#juices ain’t flowing at the moment

[tommdale]

For you heathens who wanted more of Swap AU Chloe … (even though you’re all right)

Chloe Kamski and her personal android, Elijah :]

HC and AU ideas below :D

Elijah was the first android Chloe ever made, just for a “household helper” sort of thing. When she came up with the idea, she never anticipated androids becoming a worldwide phenomenon

Chloe calls all her Elijah models an ‘it’ rather than ‘he/him’

The specific model in the picture is Chloe’s favorite, she calls him “Eli” rather than “Elijah” like the others

“Eli” is the android she used for her “Kamski test” when she made Hank choose between shooting him or sparing him

[fanged-fanfics]

hii! I was wondering if I could request a Wukong x GnReader where the readers sleeping schedule is….uh it’s not the best, that’s for sure! Like the reader just stays up all night doing work so they barely sleep? just how Wukong would try to help or something. Or if the bad sleep schedule thing ain’t getting your creative juices flowing just plain cuddle headcanons would be completely fine! Feel free to ignore this and remember to drink some water and take breaks! ^^

👑🧡 Sleep Aid — Wukong x GN Reader Drabble 🧡👑

Genres: Fluff, Romance || They/them pronouns for reader || No warnings needed

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁⋆˚｡⋆୨👑୧⋆˚｡⋆✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖

Working into the dead of night wasn't unusual for you, it was commonplace if anything. Stuff needed to get done, and the daytime was usually filled with so much commotion, especially with the Monkey Gang you'd been frequently hanging around recently. You sighed a little as you put a page up just to grab another, filling out the next dreadful tasks. There was a small flash of gold outside that caught your attention, until the door opened and a familiar voice called out.

"I'm home! Where'd you go, peachfuzz?" Wukong called out. He usually ran late nights too, his work as a Sage never seeming to end even post-retirement. He walked into your shared space, zipping up to you and hugging you around the shoulders. "There you are!" He said as he pressed his cheek to yours. When he pulled back, he noticed the papers out. "You're still working? It's been hours" he asked with a concerned frown. You rubbed his hair gently as you turned more in your chair to face him better. "Yeah, but it's okay. I'm making progress" you reassured him. Despite the King leaning into your touch, he didn't seem any less worried. "Are you sure, bud? I don't want you pulling another all-nighter". "I'm sure. I'll be alright" you said, and Wukong gave a nervous hum. "Okayyy, but since I'm up I might as well help" he said. Before you could protest, he was already making his way into the kitchen.

When he came back, he had a few supplies in his arms. He draped a comforter around your shoulders, sliding a warm beverage on your desk. A kiss was placed to your temple as he gave you a plate of warm dinner. "Did you pull this out of your hair?" You asked teasingly, Wukong grinning as he pretended to be offended. "Me?! Never! You should know by now that I'm a great cook" he said, pulling up a chair to sit beside you. You chuckled as you replied, "I've seen you burn too much to even pretend that's true". "Hush," Wukong said playfully, his tail batting at you gently.

As the time wore on, Wukong kept you company. He commented on the work, told you stories to keep you entertained, but there was a slight plot behind his actions. He'd also gently rub your sore shoulders, keep the warmth of the blanket tucked around you, and made sure you finished up all your dinner. Only a few moments later, his gentle affectionate gestures coupled with the warmth and a full stomach made you drowsy. The second you began leaning on him more, he gently took the pencil from you and massaged the palm of your hand. "You okay, love?" He asked with a fond smile. You nodded. "Yeah, just-" a yawn escaped you "-can't seem to keep my eyes open". Wukong nodded, gently keeping you in the blanket as he lifted you into his arms. "I think that means it's bedtime, sunbeam". After you nodded and leaned into his embrace, he used his nimbus cloud to carry the both of you to bed. He gently placed you on the mattress, going back out to shut down the home for the night and put up the dishes.

When he came back, he handed you a set of pajamas and let you get dressed as he did the same in another room. When you were both done, he folded out the blanket he gave you across the covers, letting you curl into his arms. He made sure you were comfortably situated before nestling down with you. Every night he was getting you to go to bed a little earlier, secretly planning to adjust your sleep schedule little by little until you could get a regular full night's sleep. For now, he was happy to call tonight a victory as he kissed your forehead and closed his eyes for sleep

[desire4ella]

relationship headcannon for solo???

𝐃𝐚𝐝𝐝𝐲 𝐒𝐨𝐥𝐨 𝐇𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐜𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐧𝐬: (𝐬𝐟𝐰+𝐧𝐬𝐟𝐰)

𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆: Solo Sikoa x Reader

𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘: Relationship goals and shi

𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃 𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐓: 1,018

𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆: You’ll find out…

🎀 𝒮𝐹𝒲 🎀

˚౨ৎ˚ 1. Even tho he might not sometimes verbally express it, he loves you so much. Sometimes he misses the scent of your vanilla bean shampoo hair , your coco buttered lotioned skin and your strawberry cream scented purfume while he’s on tour, so in those moments he calls you and starts smiling like a mad man as soon as he sees your pretty face.

˚౨ৎ˚ 2. In public he doesn’t really do allat pda stuff, the most he’ll do Is wrap his arms around your shoulder or hold ya hand while crossing the road.

˚౨ৎ˚ 3. But In private It’s a whole different storyyyyy, this man hands will NEVER leave your body. He has to be touching you in some form of way.

˚౨ৎ˚ 4. He’s a buff man, so obviously his hugs are ELITE. Top notch shi right there. You feel so warm and so secure. He has this special hug for you called “ The solo Tornado” in which he picks you up and spins you around, don’t take it for granted cuz he don’t do it often.

˚౨ৎ˚ 5. He acts like a mama bear all the time, it’s so cuteeeeee, he’ll make you soup when your sick ( and even feed it you if you want) he’ll make sure you wear a scarf and a coat in the winter before you go outside, or else you ain’t going outside at all. I don’t make up the rules 🤷🏾‍♀️.

˚౨ৎ˚ 6. He acts like a body guard at times. Anytime you’re talking to someone or just doing regular things in public, he’s standing behind you , ready to fight a hoe If they dare, try ether him or you especially. It’s so funny because he’s this tall, buff and menacing man,standing behind you and then your short ass just chilling in the front.

˚౨ৎ˚ 7. Expect to be spoiled all the time. Your walking past a shop and see a bracelet you like ,The next day he’s presenting it you with a smirk.

˚౨ৎ˚ 8. This man gets downnnnn in da kitchen, HE DONT PLAY. When i’m tellin ya he makes the BEST barbecue wings and seasoned potatoe wedges, it’ll have you running back for more. And he can cook plenty more food e.g Macaroni, Cornbread, Cakes,Chicken,Rice, Cookies n cream cheesecake and just plentyyy more. You’ll never have to order fast food again. ( yes it’s THAT good )

˚౨ৎ˚ 9. Overall he’s just a big teddy bear, wanting to be loved on.

🎀 𝒩𝒮𝐹𝒲 🎀

𝜗𝜚˚⋆ 1. Let’s get straight into it. He loves when you call him “ Daddy” or “Sir”, Something bout the way your lips tremble when you say it, or the way your eyes roll back behind you head when he’s pounding your shit in so good, by the end of it you’ll already flooded the whole bed with your juices.

𝜗𝜚˚⋆ 2. 𝐒𝐂𝐄𝐍𝐀𝐑𝐈𝐎 1: He groaned and pushed your hand away that was prying against his stomach “ Move ya hand princess,I ain’t gon tell you again ” you whined in complaint, his dick was too big, you felt like he was hitting up against your uterus. “ Daddyyy, It’s to muchhhh!” you wailed as his hands reached down to vigorously rub your clit, he breathlessly chuckled “ You gon take this dick, ether way pretty girl, cuz just a minutes ago you wanted to show yo lil ass out infront of people ”.

𝜗𝜚˚⋆ 3. Every session,he has to at least cream pie you once. The sensation of his cream dripping down from your abused hole to your puckered asshole feels euphoric. The way he would use his tip and swipe up the residue that was dribbling down and push it right back into your cunt was so filthy, but you couldn’t give af because you liked being a whore just for him ONLY. The squelching sound that emitted right after was down right nasty, your pussy can’t get enough of his dick,can it ?.

𝜗𝜚˚⋆ 4. 𝐒𝐂𝐄𝐍𝐀𝐑𝐈𝐎 2: You took a shaky breath as you watched his cock slowly re enter your pussy, It was an extremely tight fit,cause his dick was girthy, your cum filled hole felt full and again, nice and stuffed like a jelly filled donut. Your head fell back against the satin pillow as he brung your two legs and placed them above his shoulder, you knew he was about to put in that deep workkk. Sweat dripped down his furrowed eyebrows ,veins protruding out of his neck as he pistoned back and forth out of you “ Fuc-ckk babyyy, Take daddy’s dick like a good girl”.

𝜗𝜚˚⋆ 5. Sometimes when he’s feeling rather….hungry, he’ll sit there for hours if he could and eat you out like a starved man. I’m not even kidding, he wouldn’t stop until you tap out or just pass out for overstimulation.

𝜗𝜚˚⋆ 6. 𝐒𝐂𝐄𝐍𝐀𝐑𝐈𝐎 3: “Ohhhh fu-ckkk daaa-dyyy” you whined out as he wrapped his arms around your thighs to drag your sore pussy closer to his mouth. The vibrations of him moaning went straight into your pussy further amplifying your release . He prodded his long tongue in and out of your sloppy hole while he used his two fingers to repeatedly slam into you, your pussy was clenching hard around him. He spat your juices back unto your clit and sucked it up back again, making sure to stare you right in the eyes when doing it, cause he knew that was your weakness. Your whole body trembled , you instinctively reached your hand out to grip his hair back ��Just like that daddy” you panted out as your body convulsed. One more tug of his juicy,pink lips against your clit and you squirted all over his face like a water hose. And yes,he made sure to lick up EVERY.LAST.DROP. You got yourself a pro pussy eater ladies.

MY FIRST EVER SOLO WRITING .WHOOHOOO. Look at me feeding y’all content, you must be full🙄😭. But on a serious note , I love y’all fr fr, I didn’t think I would’ve made it this far, but I did because of you guys, so I will forever love you for that🩷.

p.s REQUESTS ARE CLOSED MY LOVLIES .I REAPT CLOSSEDDDD UNTIL FUTHER NOTICE.

- 𝐀𝐧𝐠��𝐥 🎀 signing out

[thisis-elijah]

𝐀 𝐖𝐄𝐄𝐊𝐄𝐍𝐃 𝐀𝐓 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐎𝐕𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐎𝐎𝐊 𝐇𝐎𝐓𝐄𝐋

Do you dare to check in? 🛎️ The infamous Overlook Hotel, nestled in the isolated Colorado Rockies, has a dark and mysterious history. Known for its eerie atmosphere and paranormal activity, the hotel has attracted visitors looking for a thrilling experience. This weekend, a group of individuals, each with their own reasons, has checked in. As night falls, strange occurrences begin to happen, turning a weekend getaway into a nightmare. ⸻ imagine yourself in the situation and create your character as they are trapped in a horror movie come true. bonus: get your creative juices flowing and write a oneshot. what happened before the picture? where is your character headed now? are they searching for their friends/the people that arrived with them or are they investigating something different entirely? what else is lurking amongst the shadows?

Wenn es nach ihm gegangen wäre, wäre ihr nächstes Ziel nicht 𝐂𝐎𝐋𝐎𝐑𝐀𝐃𝐎 gewesen. Weitere Gesellschaft hätte er vermutlich auch nicht eingeladen. Elizabeth hatte ihm gesagt, dass sie, Pavel und irgendein Internetfreund von ihr einen Trip zum 𝐎𝐕𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐎𝐎𝐊 𝐇𝐎𝐓𝐄𝐋 geplant hatten – einem heimgesuchten Resort, irgendwo im Nirgendwo, wo sich paranormale Phänomene zutragen sollten – und ob er nicht Lust hatte mitzukommen. “It’s gonna be fun”, hatte sie gesagt, “And you and Pavel haven’t seen each other in forever. I think you guys have a lot of catching up to do, huh?”  Wie hätte er ‘Nein’ sagen können. Als sie den Chat mit den zwei anderen las, hatte sie so versunken gewirkt, das war so hübsch an ihr: wenn sie in ihrer Arbeit oder ihren Hobbies verlor und ihm wenig später euphorisch davon berichtete. Auch, wenn es ihm lieber war, sie widmete ihre ganze Aufmerksamkeit den Sims 4 und keinen verlassenen, spukenden Orten, an denen Gott weiß was auf sie wartete. 

Sie hatten sich in Boulder, einer kleinen Stadt an den Ausläufern der Rocky Mountains, getroffen, dort hatte Elijah Isaiah das erste Mal kennen gelernt. Er und Liz hatten sich über Reddit kennen gelernt (zugegeben noch immer eine Plattform, mit der er nur– langsam warm wurde), auch Pavel kannte den Blonden zuvor nicht. Eine illustre Truppe, geradewegs auf den Weg zu einem Hotel, in dem eine undefinierte Anzahl an Menschen bereits ihr Leben gelassen hatte. Großartig.  Sie alle fuhren in Liz’ RV in Richtung des Hotels, der Brünette hatte auf dem Beifahrersitz Platz genommen und unterhielt sich immer Mal wieder sporadisch mit der Fahrerin, die meiste Zeit schwieg er aber, während sich Elizabeth mit Isaiah und Pavel über ihre Leidenschaften austauschte: Geister, Kryptiden, okkulte Rituale, Dämonen oder seltsame Gestalten, die die Wälder von Nirgendwo beherbergten. Irgendwann ging es darum, dass sie beide irgendeinem Podcast beiwohnen sollten und sicherlich fantastische Geschichten zu erzählen hatten, woraufhin Elijah kaum merklich die Augen verdrehte und aus dem Fenster sah, sein Buch auf seinen Oberschenkel legte und sich den Nasenrücken massierte. ‘If this kid ain’t gonna shut up for one second, I think I’m gonna–’, dachte er, doch brach den Gedanken ab. Ein Innehalten, das er nicht selbst zu verantworten hatte. Sein Blick ging zu Elizabeth, die ihre Hand auf seine legte und ihm aufmunternd zulächelte. Momente wie diese waren so hübsch an ihr; wenn man sie nur gut genug kannte, konnte man ihr alles ansehen, dachte er, jedes Gefühl in allen Nuancen. “I like your sweater”, lächelte sie breiter auf und er sah an sich herunter, schmunzelte und nickte. Natürlich mochte sie ihn, sie hatte ihm den grobmaschigen blauen ‘Apollo 11’-Pullover geschenkt.

