kitana

are you the ghost of jealousy? they/she 20 ┊multi ┊requests: open

[stardomblues]

welcome! 𖤐

"should’ve known she was a heartbreaker!"

✧˖*°࿐ ABOUT ME

i'm kitana, my pronouns are they/she and i’m 20!! i reblog a bunch of stuff related to my hyperfixations, so i apologize if your feed gets clogged! the rating of my blog is 17+ (current mutuals are fine). if you are under 17, please do not interact!!

i write from time to time— my requests are currently open, so feel free to request whenever! (make sure you read who/what i won't write first).

my works are NEVER written by ai. everything is written either on my phone or my laptop with the help of grammarly for grammatical errors. i never use the generative ai part of grammarly to write the entire thing for me. if you need proof, i’ll gladly provide pictures/recordings of me writing

★・・・・・・★

✧˖*°࿐ MY TAGS

kitana rambles — me talking about whatever :p

kitana writes — where all my oneshots, drabbles, and fics go!

kitana speaks — where i’ll make announcements about upcoming works or speak up about something!!

kitana’s anons — tag for my anons!

catduo — mine and lilly @shall0wss tag!

★・・・・・・★

CARRD MASTERLIST

[jks-luvr]

⋆˚꩜｡Penthouse princess

Jaafar. J

pairings: Jaafar jackson x nepo!femreader

synopsis: growing up used to keeping up a flawless public image. but, behind closed doors, whenever opportunity arrives, you always find yourself under your coworker. when your boyfriend goes on a business trip, your affair with Jaafar reveals itself again.

warnings: 18+, infidelity plot (both reader and jaafar are in relationships), rough sex, oral (m & f), multiple orgasms, ball play (if u squint), p n v, mentions of squirting, unprotected (wrap it up pls), spanking, dom!jaafar, sub!reader, mentions of bruises/biting/marks, size difference, little after care (sorry🙁), heavy use of pet names (baby, love, good girl, princess, pretty), no use of y/n, freaky freak freaks

wc: 3.7k

A/N: I wrote this one immediately after the jermajesty fic, im just hungry asf😵‍💫

requests are open!

the marble beneath your bare feet is cool against your skin, a welcome break from the thick summer heat pressing against the city outside your floor to ceiling windows. it’s well past midnight. the apartment is quiet, the only light coming from the skyline beyond the glass and the glow of your phone resting on the coffee table. a text lights up the screen.

from your new boyfriend. he’s three time zones away on a business trip, but somehow still making time to check in before bed. “goodnight love you.❤️”

you take a slow sip from your wine glass, thumbs hovering as you begin to type, when an incoming phone call appears on the top of your screen.

Jaafar Jackson.

you always know how this starts and how it ends. you press the red button to decline before returning to the text message from your boyfriend.

you tap out a quick, hollow “goodnight🙂, love you too,” and hit send, letting the screen go dark a second later.

you place your phone back on the coffee table with a quiet clink, your hand staying there for a moment. your fingers trace the cool glass as your eyes remain fixed on the screen.

five seconds. ten.

the silence of your apartment feels almost mocking. you take your last sip of wine, the liquid doing nothing to soothe the unease in your stomach. you know he’s not gonna stop at one call, he never does.

the phone lights up again, cutting through the dark hue of the living room. 

Jaafar Jackson.

each ring feels heavier than the last, the sound echoing through the apartment until it’s impossible to ignore. your heart stutters, a painful jump in your chest. 

you stare at the name, you think about the gala last week. the way his eyes never left you even with his girlfriend conversing next to him. how his hand lingered on your back for just a second longer after helping you out the car.

the way his mouth unraveled you, taking his time with your body the very second the doors to your public lives were closed for the night.

your phone vibrates again for the third time. one, two, then a text.

why are you ignoring me?

the audacity of it pulls a shaky, breathless laugh from your throat. you’re the one who does everything right, the one who keeps the family image pristine. but looking at that screen, the image feels like a costume you’re desperate to peel off.

you don’t reach for the phone. Instead, you turn toward the sound of the elevator chime echoing faintly from the foyer. a private, floor access ping that shouldn’t be happening at 2:00 AM.

your breath hitches. you haven’t even moved, but you know the elevator doors are sliding open. you know he’s here. you walk toward the foyer, the floor of your penthouse apartment cold beneath your bare feet, your silk robe flowing behind you like a shadow. 

you don't have to look through the peephole to know who is standing on the other side. you reach for the handle, your knuckles turning white around it as guilt and adrenaline fight for control of your next move. you click the locks open. the door swings wide, and there he is—Jaafar, looking exactly as he did in your thoughts, his dark jacket rumpled, his eyes dark and hungry.

“Jaafar,” your eyes drag up and down his tall frame. “why are you here?” 

"You didn't answer," he says, his voice low, rough that vibrates right through you. 

He doesn't wait for an invitation–he just steps inside, closing the door behind him and locking it with a sharp, final click. "Stop pretending you don't want this."

his hands meet both sides of your face, forcing you to look at him. you remove his hands from your face. “no, no, we said we were done with this,” you whined.

your voice trembling as you stepped back, trying to put space between your body and his overwhelming presence.

Jaafar didn’t move. he stood right where he was, his hands dropping to his sides, but his dark eyes never left yours. “we did say that,” Jaafar murmured, his voice incredibly calm, yet entirely laced with a quiet type of certainty. 

he took a single step forward, easily cutting the distance you had just tried to make. “we said it last month, too. and the month before that. But here we are.”

“J, please,” you whispered, your hands pressing against his chest to stop his advance. 

through the thin material of his shirt, you could feel the frantic, heavy thud of his heartbeat, matching the uneven rhythm in your own chest. 

“my boyfriend... he just–he’s coming back in two days. and your girl, Jaafar. she’s going to start wondering where you are.” at the mention of your partners, his jaw clenched, a flash of pure possessiveness darkened his eyes. 

he didn’t back down. instead, his long fingers wrapped around your wrists, gently but firmly pulling your hands away from his chest, only to pin them flat against the cool wall behind you.

