#thanks for the prompt anon

[wanologic]

in no way was civility achieved

[ky-landfill]

Have you ever drawn Slade Wilson?

[doortotomorrow]

ECHO KOM AZGEDA/SPACEKRU - Short Hair (requested by anon)

[palfriendpatine66]

Promot case I am stuck in traffic for three hours now in the back seat

“What do you think about having public sex in your car in broad daylight?”

Very sorry about this unfortunate traffic situation anon!

You will think I’m crazy but my mind immediately goes to Pining and I’ll tell you why:

At one point while writing PiP wanted to have Anakin go watch Obi-Wan at karate, and I thought: he would be so turned on watching him spar. He would pick up his shit so fast and rush out to the car and just have to fuck him right there. And then I thought my myself: I can’t write this. Obi-Wan is a preschool teacher. He can’t risk being arrested and labeled a sex offender for public exposure and indecency. This is a horrible idea.

Which is why the only thing going through my mind since I read this prompt is:

Obi-Wan, still flushed from exertion and hair damp with sweat, slides into the passenger seat with his first place trophy in his lap.

“Would you like to tell me why you ran out of there like the place was on fire and didn’t even stay to see my score?” He glances down to the trophy in his lap. “Not that it really matters, except for bragging rights over Cody, but I won.” He looks to Anakin, bemused to find him also flushed and gripping the steering wheel with white knuckles. “Love? What has gotten into you?”

Anakin turns to him with a scorching look. “What do you think of having public sex in your car in broad daylight?”

Obi-Wan would have scoffed, but something in him responds to the barely contained need rolling off of him in waves. He swallows thickly. “I think that sounds like a terrible idea,” he responds, his voice strained.

“Damn it, I know.” Anakin grits his teeth. “Buckle up,” he commands shortly and peels out of the parking lot, intent on arriving somewhere private as fast as possible.

[kpforpresident]

They meet in an adult night class but they’re there for very different reasons

Clearly I’m a little confused about what an adult night class is so I went where my mind went, but reading it back I realized they probably meant like a night school class?! So forgive my oversight lol. I hope you still like it, anon. 

//

A dim red light glowed from the hanging fixtures, lending a seductive feeling to the room. Dark, slinky music poured from the speakers fixed into the corners. Lexa stood awkwardly in the corner of the darkened, mirrored room. Her gaze darted around uncertainly as she tried not to stare too long at any of the exposed midriff or cleavage on all the other students. Clad in a plain black tank top and soffe shorts that had seen better days, everyone else was in skin-baring bras and tight booty shorts. 

“Anya,” she hissed, grabbing her friend as she walked by to stretch on the wall, “where have you taken me??” 

Anya looked at Lexa, eyes flicking pointedly down to where Lexa had her bicep in a death grip. 

“Lexa, unclench, pull the stick out of your ass,” Anya whispered, prying Lexa’s fingers off of her arm. “It’s just a pole dancing class. You can handle an hour of hot sweaty women gyrating, you aren’t going to burst into gay confetti.” Lexa glowered but didn’t respond, biting her lip to hold back her snarky retort. 

A gorgeous woman- Raven, Lexa remembered from sign-in -with a long dark ponytail walked fluidly to the front of the room, talking confidently over the quiet murmurs of the students. 

“Everyone, welcome to Spin. Class will begin in about five minutes, please find a spot on the floor to stretch and get limber before we begin.” 

Lexa grumbled slightly but sank down obediently in her spot, stretching her legs out in front of her and bending to grab a toe. A gorgeous blonde sank down next to her, shooting her a radiant smile as she leaned forward, pressing her forehead to her thighs as she flexed her toes straight. 

Lexa watched, open mouthed. The woman was clad in a black bra that zipped up the front, somehow containing a mountain of pale cleavage within its confines. Tight black shorts stopped slightly above her belly button, abs flexing slightly as she bent and stretched. Her hair was clipped half up in a tortoiseshell claw clip, golden waves shifting slightly as she fluidly sank into the splits. Lexa knew she must look ridiculous as she openly gawked at the goddess next to her. 

“So,” the woman said in a slightly husky voice, “come here often?” 

Lexa laughed slightly at the ridiculousness of the statement. The blonde quirked an eyebrow, curious. 

“I’m Lexa,” Lexa said as she stuck out her hand. “And no, I do not. This is my first class, and I’m inflexible and slightly terrified. Are you new here, as well?” 

 The blond, radiant blue eyes twinkling, shook it firmly. She slowly unraveled herself from the floor and rose to standing. Among her, the other participants rose as well, each moving to stand next to a pole. Lexa looked around as she also stood, wondering what secret signal she had missed.