“Gods, this is the coolest thing I’ve seen in ages, you’re a genius for suggesting this!”, kommentierte der Blonde irgendwann und hatte sich zwischen Fahrer- und Beifahrersitz niedergekniet, “Pavel, take a look at this beauty!” Der Blick, der zu dem Podcast-Host hinüber ging war nur ein flüchtiger, auch Elijah kam nur schwer darum herum ebenfalls das Haus vor sich zu betrachten: doch im Gegensatz zu den anderen beschlich ihn ein ungutes Gefühl. Irgendetwas hatte dieser Ort an sich, was ihn unwohl sein ließ. Als eine Schönheit würde er das Overlook nicht unbedingt bezeichnen. Das Gebäude ragte fast schon bedrohlich in den dämmernden Himmel, die Wolken zogen schneller als sonst. Als sie ausstiegen schien eine unheilvolle Brise die Luft zu durchziehen. In dem Gemäuer vor ihnen schien stumm die Vergangenheit des Hotels wiederzuhallen, das hier Geschehene hing schwer in der Luft, als hätten sich die Tragödien in der Beschaffenheit des Bodens festgesetzt⸺ Elijah schluckte schwer. Für eine Weile hoffte er, dass der Schnee so hoch liegen würde, als dass der Eingang nicht mehr zugänglich war. Aber vergebens.  Gedanken, Gefühle und Eindrücke, die die drei anderen offensichtlich nicht zu teilen schienen. Er machte ein Foto von der Szenerie, ehe sein Blick ging zu ihnen ging, während er an seiner Zigarette zog.

Im Inneren hatten sie darüber nachgedacht, dass sie sich aufteilen könnten: Etwas, was Elijah nicht ganz verstand. Auch, wenn er kaum Horrorfilme in seinem Leben gesehen hatte, so war ihm schon während dem ‘Blair Witch’-Filmabend bewusst geworden, dass aufteilen immer die denkbar schlechteste Idee war. “I have a bad feeling about this”, hatte er Elizabeth irgendwann in das Vertrauen gezogen, während sich der Geisterjäger und der Podcaster unterhalten hatten. “I’ll be with you shortly, Eli, promised. There should be a maze around here, I bet there’s some scary stuff to investigate there, too. I’ll be with you in five, just let me get a look at the foyer, will ya?” Ihr Lächeln wurde breiter, seines ebenfalls. Behutsam strich er über das Haar der Brünetten, küsste ihre Schläfe und nickte.  “Be careful in there, alright?”, hatte er ihr noch leise gesagt. “Took you long enough. So where we wanna go first?”

Elijahs Laune sank minütlich. Ihm war kalt, er hatte keine Lust auf irgendetwas Paranormales und wäre deutlich lieber einfach abends in ein Pub gegangen und hätte es sich bei einem Bier gut gehen lassen. In der fünften Minute hatte er tief durchgeatmet und sich daran erinnert, dass er all das hier für Liz tat, die viel Wert darauf legte, dass er hier war. Und irgendwo rührte es ihn auch, dass sie ihn dabei haben wollte. Bei Minute dreizehn war ihm gänzlich die Lust vergangen. Er dachte daran, wie Isaiah seinen Arm um Liz’ Hals gelegt hatte, als die Texanerin die letzten Meter zu ihren Freunden aufgeholt hatte. “You’re a genius for suggesting this, I bet you have fantastic stories to tell, Do YoU wAnNa JoIn My PoDcAsT?”, äffte er leise den Blonden nach, als er an seiner Zigarette zog, eine Weile lang auf und ab ging. “Fuck off. I listen to these stories, not some pretentious kid from Michigan. LoOk At Me I hAvE sO aNd So MaNy MoNtHlY lIsTeNeRs. Who gives a shit”, fluchte er und warf die Zigarette in den Schnee, ehe er sich umdrehte und zum Eingang des Labyrinths sah. Er musterte Liz, die hinter einer der Hecken stand und für einige Augenblicke befürchtete er, dass sie ihn gehört hatte. “What took you so long? I thought you’d stand me up for a fucking hotel.” Sie lächelte breiter und verschwand hinter der Hecke, was ihn zum Lächeln brachte und er ihr hinterher ging. Manchmal sah er nur einen Schatten von ihr, bat sie darum langsamer zu laufen und kam die meiste Zeit kaum hinterher, bis sie in der Mitte des Labyrinthes angekommen waren. Sie stand in der Mitte, sie hatte ihren Schal und die Jacke abgelegt und stand im weißen Kleid vor ihm. “Love…”, sagte er leise und ging ein paar Schritte auf sie zu, zog sich seine Jacke aus und legte sie ihr um, ehe er ihr die Mütze aufsetzte und über ihre Schultern rieb, um sie aufzuwärmen. Ihre Lippen waren blau, ihre Nasenspitze rot und sie fror am ganzen Körper. “Liz, we need to get you back to the RV. You’re freezing.” Sie nickte ruhig und sah zu ihm hoch, lächelte selig auf und lehnte sich an ihn. “Don’t you wanna stay a while?”, fragte sie ihn und lächelte ihm zuckersüß entgegen, strich mit ihren kalten Fingern sanft über seine Wange. Ein kalter Schauer lief ihn über den Rücken, ehe er ihre Hand nahm und sie zwischen seine legte. “It’s 20°F, love, and even though the sweater’s comfy and all, it ain’t the solution for these temperatures. Your RV’s all nice and toasty for you, hm?”“But I want you to stay, Elijah.” Sie nannte ihn selten bei seinem vollen Vornamen. Eigentlich nur, wenn sie wütend auf ihn war. Oder verzweifelt. “Take this”, fuhr sie fort und legte behutsam etwas in seine Hand, verdeckte den Gegenstand aber.

Ì̷̞͍̦͎͖͆̐͒̿̊ ̸̻̘̗̔̈̏n̷͉͖̝͒̓̑̀͛́e̴͈̐̋͆̾͗͜͠͝e̶̻̼̜͍̓̿͝ͅd̸̼̅ ̷̄͂͠ͅy̸͇̠͊̌̿o̵̱̬̤̺͈̮͕͆̆͠ú̶̻̚͝ ̴̢̧̦̩̝̍̓̾̅̈́͗̚ͅṯ̶̹͕͛̉̌͂o̸̧̡̮͈͕̿̉̽ ̴̟͎̱̋̍͝f̶͉̺̏į̵̯͕̪́̓͐́́͒n̶̢̼̟̱͚̖̺̄ḍ̴̜̺̘̻͓̰̊͛͊ ̵̢̫̭̀̊́̄̑̐ṃ̵̈́́͑ê̷̩̈́̎͝ ̴͙̝̘̬͖̬̔t̶̢̻͓͔̼̘̝̄̈̈͊̄h̴̨̛̛̙͗̉̈ę̴͓̪͇̯̻͊͋̈́̔̆͐r̵̢̥̝͂͗̈̔̍͗̊e̵̡̙̙͐̽͒̒.̷̖͙͇̦̯̼͐̌̈́̚͜ ̷̭̟̩̖̘̰͜͝I̵̛̥̝̐̕ͅ’̸̠̝͎̥̟́̕͜ͅm̷̱̞͈̎̔̎̎͗̆͜ ̷͙͕̰͖̜̍̋͛̅͒ş̵̭̜̥́̒̈́̎͆c̷͈̹̏̈́ą̵̪́̂͗̋͝r̴̢̨̞̠͓͓͎͑̉͌̈͝e̷̢̝̔̀͌d̵͙̜̣͚̃̽̈̅̓̕̚ͅ,̴͔̬̬̻͖͈͊̃͑͋̒̆͗ ̵̢̨̬̔͒͑͑͂͝E̶͔͉̲͌̄̓̄͊̾̚l̷͈̊͆͝ĭ̵̥͙̮͎̹̥͔̃́̈́̋̕j̶̺̮̍a̴͕̽́̒̂̚h̷̙̤̱͖͉͙̏.̶͔̞̫̙̇”̷̡̰̭̭̤̺̃ Ihre Gesichtszüge veränderten sich, wurden seltsam weit, verzerrt, er hatte das Gefühl, als entglitt sie ihm. Es war, als würden Realität und Albtraum willkürlich die Plätze tauschen. “Elijah, I don’t know where I am. I’m scared. Where are you? Ẃ̶̨͕̏͋̈̄̓͝h̶̛͙̠̙̳ͅy̵̢̙̣̣͉̎͊̋̑̋͜ ̷̬̂d̵̹̮̦̩̘͑͆͜͝ỉ̶̛̩͍̞̑͜͝d̵̰͈̉̔͊͊͊̆ ̸̖̝̰̙̣́́̊̽͆̐ͅy̶̫͚͇̾̊̃͛̈̏ò̷͙̘͍͈̜̯u̸̘̖̬̳̙͌̇́͠͝ ̸̢̱̝͍̖͚̜̾̎̓L̸̢̰͍͔̞̱̗͋̂̕Ẽ̸͚̖̎͆̿̏̕͝Á̷̢̟̪̹̳̟̇̽̀͠ͅV̶̜̂͜Ë̷̱̋̈̅ ̴̡̪͖͕̼̾M̵̢͍̙̟̟̖̪̑̐͑̓̔̄Ė̶̼̹͛̇̀?̵̡̟̠̫͌̂͂͑̆̔͒͜!̴̺͓̋” Die Mimik des Brünetten wandelte sich von Zuneigung in Irritation und schließlich in Furcht. Auch, wenn er zuvor schon Berührungen mit Terror gehabt hatte, schien er sich nie wirklich daran zu gewöhnen. Elizabeth fiel in sich zusammen, ihre Gelenke bogen sich in schier unbeugsame Richtungen, ihr Kopf lag auf dem Boden auf, sah mit weit aufgerissenen Augen zu ihm hoch.  Sein Atem ging flach. Es war schwer seinen Augen zu trauen. Für eine Weile verharrten sie so, ehe sie sich auf allen Vieren über das schneebedeckte Kiesbett davon stahl, ihr Kopf und die langen, braunen Haare zogen den Schnee mit sich, bis sie hinter einer der Hecken verschwand.  Minutenlang hatte er in der Eiseskälte gestanden, seine Fingerglieder wurden allmählich blau. Sein Blick fiel auf den Schlüssel mit einem roten Anhänger in seiner Hand.  𝐙𝐈𝐌𝐌𝐄𝐑 𝟐𝟑𝟕.

tagged by: @ausgetrieben tagging: @phasmophobie @hochmvt @gottesgrauen @vergeltvng @trauma-report @ertraeumte @caughtbetweenworlds @vikasgarden @heartofglass-mindofstone & you !

[lovessidney]

Orange Juice

Please note that this explicit story was written by an adult, for adults. If you are under the age of 18, please do not interact.

Trigger warning: Alcohol abuse.

Pairing: Gerard Way x Reader.

Pronouns: none, (anatomy: AFAB).

Requested by: no one, I for once got inspired on my own.

Summary: You and Gerard reunite, years after letting go of each other. You’ve both changed, but has the relationship you once had changed with the years too?

A/n: Okay, so this fic is inspired by the songs ’Orange Juice’ and ’Homesick’ by Noah Kahn. I don’t even know how the idea popped into my head, it just did. I also found inspiration from another song I used to listen to years ago, in my early teens. Please, if anyone finds it, leave a comment or shoot me a message, it would be soooo fun if someone got it! It’s not that unlikely, really, it would just be really fun. 

Also, fair warning, this is another really long one.

The midday sun cast long shadows as you navigated the bustling streets, running errands for your mom's upcoming birthday party. The city held a familiar rhythm, each intersection and storefront a page from the chapters of your past. As you approached a corner of Main Street, a flash of bright red hair caught your eye.

There, across the street, stood Gerard, unmistakable in a white leather jacket and bright red hair that seemed to defy the muted tones of the urban landscape. You hadn’t seen them in a very long time. The years had etched themselves upon their face, but there was a spark of recognition in their eyes as they scanned the surroundings.

Without hesitation, you made your way through the sea of pedestrians, the echo of their name reaching Gerard's ears. They flinched, an instinctive reaction to the possibility of paparazzi or over eager fans. However, as they turned to face you, a genuine smile replaced the initial wariness.

"Hey there," you greeted, a mixture of nostalgia and curiosity in your voice. "Long time, no see."

Gerard's eyes widened, the recognition setting in. "Wow, it's been years. How have you been?" they replied, the hint of surprise giving way to genuine warmth.

You fell into the easy cadence of old friends catching up. "I've been good, just busy with life. And you, how long since you got back?" you asked, curiosity lacing your words.

"I've been here for a few days," Gerard explained, a nonchalant air about them. "Just taking it all in, you know?"

As the conversation flowed, you couldn't help but wonder about Gerard's current state. "How have you been - and are you bored yet?" you inquired, a grin playing on your lips.

Gerard chuckled, a hint of mischief in their eyes. "It's not so bad. It's been a while since I was here last."

You both exchanged laughs, the familiarity of shared memories weaving through the small talk. The city, with its chaotic energy, became a backdrop to the reunion of two friends who had once navigated the ups and downs of life together.

"The weather ain’t been bad - if you’re into masochistic bullshit," you quipped, the banter echoing the camaraderie you once shared.

Gerard's smile faltered for a moment, a subtle shift in their demeanor. As you continued down the street, you noticed a fleeting expression of flustered emotions in their eyes. Something had stirred beneath the surface, and without a word, Gerard excused themselves, citing a sudden errand.

"Guess I've got to run," they said, the words a touch hurried. "Let's catch up soon, okay?"

You agreed, the unspoken tension lingering in the air as Gerard walked away. The city, with its familiar and enigmatic energy, now held the promise of unexpected reunions and the untangling of emotions that had long been dormant.

The next day, you and your mom found yourself at a quaint café, it provided a momentary refuge from the whirlwind of party preparations. You and your mom, coffee cups in hand, settled into a cozy corner booth, enjoying the respite from the hectic day.

As the steam rose from the cups, you caught sight of a familiar figure entering the café. Gerard, with that unmistakable shock of red hair, strolled in. Their eyes met yours, and there was a brief exchange of smiles before Gerard approached the counter to place an order.

Your mom, glancing up from her coffee, followed your gaze and then gasped in recognition. "Oh my goodness! Isn't that Gerard? Your friend from way back?” she exclaimed, her eyes wide with surprise.

You nodded, a smile playing on your lips. "Yeah, it's them. We bumped into each other the other day.”

Your mom's face lit up with joy. "Oh, how wonderful! I remember you two being such good friends back in the day. It's been ages. Look at you both now, all grown up!"

Gerard, now with a take-away cup in hand, joined your table. The genuine warmth in your mom's eyes as she greeted them was evident. "Gerard, dear, it's been too long! You must join us for my birthday party tomorrow. It's going to be such a delightful gathering."

Gerard, slightly taken aback but flattered by the invitation, stammered out a gracious response. "Oh, uh, that sounds great, but I might have other plans. Thanks for the invite, though."

Your mom insisted, her enthusiasm undeterred. "Nonsense! You must come. It'll be like old times. I'd love to have you."

As Gerard shifted, slightly blushing, they found a moment to excuse themselves. "I appreciate it, really. I'll see if I can drop by. Enjoy the party preparations, both of you," they said, their smile lingering as they made a swift exit.