“I swear on everything I love,” he leans down to whisper in your ear. “I’m not leaving you alone. ever.”

 he leaned in closer, his warmth completely erasing the chill of the marble floors beneath your bare feet. 

the scent of outside and his expensive cologne filled your senses, making your head spin. “let them wonder,” he whispered, his breath hot against your lips. “I tried to stay away.”

“fuck, I tried. But watching you sit next to him at that gala, watching him touch you like you belong to him when I know exactly how you taste... it’s driving me insane.” A soft, defeated gasp escaped you.

you wanted to keep the ‘princess’ demeanor  your family raised you to have. you wanted to do everything right, to keep the pristine name on the company clean. 

but the moment Jaafar tilted his head, his gaze dropping to the loose silk of your robe where it had parted slightly at your collarbone, your body tension completely dissolved.

“We’re terrible,” you breathed, your eyes fluttering shut as his lips brushed against the sensitive skin of your jawline.

“I know baby,” he muttered against your skin, his hands sliding down from your wrists to grip your waist, his touch heavy and demanding. “but you don't want anyone else. say it to me.”

he pressed his body fully against yours, the contrast of his leather jacket against your soft silk robe making you shiver. he trailed a path of slow, agonizing hot kisses down the column of your neck, finding the exact spot that made your toes curl against the cold floor.

“say it,” he whispered again, his voice a commanding growl that vibrated straight through your core.

 “I don’t,” you confessed, your fingers finally tangling into his dark hair, pulling him closer as the last shred of your guilt was swallowed by the dark. 

“I don’t want anyone else.” 

Jaafar didn't waste another second. his mouth crashed onto yours, hungry, capturing your lips with a desperate intensity that told you exactly how much he had been starving for you. 

a quiet whine caught in your throat, but he swallowed it right down, his hands sliding beneath the silk of your robe to press his warm palms flat against your plump ass, lifting you effortlessly as the rest of the world completely faded away.

he lifted you so easily it made your head spin, your legs naturally wrapping around his waist to keep your balance. 

the silk of your robe bunched up around your hips, leaving nothing but the heat of his bare palms pressing into your skin. you buried your face in the crook of his neck, breathing in the scent of him, your heart hammering a frantic rhythm against his chest.

Jaafar didn't move toward the bedroom immediately. he didn't have the patience for it, and neither did you. instead, he carried you the few steps back toward the wide expanse of the living room, backing you up until the edge of the large kitchen island hit the back of your thighs. 

he set you down on the cool dark colored quartz countertop, the sudden chill of the stone making you gasp against his mouth.

he pulled back just an inch, his breathing heavy, his eyes scanning your face in the dim light of the city skyline. his hands slid up from your thighs, tracing the curves of your waist before slowly parting your silk robe. 

he pushed the fabric off your shoulders, letting it pool around your elbows, exposing you completely to his gaze. 

"beautiful," he muttered, his voice lower than you’d ever heard it. "so damn beautiful."

"Jaafar, the blinds," you whispered breathlessly, your eyes darting toward the massive floor to ceiling windows. 

the entire city was laid out before you, a million glowing lights, and even though you were stories above the world, the vulnerability of the open glass made your skin crawl.

"nobody can see you," he murmured, his thumbs wiping the faint smear of your lipgloss from the corner of his mouth before trailing down to your chin. "only me pretty.”

he stepped closer, fitting himself perfectly between your thighs. the heavy fabric of his jacket brushed against your bare skin. 

he reached down, unbuttoning his coat with impatient fingers and tossing it onto the floor behind him, followed quickly by his shirt, until he was just as bare as you were.

when his chest pressed against yours, the heat was immediate. you wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him back down to you. the kiss this time wasn't just desperate, it was necessary. 

his tongue tangled with yours, deep and demanding, claiming you in a way your boyfriend never could. 

his hand slid down your stomach, his long fingers tracing lower, past the dip of your hip until he found the center of your heat. you whimpered into his mouth. his fingers slow and deliberate, breaking down the very last of your defense. 

he knew exactly what you liked, exactly how to make you forget your own name, your relationship, and the image you wore during the day.

"look at me," Jaafar whispered, pulling his mouth away, his breath coming in sharp gasps.

you opened your eyes, your vision slightly blurred, locking onto his dark, intense gaze. 

his hand never stopped moving, driving you closer and closer to the edge. suddenly he stops, “get on your knees.” with that he carries you off the counter and you obey his orders.

the cool marble floor met your knees, a shock to your system that did absolutely nothing to fuel the fire burning through your veins. 

your silk robe pooled around you, completely discarded as you looked up at him. Jaafar stood over you, towering in the dim, amber glow of the city skyline. his chest was heaving, abs flexed, his gaze dark and entirely consuming as he watched you look up at him from the floor. 

 "princess" of the company, the golden girl, boss to everyone around her, was completely unraveled at his feet. just for him.

"Good girl," he rasped, the low vibration of his voice sending a violent shiver straight down your spine.

his long fingers tangled into your hair, with a firm, possessive grip that tilted your head back, forcing you to keep your eyes locked onto his. he unbuttoned his jeans with a slow, calculation, the metallic click of his belt hitting the ground, echoing like a sin in the quiet penthouse. 

when he freed himself, your breath hitched, the reality of what you were doing crashing over you all over again. 

but there was no turning back. especially when he was looking at you like this.

"take it, love," he commanded softly, his voice dropping into a whisper. "show me how much you missed me."

you didn't hesitate. you leaned forward, your hands gripping his toned thighs for balance as your lips parted. 

the moment your mouth slid over his length, a deep groan tore from the back of Jaafar's throat. 

his fingers tightened in your hair, his hips giving a subtle, involuntary push forward as he let his eyes flutter shut for a fraction of a second.

you worked your mouth down his length, your tongue swirling over the tip, learning the shape of him all over again. every stroke of your tongue had him breathing heavier, his grip in your hair turning rougher as he began to guide your pace.

