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moon-and-seraph · 3 months

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Words into Potions: a month-long writing challenge!

We're excited to announce Moon + Seraph's newest event...

Words into Potions (or, WIP!)

Join us this March 1st - 31st for a month-long writing challenge, where any and all types of writing goals are welcome! Use our event to draft a whole novel, outline a new WIP, finish a short story, or accomplish anything writing-related!

We have lots of exciting freebies to help you along the journey!

Track your milestones on a free, downloadable map

Collect digital writing-themed badges

When you reach your goal, randomly pull 1 of 12 digital tarot-inspired cards

Plus, to celebrate our birthday and the event finale on March 31st, we encourage you to post an introduction of your WIP(s) and a wrap-up of all the progress you made. Tag us and we'll reblog your post!

Optionally, join our Discord server to get more out of the Words into Potions writing challenge!

(Learn more about the server here.)

Earn special Discord roles by doing writing sprints

Participate in a weekly writing marathon, where we collectively try to reach a larger goal

Weekly WIP question trades, where we talk about each other's stories and encourage each other to keep writing

Share links to any progress updates you post on Tumblr in our dedicated event promotion channel, and we'll reblog them here

For a sneak peek at our free rewards and more details, read on below!

If you're going to participate or just want to help spread the word, please give this post a reblog! It's very hard for posts to be seen on Tumblr right now, and we really, really want this to find as many writers as possible.

Take a peek at a small section of our milestone map!

As you journey to your writing goal in March, you can also journey through a forest and collect different ingredients from mythical characters, creatures, and locations! Our map milestones are percentage based, which means they'll work for any goal you choose. Whether it's words, pages, hours, or anything else!

This is a super high-res file, so you'll be able to set it as your desktop wallpaper, zoom-in on all the details, and even print it as a poster!

Find our milestone map here!

Find details for printing here!

Here's 3 of our 38 writing badges, designed just for this event!

When we get closer to March we'll release a full list of our badges for you to reference and download throughout the month, or if you're in our Discord server, we'll have an automated system for you to claim your badges!

We encourage you to share the badges you earn on Tumblr, along with your progress! Please @ us in your posts if you do, so we can reblog and encourage you!

Find our writing badges here!

Reach your goal, and randomly pull 1 of 12 digital, tarot-inspired cards!

These are digital, downloadable cards that you can share on Tumblr, set as a phone lock-screen, and even print! We'll have size options for different desktop/phone wallpapers, as well as some dark mode versions!

Find our Winner's Cards here!

Things to Know:

Words into Potions begins on March 1st 2024 and ends on March 31st 2024.

This event is geared toward original fiction writers, but all are welcome to participate.

Our Discord server is 18+ only, with no exceptions.

Our milestone map is free for personal use, but under no circumstances are you allowed to use it for commercial use (any situation in which you profit, financially or otherwise). You may not modify it in any way that obscures the Moon + Seraph watermark, and you may not claim that you created it.

Our writing badges are also free for personal use, but not commercial use, and you can't claim that you created them.

Our tarot-inspired card rewards are also free for personal use, but not for commercial use, and you can't claim that you created them.

Have questions? Send us an ask!

We're very excited about this writing challenge, so we're more than happy to answer any questions you have!

#MS: WIP #writeblr #writing community #writers of tumblr #writers on tumblr #writing events #writing event #writing challenge

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ketterdamskaelishprince · 20 days

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lenore and the yellow wallpaper (a ramble)

so this is all one entire big and large ramble session from me, so ignore if you want because this has no actual point, and i also haven't touched the yellow wallpaper since i handed it in with my coursework so i'm bound to get things wrong. this is no high-brow analysis, this is just be rambling. i've finally gotten the courage as well to go on the big scary tumblr and speak so be nice please :)

anyways, now we have that out of the way– i bring you my observation.

so i've been rereading nevermore (because i am deep in the trenches of my hyperfixation on it right now and have firmly planted myself there) and i noticed something in episode 21 that i remember noticing the first time.

just for a recap, episode 21 is when they're facing the dementophobia trial, and lenore has gotten herself sucked into a hallucination. through this, we (presumably along with her) are shown parts of her past, and the fallout of her brother dying. in a long scene, we basically see the attic which lenore is forced to 'rest' in.

sorry if this is like an obvious tell, but my little rat brain was vibrating out of my seat to say this.

well, first off, let me just give you a little summary of the yellow wallpaper. we have this nameless woman (who's married) who's also our narrator, her husband: john who's a doctor and we also have john's sister: jennie. jennie isn't too important in the summary but she exists and stuff and there's loads of journals out there probably that could tell you super interesting things about her role in the story.

anyways, i digress. the narrator has been diagnosed with slight nervous tendencies and is given the rest cure therapy as treatment. she ends up slowly going insane in the attic (?) which doubles as a nursery, and there's this fugly yellow wallpaper, which the narrator comments to be basically like a crime to art and to colour in general. anyways, the more she stares at this wallpaper and the longer she stays in the attic, she starts to see a woman behind the wallpaper– and the short story ends with her ripping the wallpaper off and freeing the woman but then also, the story ends essentially with her throwing herself out of the window of the attic and yeah, suicide. there's like allusions to the woman behind the wallpaper and her being one at the end, but WE AREN'T FOCUSSING ON THAT, i've rambled enough.

anyways, how does this all link to nevermore?