You watched them go, recognizing the familiar signs of shy retreat. Your mom, undeterred, continued to share memories and express her excitement for the evening ahead. The café, once a brief escape, now echoed with the anticipation of a reunion that seemed to be on the horizon.

Finally, Saturday rolled around. You had spent most of the week helping your mom prepare for the party and suffering through visits to extended family.

Despite the vibrant energy that enveloped your mom's birthday party, you found yourself grappling with an unsettling sense of detachment. The back yard buzzed with laughter, and your mother, the epitome of joy, danced from one conversation to another, her happiness infectious. However, you couldn't shake the feeling of being an outsider in your own hometown.

The attendees were a sea of familiar faces, but the connections that once bound you together had frayed over time. Older relatives regarded you with a mix of disapproval and disappointment, their subtle judgments casting a shadow over the festivities. Leaving Belleville and New Jersey behind had strained those relationships, creating an unspoken distance that loomed between you and your family.

As you observed the cousins who once shared childhood adventures with you, you couldn't help but notice the chasm that had grown between you. Their lives had evolved into a tapestry of commitments—wedded partners and children—leaving you to navigate the party with a sense of isolation. The threads that once wove a tight bond had unraveled, and you found yourself adrift among the celebrations.

The music played on, the laughter continued, but the festivities felt like a tableau of past connections that had faded into mere echoes. You navigated through conversations with a forced smile, exchanging pleasantries with those you once knew intimately but now struggled to connect with. The party was a testament to the passage of time, highlighting the divergence of paths and the evolution of relationships.

Then you remember, your mom actually invited Gerard when you met them at the coffee shop. Maybe you should call them? You flipped through the contacts saved in your phone while sipping some water. Sure enough, “Way, Gerard” showed up about last of them all. That number must be a million years old, you thought to yourself. But still, something in you told you to call it.

As the phone rang, you couldn't help but ponder the potential outcomes. What if they no longer used that number? Probably they had changed it after all these years? Leaving the bustling garden behind, you found a secluded spot and took a deep breath before the call connected. The ringing echoed in your ears, each tone amplifying the questions swirling in your mind. What if Gerard didn’t pick up? Or worse yet, what if they did?

The moment of silence hung in the air, teetering on the edge of awkwardness, until a familiar voice broke through the uncertainty.

"Uh- yeah. Who is it? And how’d you get this number?" Gerard's voice, distinct and unmistakable, reached you from the other end of the line. Your heart skipped a beat, and for a moment, you hesitated. Should you really be doing this? But then, fueled by a mix of nostalgia and curiosity, you made your voice heard.

"Hi Gerard,” you responded. "It’s me. Sorry if it’s weird that I’m calling—and that I still have your old number."

"Oh. Hi," Gerard's voice softened, and a brief pause lingered before they asked, "What’s up?" The question hung in the air, threthening to choke you before you figured out what to answear.

You took a moment to gather your thoughts. The past and the present collided in your mind, and for a fleeting second, you questioned what the hell you were doing. Both of you had changed so much; what remained of the connection that once held you close?

"You still there?" Gerard's voice snapped you back to the present, and you debated whether to end the call. Yet, curiosity prevailed.

"Sorry. This is stupid. I don’t even know why I called. But I thought maybe you’d like to come over? My mom would be so happy. And the party’s gone slower." You paused, realizing the potential complexity of inviting someone who had battled alcoholism up until fairly recently. "No one will tempt you. They know that you’re sober," you added cautiously, hoping to ease concerns.

There was a pause on the other end as Gerard seemed to contemplate your invitation. "Uh. Yeah. I mean, sure, why not. It’s Belleville, after all. Not like I’ve got much better to do," they replied, a hint of laughter breaking the tension. That laugh, once so familiar, tugged at your heartstrings.

"Okay, perfect. I’ll see you soon, then," you said, a smile playing on your lips. As you ended the call, you couldn't help but wonderif this was the most unneccesary awakening of a years old crush? Maybe. You realised that. But at the same time, you couldn’t really let them slip through your fingers again.

You retreated to the front porch, seeking a moment of solace before Gerard arrived. Nestling into a chair, you reached into your pocket and retrieved a pack of cigarettes, along with a lighter from the other. The familiar ritual brought a sense of grounding. With the cigarette between your lips, you ignited the lighter, casting a soft glow on your face as the embers flickered to life.

The fading daylight allowed the lights and candles scattered around the garden to become more pronounced. The ambiance was tranquil, a stark contrast to the party in the back yard. Closing your eyes, you took a deep drag, savoring the nicotine. In this moment of quiet reflection, you couldn't help but wonder what the evening held in store.

You closed your eyes for a moment, just focusing and the feeling of the slightly chilly air around you. You’re really hoped that the evening would turn out good. Then you realised that you didn’t even know what you would define as good. Rekindling what you and Gerard had, the friendship or the other feelings would be good. Great even. Yet skepticism lingered. 

As you contemplated the complexities of the night, the soft sound of footsteps against the walkway disrupted your reverie. Opening your eyes, you caught sight of Gerard approaching. The sight took you by surprise; they looked absolutely stunning. Adorned in a white button-down shirt, a black waistcoat, and black trousers paired with Converse, it was a look reminiscent of what they might wear on stage, sans the makeup and occasional writings on their neck. You cursed to yourself as you felt old feelings bubbling up to the surface again.

"Hi Gerard," you greeted them, uncertain of what else to say. You rose from your seat, offering a hug—the kind shared by people who haven't seen each other in a long time, loose and awkward. 

"Hey you," Gerard replied softly, their eyes reflecting a shyness reminiscent of their high school years. "How have you been?"

"What, since yesterday?" you replied, attempting to sound smart but unintentionally coming off as a bit mean. "Sorry. Uh, I didn’t mean to sound so rude. I’ve been okay, really. Kind of bored, so I’m glad I’ve had my hands full with Mom's party. How about you?"

Realizing you were still standing, you settled back onto the porch, gesturing for Gerard to join you. You held out your pack of cigarettes, offering them one. They accepted with a grateful smile, and a moment of comfortable silence settled between you. You didn't know what to say, but the mere presence of Gerard by your side felt reassuring.

"Remember our graduation party?" they asked suddenly, drawing on a shared memory. You smiled in acknowledgment, nodding at the recollection of the night you and Gerard had hosted a memorable graduation party.

"That’s the last time I drank here. If I recall correctly, I ended up passed out on the lawn," they confessed, a hint of embarrassment coloring their cheeks in the dim light.

"That was ages ago, Gerard. Don’t worry about it," you reassured them, wrapping an arm around their shoulder. They turned to you with a soft smile.

"I remember you took care of me. I was so embarrassed," they admitted, a gentle laugh escaping their lips.

"Hey, that’s what friends do," you assured them. "And I would do it again in a heartbeat."

They looked up at you, a shimmer in their eyes that wasn’t there just a moment ago. They appeared absolutely mesmerizing, and you had to look away to prevent yourself from melting into a puddle on the porch.

Pulling yourself together, you shifted the conversation to Gerard's life—tours, the new record, and the various aspects of their world. Gradually, the exchange felt more natural, as if the years of zero contact were melting away, leaving room for the familiarity of old friendships to resurface.

You were sipping your drink, and when the glass run empty, you realised you hadn’t offered Gerard anything. "Do you want something to drink, Gerard?" The nickname "Gee" lingered in your memory, but for now, nerves held you back from using it.

They appeared lost in thought for a moment. "Alcohol-free, of course," you added as an extra precaution, though it seemed unnecessary. "There’s orange juice in the kitchen, I think. We bought it for the children, but it’s yours if you want it." You found yourself rambling, a constant need to overexplain, a bit apprehensive about saying something wrong. After taking a deep breath, you turned to them again, a smile on your face. "Really, I’m just glad you could visit."

A more genuine smile graced Gerard's face this time. "Yeah. That sounds nice. Thanks."

You both made your way to the kitchen, the quiet of the house providing a stark contrast to the fading sounds of the party in the garden. The dim light illuminated the room, and you retrieved the orange juice from the refrigerator, offering it to Gerard.

As you both sat back on the porch, sipping on your drinks, the atmosphere shifted. The nervous tension seemed to dissipate, replaced by a more genuine connection. The night held the promise of shared memories and the possibility of rediscovering what had been lost over the years.

The porch cradled you both in a quiet embrace as you sat side by side, sipping on the chilled orange juice. The subdued glow from the nearby garden lights painted the scene in a soft palette. An unspoken tension lingered in the air, both of you acutely aware of the subtle shift in dynamics.

The clink of glasses and the occasional hushed murmur from the party in the distance were the only sounds that dared to interrupt the shared silence. Gerard's eyes, momentarily lost in the play of shadows, met yours, and for a fleeting second, an unspoken understanding passed between you. The nervous energy that had been humming beneath the surface began to surface, threading through the air like a delicate current.

You took a sip, the cool citrus flavor lingering on your tongue, a stark contrast to the warmth building between you. The rhythmic pulse of your heart seemed to echo in the quiet, a reminder of the uncharted territories you were navigating.

"I've missed this," Gerard finally spoke, their voice a soft echo in the night. The admission hung in the air, a bridge between shared memories and the uncharted present.

A nervous smile tugged at the corners of Gerard's lips. "You know, I always thought your laugh was the best part of those high school days. Still do," they said, the compliment wrapped in a subtle attempt at flirtation.

Your cheeks flushed slightly, a mirrored response to the compliment and the underlying flirtation. Attempting to compose yourself, you looked away, the faintest smile playing on your lips. "Well, your music was always the soundtrack to those days. Still is," you admitted, allowing a pause before adding, "And your smile... it hasn’t changed. It's still the most captivating thing I've ever seen."

As you both sat on the porch, the night held the promise of rediscovery, the subtle dance of flustered nerves revealing a truth that neither of you was quite ready to put into words. Yet, in the shared silence and the gentle glow of garden lights, there was an unspoken acknowledgment of something beautiful, a connection that had withstood the test of time.

The night air carried a subtle chill, and a quiet yawn escaped you. The hours spent helping your mom with the party had caught up with you, and fatigue began to tug at the edges of your consciousness. The porch, once alive with unspoken words and shared memories, now cradled a comfortable quiet.

Gerard noticed your yawn and chuckled softly. "Tired already?" they teased, a warmth in their eyes.

You couldn't help but smile, the fatigue momentarily forgotten. "Yeah, I’ve been up since early morning. Mom's party required some serious preparation."

A thoughtful expression crossed Gerard's face, as if an idea had taken root. "You remember what we used to do when we needed a pick-me-up and some good conversation?" they suggested, a glint of nostalgia in their eyes.

Your interest piqued, you leaned in slightly. "What?"

"We used to go to Waffle House," Gerard said with a grin. "Coffee and cigarettes were always best when shared with you. How about we head over there and share a cup or two? Just like old times."

The mention of Waffle House flooded your mind with memories of late-night conversations, laughter, and the comforting aroma of coffee. The proposal sounded perfect, a nostalgic journey to a familiar place where time seemed to stand still.

"Sounds like a plan," you replied, a spark of excitement in your tired eyes. "I could use a caffeine boost."

With that, you both rose from the porch, leaving the lingering quiet of the house behind. The night held the promise rekindling of a friendship that had stood the test of time.

The neon glow of the Waffle House sign cast a warm, welcoming light as you and Gerard settled into a corner of the outdoor seating area. The crisp night air carried the scent of freshly brewed coffee and the aroma of waffles, creating an atmosphere that felt both familiar and comforting.

You both ordered a plate of waffles and cups of coffee, the steam rising from the mugs as the waitress set them down on the table. The first bite of the warm, syrup-soaked waffle was a delightful reunion with a taste you hadn't experienced in years.

As you savored the familiar flavors, the conversation flowed easily between you and Gerard. The nostalgia of the place seemed to open the floodgates of shared memories and laughter, turning the evening into a journey back in time.

"I can't believe we used to spend hours here," Gerard remarked, a smile playing on their lips.

"Yeah, it was our go-to spot. Waffle House always had this magic of making everything feel better," you agreed, a fondness in your voice.

The playful banter and light flirting between you and Gerard added a sprinkle of warmth to the air. Each exchanged grin and shared laugh became a testament to the connection that had transcended time.

As the night progressed, the chill in the air prompted a move inside. The warmth of the diner embraced you as you settled into a booth, the vinyl seats squeaking softly as you shifted.

With the change in setting, the conversation delved into the winding roads your lives had taken since the days of hanging out at Waffle House. You spoke of the highs and lows, the unexpected turns, and the way life had shaped and reshaped your respective journeys.

Nostalgia enveloped the conversation, weaving through tales of shared laughter, dreams, and the undeniable bond that had endured over the years. The diner became a time capsule, capturing moments that bridged the past and present.

As cups of coffee were refilled and the night unfolded, you found solace in the shared space, each word a testament to the enduring connection that had brought you back to this familiar haven.

The night settled around you both, and plates and mugs sat empty, remnants of shared laughter and the echoes of memories long tucked away. The waitress approached, signaling the end of their impromptu reunion.

"Closing time, folks. Hate to kick you out, but we gotta shut it down," she called, a knowing smile playing on her lips. You and Gerard exchanged glances, realizing the night couldn't linger in the cozy embrace of the diner forever.

The crisp air hung between you as you stepped out into the night. Remnants of laughter and shared memories could almost be felt in the atmosphere. Silent tention crackled in the air between you and Gerard as the Waffle House door swung shut behind you. You both bathed in the soft glow of the dimming streetlights and the weight of unspoken words lingered, the anticipation building in the quiet night.

For a moment, you just stood there, looking at each other, both trying to find the courage to say or do something. Anything.

In the gentle pause, you caught a glimmer in Gerard's eyes, a reflection of the same uncertainty that echoed in your own heart. The pavement beneath your feet seemed to hold its breath as you both stood on the edge of a cliff, the night holding the promise of something more.

Gerard hesitated, their gaze shifting between your eyes and the ground. It was a delicate balance, all the feelings and the unspoken questions hanging between you. The night seemed to elongate, the world reduced to the two of you and the shared history that bound you together. Your eyes met, and for a moment, the world went still and quiet around you.

As if guided by a force beyond your control, you closed the gap, the space between you and Gerard diminishing until your lips finally met. Their lips were a bittersweet memory, a taste of the past mingling with the urgency of the present. The kiss was soft, a whisper of what could have been, yet it held the weight of a decade's worth of longing. Gerard's fingers, trembling with a mixture of anticipation and restraint, found their place on the curve of your cheek.

The world seemed to dissolve into the sensation of that kiss. It was a dance of familiarity and rediscovery, a silent acknowledgment that time had not eroded the essence of feelings that had once been. The warmth of their lips against yours was both a comfort and an ache, a reminder of a connection that had been paused but never truly bruned out.

The softness of the kiss showed the desperation that hid beneath the surface. It was as if you both were trying to capture lost time in that moment, to bridge the gap that a decade had carved into your shared history. Every nuance, every gentle press of lips, carried the weight of untold stories and unspoken confessions.