"fuck," he growled, his hips starting to roll in a slow, demanding rhythm against your lips. "you're perfect. so damn perfect." you moan as you graze your tongue over his slit. 

he pushed deeper, testing the limits of your throat, making a choked whine catch in your chest. the sound only seemed to drive him crazier. he began to pace himself against you, his breathing turning into harsh gasps that filled the empty kitchen. 

you looked up through your lashes, seeing the pleasure etched into his sharp jawline, his veins projecting against his neck as he fought to keep his control.

you paused for a fraction of a second, drawing in a shaky breath against his heat before your tongue began tracing tight circles around his tip, all while your hands slid down to firmly stroke the rest of his shaft. 

you then lower your tongue down his length to wrap your mouth around his balls, pulling a deep, ragged moan from his chest. 

you were sure he was done for. but Jaafar was never one to let you do all the work. tonight, he wanted to feel every single bit of you.

suddenly, his hands moved your head back. then, he effortlessly moved your body back up off the floor. 

your knees scraped slightly against the marble, but before you could even register the movement, he turned you around, pressing your stomach flat against the cool kitchen island.

the transition was so fast it made your head spin. your hands scrambled for something to hold on the smooth stone, your back arching automatically as Jaafar stepped up directly behind you, his heat pressing against your bare backside.

"J—" you gasped, the word cut short as he gripped your hip with one hand, his fingers digging into your skin hard enough that you knew it would leave a mark. 

a mark your boyfriend wouldn't see for two days, but one that belonged entirely to the man standing behind you right now. he reached down, his fingers sliding between your thighs to find you completely slick and ruined for him. 

he teased the sensitive bundle of nerves for just a second, pulling a loud, breathless sob from your lips. you're so wet for me, pretty," he whispered against your ear, his teeth grazing your earlobe, making your whole body tremble. 

"look at the windows. look at the city while you take all of me." your eyes flew open, staring out at the glass windows. the city lights blurred into a haze of gold and white. 

you felt the head of his length press against your entrance, and before you could even catch a breath, Jaafar drove his hips forward, burying himself inside you in one deep, relentless stroke. 

a loud, shattered cry broke from your lips, echoing off the high ceilings of the penthouse. it was too much, too deep, filling you so completely that your fingers clawed at the edge of the countertop.

"oh, g-god... J, please," you whimpered, your head dropping onto your arms. 

"I got you," he growled, his pace instantly picking up. he didn't even give you time to adjust. he locked his hand onto your hip, using it as leverage as he began to drive into you with a punishing rhythm.

slap. the raw friction filled sound of his skin hitting yours filled the room, competing with the desperate sound of your joint breathing. every time he slammed into you, your body shifted forward against the quartz, the cold stone against your front half and the liquid fire spreading through your lower half. 

he was relentless, his chest pressing into your back with every stroke, his sweat dripping onto your bare shoulders. his hand meets your ass in a harsh strike.

“Jaafarrr,” you dragged out his name in a desperate sob. you wrapped one arm back, your fingers desperately finding his thigh, trying to anchor yourself as the pleasure began to build into something unfamiliar. 

Jaafar felt the tight, rhythmic flexing of your walls around him, and it broke whatever restraint he had left. His growls turned feral, his movements losing all their smooth cadence, turning rough and frantic.

"look at me," he demanded, his voice a strained and broken rasp. “he fuck you like this?” 

you could barely force your head up, attempting to twist your neck to look back at him. his face was a mask of pure, unadulterated lust, his eyes locked onto yours as he delivered three hard, deep thrusts that had you screaming into the empty apartment.

“baby ohmygoodness,” you moan. "you're mine," he choked out, his fingers bruising your hip as your joining escalated to that breaking point. "tell me... tell me you're mine."

"i'm yours! Jaafar, i'm yours!" you cried as a heavy rush of wetness spilled between your thighs, your vision completely blurring into stars as your body clamped down around him, the climax crashing over you in violent waves.

“shit!” Jaafar shouted, feeling the sudden trickle on his skin. hearing your undone cries was the final trigger. with a loud, roar against your neck, Jaafar buried himself as deep as he could go, his entire frame shuddering violently as he released himself inside you. 

he held you tightly against the counter, his chest heaving against your back, pinning you down until the very last drop of his cum filled you up. the only sound was the heavy, synchronized gasps of air filtering through your lungs.

slowly, Jaafar pulled out, a soft gasp escaping you at the sudden loss of his warmth. your legs felt like absolute water, buckling the moment he let go of your waist.

 he caught you before you could fall, gently turning you around and leaning you back against the island. he drops down onto his knees, lifting your left leg on his shoulder.

without warning, he licks a strip up your inner thigh, the sudden heat of his tongue making your entire body jerk.

you let out a sharp gasp, your fingers instantly clawing into his dark hair for balance as he held your leg securely over his broad shoulder. Jaafar didn't give you a single second to recover. He leaned in closer, his hot breath fanning against your skin before his mouth pressed directly against the center of your ache, his tongue invoking a deep, wet stroke that had your hips tilting helplessly into his face.

"Jaaf—Jaafar I can’t," you whimpered, your head tossing back as your vision already began to blur.

he didn't answer, entirely focused on unraveling you. his long fingers dug into the flesh of your left thigh, holding you open and steady as his mouth completely worshipped you, his tongue moving with a relentless rhythm that drove you straight to the edge. again.

every flick of his tongue was intentional, tracing over your sensitive skin and lapping up the slick wetness that was pooling for him. you tried to swallow your moans. a string of high pitched whimpers broke from your lips, your thighs trembling violently against his chest.

"J, stop... plea–" you begged, your knuckles turning white as you yanked at his hair, trying to pull him away before you completely lost it.

instead of stopping, Jaafar let out a muffled growl against your skin, his hands gripping your hips even tighter to lock you in place.

 he increased the pace, his tongue flattening out to deliver those deep and heavy strokes right where you needed it most, while his thumb found your hip bone, pressing down hard.

a coiled spring in your chest that suddenly snapped.

you cried out as a heavy rush of wetness spilled between your thighs, for the second time. your leg shook on his shoulder, your entire frame locked in the paralyzing aftershocks of the release.

