Wait omg i wanna write smut but could you give me tips?
hi !! i can definitely give u some tips (๑•᎑<๑)
when u can’t get dialogue right, i suggest watching mosty amature porn or listen to nsfw audios,, i know it sounds weird but it really helps with accuracy !
i try to tailor my dirty talk / dialogue to how the members speak!
people dont tend to use use clinical anatomy terms during actual sex. i prefer using things like cunt, pussy, cock, heat, length, member, entrance, etc.
prioritize sensory details over clinical anatomy. “he pushed his heavy length deep inside you slowly, dragging along the slick heat of your walls.” goes harder than “he put his penis in your vagina.”
describe reactions more than mechanics!! trembling thighs, hitched breathing, flushed skin, the taste of sweat, the sound of skin on skin.
i try to avoid repeating the same words too often (thrust, moan, wet). if you are lost, googling any of those words with synonym next to it is a life saver. this also goes for any aspect of writing! ah also don’t overdo fancy synonyms.
write the scene straight through without judging yourself. you can always edit it for better flow later. i edit my works at least 3 times before posting.
this sounds strange but look up sex positions if you dont know which to put your characters in or if you are confused where things go. when i write threesomes or have more complex positions in mind, i simply draw them out (messy doodle, not like jo style artistry for my smut lol), it helps me get an idea of where things go (hands, dick, mouth, etc)
try to vary the sentence length: short, punchy for intensity (“he slammed in. again. harder .”); longer for building sensation. (“his cock dragged through your walls at rapid speed, beating against the spot that made you see stars.)
sound design is a savior when you are struggling through dialogue! not just moans. describe the creak of a bed, the wet click when he pulls out, ragged breathing syncing like a filthy rhythm~
on your second read through: try to cut down on the uses of “very,” “just,” and any repetitive body part words. on your third pass: read it aloud. if you stumble or cringe, rewrite or edit.
i keep things for inspiration whether that be fanfiction, porn, audios, my own fantasies, or even tweets!
this also goes for kink related content! if you do not have experience with certain kinks, research. see how others write it, how it looks when these kinks take place, hear how it makes people feel, read people involved in those kinks fantasies.
READ!!! whenever im struggling, i take a break and read something. seeing how others write smut can help you develop your own writing skills, style and ideas!
track what turns you on and lean into it! when i write about something im into, i tend to write it better because theres heat behind it! (if u dont get a lil horny when writing ur own stuff, u might need to change things up..)
tumblr is your playground. use it well. theres nsfw work everywhere. lurk in anime nsfw spaces if you have to.
overall tips: don’t compare your skills or style to anyone else, everyone is different. whether that be in how they flesh out build up or how they write sex scenes. if you need to, write it messy first. you can fix it in edits. i go over my writings atleast 5 times before posting. the draft and full fic are totally different. pacing is personal, trust your instinct on what feels right in your fics! dont rush yourself, give you some time between scenes, fics or wips. i only write when im inspired which is why i dont do every single request i get!
i hope these will help you !! ☆٩(｡•ω<｡)و happy writing baby!
Get more from Maegan A. "Maverick-Werewolf" Stebbins on Patreon
BIG POST! Another fully revised and cited Werewolf Fact - "Physical Appearance" (with primary source images)!
This is currently only available to all patr0ns Shadewalker tier and up. It will be made public in the future, though it will take me a year or two or maybe even more depending on how my life goes. But the goal is to have publicly available Werewolf Facts eventually that are fully cited and revised.
Be sure to check it out - it's got more info than what you're probably expecting...
With much eternal love to my patr0ns who enable me to continue this work. <3
There are lots of way to get ready to practice divination. Maybe you like to light candles, put on music, or even meditate. My favorite way to tap into my divinatory abilities and prep my intuition is a cup of tea. If tea in general gets you in the mood, then that’s pretty simple, but I have a go-to tea, and more specifically, a go-to flower for getting ready for things like tarot and pendulum readings. Hibiscus!