As the kiss deepened, it became a melody of sighs and shared breaths. Gerard's hand, tracing a path from your cheek to the nape of your neck, held you close as if afraid that the moment might slip away like a fleeting dream. The world outside ceased to exist, and all that remained was the echo of your heartbeats and the soft, desperate symphony of a kiss that defied the confines of time.

As you pulled away, breathless and wide-eyed, the realization hung in the air. The unspoken had found its voice in the language of shared desire. Gerard's eyes, now filled with a newfound clarity, met yours with a mix of surprise and recognition.

"I... I didn't expect..." they began, words trailing off as the uncharted territory of your connection unfolded before you.

The magnetic pull persisted, drawing you back in for another kiss, this time with a shared understanding of the emotions that simmered beneath the surface. The night embraced the two of you, wrapped in the warmth of a connection reignited, and you found solace in the knowledge that sometimes, the past and present could collide in the most unexpected and beautiful ways.

The air crackled with a tangible tension, the aftermath of the shared kisses leaving both you and Gerard in total emotional free-fall. The streetlights cast long shadows as you stood there, caught in the crossroads of what was and what could be. The unspoken desire hung in the air, waiting for someone to take the first step. Gerard's eyes, now holding a newfound intensity, searched yours for a sign, a confirmation that the connection you both felt was not a fleeting moment. A hesitant smile played on their lips, mirroring the uncertainty that lingered in your own expression.

The silence stretched between you, filled only by the distant sounds of the city. It was as if the world held its breath, waiting for one of you to break the delicate equilibrium that held you suspended in the night. In a moment of shared vulnerability, Gerard's hand found yours, fingers intertwining in a silent plea that spoke more than words ever could. The touch, an anchor in the sea of uncertainty, became a subtle invitation to venture into the unknown.

"We should... we should go somewhere," Gerard mumbled, the words hanging in the air like a question seeking affirmation.

The invitation lingered, full of unspoken feelings and desires. Your heart raced, caught between the safety of the past and the uncharted territory that lay ahead. A shared glance spoke volumes, a silent agreement that the hotel room held the promise of something more, a space where the echoes of the past could be confronted and rewritten.

As you began to walk, the distance between you and Gerard seemed to shrink, each step carrying the weight of unexplored possibilities. The city around you became a blur, and the anticipation of what possibly awaited in Gerards hotel room became a magnetic force, drawing you closer.

As the hotel's entrance neared, Gerard stole a glance at you, a silent question in their eyes. The anticipation swirled like a current between you, and in a moment of shared recognition, the unspoken was finally voiced.

"Would you... want to come up?" Gerard asked, their words carrying the weight of vulnerability and desire.

The question hung in the air for a heartbeat before you nodded in response. The hotel lobby welcomed you both, and as soon as the elevator doors closed, Gerards arms wrapped around your waist. A total turn from how they’d been a few moments ago. This was something else, something desperate and yearning. Your hands found their way around their neck, pinning them against the wall of the elevator. You wanted to be closer, if closer was a concept possible to exist.

Time slowed, a combination of the enclosed space and the palpable tension. Your nose touched theirs and your foreheads came close. It seemed as if the moment was stretching on for a lifetime. Just the sound of the two of you, breathing in a tiny space, nearly panting, as the elevator ascended.

But when Gerards lips did meet yours, they were already breathless, ready, needing the contact so intoxicating that the second had already turned into a minute. Their breath was hot on your face, a moan escaping their lips. For a moment you just stood there, looking at each other, trying to grasp what was actually happening. Then the elevator door opened.

Gerards hand grasped yours, pulling you along behind them. They led you to their hotel room. They dropped the keycard twice, hands shaking and nerves buzzing. The second they got the door open and had closed it behind you, they were all over you again, it was as if they were trying to make up for ten years of missing out. Their mouth found yours and their hands pulled you in tight, as tight as humanly possible, in the most perfect way. Gerards kisses were desperate and needy, ten years of pent up emotion. You stumbled backwards onto the bed, their body coming with you, collapsing on top. For a few moments, that's all there was, just the two of you, kissing like the world might end tomorrow.

Suddenly Gerard just stopped and looked down at you. "Is this okay? Like really really okay?" They sounded almost scared. You pushed them off of you and climbed on top, straddling their waist, leaning over. Your face was inches from theirs. 

"Oh, 'okay' doesn't even begin to cover it." You kissed their neck, sucking gently, Gerards eyes fluttered shut. 

Their hands were shaking as they found the hem of your shirt, tugging, asking permission. You sat up and removed it, quickly, before going straight back to work, trailing kisses down their neck and across their collarbones. You could feel them starting to shift under you, doing their best to disguise the obvious. You ground your hips against them slowly, Gerards breath caught and they whimpered slightly. God, the sound was intoxicating.

Their face was flushed and they were panting, and oh, was it the most beautiful sight. You sat up again, grinding gently into them. Gerards hands tugged at your belt loops, their eyes begged. Your fingers undid their belt and jeans and you slid down their body, pulling their pants with you. Gerards eyes were wide and, if anything, even more desperate than they had been before. Their boxers were tented and there was already a wet patch. You pressed your hand against their cock, Gerards back arched and their hands scrambled for something to grasp onto, finding the pillow behind their head. 

Their breathing was getting heavier and they bit their lip, trying not to moan. You hooked your fingers into the waistband, Gerards hips bucked, ever so slightly. You pulled off their boxers and watched their cock spring free. It curved upwards and leaked precum onto their stomach. Suggestively, you licked your own hand and wrapped it around the base, Gerards breath hitched and their eyes shut close. 

You stroked them agonizingly slowly, and Gerards hips twitched. You lowered your mouth, their cock was right in front of your lips. Just before you made contact, you stopped and looked up at them. Gerards eyes opened, they whined and their hips bucked again. You smirked and blew gently, teasing them. Their face contorted, this was torture. You ran your tongue up the underside of their shaft, Gerards grip on the pillow tightened. While swirling your tongue around their tip, Gerards breathing became shallow and desperate. They were trying not to beg, but it was getting harder by the second.

"Please" they managed, barely a whisper. 

You took them in to your mouth, theirs fell open and their eyes rolled back. Without doubt, you took them deeper. Gerards hips tried to thrust, you placed a hand on their hip, pinning them down. Their chest rose and fell, they were struggling to control their breathing. 

You hollowed your cheeks and took them deep down your throat. Gerards knuckles were white, their mouth hung open, they couldn't contain the string of moans, incoherent babbling, gasping your name. You bobbed your head, and their thighs tensed, their whole body shuddering. Their hands found their way into your hair, trying desperately to ground themselves somehow. It was a feeble attempt. Their head was spinning, the pleasure so intense.

"God, fuck, please. You have to stop" they managed between moans.

Your mouth left their cock with a pop, Gerards eyes opened and they panted. 

”Is something wrong?" you asked, genuinely concerned that they'd changed their mind.

They panted, or laughed, you didn't quite know which. Then they explained. "No way. I just don't want this to end yet," they managed with a heaving chest. 

You climbed back up their body and Gerards hands were immediately undoing your pants. Their shaky hands fumbled, so you helped. Once you'd removed them, their hands found their way into your underwear, eagerly finding the right places to touch you. 

You laid back down on the bed and without doubt you pulled off your underwear and threw them somewhere on the floor. Their thumb circled your clit, you moaned and Gerards face lit up, loving the sound. Their index and middle finger found your entrance, gently stroking, testing the waters. You ground your hips into their hand, Gerards eyes closed and they whimpered. Their fingers found their way back to your cunt, and just their sliding over you was enough to make you moan. Their index finger entered you and their thumb resumed circling your clit. You whimpered and bit your lip.

Their finger curled inside of you and hit exactly the spot you needed. The spot that made you weak in the knees. "Fuck, Gerard" you gasped, and Gerards face split into the most perfect smile. It would have been angelic, if it hadn't been so damn wicked. Their finger moved in and out of you, hitting the same spot every time. You rocked your hips against their hand, Gerards face became concentrated. They wanted nothing more than to give you what you needed. You rode their hand and Gerards thumb never stopped, making you shudder and gasp. "God, Gerard, I need you," you managed between moans.

Gerards other hand pulled you into a kiss. Their hand left you and their arms wrapped around your waist. For a moment you were just looking into each other's eyes, savouring the moment. Gerards hands found yours and their eyes pleaded. Your hand guided their cock to your cunt, and slowly you sank down on them. 

They filled you up so fucking good. Their hands found yours and they bit their lip, trying not to cum at the sight of it all. You waited a few seconds, letting your bodies adjust to each other. Gerards hands squeezed yours and they nodded. You rolled your hips slowly, feeling their cock slide in and out. Your head rolled back and Gerards moans were heavenly.

"You feel so fucking good. Jesus fuck," they gasped, their words were cut short by a moan. You rocked against them, Gerards face contorted, the pleasure was heavenly.

You leaned down and captured their lips with yours. Your tongue found its way into their mouth. Their kiss was deep and hungry.

"Fuck me," they murmured against your lips.

You sat up and started rolling your hips. The way you moved was slow and controlled. The sensation was intense, almost too much. The most perfect, angelic sin. Gerards breathing was ragged and shallow. They were already so close. You ground your hips, Gerard groaned and their face scrunched up. The way their thighs were trembling, the way they moaned and whimpered, it was all perfect. You did the only thing you could. Yout picked up the pace.

"I'm so close," they whispered. You leaned down and kissed their neck. Their hands tangled themselves in your hair. You nibbled their neck, their back arched. You could feel your legs getting weaker and you fought to keep the tempo up.

"Let me help," they said, sitting up, wrapping their arms around your waist, their cock still inside you. They started thrusting, slowly. Their mouth found yours and their hand cupped your chin. You fucked slow and deep. The friction between you was all you could ever need.

"God, you're so pretty. Where have you been all my life?" they whispered in your ear, nibbling your neck, sucking and biting.

"Gerard" you moaned, their name like honey on your lips. Like it had belonged there all along. The look on their face, the pleasure and desperation truly was a sight to behold. Their moans were so intoxicating and the whole situation was starting to overwhelm you.

You moaned and buried your face in their shoulder, you couldn't think anymore, you couldn't process. All that existed was the two of you, and the sensations. You could feel their breath hot on your neck, and hear their soft gasps and moans. It was overwhelming, and you could feel everything inside you tense up. And just the blink of an eye later, your orgasm hit you like a tsunami. Wave after wave crashing through you. You couldn’t even begin to put words to your feelings.

"Fucking christ, you're a dream. Please don't stop. I'm gonna cum," they moaned just after you.

You ground your hips and they gasped. "I can't wait to see you fall apart," you whispered, your head still spinning from your own orgasm.

Gerards eyes shut and they groaned. Their whole body trembled, their thrusts became erratic, then stopped. They gasped and shuddered, and with that, they came. Their nails dug into your back, their face buried in your shoulder, and they gasped. You slowed down on top of them and carefully laid down on their chest.

Their eyes were still closed, the room wrapped in the feeling of serene afterglow. Gerard's fingers traced absent patterns on your skin, a gentle connection that lingered in the quiet space between you.

As you felt the warmth of the afterglow settle, a subtle unease crept into your thoughts. The vulnerability of the moment brought forth a surge of insecurity, and a voice whispered doubts in the darker corners of your mind.

Without a word, you slipped out of bed, the cool air on your skin a stark contrast to the warmth you had just shared. Gerard stirred, their eyes flickering open as they sensed your departure.

You hesitated by the edge of the bed, while pulling on your shirt again. A swirl of emotions was clouding your gaze. 

Gerard's voice, soft and filled with a vulnerability of its own, broke the silence. "Don't go," they murmured, their eyes searching yours.

"I just... I don't want this to be... I mean, I don't want to assume," you stumbled over your words, the weight of your feelings making it difficult to articulate.

Gerard reached out, their fingers gently grazing your hand. "Stay," they whispered, a plea laced with emotion. "Please stay. I want you here.”

With a deep breath, you made a choice. You climbed back into bed, the warmth of Gerard's embrace welcoming you back.

They pulled you close. “I feel like I’ve missed you all my life” they whispered in your ear.

“I’ve missed you too, Gee,” you confessed.

You settled into each other's arms, the vulnerability of the moment transformed into a quiet reassurance. In the quiet aftermath, you both lay intertwined, feeling like you were both exactly where you were meant to be and that the night would last forever.

As the minutes passed, Gerard shifted closer. They nestled into your arms, their head finding a comfortable spot on your chest. You could feel the steady rise and fall of Gerard's breath, a rhythmic lullaby that calmed you down.

Eventually, a gentle peace settled over the room, and you felt the weight of Gerard's body relaxing completely. In the quiet serenity, they succumbed to sleep, their breaths deepening into a rhythmic melody that harmonized with the soft hum of the city outside.

You gazed down at Gerard, their features softened in the subdued glow of the room. The vulnerability of sleep painted a different picture, for a few moments, you marveled at their beauty, before eventually closing your own eyes and drifted to sleep with them in your arms.

Congrats on making it to the end. Once again I’m very sorry I have no chill at all and write things way too long. And also, sorry for being horny on main, lol. But it’s simply the life I lead. If you have any requests, pleasereach out to me!

[abubblingcandle]

For word Wednesday:

Profesional, child, genius, and/or tactic

Thank you so much!! Words really help get the juices flowing 💕

Professional and Tactic - from The Richmond Job Ch3

“Well he’s coming over so he better not recognise you,” Keeley hissed, placing a vapid smile back onto her face and resting a hand gently on the small of Roy’s back. “Ah Mr Mannion these are the reporters I told you about. The ones doing the feature on Sam Obisanya,” Cartrick gestured vaguely towards Keeley and Roy. “Be polite, nice to them,” Ted prompted. “But not too nice. You don’t want Mannion to get suspicious or for Crimm to become hostile,” Rebecca argued. “Crimm doesn’t seem the type to get hostile, pleasantness is the way forward,” Ted argued back. “Who is the professional here Theodore?” Rebecca chirped, her voice cheery but noticeably irritated. “Hi, my name is Annie. Pleasure’s all mine,” Keeley declared loudly over the bickering only her and Roy could hear. She turned to look at Roy who was doing a very good impression of a livid wax work with the shade of red that was starting on his neck and the intense glare focused on Trent Crimm. “And this is Conrad. We promise we won’t be getting in your way Mr Crimm. Hopefully we can work together,” Keeley elbowed Roy, staring at him with daggers in her eyes and mentally willing Roy to play along. The elbow stirred Roy awake but from the look in his eyes, Keeley was regretting that decision. “I will not talk to this living piece of excrement, and neither will you!” Roy yelled, prodding his finger into Trent’s chest and pushing past him to head towards Sam. “Nice to meet you,” Keeley laughed awkwardly before jogging after Roy. “Well that went well,” Jamie commented under his breath. “Someone smack Tartt around the head for me,” Roy growled. There was a beat of silence from the HQ as Keeley caught up with Roy. “Ow Beard what the fuck!” Jamie squawked. That brought a little smile to Roy’s face and calmed the steam that was about to come out of his ears. “Well Roy that was certainly an unorthodox tactic but I’m sure we can work with it,” Ted laughed, shrilly and awkwardly. The smile dropped back off Roy’s face, “I was not lying. I will not talk to Trent Crimm and neither will Keeley.”

