#summer kiss prompt

[something-tofightfor]

2023 Summer Kiss Prompt #15: Frankie Morales - A Kiss After Pain

If you remember last summer, I took prompt requests for a series of smooches. It never got finished, and I apologize for that ... but this one WAS finished and has been languishing in my google docs for almost a year.

What was the delay? I couldn't post it until the story reached the point where you knew Frankie's secret. But @the-blind-assassin-12 .... it's happening. And this one is all for you.

Word Count: 1,796 Rating: M, for implied sex and a lot of angst ... and some blood. Takes place between chapters 9 and 10 of Liminality.

In the short time you’d known him, you’d never seen Frankie as agitated as he was that afternoon. 

You weren’t scared of him - you hadn’t ever been, even after finding out what he was. I should have been. It should have terrified me. But instead, you’d felt sympathy for the man - someone that hadn’t asked for what he was enduring, someone that took things seriously and tried his best to keep himself under control even when most other people in his position wouldn’t have been able to.

“Frankie, if there’s anything I can do, I need you to …” Shaking your head, you sighed. “I wish you’d just tell me.” 

“You can control it.” He was running his fingers through his hair, the Standard Oil ballcap you’d grown used to discarded on his couch. “Not a hundred percent of the time, but enough. Enough that you don’t need to fucking …” He growled, spinning away from you and striding toward the back door, both hands balled up onto fists and hanging by his sides. He won’t change here. He won’t let himself get worked up enough, even though the moon’s only a couple days away. “You don’t have to fucking hurt people. You have enough goddamn control to…” He trailed off, rocking back and forth.

“Maybe you’re the exception.” Standing, you slowly crossed the room, stopping short of touching him, even though you wanted to. “Maybe not everyone has the self control you do, Frankie. Maybe you not knowing what you were capable of and being wary of it all helped and -”

“No.” It was close to a snarl, the sound low in his throat as he stiffened. Keep it together, Frankie. “I’m not fucking special. Even Ashley agreed with me about the control thing.” He lowered his head, taking a breath. “It’s easier when you’re born into it because you have help controlling the urges. But she said that her entire line - and everyone else they’ve ever come into contact with - have been able to control themselves even in the beginning.” 

You shivered, crossing your arms over your chest. But why do these other wolves just want to kill? What is it about them that make them … “The Chaos line just wants attention, then. If they’re all aware that they’re hurting people, it’s by design.” He agreed with you, a humorless laugh at the end of it. 

“I’ve worked so hard.” He turned to face you, a deep frown on his face. “So hard since it happened to control it. To control myself. I just want to live my goddamn life and not worry about someone knocking on my door one day and -”

“Someone like me, you mean.” Covering your mouth with one hand, you closed your eyes. “Because if I figured out that this isn’t gators or bobcats, then someone else will, too. I can’t be the only one looking.” 

He nodded, eyes locked with yours. “And not everyone is like you. Not everyone would listen. People shoot first and ask questions later.” He glanced up, taking a long breath. “Like me and Redfly did in Colombia. Like the five of us did on so many missions. Like -”

“Hey.” You reached out then, laying a hand against the center of his chest. “You’re getting off topic here, Morales.” His heartbeat thumped against  your palm, the man’s skin hot through the thin material of his t-shirt. “The next full moon, we’ll get him.  You won’t have to worry about this asshole putting you in danger anymore.” 

“You sound so sure.” He rolled his eyes, stepping away from you. “What if it doesn’t happen that way? What if he’s always a couple steps ahead of me? What if I can’t keep you or the guys from -”

“You know why I’m here, Frankie.” Chewing on your lower lip, you narrowed your eyes. “You know what I’m willing to give u -”

He cut you off when he raised a fist, slamming it into the tabletop with a crack of his knuckles. 