THIS PANEL RIGHT HERE.

idk, the act of ripping off the wallpaper just distinctly reminded me of the yellow wallpaper, and i have no idea if the creators drew inspo from the yellow wallpaper for this or if it was one of poe's works (i'm not heavily versed in all of his works, but i have a collection of his stuff i should probably sift through and read). but yeah, thought it was cute.

i know thematically they probably vary, but there is something to be said that both of them are in a situation where society wants so badly to silence them and punishes their defiance with the diagnosis 'madness'.

i dunno, just a nice little thought. there's also the whole rest cure therapy too, and the fact that they're both in the attics of their homes– and i presume lenore is in a secluded countryside place here like the narrator of the yellow wallpaper is. so, you know– other connections!

also, as a side note–

this bad boy right here? ether? well some ether smells sweet, so i thought maybe (as a very dumb end to this ramble) that maybe, lenore associates the sweet smelling scent of what she used to be knocked out with to the sweet scent of flowers– i have no idea if that's why she hates flowers but i thought that was a fun little mention. food for thought, you know?

anyways, if you disagree that is totally ok, i truly don't know what i'm talking about half the time, but this has been bouncing on my tiny brain for the past few days and i decided i needed to let it out before i start plaguing the people i know in real life with my obsession. and also, friends, feel free to correct me if i'm disgustingly wrong on anything– i love to learn <3

and... yeah, that's all folks. gonna go rot now :)

#nevermore webtoon #lenore nevermore #nevermore webcomic #lenore vandernacht #lenore is so mad woman luv her very much #the yellow wallpaper enthusiasts forgive me if i sinned with this one #nevermore #i love my little psycho sapphic comic i read every friday !

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malkshake · 1 month

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Apologies for the lack of movement here. Long story short: got kicked out from the place I lived at over something petty, been busy with work/commissions/moving. I'm out now and getting better.

Commissions will remain open indefinitely until I'm back on my feet. Links here:

• Full body colored sketch

• Icons

• Chibis

(Heads up, I'm taking from the 27th to the 31st of march off to work on another project)

If y'all would like to check my kof wallpaper shop that would help massively as well.

• Kofi Wallpaper shop

Donations would be appreciated but aren't mandatory, amounts of 20 or more euro can get a small doodle of your choice.

• My Kofi

(an example of a small doodle)

Art will resume like usual eventually after things have settled. Peace out. ✌️💕

#malky talks the horror #update #commissions

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stupidlittlespirit · 2 months

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Rating: SFW Type: Drabble, Tags: None, no use of pronouns for reader, accidental confessions Word count: 1400 My other works: here on tumblr and here on Ao3! Reader meets Reigen's mother and learns something new.

You hear her before you see her.

The office door is slightly ajar when you come back from your lunch break, and where you stand on the landing, you can catch the sound of voices from within.

It's not altogether uncommon. Clients come and go throughout the day. It wouldn't be the first time you'd returned to find someone already waiting, but the closer you get to the door, the less and less the conversation inside sounds like one of a customer-provider one.

The unidentified voice is female, slightly husky like they smoke, and it sounds like the owner is scolding the only other person inside the office today: Reigen.

"....Absolutely no reason to keep paying out for this place, Arataka." Says the woman. "It isn't too late to just give up and come home."

You frown. Definitely not a client, then.

Quietly, you nudge the door open and enter the hallway. Whoever it is, Reigen doesn't sound happy to have them here.

"We've talked about this," he's saying, sounding considerably exhausted. "I like my job here. I don't want anything else, you know tha-"

"Don't be ridiculous! You sound just like your father, you know. All caught up in something that you know is going nowhere, but you're too proud to admit it!"

The comment gets under your skin. This unwelcome visitor sounds utterly unbearable, and you decide you ought to make your presence known before things get too heated.

You hang your bag up on the coat rack and round the corner, ready to interrupt whatever the person is about to say next until you catch sight of her.

The stranger is short. She's a plump woman, dressed in a garish long skirt and sweater combo with a shock of bright red hair that's pulled back into a tortoiseshell clip at the back of her head. The woman turns when you clear your throat, as does Reigen, and the look of surprise on both of their faces is almost identical.

The unbearable stranger is his mother. They look so similar, the same face in different flavours, and she bears all the same hallmarks of her son: freckles, soft pale skin, and an unconventially attractive face.

Her dark eyes flick up and down your form, critical and assessing, and behind her, Reigen is pulling a face that suggests he'd rather being ripping his own toenails off with pliers than be in his current predicament.

No one speaks for a moment.

Reigen clears his throat, awkward. "You're back early." He never sounds so disappointed to see you, but right now it seems that he'd much rather you'd run off for the rest of the day than return to him.

"Sorry," you say immediately, looking between them. "I can come back later, it's fi-"

"Oh!" Reigen's mother claps her hands together and an oddly broad smile cracks her face. "Don't be silly, love. I know you anyway, come in!"

She says it like it's her office.

"You... know me?" You ask, frowning a little. You've never met this woman in your life, only heard of her existence in stories.

Reigen rarely speaks of his parents. The subject has only come up once: both of you drunk, alone in his apartment on his birthday, where he had confessed how tumultuous their relationship was. It had been the first time you'd hugged him. The first time he had cried a little in front of you, his face in your neck and your own eyes damp. You think about it a lot.

Bad parents are hardly a new concept to you.

Reigen's mother nods quickly, ignorant to your internal recall of her.

"Of course!" She exclaims, her earlier cool tone replaced with something falsely friendlier. "You're the one on his phone!"

Your eyes flick to Reigen, who suddenly looks like he wants the ground to swallow him whole. You smile politely, a little confused. "On his....?"

"His wallpaper, whatever you kids call it," she gushes. "I'd recognise you anywhere. All he does is talk about you!"

Reigen chokes on his spit. "Mom, no I-!"

"Be quiet, Arataka," his mother chides dismissively. "Oh, you're so pretty!" She turns her attention back on you, her attitude flip-flopping so violently it almost gives you whiplash. "Has he taken you to dinner yet? He said he would, but you know men, they're just terrible at-"

"Mom!" Reigen snaps, strained and completely humiliated. His face is so red that you briefly wonder if he has any blood in the rest of his body. "Enough, please!"

Reigen's mother rolls her eyes at her son's clear embarrassment. "You shouldn't be so shy. It doesn't get you anywhere, you need to be braver at your age."