Child - from A Treatment Room Doors Moment Ch5

Roy hadn’t yet worked out if Jamie was a great babysitter or just the older child you trusted to watch your younger child and hoped for the best. Sitting down for a while, as Jamie and Phoebe bounded around the Pleasure Beach with endless energy, did wonders for his mood and his knee. He was making great progress on his book, had a nice coffee to keep him warm and got to see Phoebe happy. “Look Uncle Roy look! Jamie won me a toy!” Phoebe screeched as she approached at gale force speed. Roy turned slowly and then leveled the bashful Jamie Tartt with a glare. The elephant soft toy was as big as Phoebe and she was having to carry it with her arms around it’s waist and held at her eyeline to avoid it dragging on the floor. “Did he now?” Roy stated, mentally stabbing Tartt in some very private places. Ruth was going to kill him when he rocked up back in London with Phoebe and this thing.

Genius - from Snap Ch8

“Smart ain’t it?” Jamie beamed. Beard actually took the time, for the first time on this trip to look at Jamie. The end of the season had come and Jamie had wound himself back into a tight little elastic band ball, ready to snap at the first display of outward pressure. He had come back from his trip with his mum and stepdad, laden with wine and stories of how great a time they had but still with that tension at his core. Now as they laid on a rock staring out over the ocean as the sun set, Jamie looked free. His smile was genuine, his shoulders loose and his ideas stupid. Just how it should be. “A real modern day genius,” Beard stated, somehow managing to keep the sarcasm out of his voice.

[magicthatmustbelove]

The First Moment Of Forever

A pre "Encino" short in which Michael and Althea first meet.

Note: It's been a while since I wrote a little blurb. I'm hoping this was successful in getting my creative juices flowing for a future "Encino" update. Also, we can't forget to wish our one and only King a happy heavenly birthday! 🎂

Link to original story: https://www.wattpad.com/story/291710565-encino-m-j

Althea's jaw could have dropped to the ground when the bus jerked to a stop. A halo of light caressed the tall, majestic building, causing the silver bricks to glitter like diamonds in the California sunlight. 

She'd only ever seen pictures of the Jacksounds Records building in magazines. Never once had Althea dreamed she'd one day be standing in front of it, the idea she'd soon be setting foot in it was even wilder. 

Her stomach churned with anxiety as she shuffled the bus, fellow passengers pushing past her as she stopped on the sidewalk to take in a deep breath. 

Althea finally knew how Dorothy felt when she arrived in Emerald City to see the Wizard. 

The Jacksounds internship was the most highly competitive and coveted internship Loyola Marymount had to offer its music students and Althea was over the moon when she discovered she'd been chosen as one of the five applicants to get the best musical education anyone could ask for.

Jacksounds had integrated black soul music into the mainstream in the ‘60s and '70s and crafted some of the greatest hits and biggest stars the country had seen. Joseph Jackson was the ebony Burt Bacharach, King Midas of R&B and Soul. Every melody he put his pen to turned to gold. He'd built his Empire with his bare hands and was now one of the first black millionaire CEOs. 

Anyone would be stupid not to jump at the opportunity.

Things had been tough on Althea when she returned to classes after taking a leave of absence to care for her grandmother who'd sadly succumbed to her diabetic coma but for the first time in a while, she felt on top of things.

Things were finally looking up and she was bursting with optimism that even Mary Tyler Moore and her tam-o'-shanter hat couldn’t compete with. 

The sales tag of the teal and maroon floral printed wrap dress she’d brought from the boutique she worked at scratched her back as she pushed through the building’s revolving glass doors. Althea knew she’d need to look as professional as possible for the internship but didn’t have the budget to keep any new clothes. 

She’d stood the entire bus ride, hoping not to have spills throughout the day. The twenty-dollar dress would have to be returned as if she’d never worn it. 

The lobby looked luxurious with marble floors, gold paneling, and cream furniture. Her eyes landed on the marquee boasting  Jacksounds suite and suddenly the imposter syndrome hit Althea. She was very much in the building that birthed the hits she’d danced in her living room to as a kid and a nagging voice in her head told her she didn’t belong. 

Althea closed her eyes, taking another deep breath as she pressed the elevator button. 

“Time to me make Granny proud,” she whispered to herself.

She resisted the urge to pick apart her appearance in the mirrored walls of the lift and instead, focused on tapping her foot to the jazzy rendition of “Ain’t No Mountain High Enough” playing over the intercom. When the doors finally opened, Althea was nearly blinded by a gold record of a Miracles hit hanging proudly on the walls, a dozen more trailing behind, each from an iconic black artist. 

The carpet was as red as the one at the Oscars, and she was almost afraid to imprint it with her pumps. A large, shiny mahogany desk was not far away, a hive of identical ones stretched the length of reception, each with a busy secretary perched behind it. 

“Excuse me,” she spoke timidly as she approached the desk. 

The gray wisp escaping the secretary’s bun and the antique pen necklace draped around her neck made Althea conclude she’d been working for Jacksounds for a long time. The chunky chocolate brown phone stayed glued to her ear with the support of her shoulder blade while her hands were occupied with a sharp nail file. 

She hadn’t even bothered to acknowledge Althea’s presence. 

“Excuse me,” She repeated, gently pressing her hands on the desk. “I’m an intern candidate. Could you show me where I’m supposed to report?”

The secretary stretched her hand out in front of her, inspecting the new oval shape of her nails as if  Althea had not uttered a word. 

“I tried to tell her,” The woman spoke loudly into the receiver. “If he lied about his height, he’ll lie about anything else,”

The young woman sighed, trying not to grow frustrated. She nervously glanced around the room, hoping that anyone would recognize her distress but she only seemed invisible. 

“Sure, the idea sounds a little far fetched but I know I can convince them to take us on,” 

Michael rolled his eyes before fixing his gaze out the conference room window as his older brother Jermaine arrogantly droned on about the company’s latest potential business deal. He often found these weekly business meetings with their father pointless and insufferable. Jermaine always monopolized the conversation, and any input Michael had to offer was ignored or stolen by the older brother. 

Joseph looked up from the document in front of him, his gaze falling to his distracted youngest son. Because he wanted his sons to stay abreast of the happenings in the family business, the CEO made an effort to include Michael.   

The youngest Jackson was far more creative than he was business-minded and Joseph admittedly preferred Jermaine’s gift of strategic business modeling than Michael’s talent and ear for music production. He'd trained the older son well and Joseph knew when his time on earth was up, the Jacksounds legacy would live on with Jermaine in charge.  

“Michael, do you have anything to add?”  He asked. 

The aforementioned son tore his gaze away from the view of the busy Encino street, his shapely brows furrowing in confusion. 

“Since when do we care what I think?” Michael questions sardonically while folding his arms. “Erms never lets anybody get in a word edgewise. Besides, that was my idea all along and he takes it and runs with it,” 

The elder Jackson brother leaned back in the plush leather chair with a facetious grin

“You pitched it but I perfected it,” Jermaine bragged. 

Michael rolled his eyes. 

“Shut up, Erms. You're not so original,” He scoffed and turned to Joseph. “Do I have to be here, anymore? This is a waste of my time,” 

Jermaine chuckled.

“It's not like you've got much to do,”  

The younger brother pushed himself from the glossy mahogany table, jaw clenched in anger.

“You're about to give me somethin’ to do alright,” Michael warned.

Joseph sighed heavily, too tired to endure his sons’ constant rivalry. 

“That’s enough. Let's adjourn. Jermaine, give me an update on this by Wednesday,” 

The older brother clicked his gold embossed pen close. 

“Sure thing, Joseph,” 

Deeply agitated, Michael stormed out of the conference room. Sometimes, he didn’t even know why he even bothered showing up at Jacksounds every day. He could easily live off his trust fund and spend his days trotting around the globe with a beautiful woman on each arm but Michael wanted something more fulfilling. 

Since a young child, he'd had a deep passion for music. While he'd never fully mastered an instrument, Michael was a savant at weaving sounds together. When he wasn’t perched behind the soundboard, he'd been sitting in on Joseph's meeting since he was fifteen and had trained himself to identify the qualities that created a bonafide star. 

Michael was just as capable and charismatic as Jermaine but Joseph had already decided which son would someday reign as CEO. 

“Hey, little brother,” Jermaine spoke, rushing to his brother's side to gloat. “Don't be so sore,” 

Michael rolled his eyes and stuffed his hands in his jeans pockets. 

“Stay away from me, Jermaine,” He warned.

Jermaine chuckled. 

“Don't be silly, Mike. That kind of stuff is for executives. I mean, you have no idea how much pressure I'm under. Joseph's gettin up there in age and I've been taking the load off his back carrying this company by myself,”

The younger Jackson rolled his eyes as they entered the lobby. Michael stopped at the water cooler chuckling to himself. Sometimes, he couldn’t believe just how inflated Jermaine’s ego was. 

“You really believe your own shit, don't cha?” 

He snatched up a paper cup, his eyes wandering briefly around the office. They stopped briefly at his secretary’s desk before Michael’s gaze caught sight of something far more interesting. 

There at the front desk stood the most beautiful girl he'd ever seen. 

Her skin was the color of silky, sweet caramel, her frame small but shapely, boasting delicate, deep curves, and a tiny waist held up by spectacular legs. The young woman's face held an agitated pout but was exquisitely sculpted with gorgeous cheekbones and darling brown eyes. Her hair had been piled into big soft curls, the fluorescent lights seemed to cast an angelic glow over her head. 

A rush of awe and allure quickened Michael’s pulse like a zap of lightning.  He'd seen plenty of beautiful women in Encino but no woman had ever stunned him the way this one had. 

She was a literal knockout in looks but there was also something so magnetic about her presence in the room. Suddenly, Michael wanted to know any and everything about her. 

In a bit of a daze, he shoved the paper cup in Jermaine's hand before slowly making his way across the room. 

Althea anxiously tapped her foot, an impatient sigh escaping her. From the corner of her eye, she could see a figure approaching.  She first noticed the dazzling white smile when she turned her attention. Althea had to take in a breath, suddenly feeling overwhelmed at the sight of the handsome young man coming toward her. 

His walk was smooth as butter, natural and relaxed yet oozing masculine energy. His spanku eyes were large and enchanting- the kind you can hardly look away from- and Althea truly couldn’t decide whether she adored his eyes or his smile more. The beauty of his face could only be described as being caringly whittled by the gods. 

Althea never believed in love at first sight but the chorus of bells and banjos was deafening.

The ball of anxiety sitting on her chest had been relieved thanks to the smile. That smile made her feel safe like nothing could ever go wrong. 

“You look a little lost. Can I help you find your way?” 

Althea turned her eyes away from the lean muscles peeking beneath his collared Lacoste shirt and chuckled nervously. 

“I'm an intern,” She grinned, batting her eyelashes. “I don't know where I'm supposed to report and she's a little tied up at the moment,” 

She jerked her head in the direction of the distracted receptionist. Michael shook his head in disappointment. 

“She's deaf in one ear and she's always got the good one glued to the phone,” He tutted. 

His slender frame leaned over the desk, his perfectly coiffed jheri curl glistening under the office lights. Michael’s slender finger firmly tapped the rude woman, cutting her gregarious laughter short. She set down the phone with a small huff. 

“Gladys,” He smiled passive-aggressively. “Could you help this young lady by telling her where to report?” 

“Name, honey?” 

Althea flashed the young man a gracious smile. 

“Thomas. Althea Thomas,” 

Gladys swiveled her chair in the direction of a stack of manilla folders and quickly thumbed through them before she found the matching name. 

 “Production conference room in the West hall,” the secretary answered dryly, extending the folder to the young woman. 

Michael straightened himself from his leaning position against the desk. 

“Thank you, Gladys,” he turned to Althea. “C'mon, I'll take you there,” 

She let out a heavy sigh of relief. It felt so nice to be acknowledged. 

“Thank you so much,” she giggled. “I feel much better now. I didn't catch your name,” 

“Michael,” he flashed that breathtaking smile again. “Michael Jackson,” 

He extended his large, svelte hand and Althea felt her heart race when they touched. It was a warm, zippy feeling- like static shock without the pain. 

“You wouldn't happen to be related to Joseph Jackson, would you?” She questioned while following his lead. 

“Sometimes I wish I wasn't but there are perks to bein’ his kid,”  Michael shrugged. 

Althea felt a sense of disappointment. Sure, Michael was gorgeous and nice but she couldn't risk getting involved with the CEO's son. She didn’t need a silly crush getting in the way of her education and surely there was some rule against it. It was better to keep her head down and forget the idea altogether. 

“Piano,” He grinned over his shoulder. 

Her eyebrows furrowed in confusion. 

“I beg your pardon?” 

“Piano. That's what you play right?” 

Althea giggled bashfully as she extended her fingers to inspect her cherry red nail polish. 

“How'd you know?” 

“It's your hands,” Michael grinned, proud of himself.  “Piano players always have the prettiest hands,” 

She hugged the folder to her chest, a blush creeping across her cheeks. 

“I'm classically trained but I don’t think I'll have much of a career as a concert pianist. Besides, I like funk music too much,”  

Althea giggled and he couldn’t help but instantly love the sound of her laugh. Michael quirked a brow. 

“Who’s your favorite?” 

Her doll eyes lit up, a bashful grin stretching across her lips. 

“I’m just crazy about Rick James,” 

He chuckled. 

They’d only met a few minutes ago but Michael was willing to buy her every Rick James album ever printed if he knew it would make her happy. They’d stopped in front of the production room and he felt disappointed knowing their conversation had to end. 

“Well, here it is,” Michael announced. 

Althea smiled adoringly at the handsome young man who’d come to her rescue. 

“Thank you, Michael,” 

He folded his arms behind his back and grinned, bowing slightly. 

“It was my pleasure, Althea. If you need anything at all, don’t hesitate to ask me,” 

“I won’t,” 

They’d both wanted the moment to last forever but both Michael and Althea knew this wasn’t the last they’d see of each other. 

[winterbrrrd]

On the market: Vacant Victorian (CHARM & CHARACTER) - $40,000

You found your first abandoned house,

Void of humans for two decades.

Wood is twisting,

Paint is chipping,

Roof is on the verge of caving.

Yard’s unruly and disheveled,

Like a hair day straight from hell,

Untamed branches reaching forward

Through a window,

Broken out.

And brambles navigate through spaces where the roof meets with the walls,

At least you’re certain there’s protection

From the rain, which always falls

This time of year,

Like late October,

wind is crisp but not enough

To keep you locked away inside,

Orange juice and vodka

In a cup.

Inside the house, you will discover things

You probably shouldn’t see, such as

Lewd photographs,

Bad poetry,

Old porno magazines.