Jaafar didn't miss a beat. he drank down every drop of your release, his tongue lingering to clean you up with a smug, heavy satisfaction before he finally let your leg slide down from his shoulder.

you collapsed back against the dark quartz of the kitchen island, your breath coming in ragged gasps, your chest heaving. your body felt completely spent and overly sensitive. 

he didn't say a word as he reached down, picking up your discarded silk robe from the floor. he shook it out, draping it over your trembling shoulders and pulling the straps closed over your flushed, marked skin. 

without a word, he turned, gathering his shirt and leather jacket from the floor. He slipped them on, completely transforming back into the untouchable public figure the world knew, leaving no trace of the beast he had been just moments ago.

his fingers lingered on your collarbone, his thumb gently wiping away a stray tear from your cheek. he picks you up bridal style, bringing you to your bedroom. he gently places you on your king size bed, he looked down at you, his dark eyes still intense, but the chaotic hunger was quickly replaced by a sudden tenderness. Jaafar give you a soft kiss, it was deeper–more warmer than the ones you shared before. almost like he wanted to tell you something. “call me in the morning?”

“you’re not staying?” you look up at him, trying to catch his hands to pull him back to you. Jaafar shakes his head no, a feeling of disappointment creeps over you. he places another quick kiss on your forehead.

he steps back and shuts your light off. “goodnight pretty,” he whispered as he shut your room door.

he walked back into the living room, his boots clicking quietly against the floor, his eyes automatically drifting to the coffee table where your phone still rested. 

the screen was dark, but you both knew what was waiting underneath, the innocent text from your boyfriend, a completely different reality. Jaafar stopped at the edge of the room, his leather jacket slung over his shoulder. he didn't look at the phone. a slow, knowing smirk tugging at the corner of his lips.

The heavy click of the front door locking put a definite end to the night, leaving you alone in the quiet apartment.

[visualsbyaina]

Micheal Jackson ANOTHER PART OF ME (1988)

[jaafarvhs]

again.

jaafar x reader

summary: you're auditioning for the female lead role in your school's theatre play, but the monologue just isn't clicking. thankfully, jaafar is determined to make you get it right—even if it means making you repeat the same line a hundred times.

note: this is the first story I wrote from the request, I hope I got it right 😭 I tried with the script part y’all enjoyy

✧･ﾟ ✧･ﾟ ✧･ﾟ･ﾟ✧ ･ﾟ✧ ･ﾟ✧･ﾟ ✧･ﾟ ✧･ﾟ･ﾟ✧ ･ﾟ✧ ･ﾟ

You were auditioning for the female lead role in your theatre play.

Currently, you were sprawled across the floor, papers scattered around you like the aftermath of a small explosion.

“This is not even right,” you groaned, dropping the script onto your lap.

“You just said it once. Give it a chance,” Jaafar replied from beside you.

You sighed dramatically.

“Try to put yourself in the situation of the monologue,” he said. “Like, actually feel it.”

“I’m trying. It’s not working.”

“Here, let me help you.”

You sat up a little straighter.

“Okay. Start again.”

You looked down at the script.

"I thought I was enough for you… but somehow I still ended up feeling like I was asking for too much just by staying."

You paused immediately.

“No, no.” You buried your face in your hands. “That sounded so fake.”

Jaafar laughed softly.

“Because you’re saying the words, not feeling them.”

“Easy for you to say.”

“Again.”

You groaned.

“Again,” he repeated.

You rolled your eyes and tried again.

“No—again.”

“How many times more?”

“C’mon, baby, you got it.” He nudged your shoulder gently. “It’s your dream role.”

And somehow, that was enough.

The frustration didn’t disappear, but it gave you a reason to keep trying.

So you did.

Again.

And again.

And again.

Every time you stumbled, Jaafar stopped you.

Every time you rushed through a line, he made you slow down.

Every time you gave up, he pushed you forward.

“Good. Next.”

You flipped to the next page.

"I kept telling myself it was my fault… because blaming you would mean admitting you never really tried."

You finished the line.

“Again.”

You stared at him.

“You didn’t even think about it.”

“I didn’t need to.”

You threw a pillow at him.

“Again,” he said through his laughter.

By the time you reached the final page, something had changed.

The lines didn’t feel memorized anymore.

They felt real.

You took a breath.

"The hardest part wasn’t losing you… it was realizing I was the only one trying to hold it together the whole time."

Silence.

You slowly looked up.

Jaafar was staring at you.

Then he pointed.

“That.”

You blinked.

“That’s the one.”

“Really?”

“Really.”

Relief immediately washed over you.

“Perfect,” he said. “On-point emotions. It’s not like you’re reciting something in front of class, y’know?”

You laughed, letting your shoulders relax for the first time all night.

“And also,” he added, leaning back, “the script is about getting cheated on. I get why you couldn’t find the emotions at first.”

You raised an eyebrow.

“Oh?”

“Yeah.” He grinned. “It’s because you’re in a healthy relationship, my love.”

You threw one of the script pages at him.

“Oh, shut up.”

“I’m serious!”

“Sure you are.”

His laughter filled the room.

Eventually, the teasing softened into quiet comfort.

You looked down at the script in your lap.

“What if I still don’t get the role?” you asked, quieter this time.

His expression softened instantly.

“Then they missed out.”

You glanced up at him.

“But I don’t think they will.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

He reached over and tucked a loose strand of hair behind your ear.

“Thanks for making me repeat that monologue a hundred times,” you said.

“It was only ninety-nine.”

You rolled your eyes, smiling.

His voice softened.

“C’mere.”

Before you could respond, he leaned forward and pressed a gentle kiss to your forehead.

“Good luck, future leading lady.”

Your cheeks instantly warmed.

“Future leading lady?”

“Mhm.”

“And if I don’t get it?”

He tilted your chin up gently.

“Then you’re still my leading lady.”

Before you could even reply, he kissed you—quick, soft, like it was the most natural thing in the world.

Your heart stuttered immediately.

“There she is,” he teased when you smiled.

“Oh my God.”

“That’s the smile I’ve been trying to get all night.”

You shoved his shoulder, but you were still smiling.

He only laughed and pulled you closer.

The script was still scattered across the floor.

Your audition was still tomorrow.

And your nerves definitely hadn’t disappeared.

But as you rested your head on his shoulder, everything felt a little less heavy.

Maybe tomorrow would still be terrifying.

