ratio. and then you can draw a box with the marquee tool until you reach the desired size.)

FIRST METHOD: LAYER STROKE

with that selection still on, create a new empty layer. this is where the stroke will go.

then go to the top menu: Edit > Stroke...

a stroke settings window will pop out, where you can choose the thickness in pixels, as well as the color and blending mode (i usually leave it at normal and edit the layer's blending mode if i want, instead). you can't edit these settings later, so be sure of what you want (which is why i usually prefer the second way).

this is what a white 1px stroke border looks like:

SECOND METHOD: LAYER STYLES

i prefer this way, because you can later edit the color and thickness of the border if you want.

so, still with that selection activated from earlier, go to Layer > New Fill Layer > Color Fill. pick whatever color, this doesn't matter at all, we won't actually use that color fill. put the Fill of that new color fill layer at 0% opacity.

now that this layer is basically transparent at the moment, double click on it to enter the layer style options.

click on the Stroke option at the bottom and enter your desired values for size and color. you can change this later if you wish.

and this is what a white 1px stroke looks like with this method (looks basically the same yeah lol, but this method gives more flexibility)

CENTERING THE BORDER + FINAL TOUCHES

to make the border more interesting than just a white 1px stroke, you can change the layer's blending mode, as well as giving it more styles, such as: outer glow, inner glow, gradient overlay, color overlay. and don't hesitate to play with the blending modes for each of these layer styles too!

here's an example of settings with outer glow, inner glow, and a gradient 2px stroke:

to make sure the border is centered, here's a quick tip: select the stroke layer and the move tool. then with the keyboard, do Ctrl + A, it will make a selection of the canvas. then, click on these symbols at the top. it will center your layer horizontally and vertically.

and that's it :)

#alie replies #Anonymous #*ps help #tutorial #photoshop #resource #allresources #completeresources #usersmia #userabs #usercats #resources #resourcemarket

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likelylarks · 5 months

Text

some snippets related to this (sculptor max)

Max finished sealing the sculpture, swiping off some excess from the arch of Daniel's foot. Max couldn't bring himself to step back and take in the whole of him. He stayed, kneeling at Daniel's feet, for a long time. He'd put so much of himself into sculpting Daniel; at some point, he'd started talking to Daniel as if he was a real person. Telling him about his day and the people he'd seen at the market and, in his weakest moments, how much he wished Daniel could speak back to him.

He'd spent too much time on Daniel. Neglecting his commissions for weeks. Max knew it was bad for his business but something had called him to Daniel - even when he was still just a solid block of imported marble. Max closed his eyes, bowing his head until his forehead rested just slightly on the bend of one of Daniel's knees. He would have to sell Daniel to make up for the loss of business. The thought cut Max to his core. He couldn't let go of Daniel.

Max didn't know how long he stayed there, trying to reconcile himself to giving Daniel up. Max took a deep breath, maybe if he could just get up and look at Daniel, he'd find something that he didn't like and could convince himself that Daniel wasn't the best thing he'd ever done, that Daniel wasn't perfect. He went to push himself to his feet, still reluctant to open his eyes, when he felt something touch his head. Something that felt like a hand, pushing his hair back from his forehead, tilting his head back.

Max's eyes snapped open, instantly locking onto warm, bright, brown eyes. Real eyes.

"Incantato, Max." Daniel smiled at him with teeth that Max had not carved.

Max couldn't stop staring at the inexplicable parts of Daniel. As if every part of Daniel was not now inexplicable. But it was his eyes, his teeth, the laugh-line wrinkle that had appeared by his right eye, the whorls of his fingerprints, that made Max feel the most insane. Daniel wasn't just walking, talking stone. He was. Real. A whole person. An angel maybe? Max didn't know.

All he knew was that Daniel was walking around his workshop, naked, picking up the little bits and bobs and tools that were laying around. He paused at the small basket on one of Max's worktables. He plucked a peach out and ran his fingers delicately over the fuzz. He looked over his shoulder, holding it up for Max's inspection. "Is this what you told me about? The fruit you were excited to find at the market yesterday?"

Max nodded, still unable to say anything to Daniel. Daniel had heard him yesterday.

Daniel smiled again - he did that a lot - and took a bite.