You hissed in pain at the sound - and the sight - but Frankie didn’t even flinch, the man’s fingers flexing as he replied. “That’s not going to fucking happen.” He turned to face you again and you watched in horror as his bloodied knuckles dripped onto the tile floor. How is he not … that has to hurt. He - “I already put you in danger by not telling you right away. It’s not happening again. Not now, not -”

“Frankie, you’re bleeding.” Forcing yourself into motion, you moved past him and into the kitchen, grabbing a towel and turning on the hot water. “Your hand has to be broken, something cracked when you hit the table, and -”

“It was the table.” He was right behind you, the man’s voice low again as he leaned in to speak into your ear. “It does hurt, but it’s fine. It’ll heal. Give it a couple hours and it’ll be like nothing happened. Shit heals faster the closer it gets to the moon.” The table? He cracked the table? His left hand snaked around your waist and the right one came into view as he extended his fingers over the sink. “Just some bloody knuckles. Nowhere near the worst it’s been for me.” 

You sighed as he spoke, a tiny smile creeping over your lips as he flattened his palm against your belly, pulling you back toward him. I know it isn’t. “At least let me clean them off for you. Can’t have you bleeding all over the place.” He nodded, chin resting on your shoulder - and you got to work. 

You were gentle with his hand, guiding it under the trickle of water and letting it rinse the blood from his skin. The cuts were shallow - more bruises than anything else, but his knuckles were swollen, and you felt him wince when you used your thumb to rub antibacterial soap over them, ensuring that the area was clean. Not that it matters, according to him, but … still. 

“You know I’d do whatever it took to keep you safe, right?” He kissed the side of your neck, lips lingering against your skin. “Not only do you know my secret, but you know about Colombia, too, so that makes you … one of us.” Your heart thumped at the label, even though it wasn’t new information. But…  

“Hmm. With that, you’d think that maybe me not being around anymore would be a good thing. I’m a liability, Frankie. Not just to you guys, but to whoever the other person is, because … because I know what to look for. I know what to …” You trailed off when he reached for the taps, turning the water off and then urging you to spin and face him. “What?” 

“It would not be a good thing.” He moved closer, pinning you between his body and the counter’s edge, the man’s gaze intense. “Not even close.” His nostrils flared as he contemplated his words - and yours - and when Frankie spoke again, you heard resolve in his voice, the man trailing one bruised knuckle over your cheek. “You might know what to look for and what to do when you find it, but I know what it feels like to be the thing you’re looking for. I know what happens when we’re not … us anymore. And I’m going to use that to hunt this motherfucker down.” 

His eyes flashed gold as he spoke, Frankie’s handsome features turning sharp for a moment before they softened. 

You still weren’t scared, but you did feel fear - not for you or for him, but for whoever was behind the attacks. Because he won’t give up. This isn’t just about keeping people safe, it’s about … him getting to live his life. It’s about getting to watch his daughter grow up and … “You are.” Nodding twice, you closed your eyes. “We are. And I’m going to help you as much as I can.” So that maybe I can finally live my life, too. 

You took his wrist between your fingers and twisted it, finally breaking eye contact when you pressed your lips to his knuckles. You kissed each one in turn, and when you were done, you looked back up, not knowing what to expect. 

But instead of uncertainty or unease, Frankie looked absolutely wrecked, the man’s lips parted and his brow furrowed, his eyes on your face. You didn’t know how he’d respond, but you didn’t expect him to nearly moan out your name, surging forward to kiss you without warning. 

He ripped his wrist from your hold and used that hand to grip the back of your neck - not tightly but securely, his other hand sliding beneath your shirt and up the center of your back, the heat of his palm trailing like fire over your skin. 

There was nothing hesitant about the kiss. Frankie didn’t hold back, and you would have been lying if you’d said that part of you wasn’t thrilled that you were able to get that kind of reaction out of him after only knowing him for a couple months. But who wouldn’t be? He’s… 

He tugged on your lip with his teeth and then released it, running his nose alongside yours before he kissed you again, your mouth open and waiting, the point of his tongue meeting the flat of yours, almost daring you to challenge him further. 

You did, one hand gripping his shirt and bunching the fabric of it against your palm as you moaned into his mouth, your other hand pushing on his hip and wordlessly urging him to back up so that you could follow. 

He was dangerous and you knew it. 

