#padded satin stitch

[theenbyroiderer]

From the archives. Just a cute little 3D snail.

[peanutblowandjobsandwich]

ive nvr done padded satin stitch before frankly not a fan of satin stitch i mean yh it looks elegant but only if done super right which isnt super easy to master and also it just does not spark joy but woah padded satin is great and even more elegant

[starspray]

Quite pleased with this one

[loverdude]

I think I have bought most of the supplies I will need to make Carrie plush become real 😈

[potatoesandsunshine]

doing embroidery is all fun and games until you open the pattern and have to immediately watch 15 tutorials on how to do the stitches

[ghostheartfelt]

Hiiii! First of all I hope you're doing well <333 and second omg!! I loved your ghost smut 😭😭 I'm here to request smt if you don't mind, I've requested this before but nobody wanted to write it but feel free to not wrote it too if you don't like the plot but here we go:

Ghost breaks up with reader NOT because he hates her but because his next mission is really hard and dangerous and there was a really slim chance that he'd survive it. So he tries to push reader away to not hurt her feelings but things escalated and they break up but when he comes back from the mission they have make-up sex? 🤭 Thank you for reading all of this and if you can't write it then I understand, thank you for your time and effort 💗

*:･｡☆ a/n: hi anon~ thank you so much for being my first req!!!! And thank u so much for  the support. I’m so sorry i took forever to get to this! but you bet ur sweet ass i’ll write this for you?! I hope you enjoy this regardless of how long it took me to get to it. mwah! -ur bbg cure 

〔☆〕 desc: ghost is deployed on a mission in bangladesh that price explains as risky and complicated--ghost immediately thinks of you as the possibilities of survival are described as slim. him, gaz, and soap set out back to manchester, and no amount of talk is able to change his mind. he ends things off between the two of you, which arises a depressive state in you before he arrives and makes it up to you completely. (possibly takes place before ten minutes past?…. 👀)

*:･｡☆ tags: p in v, unprotected intercourse, whiny ghost if you squint, hand job if you squint, oral (f receiving), fingering, reader orgasms twice, cock warming, he sleeps with the tip inside<3, this hurt my breeding kink heart, pet names, possessive ghost, breast worship if you squint, break up and make up sex, porn with feelings. SMUTTY SMUT SMUT!!! not too bad, sadly.

—✩ N[EX]T REGRETS ✩—

word count — 4.3k

☆ (peep the song that inspires this writing...) ☆

Your hands are setting two plates on the dinner table; one for you, one for your boyfriend.

He was coming home from deployment—it’d been months since you’d last seen him, you’d lost track.

Silverware wrapped in cloth napkins are set beside the plates before you flick the cog of a lighter and ignite the candles in the middle of the table.

You turn yourself around to grab the cookie sheet of ribeye off of the counter after pushing on mittens, holding it in your palm as you place two steaks down onto one of the plates, then one onto another. 

Then you take the tray back to the counter and set it back on top of the table cloth so it didn’t damage the marble.

Regardless of the fancy dinner setup, you were still in a black satin night dress and fuzzy socks. You knew Simon would just dress down himself the moment he got home.

You scooped steamed vegetables onto both plates, then potatoes and gravy with a sprinkle of chives. 

When you place down the spineless wine glasses, you hear a heavy door slam causing a smile to crease your face.

Simon was home, he was going to come inside and he was going to hold you again for the first time in months. Run his hands through your hair for the first time in months. Kiss you for the first time in months.

You seat yourself gently on the dinner table, ankle crossed over the other with your elbows bent and palms pressed neatly on the wood as you wait for him to come inside.

You hear the door open, then shut, heavy padded footsteps approaching the threshold of the dining room.

Ghost is the one who comes through the archway—fully geared with the skull mask and helmet, the only thing he lacks is a rifle.

“Simon…?” You push yourself off your palms, confusion whisked on your face.

It was one of your rules, the mask stays off inside your home.

His eyes land on the neatly set table before they reach yours. 

You approach him slowly and he tenses, your eyebrows stitching together in concern.

His stomach twists inside of him.

Gorgeous minx.

Absolutely breathtaking.

Beautiful perfection.

He couldn’t say anything he wanted to—and god he had so much to say.

Your eyes flicker to the windows alongside the front door seeing two other bodies.

Armed bodies.

He wasn’t staying.

“Can you all stay for dinner atleast? I made enough for everyone…” you smile softly while fumbling with the straps of his vest. 

Stop touching me, you’re making this harder on me. Ghost swallows the knot in his throat. 

There’s a pause before Ghost backs up.

“There’s someone else.” 

It’s a lie, it’s a lie. It’s such a lie. Ghost 

Something inside your chest tightens and you swear that it’s your heart. 

“What?…” You scoff lightly, your eyebrows pinching together in disbelief.

Don’t make me say it again. Ghost inhales sharply.

“Simon…” you tilt your head slightly, extending your hand to touch him.

“Please, let me try to be better for you, give me a chance…” your lips quiver. 

You don’t need to try and be better for me. Ghost thinks.

He knew you’d been reading articles on how to be in a relationship with someone in the special forces—he’d found out and closed the lid, sat you in his lap and kissed you so softly, telling you that you were perfect for him and you didn’t need an article to tell you how to love him.

But you know it’s real when Ghost jerks his shoulder away.

You know it’s real when you bite your lip hard enough to draw blood as tears start welling in your eyes. 

You know it’s real when Ghost’s eyes evade yours. 

You know it’s real when Simon turns around and he doesn’t spare you a goodbye.  

You especially know it’s real when the door slams shut and rattles the walls around you.

It’s surreal, but you expected this. 

He must’ve found someone on base, you thought.

You feel your knees give in beneath you, and you’re met with the floor.

A hysterical sobbed scream leaves your throat as your trembling hand lifts to drag down at your lips.