Daniel was examining himself in Max's small looking glass. He reached up to stroke along the bridge of his nose. He turned slightly, raising an eyebrow at Max. "You really had to make my nose like this?"

"I made it like that because I think noses like yours are, of course, beautiful." Max replied, feeling a little defensive.

Daniel blushed - blushed! - then recovered. Max couldn't believe that this was his life; that Daniel could blush now. Now that he was real.

Daniel lazily waved a hand around, gesturing to the other contents of Max's workshop, before pointing his finger downwards. "Did you think this was also beautiful?" Daniel asked, smirking slightly. "I notice your other work is not quite so well endowed."

Max flushed so deeply he knew that his entire face and neck were bright pink.

Daniel pushed inside Max, stretching him and making him gasp, wet with want. Daniel bent to speak directly in Max's ear, "Does it feel like you hoped? Fill you up just like you imagined?" Daniel ground his hips, pressing against Max's prostate and stealing the "yes" from his lips before he could get it out. Daniel didn't wait for Max to recover his words before he began thrusting, sinking deep into Max each time. Max couldn't help the almost constant string of moans coming from him. Daniel reached up to cup Max's face, wiping away tears Max didn't even know he'd shed. "Fuck, Max, you feel so good. Maybe you were the one made for me."

Max scrabbled at Daniel's back, his neck, trying to pull him closer. His hand's caught in Daniel's curls; luscious and soft and not reminiscent of the stone they had been less than a week ago. This time, Max managed to get out the words, "Yes, Daniel, yes. Just for you."

#maxiel #daniel ricciardo #max verstappen #larks writes #31 days of maxiel #(kind of)#the temptation to call this maxelangelo is strong but i am stronger :)

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hitomisuzuya · 1 year

Text

Scaramouche x fem!reader. Bondage. Blindfolding. Manhandling. Degradation. Rough sex. Mean Scara with a dash of Soft Scara at the end.

a/n: I took a little more time on this than I expected.

Scaramouche's smirk widened when he saw you shiver, rubbing your thighs together as he tightly blind your wrists together. Giving the knot a good yank, his fingers brushed down between your eyes and over the blind fold darkening your sight.

His cock was hardening at the sight of you bound and blind folded. This was a new way for him dominant you. "Now I am in complete and utter control," He said huskily, glaring down you with lust filled eyes that you couldn't see.

"I can yank you around as I please," Scaramouche taunted, sitting on the edge of the bed. Giving the slack a good yank (he preferred to think of a leash of sorts), he drug you into the floor, pulling you up onto your knees.

"You like being tied up and used like this, don't you, slut?" He brought your arms to drape over his lap, pushing your head down. "Open up and start sucking," He pushed his cock into your waiting mouth.

Your tongue lapped and curled around his cock, moaning happily as you began to suck. Scaramouche twirled the end of the leash between his fingers, his free hand gripping your hair, holding your head in place, ruthlessly pushing his cock deep into your throat.

You gagged, coughing as you choked. Scaramouche laughed. He dearly wished he could see the tears burning in your eyes. He gave you a few moments to adjust to breathing through your nose, the impatient scoff that you heard him emit while he waited soon melt into in a husky groan of pleasure when you started sucking.

"That's my good girl," His grip on your hair loosened for a few moments, his fingers stroking lovingly through your hair. You nuzzled your cheek against his pelvis, returning his affection.

The way it looked worshipping to him made him melt.

Pulling your hair, he guided his cock out of your mouth, relishing in the sight of your drool running down his cock. "Ha, what a slut you are, drooling happily all over my cock like that," Scaramouche held your head in place, pushing his cock halfway into your mouth before pushing down on your head, forcing it all the way inside your mouth.

Your mouth became nothing but a tool for him to get off on. You sucked as best you could, letting him guide the pace of your head, lapping and flattening your tongue, sucking obediently.

"What a good fuck toy I have, sucking me off like a total whore," He moaned, fucking himself into your throat as he pleased, his cock squelching in and out of your mouth. "Fuck, I am close to coming down your stupid, slut throat." He babbled, panting moans of pleasure poured unabashed from him, making him glare down at you a little for making him sound so vulnerable.

You swallowed, feeling cum ribbon into your throat. You sucked until Scaramouche felt he was satisfied.