Maybe nothing was guaranteed.

But with him beside you, believing in you before you even believed in yourself, it suddenly felt a little easier.

And for tonight, that was enough. ♡

THE END.

✧･ﾟ ✧･ﾟ ✧･ﾟ･ﾟ✧ ･ﾟ✧ ･ﾟ✧･ﾟ ✧･ﾟ ✧･ﾟ･ﾟ✧ ･ﾟ✧ ･ﾟ

GUYS i actually love writing from your requests 😭💭

like we’re literally brainstorming stories together and i love that sm

drop your requests / questions anytime okay!! don’t be shy

thank youuuu !!

– yna ♡

[gradient-text]

this is kinda stupid of me to ask but how do you do gradient texts?

Hello! 

[Disclaimer: To make gradient text, you have to turn off the beta option on tumblr posts] UPDATE: The beta option can no longer be turned off (presumably because they, well, rolled out whatever features were previously there in the beta). However, you can go to Settings → Dashboard → Type of dashboard (it'll be a dropdown close to the bottom) → HTML.

To make a gradient text, you basically have to convert whatever gradient you have into HTML code. [css code doesn’t work] Fortunately though, there are sites for that! You can use this site and/or this site. Here’s how they both work:

Method 1 - Patorjk’s Text Color Fader

Step 1: Enter your desired text, your colors [you can change the number of colors too; just click on the dropdown option] 

[Fade Type: I just use the default fade type, but I reckon the vertical one’s good if you want to create gradient paragraphs]

Now once you’ve clicked the “Generate Color Faded Text” button, you’ll see something like this:

Copy all of that and paste it into this site like so:

Click “Replace Text” and copy it to the clipboard, and you’re done!

Method 2 - JSFiddle 

This one’s not as “user-friendly” as the former, but it’s still pretty easy to manoeuvre around once you get the hang of it!

[When you’re done customizing, click on the “Run” button on the top left.]

Now you should see that the colors in those boxes in the run area are now your desired colors. Enter the text in the top text box as shown and click the run button next to the color boxes. Your HTML code should appear in the second text box. Copy that and you’re done!

[I’d only edit the main code if I want to add one/more colors. Otherwise you can just click the boxes in the run area and edit the colours directly from there. This supports hex codes, RGB and HSL.]

For example, I’ve done this:

Okay, now once you’ve copied your HTML code, you have to go back to tumblr and create a new post without the beta format. You should see a gear icon; click that and change the post type to HTML. [tip: customize a blank piece of text however you want (bold, italic etc.) in the Rich Text editor and then just replace that with your gradient text code in the HTML editor]

Now paste your HTML code in the text area, and you should see something like this:

[note: I just clicked on the gear icon to demonstrate what it should look like]

You can preview your text by clicking on the “preview” button to see if you got anything wrong/to see what the final result will look like, and you can add your desired tags.

And that’s really all there is to it! Here’s what my final result will look like:

Viridian: #009698 to #008b8b to #007474

[Forgot to mention, once you've got your gradient text, you can't switch back to the Rich Text editor without losing your gradient, which is why I recommend customising your text in the Rich Text Editor before switching to HTML and replacing the black text with your gradient one! Personally, I just use the header option for my text so I put the h2 tags manually at the start and end of the code so as not to create a hassle]

[hannahtalkz]

Stop associating us Michael fans with these weird 'bae nation' gc jaafar and jermajesty obsessed 15 year olds pls. That shit has nothing to do with me I'm not part of it

[whattaburrow]

no because I was thinking about bestfriend!jaafar.

like imagine, you’re on this trash blind date your friend swore was gonna be 'so good', the dude is just straight up negging you the whole time , like talking down about your job, making comments about how you laugh 'too much,' criticizing what you ordered…by the middle of it you feel like garbage and you’re trying not to cry in the middle of the restaurant.

so you secretly text jaafar:

'jaaf pls call me in 5 mins and say it’s an emergency i need to leave'

literally like 2 minutes later your phone rings and jaafar is on the other end doing the most convincing worried voice ever, talking about how your dog is 'super sick' and the vet needs you ASAP. you don’t have a dog. you play along, fake the panic, apologize to the guy and basically bolt out of there.

the second you step outside, jaafar is already pulled up in his car soon as you get in the car you just lose it and start crying. he doesn’t even say anything at first, just leans over and pulls you into the tightest hug, rubbing your back while you cry into his hoodie.

after you calm down a little he wipes your tears with his thumbs and goes 'fuck that guy. i got you tonight.'

then instead of taking you home he drives you to this cute summer fair that’s going on in la, lights everywhere, carnival music, the whole vibe. you’re still kinda sniffling when he parks but he just smiles at you and says 'c’mon we’re saving this night.'

he spends the whole evening trying to win you the biggest stuffed bear at the ring toss (failing the first few times on purpose just to hear you laugh). you share a massive funnel cake, getting powdered sugar all over both of you. he drags you onto the ferris wheel and when you’re at the top with the city sparkling below, you finally feel happy again.

you’re resting your head on his shoulder when he says softly,

'you deserve so much better than that, y/n. like way better. someone who knows how amazing you are every single day.'

and the way he looks at you under all the colorful lights has your heart doing flips !!

I NEED

[prettyangeliczz]

I FEEL LIKE THE COOKIE MONSTER RIGHT NOW.

[sweeterners]

۫　 ܸ  ❤︎ ׅ ۫ jaafar putting you in headlock 　 ໒ྀི⠀　⁺ ‎ ‎‎ ‎

cw. 18+ mdni. written from this thought. he's hitting it from the back. size kink? maybe ooc jaafar ? he's just stern n uses his strength. nicknames (babe & ma).

jaafar's fingers dig into the plush of your hips, angling them upward to meet his thrust. while your spine curves, face pressed against the now soaked pillow from you drool. eyes rolling back when jaafar's cock sinks the length of his cock back into your heat, nudging that too hard to reach spot just right.