 “I’m Clarke, Lexa. It’s nice to meet you. And no, not my first time- I teach this class.”

[gemgirl28]

"There's nothing left." -- for Dramione please :D

Hello anon! Thanks for the prompt!

Watch me once again take something that absolutely could be angsty and make it fluffy.

There's nothing left.

Hermione ignored Draco's muffled shouts, keeping her focus on her book.

That is, until his shouts became clear and distinct.

"Are you bloody kidding me?!"

She sighed and marked her page with a bookmark just in time for him to storm into the sitting room.

"There's nothing left!" He shouted, waving his arms around madly.

"I'm afraid I don't know what you're referring to dear," Hermione said, as calmly as possible.

"The Jaffa Cakes!" He cried, and now she could see what he was waving around was the familiar blue and orange box. "You said you'd just picked some up today but they're already gone!" He frowned, looking into the box as if that could make the treat appear. "And who leaves the empty box in the bloody pantry anyways?"

"Ron was round for tea today, he must have left it there, but I still picked up more."

"Where!"

Hermione sighed and picked up her wand. "Accio Jaffa Cakes."

A twin package box came whizzing out of the kitchen and into her hands, which she held out for Draco to take. He flushed, gingerly taking the box and comparing it to the empty one in his hands.

"Oh, I see. Uhm." He shifted his weight from one foot to the other, and then back. "It seems I was looking for another single box, and you've been so kind to pick up a double pack."

"They were on sale." She rolled her eyes and reached for her book. "And you go through them faster than a dragon drinks a barrel of brandy."

Draco set both boxes down on the end table and slowly approached her. "Have I told you lately how wonderful you are? So brilliant, and beautiful, and terrifying, and kind."

Hermione's eyes rolled again but she fought a smile. "Flattery will get you nowhere."

"Then how about this." He took her hand and gently kissed the back, her palm, her wrist.

"Hmmmm... not quite enough to make up for your temper tantrum."

He huffed but sank onto the couch beside her. "Well then I'll just have to do better then, won't I?"

She grinned as his lips found the column of her neck.

Yes, he would.

Send me a prompt and a pairing!

[misssophiachase]

hii, how are u? I love your jiara fanfics, i was think if you can maybe write a jiara story based in "Friends” by Chase Atlantic

Hello!!! Thank you so much, nonnie. You are too kind : ) Great song choice and as an Australian (like the band) I approve. As usual, it got longer than expected but hope you like what I did with the song. It's on AO3 HERE

Tell Me We Weren’t Just Friends

Kiara Carrera is Prima Ballerina for the New York City Ballet and JJ Maybank is the World Middleweight Boxing Champion. From the outside, they seem to have nothing in common but they share a past not many know about.

“And what the hell were we? Tell me weren’t just friends.”

Lincoln Centre, New York City 

Applause is nothing new to her, so much so that it barely registers. There’s a sea of people upstanding and flowers falling on the stage in a myriad of colours and blooms as she takes her final bow. The curtain closes and the cast scatters, their excited chatter intermingling with that of the audience.

As soon as she’s backstage and the performance is all but forgotten, Kiara is on autopilot thanking her many well-wishers,  autographing programs, and posing for their photos. This isn’t her first opening night and it won’t be her last so she knows exactly how to act given what’s expected of New York Ballet’s star Principal Dancer. 

“OMG, Kie! There’s the hottest guy in your dressing room.” She squeals, her large framed glasses almost falling off her face from the excitement. 

She hands her bouquet of long-stemmed, red roses to her overly enthusiastic assistant Louise, or Wheezie to her friends, hoping to distract her from sharing any more details in public.   

Now this she isn’t expecting nor is the crowd of people who’ve just overheard her exuberant assistant talking about a strange man in her dressing room. She politely grasps her arm and pulls her away. The last thing Kiara needs is for Page Six to report that she has a mystery man. 

“Wheezie,” she hisses, trying to keep her voice down. “Maybe try to be more discreet next time. Also, since when are we letting no named men into my dressing room without vetting them or their intentions first?”

“He’s hot, sorry I think I was flustered or distracted or both.”

“So you’ve said,” she reiterates, catching a flash of blonde hair out of the corner of her eye. Of course, it’s him muscling his way backstage and jumping the queue.  

“But I don’t think I know anyone hot,” she says, loud enough for the guy in question to hear as she rounds the corner. Serves him right for gatecrashing her opening night. 

“Ouch,” he whistles, leaning lazily against her dressing room doorway. “That hurt, Kiki.”

“It didn’t, you big baby,” she grins, pulling him in for an impromptu hug.  Given he makes his living from boxing she doesn’t buy that for a minute. “And what have I told you about calling me that?”