He’d been that way for years before Colombia, Frankie’s instincts and willingness to do what needed to be done allowing him and his friends to survive countless unthinkable situations. But he was also loyal to the people he cared about - and based on the things he’d said to you and the way he’d treated you since your first meeting, you’d worked yourself into that circle almost unwittingly. And that means everything. 

He pulled back to breathe, pressing his forehead to yours and stroking over the line of your jaw with his thumb. “Frankie, you -”

“If I don’t let you go right now, I don’t know that I’m going to be able to. And I can’t… I can’t promise I’ll be able to rein myself in today.” 

You made your choice  - if there even was one to be made -  in an instant, your grip on him tightening at the same time you inhaled sharply, the hand on his hip sliding back so that you could urge his lower body against yours. 

“I don’t want you to. Ever.”

—

[artbyfuji]

Rosebird Week Day 1: Red Thread of Fate

[thebest-medicine]

68. “What’s that? Stop saying tickle, tickle, tickle, tickle, tickle?” with ler Luz/lee Amity? :D

Prompt 68 - "What’s that? Stop saying tickle, tickle, tickle, tickle, tickle?”

A/N: awwww omfg fsnskdjfnskjgn this TEASE

…

“Ahahahahahaha Luhuhuhuz stahahahahahop! Stop stop stop sahahahahahaying thahahahat!” Amity squealed as Luz tickled along her sides and pressed ticklish kisses to her neck.

“What?” Luz mumbled into the skin behind her ear. “Stop saying what? How ticklish you are?”

“Hehehehee! Yehehehehehes! Ahahaha!” She wailed between giggles. “I cahahahan’t!”

“So you’re saying you want me to stop saying tickle, tickle, tickletickletickletickle—”

“LUZ!” Amity squealed, cutting her off.

“But you’re so cute when you blush!” Luz argued with a whine. “And you’re sooooo ticklish.” She smirked, Amity could feel it against her neck. “And sooooo easy to tease.”

“HeheheheHEHEEHEE PLEHEHEASE!”

“Alright, alright. I’ll stop saying tickle tickle tickle tickle and I’ll just tickle you instead!” Luz announced over increasing protests and squeals.

…

[more sentence starter fic prompts]

[other sentence starter fics]

[read this & further TOH drabbles on ao3]

[rockingrobin69]

Parched

It was hot, summer, and sticky, and terrible. His eyes would not unglue from the dreadful image ahead: a bead of water sliding down his chest, glimmering-gold on his skin, and oh, fuck, Draco was doomed.

Draco, in his fucking linen trousers (who in hell convinced him to wear this), in his fucking face, flushed so helplessly and so telling. Why did he come? He could be home with his ancient fan right now. He could be sitting on the floor with a drink in his hand and pining himself stupid over Potter’s text. Why even text him, if he’s so intent on speaking to Ginevra? Over there by the pool, with his fucking hands. In his hair (wet, why did he have to be so wet) and clapping his thigh (thick, why did it have to be so thick) and—touching Ginevra’s face—

Oh, Draco forgot, he couldn’t do this. Had places to be, had—things to, do. None of them included sitting in the shade, trying to control his face and swallow the scream. None of them included a first-row seat to the Lovebirds getting back together. No, in fact, a nice hot dip in the actual magma of the actual sun would be more pleasant than this, excuse him, Granger, excuse, fucking Weasley, trying to lure in him a chat about—chess? He really couldn’t pay the slightest attention. Escaping, er, going to the, er, loos, so get off him, Luna, he’s just—

“Draco?”

No, no. No. Draco wasn’t ready for this. In his trousers and his face and his heart beating a racket in his ears. Please, he just needed a moment to cool down. To stuff all this unbearable heat somewhere private, somewhere distant, where it’d only scorch a little and not flay him open.

“Where are you going? You’re not leaving yet, are you?”

He turned to Potter with what started as fury, then melted, turned stupid, more grunting than actual words. Potter, still so fucking wet from when Neville pushed him in, dripping right in front of him. All big smile and that dimple which sent Draco to many a miserable fit, and those hands, those hands. Sent out, to stop him, maybe.