"i know, babe," he coos in a hushed tone, a hand pawing at your hip when you let out a gurgled hgn, "doing s'well takin' it."

leaning down he places a peck on your shoulder, slowing his pace to roll his hips, his cock snug within your cunt. nudging his nose against your nape, adorning another kiss on your damp skin.

when you turn your head away from him, eyes screwed shut as you try to push yourself further into the pillow ⎯ further away from from jaafar and the weight of his toned body pressed against yours and the stretch of his cock.

"c'mon ma, wanna see you," he rasped, forehead falling against your shoulder. the sounds of your whines has him pulling up off of you, his feathery touch tracing down your back until they land on the plumpness of your ass.

it's still, just for moment. the room is no longer filled with the sound of skin slapping and squelching, now replaced with the heavy breathing between you two.

the sudden movement of one of jaafar's hand soothes up and down your back, his pinky accidentally brushing against the side of your breast each time. it takes you by surprise when the same hand grips at the crook of your neck before swiftly enclosing your head between his forearm and bicep, pussy flutter around his length from the unexpectedness of the action.

his hold on you isn't rough, but it's stern, causing your head to lull back. a whimper slips out when jaafar places his weight back on you, his head dipping back down to meet yours so that there's no other choice than for your glossy eyes to meet his.

"please⎯" you choked out, lifting your hips up, hands clawing at the messy bedsheets at your attempt to escape your boyfriend's hold, "it's t'much."

"i know, ma," voice laced with fake sympathy, "but you can't be askin' for me and then running from me at the same time." leaning down to capture your lips in a sloppy kiss.

pulling away from kiss, a few strings of saliva breaking, "but that's okay, this'll keep you from runnin'," he purs.

©sweeterners 2026.

[stardomblues]

working hard or hardly working…

[thedailymichael]

SAY CHEESE! prologue...

starring .✦ ݁˖ fem!reader... later will include pre-otw!michael

summary .✦ ݁˖ So, you may have found a box filled with your grandparents' memories on your doorstep. No problem. But what does it mean if said memory threw you out of your comfort zone and into New York City?

word count .✦ ݁˖ 2.7k

content warnings .✦ ݁˖ Mentions of family member's death. Reader's ethnicity and features are not specifically stated other than the fact she lives in Chicago. Swearing. School debt.

past exposure masterlist

...queue background music...

What was life if not with a detour? You couldn’t count on your fingers how many times you’ve heard the same sayings over and over again. When life throws you a curveball… Expect the unexpected… Times can change in a blink of an eye! Well folks, you tell me, how much is too unexpected?

Your life was something that could be described in quite a few words. Basic. Regular. Average. Solitary. Okay, so maybe you could have summed it up with lonely and boring. But it wasn’t all so bad; working a part-time job by the evening, and dashing across your college campus in the day. You were like any student who was scrambling with debt and time as if you were dealing face to face with the devil himself. In the simplest of terms, you were a burnt-out girl at the ‘fresh’ age of twenty one and have yet to find the joys of young adulthood everyone else was soaking up.

A crappy studio apartment down south of Chicago was what you called home. One small square to fit a queen sized bed, couch, TV set, and a circular dining table that could take three seats maximum—not without accidentally touching the other’s feet and legs. All while it was overlooked from your open kitchen. Everything was… Alright. At least you were able to save a couple thousand bucks by living off-campus; The University of Chicago had some suspiciously high prices to live comfortably in the dorms and you could not handle being broke while facing your professor’s wrath all at once.

It was enough that the cost per credit hour has driven you to drown in student debt—why did you have to pick UChicago, literally any other university would have been less costly. Oh, how you want to shake the silly dreams out of your nineteen year old self. The juggle between two part-time jobs were barely enough to keep you from starving. How long does one have to fight espresso machines till they receive a billion dollar balance in their bank account… You had quite seriously asked Google once.

After what was another day of irritating customers and finishing assignments in-between breaks, you could finally fall face flat on your mesmerizing mattress and scream into the nearest pillow. Unfortunately for those relaxation plans, a medium cardboard box and stack of envelopes at the top sat between you and the path to the front door.

You weren’t expecting any packages today, you thoughtfully recalled; with a cautious curiosity, one hand swipes away the bundle of junk mail to read the sticker on the box, only to find exactly what you should—your unit number, street name, and postal code. Had you ordered something mid-sleep again? You certainly hoped not whilst quickly skimming your eyes over the sender’s address.

Though a name that tugged at the strings of your heart wasn’t something you expected… It was place that sounded so warm—so familiar. A small town in southern Indiana, in an old neighborhood known for its peacefulness, on a street that made your skin bubble with nostalgia.

The realization washed over you like a wave of reminiscence, not quickly. Just slowly. Intimately.

Thinking back to a time of sitting in the backseat of your parents van, large map spread across the dashboard, and your dad pointing to a specific location on the paper. Repeating a good few times to his daughter that she should watch out for the exit with this city name so we can visit granny and grandpa; giving a kid the responsibility to diligently stare out the window throughout the last half an hour of the trip and search for the upcoming highway exit. Though, now that you have grown older, you’ve come to realize it was just a tactic to stop you from asking Are we almost there? every two minutes.

Damn… It felt as if it was just yesterday when you last got to see your grandparents. Despite being so long ago, the memories lay fresh in your mind.

Rolling in the driveway to find them standing by the front door, waving to your smiling self in the window, while you were missing a tooth or two that had made you even cuter than usual. They were an elderly couple that stayed behind in the countryside to live quietly for the remainder of their lives. Their own children were out and about in other states, searching for jobs, or growing a family—like your dad.

A dull ache gently fell along your heart. Moments such as those wouldn’t happen again. Dancing to your favorite children's show theme songs while granny cooked up something warm, and grandpa quietly watched over everyone. It was a sweet memory that passed through your mind like a slide show, bits and pieces came to you for every millisecond that passed.

And for each second passing, the warmness from good ol’ august air brushed against the nape of your neck. Finally did it click to you that you may have been standing for five minutes too long outside your own apartment.

Before the next phase of memories took over your brain you had to get inside an air conditioned room. Keying the front door to plop the stack of envelopes carelessly on the counter tops, while your legs pushed in the semi-heavy box, leaving it beside the kitchen island.

The only thing you wanted right now was a shower to freshen up; so to the bathroom you went, leaving the strange box alone on the floor.