She pulls away from him, reluctantly. Once she feels him for the first time in a while it’s always hard to let go. 

He feels good. Too good. 

It feels right. Too right. 

“You called me ugly so it serves you right.” 

Kiara feels like they’ve picked up right where they left off in London fifteen months earlier, or was it six months ago in Prague? Whenever it was, nothing ever seems to change between them. 

“Do you want me to call security?” Wheezie asks, her brown eyes bouncing back and forth as they argue like she’s watching a tennis match. 

“Not yet,” Kiara teases. “Can you check my car is booked for the morning, cancel my 11am appointment and confirm lunch with Jake at Pastis at 1pm. Thanks, Wheezie.” 

She shuts the door behind her leaving them alone. From past experience that’s not entirely safe given their tendency to lose all sense of decorum and control. 

“I got you these.” He produces a bunch of flowers from behind his back. “Had I known about the floral tribute in your dressing room I might not have bothered.” He gestures to the exorbitant amount of blooms on her dressing table and surrounds. 

It’s not unusual to have that many flowers for opening night but Kiara barely gives them a second glance, her attention soley focused on the ones in his outstretched arms. 

“My favourite,” she murmurs, taking the pink peonies in his grasp and grazing his calloused fingers in the process. She shivers, remembering just how soothing they are.

He’s changed since they saw each other last. The customary dark jeans and leather jacket coupled with his brooding demeanour are the same. His blue eyes are intense, his messy, blonde locks slightly subdued tonight but still curling over his ears teasingly.

It’s his expression that’s different, mature and hardened, the scars she used to trace with her fingers more pronounced with time.

“By the way, who is this Jake and do I need to kill him?” He asks, making himself comfortable on her dressing room couch.

Of course he doesn’t let that go unnoticed. They’ve definitely picked up right where they left things. 

“It’s just lunch, calm down, Rocky,” she jokes, knowing how much he hates her calling him that. “So, you come to my neighbourhood and I don’t even get a call?” 

“You can talk. Anyway, I thought it would be more fun if I surprised you like one of those secret reviewers sitting in the audience all the while critiquing your performance.”

“So, what did you think?” She asks, holding her breath and not even realising she’s doing it. When it comes to what people think there’s only one person that matters. She busies herself on purpose, stepping behind the dressing screen to change out of her costume. 

“I give Giselle a very solid nine point nine nine out of ten,” he offers, thoughtfully. “Points off because there was no dancing mouse.”

“Who needs the New York Times review tomorrow morning when I have that?” She laughs. “You know, I can’t dance the Nutcracker all year round.”

“If I had my way it’d be Christmas all year round then.”

“Oh okay, who are you and what have you done with the real JJ Maybank? You know, blonde and broody.” 

“It must be seeing you again, Kie.” 

She can’t miss the wistfulness in his tone almost like he’s thinking back to another time. Another place. Another them. 

“Liar,” she shoots back from across the screen, attempting to break the tension. “But I’m impressed how well your ballet knowledge is coming along. What would your boxing friends think?”

She can’t see him but the ensuing silence is overwhelming.  It’s a reminder of the past neither can seem to escape.  

Kiara grabs the floral robe from the nearby hanger, wrapping it around her naked body. She pulls her hair free from the tight bun, her chestnut waves falling loose around her shoulders. 

As she steps out from the screen he’s watching her intently. Gone is the pretence, the need for small talk.

They hold a conversation with their eyes - your place or mine?

Given the hunger in his, the way she licks her lips, his need to devour her, and her need to let him means it doesn’t matter.

As long as it’s soon.

She’s pinned beneath him, naked and ready, their clothes scattered around the room long forgotten. Foreplay is only an easy warm-up for two such elite athletes, it isn’t unusual for them to play through the night until dawn.

Until every last shred of pleasure is exhausted until every last ragged breath is taken.

This is how things always are between them.

No talking, no feeling.

Just being.

It’s only as the sun is rising in brilliant streaks of pink and orange through the crack in the blinds as they lay in bed, limbs intertwined while wrapped in the crisp, white, hotel sheets she hears it.

It’s hushed and low, a growl that reverberates in her ear as he runs his fingers through her hair.

“Tell me we weren’t just friends.”

Kildare Boxing Gym, The Outer Banks (7 years ago)

“You’ve got absolutely no shot with her,” John B laughed, landing a punch on his chest. 

They were sparring in the boxing ring and as usual he was talking absolute shit. Being the far superior boxer, JJ knew he was just trying to get to him so he could score at least one win. JJ unleashed a surprise uppercut and sent John B stumbling into the corner of the ring. 

“What was that you were saying, Bree?” 