“I, er. I have to… there’s something…”

The Gryffindorks were all staring. In the corner, Pansy was sunbathing and couldn’t care less. Blaise was grinning. The pool area smelled of chlorine and beer, and Potter, who was somehow getting closer. Oh, he was moving. Towards him. Draco would back away, but the sun lounger was already nudging his leg, and. Helpless. With Potter’s… everything.

“You can’t go. You only just got here!”

Draco blinked. Begged himself for a shred of coherency. Found none. “You… ahem. You seem to be quite busy anyway. So, ah, it shouldn’t matter if—”

“Matters,” Potter said, directly onto Draco’s face. He was warm and wet and mesmerising. Draco couldn’t think. “It matters. Stay, just a little longer?” one Hand rose, a finger gently tapping the edge of his nose.

“Hmm?” was Draco’s best effort.

“You have a little bit of sunscreen,” with a breathy laugh. “Here, let me just…”

Let him? What would Draco not let him do? The concept was absurd. “Potter,” he tried, with the very last of his might.

His hand was warm, and big, and perfect. Without quite noticing he was doing it, Draco let his mouth fall open, deaf for the raucous beating in his chest.

Potter’s thumb came up to rest, gently, on his bottom lip. “Stay,” he whispered. His face was so close. Draco only had to lean an inch and they’d be—closer.

Splashing from a few yards away, yelling and laughter; the world ceased to exist. Draco could vaguely tell they were in the shade. Was only somewhat aware of other people who might be watching this. A funny sensation was already tingling on his skin, like sunburn, but worse.

“Okay,” he heard himself say. More vibration than word, making Potter’s thumb twitch. That blasted hand took his chin, brought it the tiniest bit down. What wouldn’t Draco let him do? He’d let him anything.

“Okay,” Potter said back. There was a tilt of a smile to the word, to his lips. Pink and very, very close. Coming closer still. Slowly, so slowly, and Draco’s head was burning with it, smoking, was fit to combust—

“Come inside? I need to dry off. You could help towel me down.”

“Down,” Draco said, wisely. “Towel—yes.”

Potter was bright everywhere, but his smile, oh god. Made Draco’s mouth water and his eyes sting. And his mind melt. “Good,” Potter said, and leaned in to kiss the tip of his nose. “That’s good.”

It was roasting hot, summer, sticky and sweaty. And good, yes, also very, very good.  

[brookieheart]

5 Types of Love Interests for Your Book♥️

Colleague - A love interest that is someone your main character works with (ex. Summer Finn from 500 Days of Summer)

The Brooder - A deep thinker, typically introverted, whose mystery attracts the main character's attention (ex. Stefan Salvatore from The Vampire Diaries)

Best Friend's Sibling - A love interest who is the brother or sister of the main character's friend (ex. Noah Flynn from The Kissing Booth)

Love at First Sight - Someone the main character falls in love with the moment they meet (ex. Tony and Maria from West Side Story)

The Obsession - A love interest who the main character develops an obsession with (ex. Guinevere Beck from You)

[butdaddyilovehim99]

for the smut prompt 3 you reblogged, I wanna know which of those you think would most suit Gale and Winnie :) I can kinda see no.3 (who is naked is up to interpretation;))

Oooof I really had to think about this I could see 7 finding a somewhat private area at a fancy party to fuck (I’m thinking a party at the officer’s club) or 11 quickie where you don't take any clothes off, just tug and pull and expose the essentials (as this is what they normally do as a necessity with their circumstances on base)

This is much longer than I meant for it to be 😅 I don’t quite have a specific point where this fits in the fic

I hope y’all enjoy

Winnie forgets what she was searching for in John's locker when Gale enters the main barrack from the showers, and she looks at him. He has a towel tucked low around his hips and ruffles another towel over his head to dry his hair. Winnie licks her lips as she lets her eyes wander over his tan body, following the muscles in his biceps and over his chest and stomach. 

When he removes the towel from his head and sees her, her cheeks flush dark crimson. His eyes widen at the surprise, but then his lips curl into a slight smirk. His voice is authoritative when he asks,  "What are you doing in the officer's quarters?"

"I was just—" she looks away from Gale into John's locker, where her hands were rifling through just a moment before; she really can't remember what she needed. 