You're unable to do much except watch their exchange in vague surprise. All of this is news to you. You're close with Reigen and so fond of him that it's ridiculous, and in spite of the fact that you've spent many a night wondering what it might be like to wake up with him next to you, you never considered that it might be a possibility that he felt the same way.

Reigen covers his face with his hands, peeking out between his played fingers.

"He is brave," you say boldly. Overbearing parents like this are a source of annoyance for you and Reigen's sad face from that night is visible in your mind's eye. You feel an urge to stick up for him. "Very brave."

His mother raises her over-plucked eyebrows at you and Reigen drops his hands, staring at you in surprise.

"And he already asked me to dinner," you tell her, enjoying the way she seems a little flustered at your interruption. "I said yes."

Reigen's mother turns to look at him. "You didn't tell me that."

Reigen swallows and when it's clear that he can't quite conjure an answer, you speak up again.

"He's a big boy," you say, folding your arms across your chest. "He can keep secrets if he wants to."

His mom frowns. She appears to want to say something more on the topic, to needle him further, but rather than try again, she backs off at your slight pressure.

"Well," she says brusquely, smoothing down her sweater. "Good. That's good."

She picks up her purse from his desk and shoulders it, clearly having decided her time for bothering her son has run its course, and spares you another up-and-down glance as she makes her way to the door.

"I don't want to wait another ten years for grandchildren," she says, half to you, half to Reigen. "Although, best to wait until you've got a proper job to have a baby, Arataka, you can't start a family in place like this."

You do very well to keep the look of disbelief from your face. The woman knows how hurtful the comment is and you don't want to give her the satisfaction of seeing how much it bothers you.

"Make sure you're using condoms for now," she snips, one last smart remark on her way out. That one is directed at you, and though you hear Reigen's strangled sound of mortification, you steamroll over him to prevent him from suffering any more torture.

"We're not," you say, with a horrible, smug smile. If she wants to play mean, you can too. "I like it better without, but thanks for your concern. Anyway, it was nice to meet you."

Reigen's mother looks mildly horrified at your retort. Reigen, on the other hand, is caught somewhere between awe and laughter, and you cross the room to stand beside him. It's a silent dismissal of her.

With a huff, she bids her son farewell and strides out of the office without so much as a glance at you. The door bangs on its hinges and you wait a minute to make sure she's properly gone before you turn to your boss with a smirk.

"I'm your wallpaper?" you ask.

Reigen flounders, cheeks cherry again. "I- Well, no, I just- it's both of us and Mob, it isn't-"

You laugh and roll your eyes, pretending not to notice the way your chest squeezes with affection. "Pick me up at eight, tonight," you say, patting his shoulder and heading towards the staff room.

"What?" Reigen yelps, watching you go.

"For dinner, asshole." You grin, backing up through the door.

Reigen doesn't stop smiling for the rest of the day. Neither do you.

#reigen arataka #reigen arataka x reader #reigen x reader #reigen arataka/reader #reigen arataka/yn #reigen arataka x yn #reigen arataka x y/n #reader insert #mp100 #mp100 reigen #mob psycho 100 #mp 100 #reigen fluff #reigen aratakaxreader #he said no pickles!!!!!#my fics

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strawbbella · 1 year

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Helloo~ I was bored in class one day so I thought "why not do an art study of the artists I like" except it incredibly scuffed and I really just looked at a bunch of art on their page and i tried my best to replicate one of em

So these are the 2 'studies' i did that day

1st:

My ver:

(Art by @izuke-the-zombie )

ref pic:

What I noticed first while sketching is ofc the super gorgeous cute style. Though not long into the sketching phase noticed her lines are quite sharp and pronouced, for most of her works she keeps her sketch lines making it seem more mmm hazy is the right word? Or effortless, but with every sharp line a rounded(?) line contrasts it, giving it that signature fluffiness. I absolutely adore how well this all mixes together, i dunno just sonethin bout her lines bro

I love the expression, really gives off absolutely love sick, I didn't capture the eyes quite well (I blame my chonk pen because all good artists blames their materials/j) Macaque looks more scared than breath taken and I put the eyes too far apart. I basically deprived the eyes of its soul lmao note for next time I do a study.

Ok this part has not much to do with the ref pic but her art in general and that includes her writing. I adore the cute HCs and little stories/AUs she would post, just so much creativity and its always so comforting to read as theyre so wholesome and cute. Im so sure one of my first posts here were a drawing of one of her HCs LIKE SRSLY SO CREATIVE. I was also surprised as I saw in some artworks she's able to draw structures and environments that draws your into the scene, its fits the universe so well, just adding to that little wonderment of awe. Shes amazing at coloring too, real soft, but still makes the characters pop, i'd say more but my brain is short-circuiting from all this analyzing. Shes just all round incredibly talented and creative honestly. Her style is exactly what i wanted to have as a kid and what im striving to have now. So cuteee

So far 11/10 art style, love the chibiness, cuteness, expressions, the pure and pastel feel and colors, and details. Just love her in general<3 check out her page lol

2nd:

My ver:

(Art by @clatteringbats )

ref pic:

Ok so immediately off the bat I knew I was gonna have some trouble here since I've been drawing chibis from the very start.

Just from observing her art I alr saw it has a lot of movement in em, lots of dynamic poses, and LOTS of embraces, really just pouring with that fluff/angst energy. At first I tried the anime body guidelines and boom instant error. Though not all that noticable the heads have sum chonk in em, especially the cheeks, giving that cute factor despite not being a chibi style. Im all for it. The lines are very soft, not a lot of sharp edges and if there are theyre placed in a very subtle way. The expressions are wonderful: from a subtle hopeless smile from an overwhelming roar of grief and anger, she's mastered the the art of slight details that give these effects their magic. Her lines are sketchy but not messy (does that make sense) they clump together neatly, giving the illustration clarity.