“Maybe you can kick my ass but there is no way Kiara Carrera would ever look twice at someone like you. She’s more ballet recitals and country clubs and you’re…well you.”

JJ knew full well he wasn’t her type, hell he probably wasn’t anyone’s type. He lived in a run down excuse for a house, ditched school, and spent more time boxing at this old gym than anything else. At first, it was just to get away from his dad after one of his abusive, drunken spells but it soon became not only a way to distract himself but to learn how to fight back. 

The local ballet school was only a few doors up from the gym on Main Street and that’s where he’d seen her for the very first time. Beautiful, poised and determined, as he’d find out later when she turned him down for a date or three. She was always surrounded by her ballet friends and given the way they looked at him, JJ knew what they thought. He wasn’t and never would be good enough for their friend.  

“I know you’re upset I beat you again but no need to be bitter,” he joked, giving him one last push before taking off his gloves. “And please take a shower for all our sakes.”

He could still hear John B’s wheezing laughter as he left the gym, his bag slung over his shoulder. He knew his dad would be passed out this time of the morning so he could take a shower then decide whether he was going to school today or not. 

There was an old foot bridge on the way to his house. JJ used it because it was a quick shortcut and usually empty because it was barely used. Until today. 

Kiara was sitting on the bridge, her long legs hanging over. She wore a pair of ripped cutoffs and a simple white t-shirt with her long hair piled onto her head in a messy bun.  She was holding onto what looked like long pink ribbons from her ballet shoes and dangling them over the water precariously. 

“Don’t do it,” he joked. “They’ve got too much to live for.”

She looked over, clearly not expecting to find him of all people there. JJ could tell she’d been crying from the redness around her eyes, although to him she still looked beautiful. He was half expecting her to run away given the number of times she’d turned him down for a date but she just turned back and fixed her gaze on her pointe shoes.

“I don’t really care if they drown right about now,” she murmured. 

“Then what would you use to dance?” He asked, sitting next to her. 

“I’ve decided I don’t really have what it takes to dance.”

“You’ve decided?”

“Well, my dance teacher yelled at me in front of the class for having poor posture and lack of core strength. And it’s not the first time either, it’s becoming the norm lately. Then of course I had to go and fall on my butt after attempting a Fouetté today just to prove her right. My mother is going to have a field day with this, I’ll never hear the end of it.”

“I hate it when I fall after doing a froufrou,” he said, hoping to cheer her up. JJ didn’t like seeing her sad.  Then she laughed and it sounded so melodic and carefree. Nothing like the uptight front he’d witnessed before.  JJ didn’t realise how much he needed to hear that. 

“But I do know a bit about core strength.”

“Oh really?” 

“If you don’t have core strength you can’t do a lot of things well, including box,” he explained.  “Seems like boxing and ballet might have something in common after all. Maybe I could help you with some strength training drills.” 

“If that’s a line...”

“I think after being rejected three times already I’ve learned my lesson.”

“It’s not you,” she murmured. “Although, you chose a bad time to ask me out. My friends can be...”

“Scary,” he interrupted. He wanted to say snobs but thought better of it. 

“And rude,” she agreed. “And my mother doesn’t let me date because I have to focus on my ballet and my father doesn’t let me date because he doesn’t like teenage boys or their untoward intentions much. So, you see my dilemma.” 

“Sounds hectic.”

“You have no idea.” 

“But if I’m helping with your ballet it has to be a good thing,” he offered. “And, of course, no one needs to know. It could be our little secret.” 

JJ didn’t want that, not one bit. But if being near Kiara Carrera meant secrecy he’d take what he could get. 

“Well, if you’re going to help me out,” she began. “Maybe I can teach you something too?”

“I don’t think wearing a tutu is going to help my performance in the ring much,” he joked. 

“Joke all you like but did you know that Mohammed Ali and Sugar Ray Robinson reportedly took dancing classes?”

“Now you’re just messing with me, Carrera.”

“Ballet can help with flexibility, being lighter on your feet and it has proven to improve footwork.”

“Float like a butterfly, sting like a bee,” he said, quoting Mohammed Ali. “Now, it’s all starting to make sense.”

“We’ll make a butterfly of you yet, Maybank.” 

“So, let me get this straight, you’re going to teach me to dance?” JJ was so glad John B wasn’t around to hear this particular conversation. 

“Not exactly but if we’re going to do this then it’s all or nothing.” 

JJ wasn’t stupid, of course he was going to do, I mean anything to be closer to Kiara but he never imagined just how much he’d get out of it. 

They trained together whenever they could get away from their ‘real’ lives. It was a small town so finding somewhere to train had been difficult until JJ stumbled upon an old abandoned warehouse near the highway.