Just as the rest of your humble abode, the bathroom was modest. Very small and simple. What more did you need anyway?

You got in for a quick rinse and wash; now was not the day for a cozy bubble bath, especially while a box of mysteries and childhood sat in your vicinity. In record timing, you left the bathroom with semi-wet hair, wearing sweats and a hoodie.

Most days went in routinely order, you come from work for a quick shower, sift through junk mail, and lay back to flood your brain with nonsense television. As usual, you’re looking at the same old insurance scams, healthcare advertisements, and coupon pages you’ll most likely never use. Now for that box…

It’s not like the dang thing was radiating with magical energy, but there was a gut feeling saying it should not have been with you. The problem wasn’t the address per se but rather the home itself. Your grandmother had sold the old Indiana house years ago after grandfather passed away. A retired veteran purchased it for him and his family, so all of your grandparents’ belongings were long moved. Which brought up the question, how did this box get to you? And how did they know where you lived?

There’s the possibility that grandpa's lawyer had found some of his old paperwork, but why would the address be the old house?

The last thing you wanted was to spiral into countless questions, so with a burning curiosity and an apartment key, you sliced through the taped entrance and opened the rest of the way with your hands. Your place was perfect for acoustics, which allowed a strong snap from the side tape to vibrate in the air, pushing particles of dust motes to speed away.

The very top was covered by loose photographs messily covered on top one another—black n’ white moments of laughter, scenic sights, and some flipped over with dates and names scrawled over the back. There were stacks of mini chests and items amongst the photos and albums; were they inanimate objects? Yes… But every little thing inside this cardboard box looked as though it lived its time to the fullest. Memories, love, and happiness protected under the cover in forms that could last generations, it was probably stored away for years before it arrived at your door.

A scene of a man and woman plastered with the largest smiles was the first to capture your attention. They were dressed to the nines, one could assume they had just left an exciting venue. But what drew you in was the uniquely shaped flower ring that the young lady adorned on her finger.

To many it may have been seen as a lovely jewel that brought out the flower design of her dress; yet all that fell upon you was the priceless expression of love and adoration on your dear grandma's face—your grandfather was such a sweetheart, he looked high and low for the perfect present on my twenty first birthday… Granny had indulged in reminiscence with the young curious you. The jeweled blossom was her prized possession, a daisy of golden steel petals with small crystal spheres of pollen—certainly not an item of material worth, but to her, that ring was a symbol of devotion and loyalty for many decades.

They looked so happy with a tenderness clinging in each other’s eyes. Nothing had changed much even with time, your late grandfather still loved her with every fiber of his being, and the truth of that statement was not one up for debate, not when there was living proof in his beloved’s smile.

Abruptly, this spell of memories had to break at some point, the ring of your phone echoed along the room. When the hell did you increase the volume so high? The name of your close friend, Ella, was written in white across the screen, before the incoming call could bother the next-door neighbor you answered immediately.

“Hey! Did you leave work already?” She quickly blurted the moment you picked up.

“Yeah? I’m home right now, why?” A slow pit in your stomach grew in worry with the possibility of there being a problem.

“Oh, well you forgot your wallet in your locker, I saw it on my way out. I had another job to be at, so I couldn’t bring it over.”

If anyone could win an award for scaring you for literally nothing, it would have been Ella. “You could have worded that better!” Chastising the way she started the conversation. “Worded what better?” Your kind work and college mate had a knack for sending you news in a hit-and-run style—and surprisingly it wasn’t on purpose.

“Because you—just—oh never mind. I’ll get my wallet tomorrow, I am far too exhausted to look decent.” “Aye aye. What’cha doing right now?”

Eyes trailed down to the picture in your hand, “just looking through some old family stuff.” The long ‘ooooh’ in Ella’s voice hinted that she was about to ask a whole load of needless questions. “Not ‘ooooh.’ It’s just… Weird.”

“Babe, as the representative for your family, how dare you call us weird!” Suddenly she’s kin protecting your bloodline’s honor. “Not like that, silly. I mean, it’s weird that I have it. It isn’t supposed to be with me”

“Mhm… I’m sorry, you’re gonna have to elaborate here.” The sounds of rustling and metal chair legs screeching on the other line was a little push for you to continue, Ella was getting comfy and ready to hear the whole story. You sifted through the rest of the box while bringing her up to speed, phone snug between your shoulder and ear as you explained everything; the coming home to a box, the impossible address, and a treasure amount of family history.

While you had shifted most items to the left, a shiny object gleamed under the luminescent kitchen spotlights. Medium lens sticking out from the side, almost asking to be noticed. As you multi-tasked listening to Ella’s reaction and picking the vintage camera out of its hiding spot, you made your way to the couch.

It was definitely a lot more fragile looking than the current model of cameras; held with a black slim plastic-like grip and laced of silver chrome on the top piece. The title ‘AE-1’ was traced on the top-left of the camera, while the manufacturer, CANON, was labeled front and center. Poor Ella was rambling on about the possibility of a guardian angel trying to bring your fun side back, but you were barely even listening; mumbles and minimal responses passed by your lips while fumbling with the object at hand.

“Are you even hearing me?!”

“Who?” Your eyes wondered to the viewfinder, taking a quick peep as your ears barely paid attention to the phone. And the moment you did, air was no longer a thing of existence within your lungs. Ella complained on and on about your lack of contribution to the current conversation, but how could you? Especially when the image you saw did not physically make any sense.

Usually. Normally. Or at the very least, according to basic laws of physics and light, you should see the off-white wall of your room from the other side of the lens. However, for some strange reason, the viewfinder shows the one and only Brooklyn Bridge. The very same suspension bridge that connected Manhattan to New Jersey. All you needed at this very moment was a scientist to tell you exactly why you were seeing this or if you were in dire need of a doctor’s appointment.

“Listen, at some point we’re gonna have a little chat about your—” before the girl could finish, you had her confirm your knowledge on cameras, “El, you know the lil’ square thing that you look from on a camera…”

“Uh—yeah?” You’d likely get a whole thing later about cutting her off, “Well, shouldn’t I see my wall when I look through it?”