☆════━━━┈┈┈┈━━━════☆

Ghost stands for a moment on the doormat outside of your home. 

Gaz’s hand finds a place on his back, the other holding his vest as he guides the larger male towards the truck they’d arrived in.

“Didn’t have to do that, Ghost.” He says, followed by a sigh.

“Did.” Ghost replies back as he seats himself in the back. “Wasn’t lettin’ her get my dog tags—she’s been through enough bein’ with me.”

Soap turns his head over his shoulder after sitting in the front passenger seat. 

“Ay, L.T, we all know y’ll make it back t’ya pretty lass.” He says. “Y’r one of we bes’ fighters, ain’t that righ’, Kyle?” Soap’s elbow bumped into Gaz’s ribs.

Gaz utters a strained noise before nodding, hands wrapping around the wheel.

“‘M not takin’ that risk, now shu’up ‘n drive. Cap’s gon’ ‘b pissy enough.” 

His head turns to look out the window as he feels the wheels of the truck roll down the driveway.

☆════━━━┈┈┈┈━━━════☆

It’s been seven months. Two-hundred-thirteen days. 

All you do is work, eat, and sleep. 

Eating, not as much as you should.

You couldn’t cook, couldn’t get yourself up from your bed the second you got home from work to start the stove.

You either sleep all day or not at all, there wasn’t a balance.

God, your living room was disgusting. Snot tissues were littered across the entire coffee table, empty champagne glasses, crusted food plates and crushed soda cans.

You’d resorted to hiring a maid just to clean your living room—which was the only room you stayed in for five months straight while your depression started getting progressively worse.

You lay on your side with a weighted blanket draped over you, holding you down comfortably. 

Simon stayed in your head, even after half of a year. He invaded your head. It drove you insane.

At the same time, you were scared of the day that he wouldn’t be your first and last thought each and every day anymore.

You bunch the blanket closer to your chin, your wet eyes have drenched the little area to hell. 

Things just have never been the same since Simon left the house–-you still happened to feel his presence next to you, hovering over you. 

“There’s someone else.”  His words settled an uneasy weight on your shoulders that you still were unable to shake off. 

A splutter of sobs escapes you once again, tears blurring your vision as they fall and your nose starts to clog. 

You try to breathe in, but you feel as though there’s not enough air around you. You breaking into a coughing fit is enough for you to push the weighted blanket off of your body and heave yourself up. 

Spit and drool creates several small strings between your lips–you’re practically foaming at the mouth from how hard you’re crying.

Tears flutter off your eyelashes and further blur your vision, so you try and rub at your eyes with the heels of your palms desperately. 

You stand up wobbly and start towards the bathroom, you didn’t have the energy to walk the extra couple of steps into your bedroom to use your own bathroom, so the guest bathroom would have to do for now. 

You turn the shower knob and pull it out towards you after undressing, then step into the warmth and sink onto the shower floor, hugging your knees to your bare chest and letting the water run over your face. 

Sobs cause your body to twitch and jerk, the heat in your eyes making your eyes burn as your breathing grows unsteady over the stream of water above you. 

You just wanted him home. 

But, he wasn’t yours to want home anymore. 

He wasn’t yours to crave anymore or to love. 

☆════━━━┈┈┈┈━━━════☆

A door slams so hard air causes the fabric of his shirt to flail in the wind. 

Ghost had spent months struggling with the actions of his decision, where he had hoped that the choice would break you free of your shackles of worries when it came to the blonde when he was away. 

He spent every night and every rising morning worrying someone would take his place. It would’ve been his fault, he knew that, and it made him want to scream at the top of his lungs until they felt raw in his chest. 

He presses the lock button on his keys, hearing the locks inside the jeep click, then he jumbles with his keychain looking for the house key.

Ghost’s hands are shaking as he pinches the specific key and jabs it into the door lock, turning it.

When he hears the all-familiar click, he immediately pulls off his balaclava and pushes himself through the front door. 

There’s silence–pure silence throughout the house except for the sound of running water. 

She’s showering. 

A short amount of relief washes over him as he bends to untie the laces of his boots, placing them aside. 

When he stands, his eyes scan over to the living room and he feels his heart sink in him at the sight of the absolute mess made of the living room.

An overflowing laundry basket and take-out boxes that made the room stink of old fried rice. 

He throws his bag behind him against the wall before he walks himself towards the pile of laundry and begins pulling out shirts and pairs of pants to fold against his knee. 

☆════━━━┈┈┈┈━━━════☆

You took a two hour shower, most of it being of you shredding any form of emotion from your body that you could.

Now you were sitting on the fur-covered toilet seat, running your lotion-coated hands along your freshly shaven legs. 

You told yourself you would try going to a club to replenish your sex deprivation. 

Steam finally clears from the mirror allowing you to look at yourself in the mirror. Your hands pull the towel off your head, wet hairs sticking to your shoulders.

The bathroom smelt of your coconut milk shampoo and body wash–it smelt divine. 

You thumb up your white laced bra and panties, plug in the blow dryer and scrunch your mop in your hands as you wave the blow dryer over your hair.

It seems like hours, being only nearly ten minutes until your hair is somewhat dry, but your arms are tired, so you unplug the dryer and wrap the cord around it.

You leave the bathroom and walk back into the living room, pausing in motion at the sight of it being clean–your laundry being neatly folded on the coffee table. 

“Kris? Is that you?” You call, not too loudly. 

She had a key to your home, but she had stated she wouldn’t be available this week due to some personal reasons she wasn’t required to go over with you.

You walk over towards the couch and drag your hand along the cotton material.

There was no reply to your call, which concerned you. You hadn't contacted any of your family members to come visit.

You slowly turn yourself around and the breath is practically stolen from your lungs. 