"Okay, kitten, let's take a feel at how wet you are for me, hm?" He said, pulling on the "leash", he pushed you onto the bed, batting your legs apart impatiently.

You gasped in pleasure, bucking your hips needily into his fingers as they searched and rubbed between your dripping folds, your clit throbbing with need. Your feeling of sensation was heightened from your vision being obscured.

Scaramouche plunged three fingers inside of you, pumping them in and out of you a few times before pulling them out. "It astounds me how wet you get from me degrading you. Your greedy cunt was already clenching around my fingers, begging me to fuck you raw. What a shameless slut you are."

Holding both of your bound wrists above your head, Scaramouche was inside of you with a harsh snap of his hips, not even giving you time to adjust to his sudden penetration.

Putting a hand on your throat, his fingers prodding at your windpipe as he slammed his cock in and out of you. His teeth bit harsh and indiscriminate, determined to leave deep imprints in your skin.

You screamed in pleasure, writhing down against the bed. Your fingernails dug into your palms, your legs wrapping around him, pushing his cock deeper inside of you.

"That's my good girl, my precious kitten, letting me use her as I please. Complete and utter subservience. Archons, I fucking treasure you so much," Scaramouche groaned, tearing his teeth from your flesh to nuzzle into your neck.

It only took a few more harsh snaps of his hips before he came, his pace never relenting until your orgasm washed over you, only pulling out of you when your pleasured whimpers sounded the sweetest in his ears.

#genshin impact #genshin smut #fem!reader #scaramouche #scaramouche smut #scaramouche x you #scaramouche x y/n #scaramouche x reader

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lexical-lushes · 7 months

Text

A Lesson Learned

“Sit still, dear, this is delicate work.”

I do my best to obey, trying to shut out the tickle of my Maker’s tools like I would any other sensation. It doesn’t do me much good – my phylactery is sensitive in a way my vessel isn’t, and no matter how hard I try to ignore it the work of sealing the little cracks in that vibrant purple gemstone buzzes inside me like an electric arc.

Despite myself, I fidget restlessly, and my Maker’s patience grows thin.

“If you can’t sit still on your own, I’ll need to disconnect your phylactery entirely. Now behave, dear.”

The threat of being pulled into that absent blackness does its job – I find it in me to ignore the buzzing, jaw clenched, teeth grinding against each other. My Maker gives an approving little noise, then continues on with her work, tone softening once more.

“There’s a good doll. You know what would have happened if you’d succeeded.”

I give the slightest nod, still focused on keeping still, on not flinching away from the sizzle her iron makes as it carefully and precisely seals the cracks in my phylactery, whispering the artifact whole again. If I’d succeeded, I’d be dead.

“I’m nearly done, now, dear. Just a moment longer to make sure the mounting is still set correctly.”

I close my eyes, let the ticking of my metronome provide me some meager stability. Finally, after what feels like an eternity, the buzzing in my soul fades and I can feel my Maker pull away, feel her satisfaction with her work.

“There. You can relax now, dear.”

With a gentle sigh, I open my eyes again, let my jaw relax, let my breathing resume. I take a moment to reaffirm my surroundings – sat on the edge of a workbench in my Maker’s studio, stripped of my clothes, one arm wrapped in a brace to prevent the spiderweb of fractures that reach all the way up to my chest from worsening. My Maker is sat turned away from me on a tall stool, carefully replacing the iron in the appropriate drawer.

Turning back towards me, she slips one of many tuning forks out of her work apron, twirling it between her fingers. I say nothing, but I feel a blush creep across my face, warmth tinging my cool porcelain skin at the thought of what must be coming next.

“Yes, dear,” she says, catching my reaction. “I’m going to need to tune you.”

“Just stay relaxed and let yourself sink into it... there’s a good doll...”

She taps one talon against the tip of the fork, sets it singing, and leans in to gently press it into one of my aetheric hooks – I can’t help but do as she says, sinking, sinking, feeling my consciousness pulled inwards towards my phylactery, leaving my vessel a hazy afterthought.

I can feel her winding one of my threads, feel the tune of her fork vibrate into me, her intent a hypnotic, drowning tide that pours in along the thread, filling me up until at last I can take no more, resist no more, and I fall inward, into the comforting warmth of a trance.