AND OMG HAVE YOU SEEN HER ANIMATICS? THE MOVEMENT, THE PACING, THE SMOOTHNESS, THE INTERACTIONS, THE EMOTIONS, THE EVERYTHING. THEYRE SO AAAA ITS LIKE A PROFESSIONAL STORYBOARD FOR A TV SHOW.

The way she uses color too— just o h m y g o d .

Her colors are so bright and clear, so nicely blended together, so bold, but not in the way that burns your eyes, she keeps them neutral in a way, that envokes that sense of harmony; like a sunset. (I legit have one of her colored artworks as my wallpaper) I have lots more to observe, but so far this is all I have to say. The skill of overflowing

Anways, back to the task at hand. I made the heads bigger than i shoulda , cause well chibi artist ehe. Again, I blame my chonk pencil. I didn't get the embrace quite right, but Ion think I could level with the queen of LITERALLY DRAWING TEARJERKING HUGS LIKE? I tried with the hands, I swear. I knew they were a little small but only now am I realizing its that way cause I made the heads too big. I wanna try drawing more in her style as its really just full of movement and flowiness, I wanna try mastering the way she draws perspectives too. I noticed for perspective shots theres this grid for the sky and ground (which is genius) will try that out when I actually pick up digital art again.

Check out her page, theres lots to see shes amazing 11/10 artstyle<3

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8pxl · 2 years

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So long story short my cars engine blew and I either have to replace it or buy an all new car, so I need some financial help to cover tht unexpected cost!!

you can do that by supporting my art here: http://8pxl.co

by donating/buying digital wallpapers here: https://ko-fi.com/8pxl

or contacting me over DMs about a commission! (my queue is full right now but to get in line!)

thank you for any support or help! it always means the world 🥰

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rhaegalsblog · 1 year

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I can still make the whole place shimmer

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fanficsforheartandsoul · 4 months

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Happy Ending | Simon "Ghost" Riley x Fem!Reader

Note: This has been ghosting around in my head for some time now because of the song "Wallpaper" by Megan Cromwell. I noticed that whenever I don't have the pressure of a request in the back of my head for a story it's much easier to write. That's why I wrote this rather easily and quickly. I just wanted to post something again lol. So yeah, have some good ol' super dramatic angst. I'll be more active again hopefully.

Fandom: Call of Duty: Modern Warfare II (2022)

Warnings: Angst, Heartbreak, Unrequited Love, Mentions of NSFW Stuff, Trauma, Reader has some Issues

Summary: Ghost wants a happy ending but not with you.

Word Count: ~2k

If you want to be tagged in my stories send me a pm with the fandom/character name! Or comment on the fic :)

Masterlist

Call sign: Vigil

"We can't do this anymore."

You had known from the start that sleeping with him was a bad idea.

Generally, people advise you against sleeping with a co-worker. Because it makes things complicated. Even more complicated when you're both in the military.

Because technically you’re not allowed to fuck, your actions could be clouded by emotions, potentially risking not only your but the lives of your fellow operators as well. But that little clause in your contract was printed in that tiny font, and so you decided to ignore it.

It didn’t stop you from getting involved with your lieutenant. You were never a big fan of rules after all. Your rank as a sergeant after so many years of service in the military said enough about that.

But at the start, you truly believed that a physical relationship with him wouldn't cause trouble to you or anyone else.

You thought you had it under control. At least in the beginning.

Yes, you had been attracted to him since your first meeting when you had signed your contract with Taskforce 141. Mysterious men were your thing, and he embodied such a man with his skull mask.

So yeah, you did allow yourself to daydream about him, and have some dirty thoughts every once in a while. It wasn’t like you were the only one.

You were attracted to him and you knew he was attracted to you. It was mutual and actually pretty obvious.

You could feel his searing gaze on you just a few days after you had joined the taskforce; the way his eyes trailed up and down your body. The looks he gave you were charged with want.

But attraction doesn't necessarily lead to a romantic relationship, right?

He was a good-looking man in your opinion; tall, rugged, buff, with muscles and fat in the right places, just the way you liked it.

His face couldn't be considered conveniently attractive yet that made it so much better for you. The arch in his brows, the dark eyebags, the scars on his cheeks, his cheekbones. He was your type. And his rough appearance fuelled the fire in your lower stomach and your imagination.

What was the harm in joining him in the sheets and having a bit of fun? It wasn't like you loved him.

That’s what you had asked yourself.

It was much better to get rid of your pent-up frustration with him instead of a toy or a rare one-night stand when you were off-duty. And damn, was he good in bed.

Rough, fast-paced, keen to try out every possible position, and not shy of pleasing you. You could've expected it. He was a man who wasn't afraid to get down and dirty. Dirt, blood, sweat, and other fluids... It didn't matter.

Short summary: It was pure ecstasy every time.

You two had lots of fun together in lots of different positions and locations, and that was all it was. Just some fun.

No strings attached, as you both declared at the start. Just fuckbuddies.

"I'm not a relationship kind of guy, Y/N" he had told you after you had spent your first time together.

You had snorted because shit, you weren't either. Both of you were too broken and bruised by the baggage of your pasts. Your traumas would probably weigh you both down in the long run. So you were fine with the line he had drawn between you.

It was okay. No emotions, no obligations, no lovey-dovey shit, just a means to an end.

Just a meeting in your room after a mission, a phone call on your days off, then a quick meet-up in a hotel. Just pleasure. Not love.

Until it wasn't just that anymore.

You two had settled into a routine where he would join you in your room late every other night.

After you had pleasured each other enough, he would leave soon after, and somehow - with time, you began to miss the warmth next to you on your bed.

The feeling came slowly creeping, and it took you by surprise.

You never asked him to stay; you didn't dare cross the line. To ask for a bit more affection. But you wished.