Simon’s standing across the room from you, clad in a black t-shirt and jeans, a belt secured in the front.

You watch his eyes drag up and down your exposed body, watching as he inhales sharply while his eyes narrow.

“Love,” He mumbles. 

Your eyebrows furrow and you lift your neck up. “Why–why are you here?” “Will y’let me explain?” He sighs. 

“Does she know?” You reply quickly with a shaky voice. 

“Does wh–” 

“Does she know you are here, Simon.” 

There's silence, then he licks his dry lips.

“There is no she.” He says flatly.

“No,” you scoff, running a hand down your face, eyes darting to the side as you listen to him walk closer toward you. “No…no. No–I remember specifically…” your angry, now.

Simon catches your lips in a firm kiss, but you push him away, and the look in his eyes makes your chest ache.

“Please,” Simon’s eyebrows pinch together. 

“Stop, just stop.” You seethe, pressing your finger into the midsection of his chest making him back up some. “You said there was someone else, you said–”

“I was lyin’, there wasn’t.” He pauses, frowning.

“Bullshit,” you shake your head. “Fucking bullshit, Simon Riley!”

“Let m’talk.” Simon says gruffly, his tone stern. 

You swallow thickly and lower your head in defeat after nodding, finger lifting so you can chew on your cuticle bed. 

“I…I let a debriefing get t’me. Said there wasn’t much’a chance of survival–can’t say much, y’know that…but I didn’t want y’to have to go through that.” He explains. 

His hand reaches down to lift your chin, thumbing at any stray tears making their way down your cheeks. “Forgive me, lovie.” Simon leans down to close the gap between you both again, this time you submit and his hand cradles the back of your head. 

The kiss is slow and passionate–gentle with its hints of dominance. 

“Missed you…” He mumbles over your lips, hands finding your ass to knead the supple skin.

You gasp slightly, but cave in to his touch instantly. “And I missed you…” 

“Please…never do that again.” 

His forehead rests on yours a moment, fingers toying in your hair by rolling pieces between his fingers.

“‘M sorry.” He murmurs. 

He wasn’t the type to apologize, you knew that. His apologies were sincere and meaningful.

Your hands grip his shirt.

“Over half a year, Simon…” Your voice is so low, you couldn’t even call it a whisper. “This whole time…”

“I know…I know…” He mutters into your hair, taking in your scent. 

“Will y’let me make it up to ya, love?” Hot breath rakes over the side column of your neck.

You simply nod, and that’s all enough for him to pick you up by your thighs and for you to wrap your legs around his waist and rut against him.

He guides you both into your bedroom, seating you on the edge of the bed.

“So fuckin’ sexy when y’r half-naked ‘n angry…” Simon chuckles dryly as he drags a finger up your clothed cunt. 

“Simon…please…” you mumble into his shoulder.

“I’ve got’ya, gorgeous.” He says cooly while laying you flat on the bed. 

Simon slips his fingers past your panties, his cock twitching in his pants at the feeling of your wetness spreading along his fingers.

“Ffff..uck, babe, you're so wet for me ‘lready…” he whispers.

You gasp as his finger slips up and down between your folds, making you twitch as he passes your throbbing clit.

“So fuckin’ divine…” he purrs above you, eyes full of love and lust. His other hand finds a place on your thigh, squeezing the flesh as he works at your warmth.

You whine, watching as his teeth bite at the lace lining of your panties, pulling them down as his eyes don’t stray from yours.

“Oh…fuck…” you bite your lip gently, the action making you fanny flutter to the point of aching.

“Jesus…” he breathes against your thigh, pressing his lips along the skin and sucking it until he’s satisfied with the markings.

Simon scoops up both of your legs by the crooks of your knees, spreading them apart as he shifts down to rest his knees on the ottoman spread across the end of the bed.

A shuddered moan releases from you as his tongue prods at the hole in your cunt, then drags up to swirl around your sensitive bud. 

Your hand grabs a tight hold in his hair, making him groan against your core and increase the pressure and sensation in your stomach.

A whimper leaves your throat as he sucks and laps at your pussy, making you buck into his jaw.

“Jus’ like that, baby,” he growls onto you, pressing a wet kiss onto your clit. “Y’gon cum all over m’face like a good girl?” 

You mewl and cry out as Simon slips a finger inside, your back arching and thighs jerking.

“Simon!” You gasp loudly as your fingers dig into his back over his shirt.

His tongue drags flatly up your cunt, collecting all your juices—he’s practically drinking you. 

Another finger pushes inside gently, curling inside that same spot he’s able to find so effortlessly each time that makes you go wild.

“Gon’ c…cum…” you stutter meekly.

“C’mon then,” he urges. “Cum f’r me.”

Simon quickened his pace and the pressure, pumping his fingers in and out, in and out.

Like he was starved, his face presses closer into you, tongue toying at your clit making you twitch against him.

There’s an unbearable heat between your legs as you feel a knot tie in your abdomen when Simon levered his fingers deeper into you. 

“Good…” he groans, pressing his tongue inside with his fingers as your walls clamp around him desperately, a strained moan leaving you as your orgasm snaps.

You cum, hard, and grip his shoulders with both hands as his fingers fuck your orgasm back into you before he finally pulls his fingers out to coat your thighs in your climax.

Simon sucks out his work, then spits it back out onto your heat, slapping your pussy and releasing a deep groan.

He licks his fingers clean, his tongue sliding between each finger. 

You lift yourself up by gripping his belt, slightly wobbling before his hand finds a spot to rest on your back.

“Fuckin’ hell…cum drunk ‘lready, sweets?” Simon bends down to take your mouth onto his, taking the chance to slip his tongue between your lips when you moan into his.

Gently, you palm his hard cock over his pants, eyes squeezing shut then opening to find your place on his belt and fumble with the buckle.