He brought his punching bag, gloves and pads and Kiara turned a wooden beam in the warehouse into a makeshift barre.  They were both driven in their chosen fields and trained hard but found some off-time to talk about their lives and what they wanted them to look like one day.  Her dancing the Nutcracker at Lincoln Centre and him becoming US Boxing Champion. 

Then one day Kiara auditioned and was accepted into the American Ballet Academy in New York. JJ was happy for her, he still remembered just how excited she was when she told him. He’d never forget the hug they shared, long, tight and full of emotion. When they finally separated he didn’t want to let go and something in her eyes told him she felt the same way. 

Was it gratitude, was it love or was it something else? They were friends but were they really just friends? He wanted to ask but it was too late and she was gone. 

Staples Centre, Los Angeles (2 years ago)

Kiara knew this was why she never went to boxing matches. It was bad enough watching a real fight let alone a fake one for entertainment. All she could hear was the thousands of fans, mainly angry men, shouting for their chosen fighter. 

Kiara would only do this for one person and he was standing in the ring. Even with the padding and headgear she could still see that unruly, blonde hair peeking out. But it was his body she couldn’t stop looking at. He was always toned but he’d put on a significant amount of muscle and you couldn’t miss just how good it looked on him.

The crowd was on their feet now, JJ ducking and weaving at first but finding his balance and counter punching. She was both nervous and excited, especially seeing his quick footwork thanks, surely in part, to their training.

He won in twelve gruelling rounds, and although she kept her hands over her face for the majority of the match, she was so happy when they lifted his arm up in victory. JJ Maybank was now the US Boxing Middleweight Champion.  

During the ceremony and presentation of his belt, JJ seemed exhausted but equally elated. She couldn’t help but think back to the days when they’d talk about their futures and now JJ was living his. 

She watched him proudly show his belt to the crowd and then it happened. He saw her. His blue eyes locked onto hers, a surprised grin tugging at the edges of his mouth. It was if no time had passed at all between them. Then the moment was over as he left the ring. It was probably only one second but it felt like much longer. 

15 minutes later

“So, did you summon me here to share some of your prize money?” She asked, walking into the large but empty locker room. 

Kiara had intended to go to his match but that was it. They hadn’t seen each other in five years and she wasn’t even sure what he’d think. All Kiara knew was that she wanted to be there when his future dreams became a reality because he’d helped and been there for her all those years ago in the Outer Banks. 

Also, she hadn’t stopped thinking about him so there was that too. 

As she went to leave her seat a tall, burly looking security guard stopped her and said that Mr Maybank had requested her presence. He looked too imposing to say no and, at the same time, her curiosity was piqued. 

What she wasn’t expecting was to see him very shirtless, at least his back was to her so Kiara had some time to compose herself. 

“Would you settle for a beer?” He asked, turning around and sending her his cutest crooked smile. Kiara was immediately transported back to another time. 

“I hope the girls you take out know what a cheap date you are, Maybank.”

“I’d have to go out on a date for that to happen,” he teased, his signature left dimple making an unexpected appearance. 

“Oh, so you weren’t dating Madison Bailey?”

“First, you show up to my fight and now you’re checking up on my love life?” He asked, cocking his left eyebrow curiously. 

“Seeing as you had your guard escort me backstage I don’t think you’re complaining,” she replied. 

“Not one little bit,” he agreed. “And to answer your question, she’s cute and we had some fun but I’m too busy with my fight schedule to actually date. How about you and that idiot actor Rudy Pankow?”

“Now, who’s checking up on whom?” 

“I might have seen some photos.”

“I never took you as the kind to read Page Six. To answer your question, it was very brief, you’re not the only one with a busy work schedule.”

“You killed it, the Nutcracker I mean,” he offered. 

“You saw me?” 

She inhaled sharply not expecting him to be there for her special moment a year earlier just as she was there for him tonight. 

“I did,” he nodded. “I even left you a little bunch of flowers.”

“You left the peonies?” 

She’d received a dressing room of flowers that opening night but it was the small but beautiful bunch of pink peonies that had caught her eye. They were also the only bouquet with no name on the card. All it said was “You did it.” 

“You did it,” he said, confirming what was in his note. 

“We both did,” she murmured. “I can’t believe I watched that macho display of violence before but I couldn’t not come.”

“Now, that sounds like a familiar experience,” he teased. “Minus the macho displays and more tutus. I did enjoy the toy soldiers though.”

“Of course you did,” she laughed. “So, how about that beer you owe me?”

“Alright, alright, talk about rushing a guy.”

“You might want to change, we can’t have you going outside like that and whipping the girls into a frenzy.”