Gale approaches her, his smirk growing, and she wants to kiss it off of him. "You were just?" He prompts her. He's teasing her, and she can't take it with him being naked just in front of her. Winnie tilts her head back to look up at him through her lashes, a soft pout on her lips. 

"This isn't fair, you're naked." She whispers the word naked as if it's scandalous. As if Winnie sitting on her knees in front of Gale, who is wearing only a towel, isn't scandalous itself. They would never be able to explain this if someone walked in. Still, it's early in the night—John and the others only recently left for the pub, and they won't be back until the early morning hours.

Gale cocks an eyebrow and moves his hand to his towel. "I'm not naked," he says as his hand untucks the towel and then lets it drop to the floor behind him. "Now I'm naked."

Winnie hates the way heat instantly pools in her belly—the way his hardening cock makes her mouth water. And that's new to her. It makes her confused when she wants to reach out to grab him and lick his tip—taste him for the first time. 

His soft hand cups her cheek. She closes her eyes and leans into his touch. She feels his thumb traces her lips, then pauses to gently pull her bottom lip down. Winnie opens her eyes as she lets her mouth open for him—his pupils are already blown wide, making his gaze dark—he slips his thumb into her mouth and rests it on her tongue. 

Gale lets out a low groan when she closes her lips and sucks a little on his thumb; his cock twitches, and she knows he must like what she did—confidence takes over and makes her brave. She pulls back a little, letting go of his thumb, and bats her eyes up at him.

"Tell me what to do, how to make it good for you," Winnie says as she wraps her own hand around the base of his cock for the first time.  She watches as the muscle in his jaw jumps, and he takes a deep breath through his nose, closing his eyes for a brief moment. 

Gale opens his eyes again once he gains control of himself. "Tighten your grip a bit," he tells her, and she nods, tightening her fingers that don't even go all the way around his cock. She watches as a bead of liquid collects at his tip, and Winnie can't help but lean forward and lick it away—it's salty, but she doesn't mind it, so she wraps her lips around the tip and gives a slight suck. 

Gale curses lowly at the sudden way she has taken him in her mouth, and he tangles his fingers in the hair at the back of her head. His grip is tight but doesn't hurt. Winnie places her free hand on Gale's thigh to steady herself as she slowly takes more of his cock into her mouth. 

Winnie has no other experience to compare Gale's size to, but she knows he is big. He's almost too thick to fit in her mouth, and she has to work to relax her jaw as this is her first time. Once he barely grazes the back of her throat, she gags and pulls back. She looks up at Gale with tears in her eyes, and he coos down at her. His free hand comes up to gently wipe her eyes. 

"You don't have to if it's too much," Gale says softly. Winnie wants to prove to him that she can, so she swats his hand away. 

"It's not. I can do it," she murmurs before wrapping her lips around him again, cutting off the chuckle he was letting out at her determination and making him curse again. She learns from the last try when to pull back before gagging. Winnie pulls back just as slowly as she took him in her mouth, but she picks up a bit of speed with every bob of her head.

Winnie lets the low noises he makes build her confidence as she moves her mouth up and down the length she can take. She moves her hand along the rest of his cock, keeping the grip he said. He moans out, "Fuck, just like that darling." 

She can't help the little moan she makes around his cock. She feels his grip tighten in her hair and his hips buck forward into her mouth—she gags, but his grip is too tight for her to pull away. She takes a breath through her nose and grips his thigh, digging her nails in, but Winnie calms herself down and continues to work her mouth over him.

Winnie moves her tongue along the underside, teasing along a vein, and she feels his cock twitch. "Jesus, Winnie," he breathes and relaxes his grip on her hair, "you're going to be the death of me."

She pulls back, letting off his cock with an obscene pop, and a string of saliva connects her lips to his tip—he groans lowly, and she smirks up at him. "I've already accepted that I'm going to hell. Might as well enjoy my time with you while we have it." 