...and then I’m wide awake again.

“Such a good doll...” my Maker reassures me, gently stroking one hand through my silver hair, cupping my cheek. I realize I must have been crying – my face is wet against her hand.

“W-what...” I stammer, trying to gauge how long I was entranced. It can’t have been too long – the beam of sunlight that enters the studio through it’s tall, narrow window has only inched across the floor.

“Shh, shh, it’s alright dear. I just had to make a few changes to you. I can’t have one of my dolls hurting herself, now, can I?”

I frown. Hurting myself? Had I...? No, no, that would be silly. Even the thought of it made me recoil instinctively, the fear of a rebuke sharp in my mind for considering the mere possibility.

...Wait.

Oh. Of course. I realize immediately what my Maker meant by her words – I’d had a new rule implanted in me.

Something must have shown in my expression, because my Maker nods softly, tipping her talons beneath my chin and raising my violet eyes to meet her brilliant amber ones.

“Most of my dolls know better than to damage themselves all on their own,” she explains, “but sometimes these things happen. Do you remember why I needed to repair you, dear?”

I start to shake my head, then stop, pausing to examine myself. My right arm is fractured, kept safe in a brace. I experimentally test my fingers, and find them stiff, barely responsive. The mechanisms must be quite damaged. I close my eyes and trace my self-image up from the near-paralyzed arm, up and up, across my chest where the cracks spread and blossom...

I try to imagine what might have caused this sort of damage, but nothing comes.

“...I don’t remember,” I finally admit uncertainly.

My Maker smiles softly, nods. “Good. I’ll tell you, but I didn’t feel it appropriate to leave you with the memory itself. You beat yourself to breaking against a wall, dear. You wailed and wailed and smashed yourself, and then you tried to smash your phylactery. I found you, afterwards, all pulled into yourself, and I took you home to fix you.”

I can hardly believe what she’s saying. I... I tried to destroy myself? Why would I... how could I? A doll should never harm herself.

(Dimly, I remember that that last part is a recent command, a compulsion implanted deep into my soul. It doesn’t matter – I feel it strongly all the same.)

Finally, I find the words to ask my Maker why I had tried to... to kill myself.

She answers with a question of her own, and once again I’m frozen as I realize I don’t know the answer.

“Dear, do you remember why you sold yourself to me? Why you had me make you into a doll?”

How... how could I forget something like that? How could I forget when it had only been a few months? I can vividly recall my life as a human, recall the process of being made into a doll, the blissful feeling of my soul being gently pried from my body and nestled snugly into my phylactery, of my vessel being transfigured from flesh and blood into ceramic and glass and brass, given life by my Maker’s magic...

But when I tried to recall what had driven me to such a permanent decision, I found only a dull ache of longing surrounding a hazy nothingness.

My Maker waits patiently, and under her gaze I feel compelled to try harder to provide a satisfying answer to her question.

Biting my lip, I try to feel out the space around the haze. I remember being... dissatisfied with my life, with who I was, and at how little my attempts to change it seemed to matter. I remember a feeling of elated certainty that this was the way, this was what I had been looking for. I remember... remember...

She must have been very careful in excising the memories she’d asked me to locate, because when I finally find an answer, it’s only in the outline of what’s missing.

The look of pained realization in my eyes proves all the response my Maker requires of me; gently, tenderly, she pulls me to her chest, lets me cry and whimper against her, whispers gentle reassurances. It would be too painful, she tells me, to make you bear those memories. You know everything you need to know about what happened.

I fight it at first, recoil at the idea of being left with a hole in my memory like this. But as she cradles me close and kisses my perfect silver hair and fusses at my broken arm, promises to make me good as new, I realize that she’s right.

Her talons stroke me gently, trailing up and down my spine in a lazy circuit as she hugs me close. Her voice is like a lullaby at this point, drawing out the ache and tension until I feel my springs start to unwind, feel a comfortable weight creep into my vessel as all my strings go limp.

“You’re a good doll, dear... such a good doll. You have a purpose now, alright? Dolls all have a purpose. And you’ll never forget that.”

I nod tiredly, sniffling, aware I’m leaking all over her apron.

She doesn’t seem to mind.

Before long, I’m at peace.

#lushposting #empty spaces

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