That he held you just a bit closer during the act. That he remained next to you just for a few more minutes after it. That he kissed your scars, your lips. That he touched you as if you were something, someone precious to him. Someone important.

Sure, you liked it when he treated you like an unbreakable object when his grip left bruises on your body - in a way, they satisfied your need for more. They marked you as his. But just for once, you wanted to be treasured by him. To feel that you meant something more to him.

You didn't know when your feelings for him had turned into a fluttering mess in your chest. He wasn't just a means to an end anymore. You valued him. Not just as a soldier who had your back. Not just as a friend. But as a man, a partner. A man you wanted close to you. For the rest of your life. No matter how long that would be.

Because Simon had done something no one else had been able to do before.

He made you wish. For a future. A future with him.

He made you wish to be better, to be a little less broken. To pick up the pieces that had once made you whole. You wanted to be better. A better version of yourself. For him. To have a chance to be truly happy. To get that fairy tale life others dream about – you once had dreamed about when you were younger, your shoulders lighter.

His attention made you excel, it made you stronger, faster, harder. You were just better when he was around. A better soldier, a better woman, a happier person.

And you thought, no, believed that he understood that. That he helped you to be better. That you needed him. Not just in your bed, but by your side. As your other half.

You both were people of few words, so you thought that through your actions, your eagerness during missions, and your gentle touches during your time together, you conveyed all these feelings. That he got it, saw how you felt about him.

But you never spelled it out. Never said; I've come to love you.

Just let these feelings simmer under your heart, hoping that one day he'd get what you felt for him.

"We can't do this anymore, Vigil."

You'd love to say that it came as a surprise when he, one day, called you to meet up and told you these words.

But you knew subconsciously. Felt it. Long before he actually said the words, they were coming.

His calls had been less frequent, his visits rarer, and to your confusion, his eyes began to look different whenever you saw him. They looked clearer, and happier.

Only after you saw him at the party after your successful operation in Chicago did you understand. He did look happier.

But not because of you.

And only then did you realize that your brain had played a trick on you. You were so consumed by your feelings for him that you didn't realize how big the rift between you two had gotten.

He laughed.

Simon Riley laughed heartily for the first time since you knew him. Not just one of his usual chuckles that he reserved for your or Soap's jokes.

No, true deep laughter that came from deep within his chest.

And all because of a joke that the woman next to him had told him.

You didn't know her; you had never even seen her face before. She was a complete stranger to you, and yet Ghost rested a hand on her hip as if she belonged to him. As if she was his fucking girlfriend.

Soap looked at you, then who you were staring at.

"That's Ghost's new lass, I heard. Can't believe that guy found someone before us, eh? Surprised me too, I tell ya."

His words were like poison, and you tasted bile in your mouth. So much made sense to you now.

"Why not? I thought you liked it?! I enjoy it every time."

"That's not relevant anymore. I'm just telling you, Y/N. This thing is done. I won't come here anymore."

"But-"

"Let's just forget this happened, alright?"

"...."

"Okay."

You hadn't even been able to argue. Or tell him your feelings.

After all, you were the one who said you could never be in a relationship with him or fall in love with him. It was pathetic to get back on your words and admit it in front of him.

So you just shut your mouth and accepted his words for the time being.

A tiny voice in your head whispered that you could tell him your feelings later when he calmed down a bit. When he started to miss you.

You knew the whole situation with Hassan was getting to him and the others, so you cut him some slack. You thought he would change his mind. Believed it. Blindly.

But now, here you were. Looking like a fool. Feeling like one. Being one.

And the thing was, you couldn't even say anything to him.

He was the one who made you happy. Who made you want to be better. Less traumatized, more whole.

You could see in his eyes that she was that to him. Not you.

So, what right did you have to intervene?

You wanted him to be happy, after all.

How could you deny him that? You both had gone through so much.

She seemed to be the complete opposite of you. She basically glowed in the room, her smile radiant, and her aura was light as if the world had blessed her to never know hardship.

Her frame was soft, and her skin unblemished, untainted by the cruelty and darkness that existed in the world.

You couldn't help but compare yourself to her.

Your cracks, the marks of your trauma, made themselves known through various scars on your body. Your hands were rough, covered with old blisters; so unlike hers, and you were all jagged and sharp edges, while she looked so cute and bubbly.

You could see her appeal, and it hurt to think that way, but in another world, in different circumstances, you could see her as your potential friend. She just had the appearance and aura of someone who people gravitated toward. A soothing soul.

In that sense, you could understand Ghost. Why he searched her side. But you fucking hated it.

As lovely as she seemed, right now in this bar; you couldn't help but despise her.

She took him from you.

A voice whispered in your head. The ugliness of that thought made you want to throw up, because didn't it prove that you weren't completely right in the head?

Ghost wasn't your property. He had his own free will, and just because she appeared didn't mean she stole him away.

After all, he never belonged to you anyway.

This was probably why Ghost didn't chose you, you thought to yourself. Your ugly jealousy and possessiveness were rearing their heads.

I wouldn't choose myself either.

You felt like crying, but you couldn't even do that.

You hadn't cried for years now, and although the pain in your heart was worse than any of the bullet wounds you had received during your career, not a single tear welled up in your eyes.

You were truly broken. And the man who could fix you wasn't at your side. He would never be.

You looked at the two of them once more. An ugly thing clawed at your chest, begging to get out. Your vision turned red. You clenched your fists.

You had to get out of here. Now.

"You okay, Vigil?" Soap asked next to you, noticing that you seemed a bit off.

"Yeah. I just- think I didn't turn my stove off. I got to go."

You mumbled before you turned around and hurried to the exit of the bar. Soap tried to protest, but you were out the door before he could even finish his sentence:

"But you just arrived- Damn... off she goes."

He sighed and looked towards that woman and Ghost. They made eye contact. As if Simon was already looking at him. Or you.