Hibiscus is a tart flower that is both flavorful and energizing. Used for a large variety of things, it is one of the strongest herbs/flowers I have found to use with divination practices. Also, associated with passion, hibiscus can light an inspirational fire to get you ready to dive into a reading as well as generally enhancing your divinatory and intuitive senses. It is a must-have in my spell drawer and probably my most used magical ingredient (other than honey, but we’ll get to that).
So, here’s my hibiscus-centric divination tea recipe.
Ingredients:
Hibiscus (divination, dreams)
Raspberry (vitality, love, protection)
Rose (peace, happiness, love)
Honey (attraction, strength)
How you brew this tea will depend on whether you’re making a large batch or a single cup, but I like to use enough flowers to make the tea a deep red color.
The hibiscus should be the star of this show with the raspberry and rose added in to balance out the flavor and generally mellow out the tea. The tea will be just as wonderful without them, but this trio works really well together.
Now, the honey. Honey is, of course, a natural sweetener, so it will soften the tartness of the hibiscus. Honey is also a fantastic ingredient for an extra magical kick. Honey is powerful, though! I wouldn’t add more than one or maybe two spoonfuls.
War Water (also called Iron Water) is a powerful tool in witchcraft used for protection, hexing, banishing, and warding off enemies. It originates from Hoodoo, Appalachian folk magic, and other mystical traditions.
Uses of War Water:
• Protection – Sprinkle around your home to create a spiritual barrier.
• Banishing – Throw it where unwanted people have walked to remove their influence.
• Cursing – Toss onto an enemy’s property to bring discord and bad luck.
• Warding Off Negativity – Add to floor washes or sprinkle near entrances.
• In Spellwork - Use in rituals for breaking curses, creating wards, or calling upon warrior spirits.
Needed:
• Rusty nails (or iron shavings or railroad spikes)
• Water (preferably storm or river water for extra potency)
• Salt (black salt for cursing, sea salt for protection)
• Cayenne pepper or red pepper flakes (for aggression and strength)
• Vinegar – Used to sour relationships in cursing spells.
• Mugwort or Rue – For added spiritual power.
Instructions:
Place the rusty nails or iron in a jar. If your nails aren’t rusty, leave them in water for a few weeks to oxidize. Fill the jar with water. Use stormwater for aggressive energy, river water for powerful flow, or tap water if necessary. Add salt and herbs and let it sit for at least a week. The longer it sits, the stronger it becomes. Some witches let it develop for months. Shake or stir when using, the rust, herbs, and salt should be well mixed before application.
Flaws/Quirks in Friendships That I’m BEGGING Writers to Explore part three
✧ Friends who constantly argue over the dumbest stuff. Pineapple on pizza? Who gets shotgun? Neither will back down, and it’s beautiful.
✧ The friend who always shows up late, but with snacks. Yes, you’re annoyed, but also you’re eating fries, so… forgiven.
✧ Friends who speak in their own weird language. Inside jokes so cursed even they don’t remember how they started.
✧ The “planner” and the “chaos goblin” duo. One has a color-coded schedule, the other forgets what day it is. It just works.
✧ Friends who roast each other so hard outsiders think they hate each other. Nope, that’s just love in disguise.
✧ That one friend who adopts stray animals (and sometimes stray people). Their house is chaos, but it’s home.
✧ Friends who share clothes but have wildly different styles. Nothing like borrowing a crop top from your goth bestie and showing up to brunch like a vampire Barbie.
Author's Note: This is a quick concept I thought up for the SmokeStack twins.
Pairing: Smoke X OC & Stack X OC (platonic)
Summary: What if there was a ‘working-girl’ who Stack loved platonically while Smoke held complicated feelings for while being a faithful paying customer? What happens if she falls out with Smoke before October 15th and doesn't go to Mississippi with them? What if Stack shows up at her door changed only to realize she’s carrying Smoke’s child?
wc: 2K
Returning to the place where his great-grandmother had been buried the day prior had happened almost by accident. A thick layer of ash is all over the soil covering the coffin. The headstone had been laid but there was no end date etched into the large stone to signify the day had finally come. If only he had known the truth of it, all of it. He'd only seen her in the twenties and thirties if only he knew about the SmokeStack twins and Chicago. If only he’d have known the full extent of the world he lived in and what dwelled within it.