“Mm—y’find what you were lookin’ f’r?” He pants heavily before his lips trail down your jawline to lick and suck at your neck. 

“Oh..fuck…” he murmurs, lips brushing against your skin. 

“Want you so bad, Si…” you moan, lifting your head to grant him better access. “Want to feel you inside of me.” 

He pulls his shirt over his head, tossing it somewhere across the room while he kicks off his pants that you helped pull down Simon’s hips, lips then coming back down to tease at your collarbones and neck.

“Ooh..ho…you will, don’t y’worry, sweet girl.” His cock sprung free out of the restraints of his boxers, making him groan hoarsely.

Simon’s fingers tap on the outerside of your thigh. “Turn over,” he demands.

You babble out nonsense that is incoherent as you flip on your stomach and one of his hands gather both of your wrists. 

He’s on the bed now, between your legs with one hand holding you up by your stomach. 

The head of his cock teases at your entrance, lips trailing up your spine.

“Y’want it?” He growls. “Huh?”

He inhales sharply, nudging the tip into your greedy hole. “God…you do…” 

“J’s suckin’ me in like th’needy little pet y’are.”

You moan out a chant of pleases, cheek pressing into the comforter of the bed as he arches and positions you to his liking.

“Y’want this thick cock in y’r empty pussy.” 

“Yes…” you mumble, backing into him 

softly until you take in his entire tip which causes the larger man to apply more pressure into your stomach. “Fuck me, please…please…”

“Oh…Mmm…Such a good girl beggin’ f’r my cock.” Simon praises, letting you bounce on his tip for a few moments.

“Tha’s right baby…jus’ like that…I own this pretty little cunt, don’t I?” He snarls. “Nobody else’s to fuck.” 

“Only yours, just yours,” you nod helplessly, earning a positive noise from the man behind you.

He takes in a sharp breath before slowly he inches himself into you farther, stretching you. 

Filling you.

You moan loudly, your walls closing around his length making him push out the same noise.

When he bottoms out in you, his tip kissing your cervix, he retracts and ruts back into you, the sound of skin slapping filling the room as he hisses and breathes harsher at every thrust.

“Oh…” he sighs in ecstasy, releasing your wrists so he can grab the fat on your waist.

“Yes…” he moans, every contact with your hips causing the breath in his mouth to jump and fall.

“Tight little pussy just swallowing me,” Simon hisses through clenched teeth as he painfully yet deliciously stretches you open to his size. “So—fuckin’ sexy.” 

“Want y’to cum in me, please…” You gasp, clawing at the comforter as he bucks himself deep into you, filling you up and emptying you, repeating that motion over and over.

“Want me to fill y’with my seed?” He chuckles, a moan interrupting him. “Tha’s what my slutty pet wants?”

“Fucking yes! My god, yes…” you pant, muttering and whining unintelligibly as he slams back into you and makes your ass slap against his thighs. 

“Too bad,” he croons.

“Simon…pl..ease..” you moan.

“No…no, I can’t…cum in ya, love. We—we ain’t thinkin’ straight…” Simon’s cock twitches inside of you as he continues ramming his hips into yours, a guttural groan tearing out of him. 

“I can feel y’tightenin’ around me, j’s beggin’ to cum around my fat cock…” 

“There y’go…Bounce that gorgeous ass on me, j’s how I like it, babe.” Simon strains, hand roughly smacking the skin on your hind. 

You squirm against him, making the blonde growl and grab your hips with a bruising grip. “Y’feel me stretchin’ y’r tiny pussy?” 

“Mhm? Y’do?” He grunts, heaving above you as he thrusts himself into you. “Fuckin’ take it, filthy fuckin’ minx.”

“Look at you, such a pretty pet, bent to my content…Pussy out on display.” 

“Gonna cum, gorgeous, all over your perfect belly.” He mumbles and flips you onto your back.

You moan shamelessly and loudly, whining as he pulls out of you and starts stroking himself while playing with your pussy.

“Fu…u…ck…” his head leans back as you massage his balls and replace his hand. “J’s likeee…that, perfect girl…”

He rubs his middle and pointer finger over your clit at an inhuman pace, making your body jolt and try to push away if it weren’t for his hand holding you roughly in place.

You roll your wrist up and down, pumping his cock in your hand until he takes control again and smacks his tip against your lower abdomen, spilling out his cum onto your stomach with a choke of your name.

Simon’s body twitches, pants and swears rolling off his tongue in a pleading voice as he covers you in his warmth.

“C...C’mon lovie, cum all over my fingers again, let me sss…see y’come undone f’r me again…N…Need to see it…” He stumbles over his words as he comes off his high, an undertone of a whimper in his voice.

It makes you pool, your ego skyrocketing at the fact that you can do that to someone. To him.

Simon’s fingers hit every perfect nerve inside your pulsating cunt, curling and plummeting into the same spot of overwhelming pressure that brought you over the edge. 

A tightness coils in your stomach again, and he absolutely fucking loves the strained noises that spill out from you at every rut of his fingers inside of you.

He loves the way he can get you wrung out at every pet name and gentle touch, the way you clamp your thighs together at the smallest motions.

Simon knew your body better than you did, and he fucking loved it. He knew every spot that drove you absolutely mad and every crevice that had the ability to make you beg just how he wanted. 

Your eyes shoot open from their half-lidded proportion as Simon finds a certain spot that sends electricity throughout your entire body, making you cry out and dig your nails into his scar-ridden flesh.

“Righ’ there, huh, princess? Righ’ there?” He hisses which drawls out to a throaty growl, hammering that same spot with more pressure. “Couldn’t stand bein’ away fr’m this pussy f’r so long…” 

You chant ‘yes’ over and over again until your gasping and panting his name, your breath catching in your throat as you let out a loud cry through your climax, thighs trembling as they slowly close around his forearms in reflex.