“Like what?” He asked. “Oh, you mean this?” He touched his chest for added effect. “Am I distracting you, Kiki?” 

“If you mean by calling me that then yes.”

“Are you sure I’m not whipping you into a frenzy too?” 

“You wish,” she lied, hoping it sounded like she meant it. 

JJ moved closer and it was no coincidence that she suddenly couldn’t think about what she was going to say, let alone how she was actually going to communicate it. 

He smelled like a mixture of soap and aftershave and there was something else Kiara couldn’t quite pick but it was like being back home in the warehouse where they’d practice for hours. It was every word they’d spoken, every laugh they’d shared and every feeling between them yet to be declared. 

Kiara could feel his gaze on her, almost like he was reading her mind. Could he feel it too?  She looked up scared for what might happen but also excited. 

“I’ve missed you, Kie.” His voice breaks slightly, his gaze unflinching. “More than you know.”

“I’ve missed you too, J.” 

“Maybe that beer can wait?” He murmured. His question was so hushed that she could barely hear him but she did. 

“I think you’re right.” 

MGM Grand, The Strip, Las Vegas NV (11 months later)

He’s sore. Who is JJ kidding? He’s in excruciating pain.

The ice bath had done nothing to soothe the aches in his muscles. He hobbles towards the lounge area of the suite, the white towel tied low on his hips, the bowl of ice chips firmly in his grasp.

As he settles on the couch, JJ groans. He’s pleased at least that he won the fight, otherwise the pain would be so much worse.

The Strip is luminescent from his vantage point near the window. Tonight, it belongs to him. JJ Maybank is King of this town. He won the World Championship title tonight, something he’s worked for years to achieve, and it feels so good.

Adrenaline is the reason why he fights. It’s addictive. It’s all-consuming. There’s no other feeling like it, except one.

Her.

The way she laughs. The way she smiles, The way she cares. The way she feels beneath him, as he moves inside her. 

She is his heaven.

After she appeared at his US Championship fight in Los Angeles two years earlier, JJ hoped she might surprise him again in Vegas.  But given his fight is done, JJ knows it’s more wishful thinking than anything else. 

JJ hears a knock at the door, breaking him from his thoughts. He yells out, telling room service to let themselves inside as he’s too incapacitated to move. It isn’t room service though.

She looks even more beautiful, if that’s possible.

It’s been eleven months since their last meeting in New York and he doesn’t realise until then just how much he’s been craving her. She’s breathtaking.

Her red dress is short and fitted, showcasing those world famous legs and enhancing her radiant skin. Her hair is hanging loose in waves around her face, exactly as JJ likes it.

He notices her eyes flicker lower, almost as if she’s willing his towel to open. His arousal is immediate, so too the smirk he can feel forming at her blatant and reciprocal need for him.

“You won.” It’s more a statement than a question. He nods.

He notices a flash of concern cross her face and before he knows it, she’s seated next to him. Her perfectly manicured hands find the bowl and she’s running the ice over the bruise on his left cheek bone.

He winces, it’s cold and sudden, although her touch is warm and gentle.

“Hold still, you big baby.” She grins at him now, her eyes lighting up mischievously. It’s not the first time she’s called him that and JJ knows it won’t be the last. 

“You didn’t want to watch an overly macho display of violence?” He asks, using her words. 

He wants to know everything. Why she wasn’t at the fight, why she’s here now, what she wants, what she feels. But he’s holding back, something he seems to do every time they’re together. 

“I couldn’t watch,” she shares. “I can’t stand to see you hurt, it’s too hard…” 

She’s struggling to find her words and he desperately wants to help her. So he asks what he’s been too afraid to ask. 

“What do you want, Kie?” She pauses, her hand coming to a stop, her face now downcast almost like she’s trying to compose her thoughts.

“I didn’t respond to your question in New York and that wasn’t fair.”

Her eyes flicker back to his, he can tell she’s nervous by the way she bites her lower lip. JJ doesn’t think he’s ever seen anything so adorable.

“Maybe it wasn’t fair of me to ask?” He manages to bite out but regrets it as soon as it’s said. JJ oozes smug arrogance to most but with Kiara he’s filled with deep, paralysing uncertainty and doubt.

She takes his hands in hers, squeezing them affectionately. JJ can barely breathe nor contain his reaction at her small but incredibly meaningful gesture.

“We weren’t just friends.” He releases the breath he was holding. She’s said everything he’d ever wanted. Well, maybe not everything. 

“You love me?”

“I love you, JJ Maybank,” she smiles, her eyes filling with unshed tears. JJ does the same because he feels the same way. “I’ve loved you ever since you asked me on a date and I was too stupid to say yes.”

“There was always something in the way.”