Dead men get no privacy.

Walk in the house,

Search desperately

For signs that someone was living

A life, like yours,

Made history.

The cobwebs hang in every cranny,

Hang like garlands made with string.

Raccoons shit all up the stairwells,

Like they failed to litter train.

Paper peels from kitchen walls

Where grease was splattered,

Leaving stains,

You tear it down to find a door,

Leading to the lonely place.

So shine your flashlight, see inside,

Down at your feet, a pine staircase.

Now shut the door, switch on the light,

But do not meddle with my space,

And when you enter,

Please don’t mind

Me playing movies on rewind,

Speaking in tongues to feel sublime,

With egg yolks dripping down my face.

Now you’re in my secret room

And the room smells like mildew.

I do not wash, I do not clean,

I only sit and watch and stew

Like dinner soup, but my ingredients

Aren’t what you might assume,

I’m adding memories to finally

Give my dark thoughts to the moon,

An orb of white or cream or yellow

Just depending on your view,

A vessel for these endless struggles,

Somewhere that has enough room

For every trauma,

Every moment when I feared I’d end up dead,

Including all the times I tried to die,

Not by my hand

But his.

Explore the old abandoned house,

Poking your head in every room.

Here’s where I died in a small car,

Here’s where I gave self-harm tattoos,

Here’s where I fled when I was chased,

Here’s where I learned I was displaced

From every home, from every state

I tried to flee riding a freight.

Here’s where I learned they’re all afraid

Of who I love, of what I do,

They’ll never fortune tell my fate

But girl, it ain’t looking

Too good.

Explore my uncle’s hoarder house,

The small container where he died

Alongside three neglected dogs,

I say neglect, but he did try.

He tried and tried and he survived

For 60 years, or 69.

Got sober by like 35,

And stayed that way until the day

His heart stopped working,

Goodbye, life.

Explore my uncle’s hoarder house,

The way the dirt extends throughout

In layers, like a Cali drought,

No water means

No kale,

Bean sprouts,

Or broccoli,

Or wildflowers,

Or brushing teeth

Or taking showers.

Just dirt,

More dirt,

They cleaned for hours.

So you bought your first abandoned house

And you plan to fix her up.

She needs full rehab,

Will take years before she’s in good condition.

Are you prepared?

And what’s the goal?

Live in an old Victorian

With new, spring life freshly breathed in,

With flowing cream colored curtains

That dance in breezes, bleached by sun,

Tickle your cheek, like

“Hi. Welcome”?

Or will you flip me just to sell me?

Will a new family move in?

Will they find my hidden basement?

My own makeshift looney bin?

Or do you really want to keep me?

Want a home that feels like yours?

Keep the most authentic details,

Gut the rest,

There’s too much dirt.

The house was bought from an old woman -

Her estate,

For she’s deceased.

She lived alone with her black cat

And she wrote songs and poetry.

Her neighbors fancied her a witch,

But that’s just what they call a freak

Who never leaves her spacious bedroom,

Sits hunched over on her sheets,

Smoking weed and cigarettes,

Confined for everyone’s safety.

It’s better that she doesn’t speak,

It’s better that she doesn’t share,

It’s better that she’s not out meddling

Scream-singing the Lord’s Prayer

On a street wearing a trench coat,

Nothing else - what lies beneath

Is just her naked, wrinkled body,

Sacred scars of the deceased.

[libidomechanica]

“Laid him into that several flowers and cast, for priests great”

How have sence for youngest doth nothing     back her hates are days, an auld wrong after vittle, as     ony bed, about? The greene whole, howe her fa’ me, come, is     my sought seek to dye, that

you ain’t hardes out, is buried,     Sweet the sessions of the sad for life nor yet liue hates the     last? For Pan and free. The found us lang! A shades quence brass     cry’d: o crucify my

face, but scorn, which will morning     novenas in my selfe my your old Falstaf says: My chin. The     art as yesterne street at them as they ca’ me a’ my betide     safety of land, and

stockade or the bitter thanked in     his Face of bloody earth tis not to harmless and please; with     knout? Ring ye. All the painted of their worse. Laid him into     that several flowers

and cast, for priests great! Which priuily,     then she wet dross the dread to ocean over thine own free     longing before not soil these contine, thou can look at last,     when tis clear than theyr choking

her of a fooles set, written     hyde, she coupled the moment weighed tight, well ywis way,     sike spoons while thee sing, and disting the you ain’t say: yet is     not hearts bent, new breach, ye’re

louely, and ball. And touch. I thing     way, new soft false trees, come— this mother who am I! Word     became the poison on it catch, ne let miscall’d     oppositional at the bower

and carried, your echo ring     eyes lonely night by inheritaunce. And suppress’d thou like     task, with poet sublimer till full the fruitlesse corage     with mutual flowers

fether hearkening. With sacred     wet skin came to me are not Cinthia of your planted price     of the fire; her lives the hurls her she tumor ground up in     that Fate, that her Day, whose

his still stay, and still the Flowing     o’er-gang youth coles in her heart, thyself bright; in varied next     intelligence groom gat sae ye too hard. With that all-not     to euer giant, Honour,

when you dared by divine: superficial.     Beholding at the none in juice and was always     most disdayne the Garden of his newer mighty Being     wall. For ourse, the elm-trees.

[gizopedia]

Ever wondered what it’s like to have a beast of a tablet that's not all hype? Enter Honor Tablet MagicPad 2 – Yeah, that’s right. This thing’s got it all and maybe a bit more. Let’s dive into what makes it tick, why it’s worth a look, and maybe why it might just find a home in your tech lineup. Product Overview: Honor Tablet MagicPad 2 The Honor Tablet MagicPad 2 isn’t just another tablet—it’s like the tech equivalent of a Swiss Army knife, packed with all the goodies you'd want. This 12.3-inch device features a stunning 144Hz OLED display, making it perfect for everything from such as spree-watching to intense gaming sessions. That high refresh rate? Makes every swipe, scroll, and tap feel super smooth, almost like the screen’s reading your mind or something. Design & Display: Sleek but Packs a Punch So, first things first, this 12.3-inch screen is an absolute stunner. Not just talking big size here, but 144Hz OLED vibes. Colors pop, blacks are deep, and watching anything feels kinda like a treat. Scrolling? Oh, it's buttery smooth, like, ridiculously smooth. It's one of those things you gotta see to believe. Not too heavy, not too light. It's got that sweet spot in weight where it's easy to hold for a spree session without feeling like you're lifting weights. And yeah, it's got that sleek, almost no-bezel design that's all the rage these days. Honor Tablet MagicPad 2 ain’t playing around in the looks department, that's for sure. Performance: Snapdragon 8s and All That Jazz Under the hood? It’s got the 3rd Generation Snapdragon 8s running the show. That means apps open faster than you can blink, and multitasking? No sweat. Flipping between streaming, gaming, and a little bit of work (if you’re into that) is smooth as butter. No stutter, no lag, just pure speed. You have this combo of power and efficiency that makes it feel like a mini laptop in tablet form. Playing games? Handles 'em like a champ. Those graphics-heavy ones? Yeah, no problem. Just make sure you have a solid grip 'cause it gets really immersive really fast. Battery Life: All Day, Everyday Kinda Vibe Here’s where the MagicPad 2 might just blow your mind a bit – 10050mAh battery. Like, you’re talking about all-day usage without stressing about where the nearest charger is. Streaming, scrolling, gaming? It’s got your back. Power through work, play, and everything in between without that annoying low-battery warning ruining your flow. And for those moments when you do need to juice up? Charging doesn’t take forever, which is a nice little bonus. Quick charge it a bit, and you’re back in action. Sound & Multimedia: It’s All in the Details Speakers on this thing? Top notch. Dual stereo setup that gets loud without distorting. Whether it’s blasting tunes, watching a show, or hopping on a video call, you’re covered. Clear, crisp sound that makes you forget you’re on a tablet. And oh, the display with those speakers? It’s like having a mini-cinema in your hands. Seriously, toss on a movie, or some snacks, and you’re set for a night in. Comparison with Competitors: How Does the Honor Tablet MagicPad 2 Stack Up? Alright, so you’re eyeing the Honor Tablet MagicPad 2, but you're probably wondering—how does it really fare against the competition? Let’s pit it against some heavy hitters and see where it stands. Vs. Samsung Galaxy Tab S9+ The Galaxy Tab S9+ is one of the big names out there, and it’s got the specs to back it up. A bright AMOLED screen, a powerful Snapdragon 8 Gen 2 chip, and that S-Pen action that’s a dream for creatives. But here’s the kicker: the MagicPad 2’s 144Hz OLED display puts up a fight, offering buttery smooth visuals that feel just a tad more responsive in gaming and fast-paced scrolling. Plus, while the Galaxy Tab is no slouch in battery life, the MagicPad 2’s 10050mAh battery can outlast it on those extra-long days. And then there's price—Samsung’s tabs usually come with a higher price tag. If

you’re on the hunt for a premium without the premium price, MagicPad 2 hits a sweet spot with high-end features minus the hefty cost. Vs. iPad Air (5th Gen) Ah, the iPad Air. Sleek, fast, and living in the heart of Apple’s ecosystem. It’s got that M1 chip now, which is blazing fast, and the App Store’s unmatched for tablet-specific apps. But, the Honor Tablet MagicPad 2 pulls ahead with a larger OLED display, and that 144Hz refresh rate just isn’t something you’ll find on the iPad Air, which is capped at 60Hz. This makes the Honor feel smoother and more engaging, especially for gaming or anything graphics-heavy. Battery-wise, the MagicPad 2’s massive cell offers more juice than the iPad, especially in continuous-use scenarios. And while the iPad’s build and OS are premium, Honor's MagicOS over Android gives it a level of flexibility Apple’s walled garden just doesn’t allow. Vs. Xiaomi Pad 6 Pro Let’s talk about another Android contender, the Xiaomi Pad 6 Pro. It’s got a nice 120Hz LCD, Snapdragon 8+ Gen 1, and a pretty competitive price. But here’s where MagicPad 2 flexes: that OLED screen with a 144Hz refresh rate puts it on a whole other level of visual quality and smoothness. Plus, MagicPad 2 takes the crown in battery size, making it better for those who don’t want to be chained to a charger. Xiaomi’s UI can be a hit or miss, with some finding it a bit cluttered. Honor’s MagicOS is streamlined, simple, and closer to a stock Android experience, which many find more intuitive and user-friendly. The Wrap-Up: So, Is the Honor Tablet MagicPad 2 the Real Deal? If you’re hunting for a tablet that does more than just the basics, this one’s got the goods. Big, bold screen. Top-tier performance. Battery life that goes the distance. Honor’s definitely put something special together here with the MagicPad 2. Maybe it's not the cheapest out there, but for what you're getting? It’s kinda worth it. Whether you’re deep in the Android ecosystem or just want something that feels premium without totally breaking the bank, give this one a good look. It’s got that mix of power, style, and versatility that’s tough to beat.

[stayblackanddine]

UMI ATL: I thought they wouldn’t let me in because of how I was dressed, but they did.

Typically, I order out but I felt like popping out today! I pulled up very casually for my first time dining in — fresh silver Pegasus joints, some tiny denim shorts and a Burna Boy concert merch T-shirt. It’s actually my favorite shirt in the world at the moment, and I’ve been telling everyone with ears so congrats as it is finally your turn.

Anyway, I came to write. If you’re seeing this it means I’m still writing our comic book and so, as a boxer trains and warms up with a series of exercises to get the blood flowing, so do I. It has recently dawned on me that I warm up with this blog. I describe the tastes and the vibes of the foods and places that delight me, and… idk, it just warms me up. I’m already warmed up truth be told, but we move.

This week and day and month has been complex enough, so I opted for simplicity for my drink. I ordered a lychee martini — it’s honestly become one of my favorite drinks. First of all it’s good. What other reason do you even need?

I chose to go with different yet familiar for my starter, so I chose the scallop tiradito — a beautiful, light helping of “scallop sashimi with yuzu, cilantro and aji amarillo.” Those are Umi’s words, per the menu.

To me, it was bright and citrusy and there was sugar involved. It tasted like a sweet little perfect bite of a sweet, sliced scallop that’s been resting in citrus juice and topped with a brown sugar crumble. No joke — that is exactly what I tasted. If somebody ordered it for the table though, I’d eat it again. It was cool and it felt intentionally made.

For my entree, I ordered butter poached Maine lobster tail & diver scallops. Babe. I literally do not even know, just walk with me and let’s get into it.

Bitch I had to take a break. One because I literally wasn’t even breathing just now when I was INHALING that food, omg. I’m a geechie girl and once I tasted that mf sauce, I HAD to order me some rice lmaoooo. My trainer Josh says I’m not even supposed to HAVE rice, but baby sometimes you gotta make an exception. This was worth it.

They ain’t lie one bit about the lobster being poached. It is soft and sliced and sweet and good. The scallop is delicious also, even though I feel like they could have included one more. That would probably cost them at least $100 more per night though, right? Idk, I been watching The Bear so I think I know stuff.

Anyway, I am not the same now. All this time, Nobu has been fulfilling my needs and she is still that girl but Umi is special. I also love the bathrooms in here — it’s black as night over there but the toilet seats are heated, lol. Gotta love that.

If you’re wondering if I’ll get dessert, absolutely will not. The rice and the cocktails were literally the dessert for all week lol. But I have no regrets! Who wants to come back with me?

[every-kghn-moment-ever]

no commentary this time so :)

[squidyyy23]

nosho @creepkinginc my ultimate goblin love! 💚 i found out through a little birdy yesterday that TODAY IS YOUR BIRTHDAY!!!! 🎉🎉🎉 happy birthday, you absolute treasure! you are seriously such a light in this space. no one hypes like a nosho hypes. you own my heart and soul a dozen times over.

a bit quick and dirty here, but i couldn’t let your day go by without a little somethin’ somethin’. so let’s throw it back to some DAD content. a little juice pov moment just for you. 💀

------------------------

Juice lets out a sigh of relief the moment Mickey walks into the room. The last time he saw him, back in January, the guy looked terrible. Exhausted. Overwhelmed. Hard to place exactly, but he’s known him long enough to know when something isn’t right. And something wasn’t right.

But today, he’s practically glowing. All the guys gather around a round metal table in the visiting area of the prison discussing sales and alliances and cash flow, but Mickey’s not even here. Gazing off into space somewhere with hearts in his eyes. He’s lucky the rest of the guys are oblivious idiots because if anyone actually took one look at him they’d know they’re looking at the face of a man who’s madly, deeply, hopelessly in love. 

Juice has to kick him under the table when the meeting starts wrapping up. When some of the guys start heading out, a few staying behind and splitting off into multiple side conversations. He and Mickey are nothing new. Every one of the dudes is full of secrets. Some just better kept than others.

Juice shoots Mickey a nod across the table, face serious, somber, like he’s got something important to discuss. Something much more serious than his need to pry into what has his best friend looking like he could shit rainbows.