He lifts your thighs up again and sits you on his lap as he pulls the covers over the both of you.

“Did s’good for me, lovie. Mmm…S’proud of you, baby.” Simon whispers, catching your lips in a ravenous kiss as he presses his cock inside of your warmth, pushing your climax back into you in a tranquil motion. 

“‘M gonna be right back, okay?” You coo against his lips as you swing your legs over the bed, he gives you a small ‘mhm’.

You quickly give yourself time to use the bathroom, then wash your hands before you walk yourself back into the room, crawling back into his lap before he turns the both of you to the side.

Simon unclips your brassiere and drops it onto the floor, cups both of your breasts in his palms and moans as you slide yourself back down onto his cock.

“Mmh…So warm…” he whispers huskily while kissing the nape of your neck down to your collarbones.

He spoons you, lulling you into a state of drowsiness as he gently massages your tits. Simon’s breath is a gentle pattern over your neck, gentle snores leaving the barriers of his lips after his hands go still.

You don’t take long to catch sleep right behind him, turning your head a moment to peck his wet lips before you’re able to finally shut your eyes.  

[lucky-leafeon]

I FINALLY FINISHED MY PLUSHIE!

Meet Cinderheart, everyone!

This little lady has taken almost exactly a year to make! She's my very first plushie, and I'm SO pleased with how she turned out. I was inspired by the absolute unfettered ugliness of the official plushies-- they made me so upset that I spent the next 12 months making something better. Funny thing is, this Cinderheart plush was supposed to just be a warm-up for making Hollyleaf, but this one took so long that I kiiiinda don't wanna go through all that again. Plus Holly's long fur will make her a pain in the neck to sew, so that project'll have to take a rain check for the foreseeable future.

So a little backstory about Cinderheart's design! Some elements were taken from my absolute favorite AMV, namely the striped tail and the tan markings at her neck. However, I'm super proud of how the back stripes turned out, as they were my own design! I was planning on having them just go straight across her back, but she ended up looking like Bumblestripe. So I changed up the design so that when the two halves of the body came together, it would look like her stripes made heart shapes across her back! I also really like that it ends up looking like she has little pixie wings from the side.

She's made mostly of minky, with her eyes being made of felt. I used a LOT of satin stitch to make details like her eye sparkles, eyeliner, eyebrows, and paw pads. She's sewn entirely by hand, which is a BIG part of why she took so long!

The plushie pattern that I used was bought from this lovely etsy seller, which was wonderfully clear and easy to follow. I had to make a couple modifications to it to fit in her body and leg stripes, but it all turned out well!

This was a lot of fun to make, and I learned so much! Let me know what you think, or if you have any questions about how I made it!

[historical-closet-raider]

Just Another Metal Embroidery Monday

ca.1820 ball gown with metal embroidery from the V&A.

Description from the V&A website:

"Short-sleeved ball gown comprising of an underdress of silk satin and an overdress of machine-made silk net embroidered with metal and trimmed with blonde bobbin lace.

The dress has a low oval neckline, puffed short sleeves, a wedge shaped front bodice panel and a medium high waist. The skirt has a central front panel, wedge shaped panels and the centre back panels are tightly gathered at the waist. The lining is padded at the hem with a frill of blond stitched to cover. It fastens with a tape at the neck and hooks at the centre back."

[who-knew-a-sheep-can-write]

Polaroids: Chris Redfield x Fem!Reader (NSFW)

Oh babe, you've been with me a long time. That's like 6-ish years I think

Thanks for sticking around ;)

Contains: Detailed polaroids of boudoir shots, male masturbation, phone sex(?), dirty talk/degration

His brawny shoulders slumped as he was finally able to take a real breath for the first time in over a week. He had just freshly showered with hot water for the first time in such time, it felt almost euphoric to get all of the caked-up sweat and grime and dried blood off of him. Now dressed in clean clothes, Chris stalked back into cozy bedroom of the hotel. It was a shock to him that the B.S.A.A. forked over money for something like a hotel, but he wasn’t complaining. Cracking his neck for some relief, his tired steely-blue eyes scanned the room as he walked up to the locked patio door. He carefully opened it and slipped outside, his skin prickling from how cold the air had gotten as his exhales clouded in front of him.

He needed to relax.

His hand reached into his front pocket and felt around for the carton of cigarettes before fishing the damn thing out. His other hand reached into its respective pocket and produced the fancy metal flip lighter you had gotten for him as an on-the-whim gift a couple of weeks ago. He noticed that the cigarette carton was lighter than he remembered, he was just hoping it wasn’t empty as he leaned up against the metal railing of the patio.

Flipping open the top of the carton, Chris originally sneered at the sight of an empty cigarette carton only to notice that it wasn’t in fact empty, but filled with something other than tobacco.

Retreating back inside from the biting cold, he got a good look at what was inside thanks to the light illuminating from the bedside lamp.

His cigarette carton was nearly packed full of some thick-looking paper. There was no room left in the carton for him to slide his thumb in and take them all out, but he did manage to snag at the paper with his nails and pull them all out at once. The empty carton fell to the carpeted floor as Chris turned over the multiple pieces of paper which had turned out to be polaroids.

The heavy flip lighter fell from his hand and clattered against the carpet at what he saw when he turned them over in his hands.

His jaw unhinged a bit, his eyes wide, his blood suddenly boiling hot inside of his veins.

He shuffled through the polaroids like they were a deck of cards.

They were all of you.

They were all of you looking sinful as hell.

Chris sat down at the foot of the bed, legs spread as he stared at the polaroids one by one.

You looked absolutely divine in all of them, like you had been ripped straight from an adult magazine. He couldn’t help the slight tremble in his hands as he looked them over one by one.