#call of duty #call of duty modern warfare ii #modern warfare II #modern warfare 2022 #simon riley #simon riley x fem reader #x fem reader #ghost x fem reader #ghost x female reader #ghost #soap #john soap mctavish #simon ghost riley #soldier reader #141!reader #special forces reader #fem reader #fanficsforheartandsouls

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carminacblogs · 1 year

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Rare as the Glimmer of a Comet

This one's for my favourite human in the whole wide world. New lyrics art on my blog is out now!!! Come check it out. Don't forget to Subscribe and follow me on my socials xx

These lyrics remind me of the fleeting nature of moments and the people who come into our lives. The image of a comet, something rare and beautiful that only appears once in a while, reminds us to cherish and appreciate the unique experiences that life presents us with. The idea that someone can feel like home is a powerful one. And it speaks about the deep connection and comfort we can find in…

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#carminablogs #carminacblogs #long story short lyrics #lyrics art #lyrics background #lyrics edit #lyrics wallpaper #motivational #personal blogs #poetry of emotions #taylor swift lyrics #taylor swift music #taylor swift songs #Wallpaper Lyrics

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fizee · 16 hours

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Non Disclosure Agreement 📃🖋️

Naoya x Reader | 3.3k | 18+ only!

Includes: female!reader, femdom!reader, man ass getting ate, submissive!naoya (mostly).

Content Warnings: consensual sexual asphyxiation, blatant cheating, prostitution, casual sexism.

Part of the Jujutsu Journal collab hosted by @ayyy-pee, thank you so much for including me! A big thank you to @mysteria157 for beta'ing extensively for me, as well as a couple of my close friends, and a big happy birthday to (you know who you are)

Naoya hates the rain.

Even in the summer months it’s less refreshing to him and more of a nuisance- sticky, damp, and everywhere. It pitters and soaks into his clothes and he would have brought an umbrella- if this was a place where anyone cared about getting rained on.

It's not.

The hotel is dingy and not worthy of the sad little three star review rating it managed to gain. The pavement he steps over is cracked, and the entrance he steps through is worn. Whatever. It suits his needs, even if it makes his clothes stink. He’d never get recognized in this part of town.

He gives the front desk clerk a cursory glance- feeling snide at the state of his wrinkled shirt and miserably nonchalant disposition. Naoya doesn’t have to check in, nobody does here. But he drops cash on the desk and keeps walking, not caring if it’s too much or too little.

You had already texted him the room number. He wonders if a place like this even has an elevator.

He turns down the hall and is only mildly surprised to find that there is, indeed, an elevator, despite this place only having three stories. It’s got trace amounts of rust. It squeals when the doors slide open.

He glances at his watch, tapping the screen to pull up your text. 36. He scoffs to himself. You and your third floors. Something about feeling unsafe on the first floor, which is stupid. He’s never understood that about you.

He finds the room quickly, ignoring the fact that as he gets closer, his collar feels tighter. It’s been too long since he’s seen you. He swears he can smell your perfume over all the mildew in the disgusting sixty year old hallway carpet. The perfume was his choice, of course. A birthday gift. You had almost refused it, saying that you don’t take gifts from clients and blah blah blah. He’s not one to look a horse in the mouth, so he had made you suck his cock to earn it. It does smell good on you.

He knocks quickly, six short thuds on the door. He doesn’t bother to try the handle, he knows it’s locked. He gives a quick glance at the hallway around him when he hears the door unlock, and watches the handle turn.

“Mr. Zenin.” You greet him with a graceful smile. He rolls his eyes and walks past you into the room, not wanting to linger in the hallway.

“You’re late,” you accuse sweetly. “A half hour late, to be precise.”

“Put it on my tab.” He grumbles. You just smile, approaching him and helping him out of his coat just how he likes, smoothing your hands out over his back as you do. You hook the coat over the crooked little hanger that juts out of the wall, looking stupidly bespoke on outdated wallpaper.

He takes a seat unceremoniously in the faded pink chair sitting opposite the bed.

“This place is a dump.” He says. He eyes your clothes- pink and flowy, opaque but not thick enough to hide your shape. It flows over you like water, and his collar feels tighter. You smile gently and walk over to press your palms into his shoulders from behind.

“Dumps keep secrets.” You murmur. His hair smells good. You press your face to it and kiss him gently.

“Far cry from Aman,” He complains, reminding you of the hotel you had met each other in, all the way across the world.

“God, I haven’t thought of that place in years,” You run your fingers in the dips of his collarbones, laughing gently, “You were the only sober one at that party, stuck out like a sore thumb.”

“And you were the only whore not hanging off a man’s neck.”

“What can I say?” You undo the top few buttons of his shirt to expose his skin to your warm touch, “I’ve got… refined tastes.”

He hums. His watch dings once but he doesn’t bother to check it. He runs a hand over his jaw, reminiscing of how you had looked in that party room, full of investment cucks and coke addicted businessmen and glittery, shimmering whores. You seemed to almost glow under the dim lights, alone, calling to him with your gaze.

He sighs.

“Long day?” You ask.

“Long month.” He mutters bitterly. “You didn’t return my calls.”

“I was on vacation.” You dig your fingers into his trapezius soothingly, finding the spots that make him melt gooey like butter.

“Since when do whores take vacations?”

“Since filthy rich married men started paying them extra.”

He snorts. He reaches up and grabs your hand, pressing his mouth to your warm fingertips.

“Did you miss me?” You ask playfully, ducking your head to giggle in his ear, “Or did you miss my-“

You’re cut off when he grabs your face and holds you so he can plant a slightly slobbery kiss on your lips. Your glossy red lipstick smears on his mouth. He has his belt unbuckled by the time he releases his hold on you, but you frown for a moment.

“I thought you didn’t drink?” You had definitely tasted the alcohol on his tongue, but drunk he did not seem. Far from it. He’s looking up at you with an icy clarity.

“I don’t.”