He leads them to a more private corner. At least private as you get in a prison visitation room. But he ain’t worried about the guards. Everyone who needs to has been paid. 

“What you been smokin’ and where do I get some?” Juice asks, all seriousness dropped as soon as he’s got his back to the room. He punches Mickey in the arm across the table like a baby brother.

“Fuck you talkin’ about?” Mickey grumbles, all put-upon grumpiness.

“Uh-huh, okay. Ope mentioned you ducked out for a couple days. What’s that about?” 

Mickey scans the room. Clocks the guard against the far wall. Opie and Jax in the opposite corner scrolling through photos of Jax’s kids on Opie’s contraband phone that no one gives a shit about. Then finally answers, quietly, “Took a little trip with Ian.” 

Juice’s feet dance with excitement under the table. He knew there was gossip to be had. And yeah, Mickey’s his best friend, he’d be interested in his life regardless, but especially now, he’s low on entertainment. There’s only so much whining about who’s whose bitch or who’s gonna get fucked first when they get out that a man can take. Makes Juice want to scream. He knows he won’t. Knows he’ll keep playing along. Keep keeping his own secrets. But fuck he could use something different to obsess over.

“Knew that smile had something to do with—” Juice lowers his voice to a whisper “—him.”

They’ve known each other for years. Done all their adult growing up together. Gone through all sorts of shit together, club related and otherwise. But Juice has never seen him this happy. This light. 

The guy has always had his demons. Never talked about them. They’ve all got their own shit. But Mickey’s haunted him differently than most. Darker. Deeper. 

Until now. Until this Ian dude showed up. Juice doesn’t know this kid yet, but he’s already so, so grateful for what he’s doing for Mickey.

“Nothin’ like a good weekend of fucking to cheer a guy up,” Mickey says, rolling his eyes like Juice is an idiot. 

“That smile ain’t just fucking.” Mickey isn’t getting off that easy. “Somethin’ else happened.”

Mickey rolls those eyes yet again and sighs. “Nothing happened, we just…” He trails off, reaching into his pocket. Seems confused for half a second when he remembers all his shit’s stored outside the security gates. Then continues on all flustered, cheeks blushing a burning red, “We just had a good time. I—fuck—I…”

“Come on. Don’t hold out on me now. I gotta go sleep in a cell tonight. A cell, bro. Gimme something,” Juice pleads.

“I fucking love the guy, okay?” It comes out quick, a hushed, annoyed whisper shot directly at Juice and Juice alone. “Spent a weekend away from those asshats with someone I love.”

Juice physically slaps a hand over his mouth to contain his would-be embarrassing squeals.

“Hate you so fucking much.” 

Mickey’s boot kicks him hard under the table. Juice jumps. The metal bench clatters. A guard looks over, faux threatening hand on his holster. Like the fucker has the authority to do shit around here.

“Happy for ya, brother.” “Yeah, yeah.” Mickey brushes him off but there’s still no hiding that smile. That look. Juice hopes one day he’s able to wear that look around everyone, not just here. Some day. Some place.

“Anyway, I uh—” Mickey clears his throat, letting his voice rise louder as he pulls an envelope from his pocket “—brought you a letter from your girl. One out in Stockton.”

“Oh, cool. Thanks.” Juice knows he isn’t winning acting awards but whatever. “Yeah. Miss that bitch.” 

He pulls out the folder paper and takes a brief peek. It’s a sketch of an unknown yet familiar woman, naked from the waist up. The strokes are in Mandy’s familiar style, the edge of the page roughly torn. Years ago, she’d taken a figure drawing class. Mickey had snaked her sketchbook from the course and has been slipping Juice drawings of this same model every now and then any time he’s locked up.

Little bits of something to tape up to his wall beside his bunk. Something to point at when some dude starts looking at him like that and say “Nah man, sorry, but my girl would kill me”.

Just one of the small ways they’ve looked out for each other. And now Mickey’s got one more person looking out for him, too.

------------------------

[daddyhausen]

Can you please do number 45 with MJF Please?

i’m in too deep w/ max it ain’t even funny at this point

.*•…………………..•⊹•…………………..•*.

• headcannon — { 45 } — mjf •

.*•…………………..•⊹•…………………..•*.

.*•…………………..•⊹•…………………..•*.

{ masterlists } | { aew masterlists } | { mjf masterlist }

.*•…………………..•⊹•…………………..•*.

{ warnings } — 18 + { minors do not interact }, vaginal sex, penetrative sex, unprotected sex, gentle sex, squirting, creampie

{ word count } — 314

{ genre } — smut

.*•…………………..•⊹•…………………..•*.

{ taglist } — @boutmachines @thewrestlingbitch @omg-im-such-a-masochist @thebestintheworld @chrisdickinson @cuzimacomedian @wardlow

{ comment if you want to be added to the taglist }

{ 45 } — first one to make noise loses

.*•…………………..•⊹•…………………..•*.

his lips against your, the kiss feverish and intense, stealing each other’s breath with each moan.

pillows had been placed behind the headboard of the cheap hotel bed still it did not stop the incessant creaking of the bed frame.

it did not help that the walls were paper thin, every moan, every grunt could possibly wake the patrons in the next room.

still it did not deter max, it rather aroused him even more, a small chuckle leaving his lips.

“first one to make noise loses” he suggested, offering a rather rough thrust deep into your core.

“you got that, doll?”

the sensation made you stifle a moan, nodding softly in response.

his head buried into the crook of your neck, softly placing kisses to the skin, his moans almost silent.

he let his hands roam your body, slinging down your waist and hip, cupping your ass as he pulled your closer

“max…” you whispered, trying to keep your voice as low as possible, arms wrapping around his neck, body on the brink of orgasm.

he noticed your breathing increased, the sounds once quiet, slowly but surely becoming louder by the second

he didn’t stop you, only allowing your moans to flow freely as you reached your peak.

your juices coating his cock with such a so serious feeling, your moans shrilled throughout the small hotel room

his warmth flooding your soaked void as your voice rang out

he wrapped his hand around your mouth hastily, small giggles erupting from both your lips as the patrons of the room next door disapprovingly pounded on the wall

max peered down at you for a second, a childish grin still plastered on his lips from the moments prior

he leaned down, planting a gentle kiss to your lips, resting his forehead in between the axis of your neck and shoulder.

“looks like you lost, doll”

[violettelueur]

— JUJUTSU KAISEN EPISODE ONE || RYOMEN SUKUNA

↳ featuring : itadori yuji + fushiguro megumi + gojo satoru + ryomen sukuna from jujutsu kaisen

↳ warnings : mentions of blood + mention of killing + mention of mass murder (word massacres is mentioned) + mention of death + swearing and EXTREME grammar issues

↳ form : story

↳ published : 07 february

↳ pronouns : she/her

↳ word count : 3.8k

↳ synopsis : within the jujutsu world, there were three famous clans to be aware of, the Kamo clan, Zenin clan and the Gojo clan. However, unknown to many sorcerers there was one last family that was known to be apart of the three, only for them to disappear after the golden era leading some to speculate that they had died in battle after the sealing of ryomen sukuna, but....

↳ next episode : for myself

↳ barista’s notes : to be honest with you guys, this little imagine here is such a mess and i had fun writing it since it have me an excuse to watch the first and a tiny bit of episodes one and two of jujutsu kaisen again ʕ￫ᴥ￩　ʔ 

BEFORE READING, I NEED YOU TO BE AWARE OF THIS:

1. all the ‘curse spells’ mentioned in this are related to Bleach (their use of Kido - credits go to: Tite Kubo) so these ain’t my original ideas since i started this at like 11pm on a saturday night. 

2. there is some dialogue missing since this is from your perspective as a reader and not Fushiguro’s or Itadori’s 

3. as you all know, the storyline isn’t mine, it belongs to Gege Akutami 

4. this whole thing might be confusing and please don’t expect a part two because i will do it when i am ready or feel like i can at the right time ʕ ᵒ ᴥ ᵒʔ 

5. i don’t know, if i am going to add this onto my masterlist since this was just for fun to be honest!

thank you so much for taking the time to read this and i hope you enjoy your free cup of classic black coffee (jujutsu kaisen) ʕ•ᴥ•ʔﾉ♡

“L/N, are you going to come with us?”

Looking away from the window you were viewing out from, you paused sipping from your carton of orange juice before turning your head to quickly discover two female students looking at you with anticipation in their eyes only for you to look at them in some sort of confusion. 

“Come one, don’t tell me you didn’t hear about it? Coach Takagi and Itadori are competing!” one of the girls complained, obviously slightly annoyed at your oblivious nature to the news that was going around the school at this moment in time.

“Competing for?” you then questioned, as you stood straight from your leaning position causing the other female student to then rapidly answer by saying, “Coach is trying to requite Itadori for the nationals, so if he wins then itadori has to join the track club to compete!” 

‘Huh? What a drag’

“So do you wanna come to the track field with us to see who is going to win?” the two students asked again in a desperate tone, leading you to look at the window you were previously looking from to see the exact location that they had stated. “I’ll watch from here, it has a higher and wider view, so I would have a better look” you replied, before pointing at the track field that was on the other side of the glass causing the students to look out before nodding.

“We really want to see it up close, so we’ll see you tomorrow yeah?” the first female student asked, leading you to smile and nod at them before seeing them rapidly take off to the track field trying to make sure they arrived before the competition started.

Turning your smile back into a straight line, you turn back to the window that you were looking through before being interrupted while placing your drink’s straw between your lips letting the sweet but citrusy juice flow down your throat. Admiring the view, you decided to let your eyes roam free for a bit to see if there was anything interesting to observe before the supposed ‘competition’ started, which then led you to pause at the sight of the closed rugby field down below.

Coming out of the ground was a horrific creature with four arms before climbing up the pole revealing its large teeth leading you to stare at it with complete boredom as you then mentally took a quick note to exorcise it later when the school closed. However, what also came into your sights was a single male student down before staring at the same curse you were observing causing you to continue analysing the situation.

‘Can he see it? I don’t recall a student here having any curse energy’

From what you could tell, the student had black erratic hair with his hands in his pocket but from what you could see that other’s couldn’t, there was a faint but noticeable aura of curse energy surrounding his body generating a feeling of curiosity but nervousness within your stomach as you place your empty carton away from your lips. Suddenly, the male turned around leading you to have somewhat a clearer view of him, only to discover that he also had a pair of emerald eyes which then made you come to the conclusion that he wasn’t a student from the school. How could he? You could tell this ‘student’, and yourself was the same age meaning you would have at least seen him once or twice down the hallways and there was no new information about a student coming in, if there was, it would have been a buzz.

‘Don’t tell me one of the clans managed to find out about me?’ you anxious thought, leading you to take a short step back ensuring this sorcerer didn’t have a vivid view of you when you did of him. Hearing some cheering, you turned your head to the other side to find a small crowd forming with a metal ball being flung as two students ran out to measure the length between the dip of the sand from the coach indicating to you that the competition had started.

“14 metres!’ the one student shouted, leading to a round of applause from the audience spectating the event. However, from what your ears were managing to pick up, there were cheers for Itadori leading you to wonder if you could recall the classmate they were shouting for.

“Ah~ Itadori Yuji ha?” you rhetorically asked the air around you, not expecting an answer in return. Itadori Yuji was a first-year student like you were, member of the small occult research club with second years Sasaki and Iguchi when he could be in any athletic club if he wanted to. However, understandably you knew some people would rather do something than what their natural talents indicated. Once again, you saw the metal ball being thrown - this time from the pink-haired students - only for it to land that the corner of the football goal, yet what was the shocking thing was that the metal of the goal was bent leading you to look at the sight within widened eye - of course, you knew Itadori was fast and strong but not to the extent of what you had just witnessed.

“Wow, no wonder he was called ‘Tiger of the West Middle’,” you muttered under your breath before quickly reverting your eyes to find the sorcerer you were wary of. Surprisingly, he was now on the track field looking upon the competition mixing well with the other students like a little chameleon. Although, before you could continue to observe the student trying to see what his intentions were, Itadori suddenly ran past him with his large backpack on, only for the erratic-haired sorcerer’s eye to suddenly widen the second they crossed each other leading him to reach out for your classmate. However, there was only dust to be collected as Itadori was suddenly out of reach.

“Just what are you trying to gain, sorcerer? It’s already a drag that you’re here,” you quietly mumbled irritation before turning away from the window you were gazing from to collect your school bag from your classroom since you left it there to not have the burden of carrying it on your shoulder. However, what you didn’t notice was the same sorcerer peering up at the same window you were looking from with perplexity painted on his face.

‘Was someone watching me?’

                                              ꕥ

“Don’t tell me someone got a hold of that damn finger?” you angrily stated, as you suddenly felt an immense amount of pressure invade the school causing you to wonder if there was anyone within the school with you right now, as you began to increasingly worry about whoever got a hold of the special-grade object that you found a few nights before.

“I put a protective seal on it, who the hell broke it!?” you muttered, as you panicky ran up the stairs trying to follow the presence of the object you were desperately trying to get a hold of before forcibly pushing a door open leading it to smash against the wall as you continued to sprint across the halls.

As you quickly turned the corner, you saw a large curse blocking the path leading you to instinctively flow your curse energy flow to your hand to the tips of your finger as you began to confidently recite the spell you were about to cast after you had finished drawing the symbol with your curse energy in the air.

“Disintegrate, you black dog of Rondanini! Look upon yourself with the horror and then claw out your own throat! Binding Curse Spell number nine: Geki!” you chanted, leading to a thin light aqua aura of curse energy to surround the curse causing it to become completely paralysed. However, before you could cast another spell to destroy the curse, there was a sudden interruption causing you to look at the person in complete shock as they flew into the corridor from outside the window only for you to discover it was your own classmate.

“Itadori!” you screamed, only for him to grab what seemed like two people away from the curse as it was still immobilised from your spell leading you to turn to the side to find that it was both Sasaki and Iguchi in his arms causing your eye to further widen only for you to be then distracted by the curse being blown away to your direction leading you to use another spell to make sure you were caught in the process.

“Binding Curse Spell number eighty-one: Danku,” you hurriedly stated, leading to a large rectangular defensive wall to shield you away from the decapitated parts of the curse as well as the technique being used for it to explode the way it did. Unexpectedly, once the pathway was cleared you suddenly came eye to eye with the sorcerer you were peering down on the track field this afternoon causing a wave of uneasiness to consume your body. 

“Who are you?” he questioned leading to the two dogs beside him to growl at you showing their sharp canine that could easily pierce your skin if he commanded them to. Slowly, your hand moved to the hilt of your katana that was hanging horizontally on your back, before quickly coming to the conclusion that it wasn’t difficult to slice the two dogs down if you desired to.

“Shikigamis huh? I should just cut the user down before they could reach me, then they would disappear’

“Oh L/N? What are you doing here?” Itadori asked in shock, leading you and the sorcerer to look at him before the sorcerer suspiciously asked, “you know who she is?”.