“I mean, if you’re pointing at the wall, then yeah totally.” Ella clarified, still confused. Then why am I seeing Brooklyn fucking Bridge, pray tell?! you internally shouted.

“I think I need to see an eye doctor or—or a psychologist–” You have finally gone insane, all was left was an official confirmation. “What’s going on? I’m kinda in the dark here!” How do you explain to your dear and perfectly sane friend that you were seeing things that couldn’t possibly be seen from a Chicago studio apartment. “Okay so hear me out… But for some odd reason, I can see fucking New York City from the camera…” Would she hear you out? No, absolutely not. But she was surprisingly supportive. “Babe, don’t worry. I’ll work every bone in my body to find you the best therapist in Illinois—”

“I’m serious!” A goofy smile found its way to your lips, of course this woman could make you laugh during a time of crisis. “I know you’re serious—in serious need of help! New York City?! Girl, you can’t even see the freaking sky from your window!”

“And you are seriously no help! I’m hanging up, bye!” Ella’s giggles were then cut as you hit the big red button. What were you going to do with this Canon AE-1…?

What could you do?! Maybe there was a photo jammed in the viewfinder—or at least a really tiny picture.

Just once more, in the hopes you were simply hallucinating, your eyes made their way in front of the eyepiece and to your surprise—nothing had changed. A still image of Brooklyn Bridge was all you saw, but it had an odd addition in the photo now; the film grain was noticeable in darkened colors, hues were a tad more muted than normal, and just in the lower right corner, a faint white date slowly appeared, almost as if it was engraved into the photo itself. August 18, 1977. Could anyone make sense of this?

Everything else about this gadget seemed normal, the lens and frame looked just like other models, there weren’t any strange carvings or evidence of being worn down either.

Then there was shutter…

Maybe the washed up image would disappear if you just clicked the trigger. Lifting up the camera again, leaning your gaze to the finder, and lastly…

Click!

Alas, despite your multiple tries… Nothing happened. Although, the faint date had peculiarly vanished, every other detail of the photo was practically the same.

The famous Brooklyn Bridge obstructing the view of NYC, grayish skies, honking vehicles, and a windy breeze were evidently all the same—And a what?!

Your arms whipped away, grip remaining on the device, meanwhile you were suddenly in the good ol’ Big Apple, New York City…

I guess nonsense television and doom-scrolling will have to wait another day.

©thedailymichael 2026. All works posted under my name belong to me. Please do not copy, claim, republish, or translate my work anywhere else.

[jeahamkrle]

[japlanta]

on this day 21 yrs ago justice prevailed, happy victory day everyone !!!

— june 13th 2005

[visualsbyaina]

Michael Jackson at Houses of Parliament in the UK (2002)

[beahrtschai]

dealing with your drunk and sappy boyfriend jaafar

“Babyyy,” he slurs, he reeked of alcohol. His friends dropped him back home not too long ago as they whispered a ‘good luck’ to you. “Yes jaaf, I’m here, but it’s midnight and we need sleep.” You turned to face him the opposite way of the bed.

“Well, I need you actually.” You can just tell a crooked smile is plastered across his face as he attempts a stupid pick up line at you. “Jaafar.” You threaten. “Whaaat?” He says, genuinely confused on why you weren’t letting him show you his love. “You hate me? Because I’m drunk? M’sorry.” He whines, face pressed into your neck, hand slithered around your waist from behind.

You manage to get out of his hold and flip your lamp on that was on your nightstand, he grumbles, eyes squinting. “Baby turn the lights off—ughhh my head!” He complains, and you do as he says with an annoyed grumble. “I wanted to see what type of Jaafar I’m working with tonight.” You murmur. You attempt to close your eyes—but it doesn’t last long. You hear quiet whimpering.

“Baby, I just love you so much.” He drapes an arm around your waist. “And I think about it a lot but—if one of us has to sacrifice ourselves for the other—I would in a heartbeat because—“ You try to stifle your laugh, but you can’t, and so you laugh in his face which only causes him to whimper some more. “Y/n! I’m being so serious.” He warns, annoyance lingering in his tone and the smell of alcohol from his breath.

“Why do you think about that kinda stuff?” You ask him, in genuine curiosity. “I think it’s ’cause I wouldn’t live in a world without you—I believe that it is not only mentally but physically impossible.” You reach your hands up to cup his face, thumb wiping his tear stricken eyes.

“I hear you, I hear you.” You say, pressing a light kiss to his forehead. You were enjoying this to say the least, yes he was very affectionate and had a way with words when he was sober—but hell, he’s William Shakespeare off some shots.

“And also—“ he starts, and you just inhale. “Will our souls find each other? In every lifetime, y/n. It’s very—“ his voice cracks before more tears spill over, and you pout bringing him into a tight hug. “It’s important yes, I know—we’ll always find each other Jaafar, I’m wherever you are.” You smile, and that seems to calm him down for now.

His head falls into your lap, “I want them to put us back on this earth at the same time in our next life, if there is one.” He whimpers, biting his bottom lip in attempt to contain the tears. All of this honestly just made you come to one big realization, he’s a sappy drunk. You smile to yourself, it was cute.

“And they will.” You comfort. “For our souls are not to be separated, we’ll go mad without each other.” You finish. And he grins, “will you rub my back?” he questions, and you let out an all knowing laugh. “Lay on your stomach you big baby.”

“Wait but I want to kiss you before—“ Your finger immediately flies to his lips, “nuh uh, your breath.” He frowns—IMMEDIATELY. “okay, okay—one kiss—one.” You warn.

It’s been more than one kiss.

“Are you finally ready for bed?” You scoff, and he nods. Rose cheeks, and a stupid smile. “Yep, will you rub my back now?” You roll your eyes. “Come on.”

two posts in one day, I’m effing amazing. Omg also excuse my grammar it gets so shitty whenever I write fics omg I’m embarrassed. Anyways continue to leave requests and always interact!! Love you all lots like polka dots, mwah mwah.

[giverofdonuts]

that gayboy was never gonna make it😭

[kannibalkarl]

David Lynch on the set of Twin Peaks (1990)