“Mhmm. Does Mrs. Zenin know?”

“You’re a cunt,” he says, but there is no real bite behind it. “A stupid cunt. Suck me off.”

“Is that really what you want?” You snake around the chair, putting yourself in his lap. It’s a bit awkward with the bulky, ugly chair, but you manage to press the very core of you where he's most sensitive. Your hands drift up his chest and rest at his neck, and you lean in to whisper against his mouth.

“You’ll have work for that.” You kiss him gently. “Unless, of course, you can ask nicely for once.”

His mouth pulls into a half hearted sneer but his cheeks glow pink. His eyes meet yours and his pupils are wide and dark and calm, two tiny black lakes.

His silence is his answer.

“You really did miss me,” You murmur sweetly, bringing your hands up to press around his neck, thumbs securely pressed on either side of his windpipe. You press hard. His face slowly goes red. His hips jerk in pavlovian response. You can feel the hard length of him against the curve of your ass, begging to be free of his pants.

He gasps finally, Inhaling quickly through his constricted throat. He doesn’t avert his eyes from yours, looking at you desperately while you grind against him and tighten your grip on his neck even more. His hands grab at the arms of the chair, his knuckles turning white. He tries to keep his breathing even, but it comes in quick, needy huffs.

“I hope you can be good for me tonight.” You coo. You kiss him. He whines, attempting to chase your mouth when you pull away, but you keep an iron grip on his neck, preventing him from moving more than an inch.

You give him one more hard press into his lap and you can tell he’s already close, and so soon! His eyes are slightly glazed, drool threatening to drip from his open mouth. You'd bet all the money he’s paying you that he’s already leaking if you reached and touched him.

You release him suddenly, rubbing over his shoulders while he gasps for a full breath. He keeps his palms firmly to the chair, resisting the urge to grab you and hold you to him and ruin the ridiculously expensive pants he’s got on.

You slide off his lap and stand to soak in the view- the red streaks chasing over his neck, the tent in his pants.

“Stand up. Clothes off.” You tell him, dropping your robe to the floor. You don’t strip down like he begins to do, instead leaving the matching slip covering your body.

You hum in approval as he removes his shirt, eating up the lovely shape of his body. He’s always taken care of himself, almost obsessively so. His pants are next to go, and then the non descript black briefs.

He averts his eyes as he stands before you, nude. His erection twitches in the cold air.

“Got some tanning done, did you?” You step in and pet over his taught stomach, grazing low to tease him.

“Malibu.” He says, some of that snide returning, “and you could have come with me if you’d returned my calls.”

“I remember that. Some of your twitter fanboys posted about it. I doubt Mrs. Zenin would have appreciated me coming with you on a family trip.”

“Wasn’t really a family trip.” He grits out as you feather over his hips, his thighs, appreciating what a specimen he is. “The boys stayed with the nanny the whole time. And she just-“ he grunts when you reach lower and touch his balls, avoiding his cock alltogether, “She’s a prize tuna, I’ll give her that. Not like you.”

You roll your eyes. “It’s an extra six hundred if you want me to listen to you badmouth your wife. Get on the bed.”

He looks like he's going to say something, mouth parting and brow furrowing. You peer at him warmly, your pupils as blown as his. He closes his mouth, deciding not to say whatever was knocking around in his head, and climbs onto the bed without fanfare.

You watch him closely, enjoying the view of his nude body splayed out and primed for you to play with. He’s flushed everywhere he’s sensitive- his face, his chest, his cock. Without stimulation you see it already going half soft, so you kneel onto the bed over him and place your palm against his head. He gasps and jerks, grabs your wrist but quickly loosens his grip and just holds you there.

“C’mon,” he pleads. Though he’d cuss and whine if you described it as pleading. He ruts himself against your palm, his teeth dig into his lower lip. It's not enough but it’s also too much. He’s always been sensitive.

“You could ask.” You say, knowing he won’t. You pull away and his fingers twitch with the need to take himself in hand.

“You’re a bitch.” He says. “Evil fucking bitch.”

You laugh. It’s a light and gentle thing. He doesn’t think about how nice it sounds.

“You really know how to talk to a lady, huh?” You press on his shoulder, making him lay back fully.

“I can hardly call you a lady.” He’s got a hungry look in his eyes. He looks good laying there- hair slightly ruffled, cheeks pink. It’s a sight you’ve seen a dozen times but you’ll never grow tired of.

He lays still, waiting. He glowers at you while you make him wait. You come up near his head and sling a leg over his neck.

“Maybe this will shut you up.” You hike up the slip you wear and grin down at him. No, of course you’re not wearing anything underneath it. He doesn’t hesitate to grab your thighs and shove his nose into the neat curls there and lick a hot wet stripe into your core.

You’ve been wet and swollen for a while. It’s nearly conditioned. You feel a slight tingle every time he calls you, wanting to see you. Wanting to fuck you. But now you’re soaked, your cunt wetting his face without shame, arching your back when he finds your clit and sucks on it desperately.

You lock your thighs around his head, cutting off nearly all the airflow he would’ve managed to get before. He likes it. You reach behind you and grip the base of him, feeling him twitch and pulse. He suckles on your clit til you’re keening- and right as you squeeze his cock a little harder and your hips jerk a little more desperately, he shifts and his tongue delves deep into your dripping hole, licking and practically drinking you down. You make a choked little whimper, so close to release.

You grab his hair and hold him beneath you, grinding your cunt into his mouth and nose and eating up every muffled noise he makes. His tongue works hungrily, desperate to please you, delving as deep as he can into your cunt and searching out the spots that make you gasp and moan sweetly for him.

He swipes his tongue just right, and you fall over the edge, grunting and whimpering and twitching all over.

You roll over from on top of him and he gasps wildly, hair ruined and mouth wet and swollen pink. He just looks at you as you gain your breath, your insides gooey and warm and pulsing with aftershocks. He gives you a small, coy little smile.