No one thought Iris would live to a ripe old age, she sure as hell was living fast enough to die young. Her mother decided being a single mother in Jim Crow era Chicago was more than she could stomach and so Iris was left on her own with the only people her mother knew - whores. It was no place for a child to be raised but they did their best setting her up in a bedroom in the attic space where she could be a child. She was pretty so the Madam took her out dressing Iris up like her own daughter and taking her to the theater in New York. Then Iris became the prep girl. Making sure the bedrooms were clean and smelled good. From a young age she knew to shut her mouth when she saw patrons at the markets with their wives. At fourteen she started singing but then some of the girls got jealous that she’d take a cut before they even got on their backs. But then the depression hit when she was an adult and she learned that singing and dancing would never pay as well as skin so she started turning tricks.
No one would believe that she met Stack first. That he’d come in skinning and grinning with his playful dimples and dangerous air and that it lasted all night. Stack had a reputation among the ladies as a pimp and smooth talker but in Iris he found an unlikely soulmate - the platonic kind. Her and Stack were each other’s medicine for ailments they didn’t know they were afflicted with. The medicine was laughter and closeness without it being anything sexual. It was unprecedented for the both of them but it was real. So real that it was Iris that would help him in his pursuit of women. It was Iris that would make the pound cakes he’d take to family gatherings with whatever lady he was talking seriously at the time. That was how Iris met Smoke. He’d come home early one day to find a woman in his kitchen taking a cake out of the oven. His eyes narrowed and she seized up knowing faster than most he was not Stack before Stack himself emerged. Iris knew they were twins but she’d never seen them together.
Smoke had the reputation of having few words and a predisposition to violence. A predisposition Iris knew about from Stack who had divulged the secret of their father to her one night as they talked until sunrise. People would have thought it was Stack who sought her out for her enterprise but it was Smoke who went to the madam with the full sum requesting Iris. It was Smoke who used her body to find his pleasure while supplying hers. Smoke who gave her her first real orgasm, smoke who made her moans real, smoke who stirred feelings of love and Smoke who made her feel like more of a whore than anyone else.
Paying patrons are always trying to save a coin and make girls fall in love. For Smoke it would have been easy but he never did. He never took his clothes and shoes off, never stayed the night, they never kissed and he never spent the night. Gone before sunrise. She only ever saw him at night - taking the darkness away and preparing for the day. Perhaps Iris was the only person who would tell you Stack was an excellent friend. They’d paint the town together, drinking and laughing and dreaming together. Smoke came home on several occasions to find them both fully dressed and asleep on the couched tangled and intertwined like children. It was part of what endeared Iris to him.
No one would believe that it a wave one night at a fait that saved her life. Iris had been there with a few friends and come across Smoke and waved. He’d paid her dust but she didn't think nothing of it. Before leaving he was at the exit having a cigarette and she said hello like any sensible respectful decent person would. While in the company of other men Smoke looked around.
“I ain’t Stack” he said coolly like he wasn’t the reason Itis no longer had to turn tricks.
“My mistake” Iris had muttered broken hearted before leaving with her girls. The next time Smoke was horny Iris told him to find someone else. Heated words were exchanged and smoke, a man of few words proved why his mouth was as lethal a weapon as the rest of him, slashing her self confidence into nothing. She was nothing more than a whore and she should know her place was the black and white of it. Words Smoke didn’t wholeheartedly mean but protection was protection. He didn’t need to walk around with anymore soft-spots and Iris, one of Stack's hussies, was safer than letting anyone think he had a woman who was comfortable enough to approach him in public. He came back two weeks after the first fight wanting absolution again and finding resistance instead. But Iris would never know the love smoke bore her until he was dead - that information would never come from the living.
Iris toed the line maintaining a relationship with Stack while staying away from Smoke. Stack tried to intervene and get a word in for his brother but Iris wouldn't hear any of it. The only real apology Iris got was an apology at a juke joint she was at with a man she was seeing. After dancing with Stack, Smoke cut in pulling her in close. Stack paid the band to play something slower. Smoke held onto his woman. Iris tried not to revel in the proximity and intimacy.