Gale opens his mouth to speak, but she cuts him off by swirling her tongue around his tip and then swallowing him down until she might gag. She stays there and works through the feeling before she can take just a little more, and her throat swallows around his tip. He lets out a strangled moan, and his hips buck forward again; simultaneously, as his cock twitches, she feels warm liquid coat her tongue as he quickly pulls away—the warmth landing on her chin, making her gasp. 

"Shit, darling, I'm sorry!" Gale breathes heavily and doesn't give himself a single second to enjoy his orgasm. He grabs the towel from the floor and crouches down to her—he wipes her chin and instructs, "Go ahead, spit it out."

Winnie blinks up at him as she still holds the bitter, salty liquid in her mouth. She thinks back to the times she'd seen the same white stickiness leaking out from her wetness when he had finished. She swallows before she spares another thought and smiles sweetly at him when his jaw drops slightly. It's the dirtiest thing she's ever done, but how Gale looks at her now makes it worth it.

He leans in and captures her lips in a deep kiss. Their lips part and dance together perfectly. She will never get tired of his lips on hers, his tongue sliding against hers, and his hands on her body. "You're perfect," he breathes when they finally part, and she smiles again, this time a little demurely. He smiles and says, "I love you."

"You're only saying that because of what I just did." She laughs and stands up after closing John's locker—still unsure what she was looking for.

Gale stands up as well and tucks the towel around his hips—making sure to keep the side that he used to wipe her face on the outside. He shrugs, "Maybe, but I would still love you if you hadn't done it. If you never wanted to do that. I'll love you no matter what." He grins, and Winnie knows she's a sucker for his sweet words and that grin.

She grins up at him and reaches up to cup his cheek. "I love you too," she murmurs and stands on her tippy toes to press one more sweet kiss to his lips. "Goodnight, Gale."

When she pulls away, his eyes are soft, and he has a soft smile to match. "Goodnight, darling," he murmurs. Winnie returns his smile before she leaves the barracks. She would love to stay longer, to have him touch her in return, but she wouldn't go if he got her into his rack. She would want to stay all night cuddled with him, and that's impossible. 

Winnie is glad she left when she did when she passes a few men on her way back to her barrack. It's not until after she brushes her teeth and changes into her pajamas, then lies awake in her own rack, that she remembers she went into John's locker for a book she had lent him.

[selfshipcorner]

I started this account mainly just for me but since I've started gaining followers I thought I should show the tag system! This will be updated as time goes on.

Tags for f/o imagine reblogs (original imagines will be tagged as "f/o imagines")

Yearning (most imagines will be here)

Comfort

Domesticity

Sleep imagines

Morning imagines

Kiss imagines

Chaotic imagines

Dance imagines

Summer imagines

Birthday imagine

Prompts

Villain f/o's

Monster f/o's

Grumpy f/o's

Shy f/o's

Tags for miscellaneous things (none of them will have stuff from my f/o's source material for now)

Memes

Art

Lovecore

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Gifs

Asks (for f/o ask games)

Userbox

Polls

[milflewis]

sewis + 16!

[16: lazily]

Lewis hums, turning his head so his cheek is pillowed on his forearms, one open eye opening. There’s a piece of grass in his hair. His back is shiny with lotion and sweat. “What are you doing?”

Sebastian shrugs, scooping out another ice cube from Lewis’s water bottle and running it up the back of Lewis’s right thigh, following the damp path the other had left up the inside of his knee.

“You don’t like?”

Lewis’s skin goosebumps, impossibly smooth and sun warm, and Sebastian can hear his throat click as he swallows. He grins.

“No, no, it’s good. Just wondering.”

He gets to the hem of Lewis’s loose skirt that is rucked up by his ass and slips the cube underneath, sliding it up over the curve of his cheek. He lightly scrapes his nails along as he goes. Lewis groans quietly, rolling onto his back and hooks an ankle around Sebastian’s knee.

“Come here,” he says, and Sebastian goes. Lewis tastes of strawberries and heat when Sebastian kisses him, hand still cold from the ice splayed at the bottom of Lewis’s throat, making him shiver. Sebastian smiles, keeping the rhythm slow and lazy and lovely.