The one he had first saw was of you in a loose black satin robe that was long enough to cover the curve of your ass. Your back to the camera, head turned, eyes peeking over your shoulder and right into the lens at the flash. You had garters strapped to your hidden waist, black silky bands stretching down the length of your legs to cling to black cotton knee-high socks that hugged every curve your legs had to offer.

The next was of you on your shared bed, the sheets rumpled up slightly beneath you. Your robe was gone, showing off the navy blue little number you had on underneath it. A deep blue babydoll dress was just see-through enough for him to make out the curves of your hips and waist. Your breasts were cupped by dual pads that pushed them together, a little golden bow right between the cups as you purposefully let the straps sag on your shoulders. Your hands were messing with the hem of the dress, small gold accents were stitched into the near-opaque body. You still had on the garters and thigh-highs as you sat on the bed facing the camera. Your face was painted, eyeshadow smoky and lips a deep matte wine color.

Chris felt his dick throb in his pants, drums of life stirring up the shaft.

He flipped the card to the back of the line, eyes lighting up at the next one. You were on your knees in a completely different set of lingerie. It was a bra and panty set that was ruby red. Your breasts were pushed together, the panties you wore hugged your hips and waist oh-so fucking well. It left so little to Chris’ imagination. You were on your knees on the bed, one hand was holding a compact open and the other was attempting to clean up your lipstick. The glossy red looked as though it had been kissed off, red smudged against your chin. He wanted to feel those lips wrapped around his throbbing dick so fucking badly. He wanted you to leave lipstick rings around his dick up to where you could take him before you gagged and pulled away.

The next was of you standing again with your back to the camera. You were bent over the vanity dresser in your room. Fuck, the angle you had your back at and the way your ass was just right there begging to be spanked had Chris pawing himself through his tight sleep pants. You were facing a mirror and the polaroid camera caught the reflection perfectly. You wore an olive green corset with a darker-colored thong and no bra. Instead, you had positioned your arm to be right under your breasts, hiding your nipples while also pushing your breasts together. Your other hand was swiping on dark lipstick across your pouted lips. Your eyes looked right into the camera through the reflection in the mirror, almost like you were staring right at Chris.

The next was of you completely naked but your body was slightly obscured by the sheet you had protecting your sensitive areas from view of the camera. You were on your knees again, fully facing the camera. One of your hands was holding the sheet up to your breasts, palm open and pressed flat against your tits to push them together for support as much as possible. One of your legs had not been tangled in the sheets, instead, it was out in front of your person, bent at the knee to show off the delicate curves of your body. Chris cursed to himself, his mind begging to feel your thighs wrapped around him as he fucked you mercilessly into that fucking bed. Your hair was tousled as though you just had sex, your eyes dazed on purpose and your makeup had been painted on naturally.

The last one was his breaking point.

You were wearing nothing but his old S.T.A.R.S. jacket. Nothing. You were completely naked sitting on the bed, one leg crossed over the other to hide your cunt from his greedy eyes. Your hair was touseled, your makeup was light with only eyeliner and a dee and nude lipstick. You had the jacket on in just a way that it barely covered your breasts but made sure to cover your nipples. He noticed that you were also wearing his old dog tags as well, the cold silver nesting comfortably between your breasts.

He couldn’t take it anymore.

As he looked at the last polaroid again, he saw that you had drawn a little arrow in the bottom corner pointing to the other side. ‘Call me when you see these’ you wrote on the back.

Chris stood up quickly, ignoring the swirling of his mind and marched over to his phone on the nightstand before he sat back down. He tossed the other five polaroids onto the nightstand and kept the one of you in his S.T.A.R.S. jacket in his big mitt as he tapped your name on his phone to call you. The phone only rang twice before you picked up.

“Hey handsome,” you purred.

You knew. You fucking knew why he was calling.

You fucking devil.

“(Y/n),” Chris grunted into the phone.

He was pawing himself, squeezing his clothed cock in his hand as he nestled the phone between his jaw and shoulder.

“Did you see the little surprises I left for you?”

He could hear rustling in the background. You were in bed, he could hear the tv on in the background at a low volume.

“I did- fuck- I saw ‘em. You looked hot as hell, baby girl.”

“I’m glad you like them.”

His mind was foggy from lust. His brain was going one million miles a minute. His dick was practically controlling his thoughts.

“What’re wearing right now?” he growled into his phone.

His hands snatched at the waistband of his sleep pants and boxers, peeling them both down until his heaty dick sprung out, nearly hitting his chiseled stomach. He squeezed himself at first, gritting his teeth as he felt a pressure tingle right behind his belly button.

“Mmm, just one of your shirts and a pair of shorts, the one you like, the one that you can see my ass poking out,” you hummed. Chris could just see you now, in a shirt that swallows you and a pair of shorts just waiting to give him a surprise should you bend over. “It’s pretty cold here, though. I may put on a jacket.”

Chris groaned, his hand giving his cock a good few pumps before he reeled his hand back to spit into his palm. He heard you laugh softly and sultry before you moaned. Were you also masturbating?

“You don’t know what you do to me,” Chris growled.

“I have an idea, Captain.” Chris’ head nearly smacked into the wall at just the way you called him. His mouth opened as a deep moan pushed through his chest, his hand quickened its pace against his dick. “Was that your favorite one of me? In your old S.T.A.R.S. jacket, just me naked?” He let out a pathetic whine, eyes squeezing shut as his chest grew heavy. “What were thinking when you saw that?” you spurred him on.

“I’m gonna ruin you when I get home tomorrow night,” he snarled, his cock twitching in his hand. His head had leaked precum, his thumb massaging his slit as he grit his teeth and moaned again. “I’m gonna fuck you into the mattress, make you choke you on my dick- ah! Fuck~”

His chest seized as he felt his climax beating his nerves senseless.

“Oh, I look forward to that, Captain Redfield.”