“I’m sorry” he’d told her and in his eyes she could see it was real.
“I don’t need an apology Smoke” Iris said, ending the dance prematurely. Only that night ended badly for her. Knowing he could never compete to the smokestack twins the man she was seeing caught a temper and found himself whooping on her for being a whore and dancing with the both of them. Iris called Stack who brought Smoke and beat the man within an inch of his life. Stack nursed Iris back to life in tandem with the Madam. While the vision of Iris nearly broken and clinging to Stack with a fat lip looking almost unrecognizable was etched into his consciousness. She was less chilly to him, half thankful and half afraid. He postponed the return to Mississippi so Stack could see Iris through recovery. On the night before their robbery Smoke stopped by the brothel. He entered the attack putting a large suitcase into the closet like he owned the place. Then he sat taking off his shoes, then his coat, shirt and then pants. Something he’d never done throughout the duration of their affair. Iris went to leave and find another room but Smoke closed the door stopping her. They kissed for the first time that night and they made love so good she couldn’t ask for more. As the final act of penance Smoke spent the night with his arms wrapped around Iris as she laid hers on his chest listening to his heartbeat. He was warm, strong, virile and passionate.
He was up at daybreak saying goodbye and handing her a letter from Stack. He’d rested his forehead against hers placing a kiss on her forehead before leaving out - that was the last time Iris ever saw Elijah ‘Smoke’ Moore. Three months later sometime in October Stack showed up after sunset begging to be let in. Something about him wasn't right, it was like he was being torn inside out. Like he was fighting a battle, like there was a war being waged within him. His anger was different than anything Iris had ever seen from him but when she opened the door he didn't walk in. Then he unnerved Iris even more by sniffing the air like a feral dog and sniffing. In an instant it was Stack again. The stack that had held her too many times to could, the stack with a reckless mouth and a wicked sense of humour. The stack that left her in stitches, the stack that felt like home. We argued through the door until sunrise and then he ran into my shed. By noon Iris heard him screaming and ran out to cover the windows with thick downy sheets. He was back at sunset and when she asked what happened to him he told her. If it wasn't for all his bullshit she would have believed him the first time but she didn't until he told her Smoke was gone. He’d never joke about that. The second listen to the story was painful for so many reasons and after promising to walk into the sun if he turned her Iris let Stack in.
They cried together and then a dead man told tales of his brother's heart in conflict. Smokes devotion to Annie and his care for Iris. He’d made a deal with Smoke, a deal to leave Sammie and the family - let them live and so Stack never bit you. He went on a crime spree with Mary returning to find Iris after the birth of her twin girls. He was there as they grew up having to go away because he never aged. He was there to love them from afar and linger in clubs when they got older and keep them safe. He was there to love them from afar, never getting too close. But then they had kids and Stack found himself spread thin. He found it hard to watch Iris age and got back together with Mary for a time before a fit of hysteria caused her to walk into the sun. Stack found himself relieved and found himself living wild again until it got old. Age didnt hit him until he met his newest offspring. Twin boys that reminded him too much of Smoke. Smoke who now haunted his thoughts like he was calling him home. As an identical twin the kids were as much his as they were smokes but his condition did not allow for the closeness of a grandfather and great-grandfather. He felt like peter-pan watching Wendy age.
Stack was there with Iris every night in the end, the two of them laughing and telling stories like the oldest friends. Those last few weeks he numbed the pain. Physically she was old but mentally with Stack she was young again and they were in that house in Chicago. Age had distorted her features but memory held the picture. Being so close to death Stack could finally see it for what it was and when it took Iris there was nothing left for him in the world. He could feel the weariness in his bones and the decay. He spent the night making sure Iris' grave was consecrated making sure his brass knuckle knife and Smokes gun were in the casket.
By the time the sun rose he was ash over the soil. Experiencing a final sunrise before bursting into flames and covering Iris grave.
_________
author's note: thanks for reading, don't forget to comment, reblog and like if you enjoyed. Can you imagine Stack being kind of a sweetie? Can you imagine Smoke surviving that night and growing old with Iris with permission from Annie? LMK
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