[wesperbrekkered]

Hiii ✨

84. “I can’t believe you talked me into this.”

for Wylan and Jesper please

Hii thank you for the prompt! (Sorry its so late 😬)

____________________________________________

It was late, when Jesper shoved Wylan out of the house, the sun slowly starting to dip towards the horizon and the light dipping the tops of the roof in a hazy gold.

"Come on, quickly!" He hissed, dragging Wylan along after him, "we'll miss it."

When Wylan had told Jesper earlier that day that he'd never seen a proper sunset before... well Jesper was determined to change that.

"Does it really matter?" Wylan huffed, hurrying to keep up with him, "I'll most likely see it at some point."

Jesper pulled Wylan with him into a side alley, ducking out of the way of casual passerbys. The alley was long and steeped in dark shadows. There were a few bags of rubbish spilled on the street by their feet, most likely pulled apart by foxes or stray dogs. "You will see it at some point," Jesper said when Wylan pulled up beside him, running a hand over the dirty brick wall in search of the footholds that Inej had told him about, "and that point is in about five minutes-- ah here we go!"

Grabbing hold of Wylan's hand, Jesper bent his fingers until they fit into the foothold, "use that to pull yourself up, there's more the whole way up the wall." Wylan blinked at him, blue eyes swimming with the hazy golden light, "you want me to what?"

"The best view is up on the roof," Jesper said with a blinding grin. He could see the gears turning in Wylan's brilliant mind, before he eventually settled on resignation, sighing deeply. "I can't believe you talked me into this," he grumbled, hoisting himself up. Wylan had told Jesper once that he had never climbed anything before, but based on the way he scaled that wall, clumsy yet still efficient, Jesper wasn't inclined to believe him. It really was moments like this that reminded him how little he truly did know about Wylan.

Although, he thought grimly as he followed Wylan up the same footholds, it's not like he knows much about me.

Him and Wylan were masters at being able to talk for hours while really talking about nothing at all. It only made that need to know more about him burn all that harder.

Standing beside Wylan on the roof of his neighbourhood's local butcher's, Jesper realised he'd made a grave mistake. Wylan always looked beautiful in Jesper's totally unbiased opinion, but there was something... special, about how he looked now. His feet were braced on the very edge of the roof, eyes closed and face turned to the setting sun, he looked simply breathtaking. His wild red hair looked to be dipped in molten gold, while blurred lines of deep orange and soft pink decorated his face.

All saints, Jesper really was falling hard for his best friend.

"Enjoying yourself?" Jesper said carefully, sitting down on the edge of the roof, feet dangling in the cool air. It was the height of summer, but today had been blissfully cool, allowing Jesper to feel the light breeze stinging his exposed skin. Wylan dropped down beside him, "maybe you were right," he admitted.

"Don't give up so easily!" Jesper grinned, nudging him with his shoulder, "you haven't even seen the sunset yet." Wylan shrugged, his face carefully blank in a way that made Jesper feel slightly uneasy, "I mean, you were right about getting me out of the house. I think it was making me go a little stir crazy." Wylan laughed softly, but it was humourless and sour, and Jesper never did like hearing him laugh like that.

He loved Wylan’s laugh, the bright, infectious sound of his giggles that he always tried and failed to stifle. But this was a laugh that Jesper didn't like quite as much, because he knew by now it was not the one Wylan did when he was happy. And he rather liked Wylan being happy.

It had been Jesper’s idea to invite Wylan round to his house for the night. His best friend had just gone through a lengthy court battle that finally exposed his father as the abusive assehole that he was and his mother was given full custody of him for the first time singe he was eight. It had been a difficult and emotional process, but everyone had pulled through in the end.

Still, it seemed that Wylan had a hard time realising he was finally free and kept refusing to leave the house every time he was invited. Almost as if he was afraid that if he stepped out that door, he'd come back to things being the way they used to be.

If Jesper could shoot Jan Van Eck in the head and get away with it, you bet your ass that he would have done it by now.

"I told you it would do you some good," he said lightly, not willing to intrude on whatever Wylan was thinking. "Some fresh air, a change of scenery, wonderful company." He said the last part with a smirk, knocking his shoulder against Wylan until he forced a scoff to leave those perfect lips. "I think that whether or not said company is good is a rather subjective opinion," Wylan said with a sniff, but the corner of his lips quirked up slightly, so Jesper took it as a win.