“I guess I’m not the only one who was missing it.”

You shove at him playfully, all pretense falling away for a moment. You sit up to clear your head, not forgetting that he’s still hard, and leaking, and needy.

“Turn over. Hands and knees.” You tell him. His blush returns tenfold. He glances away from you in tentative embarrassment, though it’s obvious that what he’s hoping for isn’t going to be damped by a little thing like shame. He doesn’t have to be a shameful creature with you.

He does as you command, rolling over and propping himself up on his elbows and knees, his back already slightly arched. You’re definitely appreciating the view. He hides his face from you.

“Oh, wow.” You grin. “Smooth as butter, huh?”

“Shut up.” He snaps, his voice muffled by the pillow. You take a moment to really see the view of him- his tight pink hole is smooth and perfect, obviously recently waxed. Or maybe even lasered. You never know with him. You run your fingers over him, light as a whisper, dragging a caress over his cock to his balls and finally to his hole. It twitches. Cute.

“I should take a picture, pretty as you are.” You say. You grab his cheeks in each of your hands, spreading him fully.

He mutters something about our NDA, something about you being a bitch. You don’t really pay any mind as you lean over him and spit out a thick glob of saliva over the tight ring of muscle, making him gasp.

He goes perfectly still In anticipation, his dick jerking with every lick you apply to him. You drag your tongue against his perineum up to his hole- he tastes clean, like only salt. You know he’s obsessive with how he grooms himself. Saliva slowly runs down, leaving a trail of wet across his balls.

You slip your hand under him to grab his length to give him one long, smooth pull, earning a tiny little whimper from him. You plant your mouth fully on his hole, tongue rubbing circles into the muscle. You jerk him off slowly, too slow to ever bring him to completion. He whines and twitches under your touch and you feel a throb deep in your core for the way he’s trembling.

You bring your head away from him earning a slight wet pop as your mouth breaks the seal it had over his hole, leaving your drool to cool on his heated skin. You slide your hand over his cock faster, gathering up his precum to make the slide easier, your grip is intense and tightens more around the base, pulling down and milking him like some breeding stud. His hips begin to move in the air, and the noises he makes, muffled by the pillow, are throaty and low. You know how he sounds when he’s close, how he shakes with the climb, and when he nears his peak you abruptly pull away to deny him. He groans loudly in frustration and need, and finally looks over his shoulder to glare at you, his fucked out expression not hiding his irritation.

“I don’t want you ruining the sheets.” You say. He catches on immediately, sitting up and grabbing you to put you under him. He practically rips the slip from your body, the fabric strains and the stitches pop, pulling it up and over your head so he can press his flushed skin against yours.

You almost protest, you actually did like that dress, but he kisses you with teeth and growls something about buying you a new one. He grabs your breasts roughly and you feel the length of him pillowing itself against your lips. But he doesn’t do more than that, rutting against your cunt and swallowing your noises with his mouth. He whines.

“Naoya,” You say, when your hot tongues part, “Naoya-“

He grabs your hips and positions you perfectly to plunge his aching cock into your slick heat, as desperate as an animal, and just as rough.

The sudden intrusion makes you cry out in pleasure, his thrusts coming in quick, needy bursts. He presses his sweaty brow into the pillow under your head. His hands hold your waist like a lifeline, his need ramming inside of yours, jerking and twitching and hot and wet. He kisses your cervix with every pump, leaving you breathless and needy.

But you know he can’t finish properly like this. You can see it when he pulls back to look at you, his face flushed and his mouth open and drooling. You wind your hands around his throat and squeeze, blocking his air and turning his noises into tiny pathetic gasps and wheezes. It doesn’t take long. His hips stutter and he finally, finally finds what he’s looking for, tipping over and cumming so hard he stops even trying to breathe. You feel every drop of him rush out to paint your insides, his cock throbbing hot within your liquid-warm walls.

You release his throat and he takes a sharp, ragged inhale, his body locking up with the rush of oxygen and endorphins. His cock pulses inside of you again as if his balls aren’t spent completely, and you feel his cum finding its way to the entrance of your hole and spilling out around his length, way too much to be plugged up inside.

“Fuck,” He grunts, “fuck.”

You hum and run your palms up his sides and down his back where you can reach as he pieces his senses back together. He pulls from your core and you hiss in strange pleasure and slight soreness.

He rolls to the side and slumps on the bed, breathing deep and enjoying the afterglow. You wiggle your hips, feeling him leak out of you even more, thick and warm.

You’re both silent for a few minutes. His watch dings right as you turn to touch his chest, his arms, run your fingers over the angry red on his neck.

He glances at it. Groans in pure discontent.

“Work?” You trace his nipple with an idle finger.

“Yes.” He sits up, glancing over the mess of the bed. “I’ve got an eight o’clock tomorrow, apparently.”

“You can’t cancel?” You shift and stretch, not missing how his eyes graze over your body. “You’ve already booked me for twenty four hours.”

“No.” He says, simply. “Obligations… responsibilities… I don’t know, whatever bullshit you want to call it.”

“Do you want a shower?” You lean over and press your smeared mouth to his shoulder, looking up at him through your eyelashes. “I mean, of course it’s disgusting, but you don’t want to go home smelling like… well, you know.”

Naoya breathes, long and deep. Then he looks back at you.

“You getting in with me?”

A/N: “Tuna” is a term in Japanese hookup culture that can be equated to a ‘pillow princess’ in an extreme sense. There’s nothing wrong with being a pillow princess, but I personally believe it’s not something this Naoya is particularly into.

Thank you so much for reading!

#JujutsuJournal #Naoya Zenin x Reader #Naoya x Reader #jjk #x reader #fem reader #Reader x Naoya #naoya zenin #jjk naoya #jujutsu kaisen #i don't even fw naoya that much tbh #fizee.post

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