“My friends, your friends, our differences, my parents, my career, my…”

“Stubborness?” 

“Here I am spilling my heart out to you and you’re teasing me, Maybank,” she huffs. “I know I took my sweet time but there’s no need to punish me for it.”

“I love you too, Kiara Carrera.” JJ pulls her closer, his nose grazing hers affectionately. “And as soon as I can move without crying out in pain, I’m going to show you just how much. That’s a promise.” 

“We’ve got all the time in the world,” she murmurs, leaning in for a kiss. 

[muffin-selfships]

I just read the palette and miguel story and nooooo she deserved to be happy!! :( Is there an alternate ending where miguel did love palette?

If we look through to an alternate timeline... ______

Spider-Palette rubbed the bruises on her arm. She was limping a little and she really felt like she wanted to just lie down and let the healing start.

Miguel was still barking at her. "What were you thinking?! You couldn't do that alone! That was way too dangerous! You could've gotten killed!"

Palette winced as she looked up at him. Her eyes were like a pleading puppy. "Sorry. I-I'll ask for help next time." She tried to feign a laugh, but it was weak and she was in pain.

Miguel looked at her, wanting to reach out to her. He watched her attempt to limp away. He watched her shaky steps and her deep breaths as she tried to walk off her pain. His eyes then widened as he noticed she was falling to the side. "Palette!?" He quickly ran up to her. "Hey, Palette! You okay?"

Palette only let out a soft "ow" when she hit the ground. It seems like that villain hit her harder than she thought. At least she can rest for a bit.

She then felt herself being lifted up. She slowly turned her head to the side to find Miguel holding her, bridal style. "Just hold on." He said, with a heavy sigh. "I got you, ok?" His voice had a little worry in it.

Palette winced again and she didn't notice that she leaned her head against his chest. "I'm fine, fangs. I just need to lie down for now.."

"I'm still making sure you're getting your bruises tended to." Miguel said, more firmly. His hold on Palette tightened, and he was going to make sure he could never see her in this condition again.

Palette kept her gaze on him, and she did feel herself blushing now. She wanted to say so much to him, but she couldn't think of anything. She wasn't used to this.

"Just...be more careful next time." His voice was soft and his hold on her loosened...and he didn't even know that he instinctively hugged her.

[new-revenant]

Danny is plopped into Gotham via Clockwork because he needs a vacation and a way to vent his energy which is building up because of a growth spurt. Danny in true Fenton fashion finds an underground group of meta teens and kids, who just want to live a normal life, and decides to join them in throwing huge underground raves where everyone could vent out their powers however they wanted as long as someone kept a look out for the bats or rouges. Well one night Danny is on lookout and sees the bats. He doesn't know what to do so he immediately runs in, smashes a bottle of soda on the floor and yells "IT'S THE FURRIES! SCATTER!" and just as Batman arrives everyone runs in a different direction. Danny just straight up turns invisible and phases through the floor in panic.

Me: *quickly scrolling down to save to drafts and answer*

Also me: *sees “IT’S THE FURRIES! SCATTER!”*

That made me laugh a lot lol. It’s such a silly prompt, I love it so much. It’s such a vibe. I have nothing to add, it’s perfect.

[hanasnx]

so.. hot take fix idea..

fire lord zuko would totally try to fuck you anywhere.. i mean, who’d stop him? from the garden balconies to the throne room or even dining room and study.. it’s very evident that he loves you to everyone around and isn’t afraid to let anyone else know it either.

MINORS DNI 18+

"Zuko," you chide under your breath, shying away from ZUKO's lips that brush the sensitive skin of your neck. "Compose yourself." you hushed instruction is paid no heed as he presses himself into your back, pinning you between the railing and his body.

His lowered voice washes warm breath over your ear, sending chills down your spine, "How can I? I can't keep my hands off you." It's in poor taste for the Fire Lord to express such ardent desire so publicly, the balcony overlooking the balcony is hardly the most inconspicuous place to do it. Even through his layers of robing, you can feel a familiar prodding, and you gasp when his teeth bite into your flesh to distract you. "No one's around." he expresses as if it's encouragement instead of a thinly veiled ploy. It's part of the thrill for him.

The official dressings you wear are inaccessible, you're unsure of how he'll proceed without baring you entirely for the world to see. When his hands grab at the fabrics, bunching them up to inch them higher you reach back to catch him. "Zuko!" you whisper indignantly, glancing at him from over your shoulder. He leans in, furthering you over the balcony from his weight as he steals a grinning kiss from you.

"A quick one, my love. If anyone so much as looks in your direction I'll skin them alive." The barbaric threat is entirely to make you dissolve into giggles as a distraction, moving aside the expensive silks so he can get at what he knows is waiting for him underneath.