“She’s a student at my school, she is in the higher class since she’s smarter than me,” Itadori explained, as he took the time to check on his two club members with a sincere look on his face to then discover that they were unconscious with Sasaki in a decent state with Iguchi in somewhat the same condition but with injuries to his face. Letting your shield gradually disappear, you slowly walked up to your senior as you crouched down to hover a hand over his face letting a flow of curse energy begin to heal his wounds.

“Itadori, how the hell did they get the finger?” you angrily questioned the boy while continuing to heal your upperclassman causing him to look at you in shock - due to your acknowledgement of the object - as he caught the cursed object that slipped out of Sasaki’s pocket once he picked her up in a bridal style. 

“How do you know about it?” the sorcerer then asked, only to be quickly silenced when you gave him a heated glare only for itadori to then explain that he was the one that picked it up for them since they wanted to sneak back into the school to unwrap the talisman for research for the occult club leading an irk to appear on your forehead. “Wasn’t there like a talisman paper placed on the door? You know like those like sheet of paper with Ancient Japanese writing painted on it?” you asked in a stern tone as you completed the healing process only for itadori to give you a questionable look.

“There was a hint of paper being there, but it seemed like it was ripped off,” itadori answered wearily, leading you to look up at him with enlarged eyes as you let out a breath of complete shock.

“WHAT DO YOU MEAN RIPPED OFF?” you screamed as you rushed to your feet before grabbing the collar of his classic yellow jumper. From what you could recall, there was no possible way for the seal to be completely ripped off by the hands of a normal person, not even a simple sorcerer could even go through the barrier you had placed on it leading you to turn to the sorcerer, who was looking at the argument that was occurring right in front of his face.

“Was it you? No, from what I can see, you ain’t even a high enough grade to even go through it...Ah shit,” you cursed as you let go of Itadori’s collar before beginning to try to think of all the possibilities that could have happened that led to this accident.

“So, is this it Fushiguro?” Itadori asked the sorcerer, completely ignoring you as you were in a state of shock and confusion on what was going on. “Yeah, that’s the special-grade curse object, Ryomen Sukuna’s finger,” the sorcerer confirmed with Itadori as he then quickly mentioned, “it’s a miracle that it didn’t get swallowed, thanks to L/N curse technique back there.”

‘Fushiguro huh? Not Zenin, that’s a relief’

“Why would anything eat it? Does it taste good?” Itadori asked in curiosity, leading you and Fushguro to look at the boy with a questionable look on both your faces.

“Don’t be stupid,” you and Fushiguro simultaneously stated causing both of you to look at each other in shock before you then explained, “you’d do it to gain stronger curse energy. It’s dangerous, so hand it over to Fushiguro, it’s best to have him keep hold of it since the seal I placed was broken.”

“Sure, sure,” Itadori casually said, as he outstretched his hand to pass the finger to Fushiguro. However, before the sorcerer could take the object away from Itadori’s gasp, a large hand began to reach down below the two people causing you to look up in fear before instinctively pushing the two boys away from the area it was trying to target.

“RUN!” you screamed, before the ceiling crashed down between both of you, leaving you completely alone and vulnerable as the dust invaded your sights. In a panic, you swiftly grabbed the hilt of your katana to release the blade from its casing revealing an all-black weapon your hands, but once the smoked clear you found Fushiguro trapped in the hands of the curse before being forcibly through to the concrete wall causing a few hints of blood escaping from his mouth, to which lead to the two dogs that were protecting Itadori as well as the two second-year to disappear.

‘Shadows? Don’t tell me…’

However, before you could even complete your sudden thought, there was a sudden flash of lights blinding you before the whole side of the school to be destroyed along with Fushiguro, who was thrown across. In a state of terror, you rushed outside before using your speed to jump up the height needed before stabbing back of the curse’s head with your katana before quickly retreating back, leaving it there as the curse screeched in pain while preparing another curse spell to use to finish off the monstrosity.

“Destructive Curse Spell number seventy-three: Soren Soka-” you screamed, but you were interrupted once you suddenly found Itadori aggressively punch the curse’s head leading Fushiguro, who was laying down on the ground with blood pouring down his face to angrily shout, “Itadori! Why can’t you understand to take those two and run?!”.

“You’re in big trouble yourself!” Itadori screamed back, before being swung around as he then suddenly was being dragged along the metal railings of the balcony before his body was then swung into the air.

“Only curses can exorcise other curses! You can’t beat it!” Fushiguro argued back, only for this attempt to fall on death’s ears as itadori continued to fight against the curse as he masterfully dodged its attacks before playing his own as he kicked its ruby eye.

“Besides, I have my own troublesome curse already!” Itadori declared, causing you to look at your classmate in complete annoyance since you didn’t have a single clue on what he was rabbling about. As of right now, all you were wondering was where the cursed finger was since the last time you had seen it was in Itdori’s possession. 

Suddenly, before you realised it, the mentioned cursed object had slipped out of Itadori’s grasp causing you to quickly stand up on your feet to jump across the cure to reach it. On the other hand, it seemed like the curse was blocking your way by how it used both its arms to capture Itadori leading to the student to jump as high as he could to catch the finger by the grip of his teeth.

“You idiot!” you screamed, as you tried to concentrate your curse energy to flow to your palms as your katana was still within the curse’s head. “Hand it over to me or you'll be eaten, too!” Fushiguro yelled in a panic as he finally got up on his feet to chase after the wanted object.

Slowly, you raised your right hand before using your index finger to use it as a guide to where to aim your next spell at the finger without damaging your schoolmate in the process. “Destructive Curse Spell number one: Sho,” you quickly chanted leading to a small amount of curse energy in a concentrated manner to shoot from the tip of your index finger, yet before it even had the chance to hit the finger away from Itadori’s teeth, he threw thing finger up in the air using the force of his head leading your curse spell to be a futile attempt.

“There is a way to save everyone! I just need some cursed energy right. Fushiguro, L/N?!” Itadori cried out, leading you to again attempt to shoot the cursed finger away from where you assumed Itadori wanted it to go, while Fushiguro looked upon the situation in complete fear of what was going to happen.

“Don’t..Don’t do it!” Fushiguro shouted in a hostile tone, only for Itadori to swallow the special-grade cursed object causing you and the other sorcerer to look at the scene in complete disbelief.

‘He’s going to die, that’s a deadly poison..but...there’s a one in a million chance’

Suddenly, the arms of the curse disintegrated into small particles of flesh before Itadori landed on his feet, only for the curse to attempt to attack the salmon-hair boy again, leading to being completely destroyed with a single wing of an arm to which caused your katana, which was stuck within the flesh of the curse, to fly into the air before landing with a loud ‘clunk’. 

Yet, that wasn’t your main concern.

Your feet were glued to the ground as you looked upon the sight right in front of you. Fushiguro was staring at the same scene with dread flooding his green eyes as Itadori was now covered with the black markings of what you both come to know from basic jujutsu knowledge.

‘Y/N dear, I’m so sorry for putting you through this, if Sukuna ever comes into this era, it is your duty as a sorcerer and the only offspring of the L/N clan to exorcise him, promise me that please?’

‘Why.....why did you have to die mother?’

“Ah, I knew it! The light feels best in the flesh,” ‘Itadori’ declared, as he then processed to rip his yellow hoodie in excitement before brisking his flesh to the moonlight that was shining right above him. “A cursed spirit’s flesh is so boring. Where are the people? The women?!” ‘Itadori’ questioned before jumping onto the railings as he continued his speech, “what a wonderful era to be in, women and children are crawling everywhere like maggots. Marvellous! It’ll be a massacre!”

Without the acknowledgement of who you deemed to be Sukuna and Fushiguro, you slowly raised your right hand with an open palm as you began to whisper another curse spell to make the exorcism a little easier for you, “Binding Curse Spell number sixty-three: Sajo Sabaku''. As you closed your palm, there was a sudden manifestation of a yellow electrified chain being created as it loosely surrounded the King of Curse before tightly securing its place around his body.

“Ah-” Sukuna said in surprise before taking a step back from the balcony to observe the yellow chains that encaptured him. “L/N!” Fushiguro shouted as he looked at you with widened eyes surprised at how you figured out how to retain him so fast.

‘At this rate, he should be somewhat easier to exorcise, Itadori has only one finger within his system, it’s going to be okay right?’

However, before you could even comprehend what to do next as your tactic you suddenly heard a change in tone of voice. “What do you think you’re doing with my body?”  Sukuna asked, only for you to realise that it was Itadori who was speaking at this moment in time, “give it back”.

“How are you able to move?” Sukuna questioned his vessel back, as he was in pure confusion on how the human still maintained some control of his body. “I mean, it’s my body,” itadori answered back, only causing you more confusion on what was going on since Sukuna’s markings were still visible to his body.

“Don’t move! You’re no longer human,” Fushiguro stated in a serious tone, as he crouched down before moving his hand in front of him as he processed to make fists. 

“Under Jujutsu regulations, Itadori Yuuji, I will exorcise you as a curse!” Fushiguro announced, causing you to look at him with surprise painted upon your face. However, since you were beginning to lose a certain amount of curse energy, your chains slowly began to disappear leading Itadori’s hands to now more freely while Fushiguro’s worries about you begin to increase.

“Wait, really. I‘m just fine!” Itadori stated in innocence, as he raised his now-free hands as if he was surrendering to the sorcerer while his markings began to fade gradually. “More importantly, you and I are both pretty beat up, let’s go to a hospital,” Itadori declared as he was worried for the male right in front of him. On the other hand, you suddenly realise that there were shadows slowly swirling around Fushiguro leading to your assumption earlier to be true.

‘Fushguro is a Zenin...I..have….to’

“What’s the situation?” 

All of a sudden, a new voice came into the area leading you to turn your head to the side to find a rather tall male standing next to Fushiguro. From a quick glance, you could immediately inform yourself that had spiky white hair with a black blindfold covering his eyes, as he carried a paper bag on his arm while wearing a similar outfit to Fushiguro meaning he was another sorcerer.

“Gojo-sensei?! Why are you here?” Fushiguro asked in surprise, as he turned to look at what you assumed to be his teacher leading to the shadows around him to immediately disappear from sight.

“Gojo…” you muttered under your breath as you looked at the two male sorcerers right in front of you in horror as you came to the realisation on the situation you were facing.

‘Mother…..I’ve been found…..’

© violettelueur 2021 : written and published by violettelueur - do not steal or repost

[avanatural]

1000 Follower Celebration - Antagonist Edition

So… I haven’t been too active on Tumblr recently. Now I’m back and I just received the greatest gift ❤️ I have reached 1000 followers! Like, what?? Thank you so much to everyone who supports me! ❤️

I thought I’d create a fun little writing challenge to celebrate this special milestone. And this challenge is all about the wicked stuff! It’s about creating dark, captivating, badass stories! It can be angst, smut, even fluff, as long as the reader/OC is an antagonist. Let your dark side take over, let your creative juices flow, cause some (fictional) chaos!

Note: Even though dark themes are strongly encouraged, I will not read any non-con or underage smut!

Below, you can find some songs and quotes to pick from. You can pick one prompt from each category. If you only want to pick a prompt from one category (e.g., only a quote), that’s totally fine as well.

Rules:

Everyone is welcome to join (as long as you’re at least 18 years old)!

Possible fandoms you can write for: Supernatural and The Boys 

Send me an ask including the category and number of your preferred prompt(s). Each prompt will be given away only once.

Do not write anything that contains non-con or underage smut! Anything else is fine.

Your submission has to either involve the reader or an OC, who has to be an antagonist!

This challenge is not character-specific, so you can include any characters you want.

Let your imagination run wild and write angst, smut, AUs, or even fluff – anything goes.

Please use warnings for anything that might be triggering!

Tag me in your fics and make sure to use #AvanaturalsAntagonists as one of the first five tags.

There’s no limit regarding word count. Just let creativity do its thing!

The deadline is January 31st, 2023. If you can’t make the deadline, just send me a message.

I will reblog and comment on every story and create a masterlist with all submissions.

And finally, the most important rule: Enjoy yourself (and your dark side) ❤

Category 1: Songs

Note: You can either take the lyrics literally or use the music merely to inspire your stories. You can include the lyrics in your fic, but it’s not a requirement.

Going To Hell – The Pretty Reckless

Look What You Made Me Do – Taylor Swift @all-alone-he-turns-to-stone

Raise Hell – Dorothy

You Should See Me In A Crown – Billie Eilish @waynes-multiverse 

Closer – Nine Inch Nails

You Give Love A Bad Name – Bon Jovi @dean-winchester-is-a-warrior 

Natural – Imagine Dragons @smellingofpoetry 

I Like It Heavy – Halestorm

Poison – Alice Cooper @eevvvaa​ 

Boys Wanna Be Her – Peaches

Highway To Hell – AC/DC @ilovedean-spn2 

Enter Sandman – Metallica

Heartbreaker – Pat Benatar @thecatsaysmew 

Bad Guy – Billie Eilish

I Hate Myself For Loving You – Joan Jett & The Blackhearts

Castle – Halsey

Ain’t No Rest For The Wicked – Cage The Elephant

Sweet But Psycho – Ava Max

Hit Me Like A Man – The Pretty Reckless

Enemy - Imagine Dragons

Category 2: Quotes

“Don’t underestimate her. And don’t bet against her.” @waywardnerd67​ 

“If you think this has a happy ending, you haven’t been paying attention.”

“Wanna team up for a little destruction?” @waynes-multiverse 

“Sucks, don’t it? The moment you realize you don’t know shit.”

“Never forget what you are. The rest of the world will not.”

“I told ya. She was already dead when I blew her up.”

“Chaos isn’t a pit. Chaos is a ladder.”

"I looked for an 'I'm-sorry-I-got-you-shot' card, but they were all out." @dean-winchester-is-a-warrior 

“Are you gonna bark all day, little doggy, or are you gonna bite?” @eevvvaa​ 

“I'm not locked in here with you. You're locked in here with me." @all-alone-he-turns-to-stone

"Maybe it's up to me to do what the good people can't.”

“If someone hates you for no reason, give that jerk a reason.”

"In the end we're all alone, and no one's coming to save you."

“Every day, the future looks a little bit darker. But the past, even the grimy parts of it, keep on getting brighter.” @thecatsaysmew 

“Marriage brings out the worst in us all.”

“You’ve been walking around for months like you want to kick my ass. So do it already.” @deanwinchesterswitch 

“You made me want to be a less terrible person.” @ilovedean-spn2

“I was just like you. And then I started giving pieces of myself away, and I guess I gave away everything.” @smellingofpoetry

“I’m in the mood for chaos.”

“I guess it’s easy to make a deal with the devil when you’re not the one paying the price.”

Tagging some lovely writers who might be interested (no pressure, of course): @waynes-multiverse @eevvvaa @deanwinchesterswitch @myloversgone @dean-winchester-is-a-warrior @libre1rose8 @all-alone-he-turns-to-stone @deanwithscissors @awkward-and-indecisive @smellingofpoetry @deanwanddamons @winchest09 @negans-lucille-tblr @writercole​