[museenkuss]

Embroidered Casket about 1675, England, wood covered with satin, silk and metal thread, mica and glass beads, ivory (figures in the garden) 32 x 21 x 26cm

In many cases the final challenge [for a woman learning embroidery] was the production of a casket like this one, depicting scenes from myth or the Bible using a wide range of stitches and materials. In particular these caskets employ raised work, the technique of embroidering over padding.

It is probable that each individual figure or element was sewn independently and then applied to the delicate white satin background. This meant that the needlewoman could experiment and correct mistakes which would be impossible to rework on the satin. Once the panels were completed they were sent to a local cabinet-maker who mounted them on wood and made them up into a casket. The silver braid conceals the joins and prevents the satin from fraying.

(image and text from the Victoria and Albert Museum)

[theenbyroiderer]

From the archives. Another stitch guide. Zoom for stitch names.

[hattedhedgehog]

Your embroidery is so detailed and I've just been staring at it for the past twenty minutes! Out of curiosity, you don't seem to have used satin stitch-- is there a reason? I've never been friends with satin stitch-- no matter what I do it looks off.

Thank you so much! It's so nice that you enjoy my work!

I try to use ordinary satin stitch very sparingly as it gives a chunky effect and fabric bunching that I don't really want with my particular pieces. With the level of detail I'm trying to achieve, I much prefer long-and-short stitch to cover areas, even though it takes forever. Satin stitch reminds me of mosaic, where you have disconnected shapes that can have more shapes added next to them, but can't be extended smoothly themselves past their original limit.

Padded satin on the other hand is a lot nicer for raised effects because you have a base layer of thread already, so there isn't empty space under the long stitches on top, and the fabric bunches less.

[pwlanier]

Needlework (Depicting the Five Senses)

Place

England (Object made in)

Date

Made 1601–1625

Medium

Silk, satin weave; embroidered in silk floss foremost in buttonhole, couched, knot, padded and outlining, "purl" and satin stitches; chenille; areas of raised work

AIC

[chic-a-gigot]

La Mode nationale, no. 3, 22 janvier 1898, Paris. No. 17. — Groupe de toilettes. Bibliothèque nationale de France

Explication des gravures:

1. Modèle de la Maison Collet, 10, rue Taitbout.

Costume de visites, en drap chiné brique. Jupe plate, garnie dans le bas d'un entre-deux de soie noire, brodée sur transparent de drap crème.

Jaquette redingote en étoffe pareille, fermée de côté avec des boutons de corozo. Revers carrés et gilet en drap crème brodé de soie noire. Col à créneaux. Manches unies.

Visiting suit, in mottled brick cloth. Flat skirt, trimmed at the bottom with a black silk insertion, embroidered on a transparent cream cloth.

Frock coat in the same stuff, closed at the side with corozo buttons. Square lapels and waistcoat in cream cloth embroidered with black silk. Slotted collar. Plain sleeves.

Matériaux: 7 mètres drap.

—

2. Modèle de Mme Barroin, 394, rue St. Honoré.

Costume tailleur, en drap beige clair. Jupe plate devant et à fronces derrière, garnie çà et là de galons mohair noir, formant des nœuds Louis XVI.

Jaquette croisée, à revers carrés, garnie également de nœuds Louis XVI. Manches plates avec mêmes nœuds.

Tailored suit, in light beige cloth. Flat skirt in front and with gathers behind, trimmed here and there with black mohair braid, forming Louis XVI knots.

Double-breasted jacket, with square lapels, also trimmed with Louis XVI knots. Flat sleeves with same bows.

Matériaux: 7 mètres drap.

—

3. Modèle de Mme Lipmann, 2, rue de la Paix.

Robe d'intérieur en lainage gros bleu, avec revers fostonnés de la même teinte. Le feston se prolonge jusqu'en bas de la robe. Manches pagode avec épaulettes festonnées. Gilet de velours bleu marine à l'intérieur des revers. Ceinture de métal.

Indoor dress in heavy blue wool, with scalloped lapels in the same shade. The festoon extends to the bottom of the dress. Pagoda sleeves with scalloped shoulder pads. Navy blue velvet waistcoat inside the lapels. Metal belt.

Matériaux: 6 mètres lainage.

—

4. Mod¡ele de Mme Rhinn, 20, rue de Berlin.

Toilette de réception en popeline vert d'eau. Jupe toute plate garnie de petits velours noirs formant tablier. Corsage légèrement blousé, en popeline de la même teinte, garni de petits velours disposés en dessins. Enormes revers de satin vert d'eau avec petit volant plissé au bord et garnis de velours plus étroits. Basque à pattes carrées garnies de velours. Manches avec petits ballons retenus par deux petits velours et plates dans le bas. Gilet de crêpe de Chine rose froncé. Ceinture de velours noir.

Reception toilet in water green poplin. Very flat skirt lined with small black velvets forming an apron. Slightly bloused bodice, in poplin of the same shade, trimmed with small velvets arranged in designs. Huge water-green satin lapels with small pleated flounce at the edge and trimmed with narrower velvets. Basque with square legs trimmed in velvet. Sleeves with small balloons held by two small velvets and flat at the bottom. Gathered pink crepe de chine cardigan. Black velvet belt.

Matériaux: 15 mètres popeline.

—

5. Modèle de Mme Collet, 10, 6 rue Taitbout.

Redingote en drap marron, avec revers croisés garnis de 2 larges piqûres et de 4 boutons de nacre. Manches également piquées avec boutons sur le côté.

Frock coat in brown cloth, with crossed lapels trimmed with 2 wide stitching and 4 mother-of-pearl buttons. Sleeves also stitched with buttons on the side.

Matériaux: 8 mètres drap.