[srapsodia]

Ask prompt: 82 with Karasuno boys driving for the first time after getting their license with their teammates along for the ride....to varying degrees of success lol

82: one driving, other passenger

Asahi's first time driving the team around!

[2aceofspades]

24, you pick who. There are definitely a few people who come to mind easily, but I want to see what you think!

24.) "Unless you ask me not to in the next five seconds, I'm going to hug you."

I won't even lie, I struggled with this one for whatever reason. But! I gave it my best shot 🙌✨

TW: Eye Strain/Bright Colors

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Thank you for your submission! 🙏🌟

(:

[ky-landfill]

Here's a recipe for pesto gnocchi:

Ingredients:

* 2 pounds of store-bought gnocchi

* 3 cups of basil leaves, washed and dried

* 2 cloves of garlic, peeled

* 3/4 cup parmesan cheese

* 1/2 cup extra virgin olive oil

* Salt and pepper, to taste

Instructions:

1. In a food processor or blender, combine the basil, garlic, cheese, and olive oil. Blend until smooth and set aside.

2. In a large pot of boiling salted water, cook the gnocchi according to package instructions.

3. Drain the gnocchi and add it to a deep skillet with some olive oil. Cook over medium heat until light brown.

4. Pour in the pesto sauce and toss well to coat. Season with salt and pepper to taste.

5. Serve hot and garnish with more parmesan cheese and fresh basil. Enjoy!

Thanks.

[cubedmango]

cherry magic AU for @alnstgforgaza anon with impeccable taste 🍒✨

(info on how to send in your own prompt is over here! please consider donating 💜)

[adyophene]

Huskie is part birdie, so maybe the 'no balls' thing means he got a cloaca like stolas from helluvaboss??

I got quite a few asks while I was on my little burnout hiatus but this one definitely takes the cake. I know that's you, Angeldust.

[becca-e-barnes]

all i can think about is bucky literally BEGGING to eat your pussy. just on his knees, calling himself a needy slut, just looking up at you with puppy dog eyes while he just begs for your pussy on his mouth. ugh.

Men who are this into eating pussy have a special place reserved for them in Heaven. Hearing someone beg to go down on you is life changing when they know what they're doing 🙈

But you're so right, Bucky would be so willing to degrade himself like that just to be allowed to go down on you. He'd be on his knees, trying to ignore how full his balls feel, begging for you.

"P-please." His voice is so quiet you almost start to question if he said it intentionally. "I need to taste you. I can't think about anything else."

His cock twitches despite how heavy it looks, flushed and angry against the pale skin of his thighs.

"Really?" You tease, tilting his chin up with two fingers so he's looking at your face, rather than your body. "Tell me exactly what you're thinking. Describe it to me"

He doesn't miss a beat. "I'm thinking about how soft you are, how warm and silky your cunt feels under my tongue. I'm thinking about burying my tongue as deep inside you as I can reach and still wishing I could get deeper. I want to feel how wet you are but more than anything, I want to taste how wet you are. I want to dream about it for the rest of the week. Every time I stroke my cock I want to be able to remember how you taste."

Precum drips from his tip and you're not sure you can deny him much longer. Not when he's making it sound so appealing.

"Do you even hear yourself?" You do your very best to act like you don't love the sound of every word that has just come out of his mouth.

"I do. I sound like a shameless, filthy, desperate slut. The type of slut who wants to kiss and lick and worship your sweet pussy until you're so sensitive you have to force me to stop." His hand wanders between his own legs, tugging his stiff length to the mere thought.

He's not above begging and you know that. He'll draw this out as long as he needs to until he gets his way but there's very little sense in that when you want this just as much as he does.

"Lie on the bed." You give him time to make his way over before following, lining yourself up just above his face.

You take a second to smooth his hair, enjoying the feeling of his freshly shaved face against the sensitive insides of your thighs.

He's looking up at you, your eyes meeting his. "Thank you." The relief in his voice is clear right before he grasps your hips and pulls you down onto his mouth.

Fuck, he's incredible. This is the mouth you dream about when you're alone. His tongue massages your clit, stroking back and forth before dipping into your fluttering entrance. You swear he must feel what he's doing to you. You feel your cunt clenching and rippling, your muscles contracting in response to the pleasure and for a second you wonder if he can tell.

He's hungry for this; he has been for hours. He's moaning and slurping obscenely, his tongue buried in your cunt. You don't even need to look over your shoulder to know that he's alternating between fucking his own fist and gripping the base of his shaft tight enough to stop him from spilling his release all over himself too soon.

It's very hard to tell which of you enjoys this more.