[donatellokinnersinner]

my gift for @miri-in-a-bottle for @rottmnt-secret-gifting

When Donnie was little, he was a little odd to his brothers. 

He took a while to start talking, and because of his soft shell, Splinter wouldn’t let him play rough. When he was a little older, he remained out of their play on his own, even with the pillow tied to him, and would often take it off because he didn’t want to wear it. 

He claimed his shell wasn’t a weakness, just a temporary setback. 

Raph didn’t know what that meant at the time, but he understood later when Donnie made his first battle shell. The beta test allowed him to roughhouse with his brothers and ended in the shell breaking, scratching up his shell some, and Raph promising himself never to play rough with his little brother again. 

The second version was sturdier, but his brothers refused to help him test it. 

The third was on for an hour before Donnie took it off and locked himself in his room for the rest of the night. 

Suddenly, he added padding on the shells, searching fervently with Mikey, who said his tastes were so refined that Donnie rejected almost every textile they found. It was like trying to find a needle in a haystack for Donnie, ending up on taking a mostly clean satin pillowcase and wrapping it around memory foam. 

Leo was the first to find him during a meltdown, and from then on, was the first to do research and offer as educated of help as he could manage. He explained everything to Raph and Mikey, so they could know and help if he was unable. 

They didn’t have to, not when Leo was always there first. Donnie would oh-so-easily go to Leo for help because he knew he didn’t have to ask for it, his twin would just know. 

On their way back from Staten Island, Leo passed out, and Donnie panicked. Leo was always the one to know the medical stuff, Donnie only knew the basics. 

“I’m an engineer, not a doctor.” 

They called Draxum, and he helped, and once Leo was all patched up, Raph realized that Donnie had disappeared. 

He found him in his room, curled up in the corner crying, with all the light off. 

Don’t try to touch him, and keep your voice low. Leo had instructed. 

Raph crouched nearby. “Hey buddy.” 

Donnie peeked at him from where he was curled up.

Check for any injuries, sometimes pain will send him over the edge, sometimes it’s just overwhelming situations. 

Raph took a breath. The situation had been overwhelming for all of them, so he couldn’t imagine how Donnie was feeling, and there were likely injuries on top of that. “Are you hurt anywhere?” 

He probably won’t outright say yes, but he will say no if he’s not hurt. 

Donnie shrugged, and Raph swallowed. “We need to make sure you get cleaned up, bud. We can make it quick, and then you can rest, I promise.”

Donnie sniffled, nodding.

He likely won’t talk, he might sign if he needs to say something. 

“Do you need help walking?” Raph asked. 

Donnie didn’t respond, moving to stand up on his own, but Raph could see him shaking. He offered his hand, allowing Donnie to make his own choice in taking it, which he did, putting his weight against his arms, both pushing against his biggest brother’s hand. 

Raph slowly led him to the bathroom, helping him take off his battle shell and getting him into the bathtub. He tried not to touch Donnie as much as possible, and made sure the water was a perfectly moderate temperature, so it wouldn’t feel like much. He tried not to panic at the mess of his brother's shell, looking like roots had been torn out of soft dirt and small bits of white could be seen through the slowly oozing blood. 

“We gotta go get this stitched up, Dee.” Raph told him and Donnie nodded slowly, letting his eldest brother help him out of the bath and into the medbay where Splinter and Casey Jr took care of him. 

Once they were done and he was all curled up with a blanket, he stared half-lidded across the room at Leo, and Raph swallowed. 

He left the room, getting Donnies headphones and bringing them back to the softshell, who relaxed when they were given. He signed Thank you. 

You’re welcome. Raph signed back, then patted beside his hand reassuringly. 

Donnie reached out and squeezed his hand, humming. 

Raph squeezed it back, giving him a smile.

(hope you enjoy!!!)

[jewellery-box]

Robe à l'anglaise (convertible to a polonaise) American, ca. 1780; the silk English (Spitalfields), ca. 1770-75

Originally constructed as a formal robe à la française, this brocaded silk satin gown was modified around 1780 to update it into a robe à l'anglaise (also called a "nightgown" in England), part of a shift to more informal styles of the last quarter of the century. While the robe à la française with its loose flowing pleats extending from the upper back to the hem was worn over wide panniers, the bodice of the robe à l'anglaise fitted tightly into the small of the back ending in a deep point and the closely pleated skirts were supported by crescent-shaped pads with cork or horsehair, familiarly referred to as "bum rolls." Other changes made to the dress include a center-front edge-to-edge closing, rather than a stomacher to fill in the opening, and sleeves that cup the elbow and likely would have been accessorized with fine cotton or gauze cuffs, rather than the multiple pendant self-ruffles and lace engageants typical of the robe à la française. Additionally, at the time of its alteration, linen loops were stitched to the inside seams of the skirt in order that it could be drawn up into the exuberant swags of the robe à la polonaise, another fashionable style of the 1770s and 1780s.

Woven in Spitalfields, London, the ivory satin self-figured with diminutive sprigs and trailing vines and brocaded with sprays of roses and pansies and scattered blue flowers dates to about 1770 to 1775. Although many eighteenth-century dresses were altered 10 or even 20 years after the silk was produced, this example was reworked within just a few years. The soft drape of the lightweight fabric lent itself well to the more fitted construction of the new styles.

Provenance: The dress is believed to have been belonged to Catherine Beekman (1762-1839), wife of Elisha Boudinot (1749-1819), a lawyer and a New Jersey Supreme Court Justice from 1798 to 1804. Married in 1805, Beekman was Boudinot's third wife. A portrait of Catherine Beekman at age five by John Durand is in the collection of the New-York Historical Society (1962.73). An embroidered muslin dress with matching fichu, ca. 1798, also believed to have belonged to Catherine Beekman, is in the collection of the Metropolitan Museum of Art (1992.119.1a-c).

Cora Ginsburg