"Yeah, but your opinion is the only one that matters," Jesper replied softly, "so, is it?"

"It's alright, I guess." Wylan’s eyes sparkled as he spoke, a deep, endless blue, as perfect as a sunlit ocean. And oh hell, Jesper really, really was falling hard, wasn't he.

The sun was starting to dip further into the horizon, turning everything it touched a deep, rustic orange. The sky was a mottled mixture of gold, orange and pink, and Jesper just knew that if he turned to look he'd be forced to give in to that ever insistent urge to just bloody kiss the hell out of him.

So he didn't, he kept his gaze locked on the buildings in front of him, on the golden light, on the faint mountain slopes visible just on the edge of the horizon.

Beside him, Wylan shifted slightly, and almost out of pure instinct Jesper turned his head slightly to look at him.

And oh dear lord above, Jesper had been right.

He didn't think he'd ever seen Wylan looking quite so ethereal as he did right then. He was like a painting, perfect and beautiful and bathed in a dreamy gold. He didn't look real, sat there by his side. When Wylan turned his head to look right back at him, boundless blue eyes fixed onto his own, Jesper felt like the world slowed to a gentle pause.

He swallowed. It was a risk, but, well, Jesper had always been a boy open to every gamble. The worse the odds, the better he played.

"Wylan," he said gently, unwilling to pierce the comfortable silence that had descended upon them. Wylan blinked, smile softening, so Jesper continued. His voice dipped and wavered with the force of his nerves, like the gentle tide on a summers day. "There's this coffeehouse on the outskirts of town, its supposed to be like, really good." He inhaled, exhaled, forced his gaze to stay locked on Wylan's. "If you want, we could go there, one day. After school or something."

His stomach felt like a tumble of nerves, twisting and knotting like the laces of his shoes. His heart was thumping in his chest so loud he spared only a moment to wonder if Wylan could hear it too.

There was a brief beat of silence, before Wylan was nodding, "Yeah sure. Sounds nice. I think I've actually tried every other coffeehouse around so it'll be a nice change," Wylan mused, already turning away to look back at the horizon.

A small laugh escaped from Jesper’s lips, bless Wylan and his oblivious mind. "No, I mean -" he cut himself with a frustrated sigh, eyes glancing up towards the heavens as if he could find the words he needed up there, oh saints this is embarrassing, "I mean as a date. If you wanted." The words left his mouth in a rush, and really it would be impressive if Wylan could decipher it.

Wylan blinked, his eyes widening, lips forming a tiny 'O'. A light pink blush spread over his freckled cheeks, as easy and beautiful as the gentle sunlight. Then he smiled, breathless, almost disbelieving, his eyes sparked with something that made Jesper’s heart leap. "You mean it?" He said breathlessly, as if what Jesper had just said was something akin to a mound of glistening gold. It made Jesper’s heart do something funny at the thought.

He nodded, swallowing again. "Yeah, I do. I mean-- if you want to, of course. I know we're friends and all, but I've liked you for a long time, and if you don't feel the same, that's fine, but mmhf--"

A single press of warm lips over his was all that was needed to cut off Jesper’s rambling. It was like honey dipped in pure gold, a refreshing drink on a sweltering summer day, the cold side of the pillow when he couldn't sleep. Wylan’s mouth on his, soft and slightly clumsy, felt like the answer to every wish he'd ever cast.

Jesper had kissed a handful of people before, but this was Wylan, and something about that knowledge made everything so much more special.

When he pulled away, Jesper chased the feeling of Wylan’s lips, and the soft giggle he got in return sent a breath of hot air across his own.

"Yes, Jesper. I'd love to go on a date with you," Wylan said with a small laugh, pulling away just enough so that he could look Jesper in the eye. Jesper nodded, and grinned, mind turning to mush at the remembered feeling of Wylan's mouth on his.

"Cool," he said, feeling decidedly not cool at all.

When Wylan kissed him again, under the easing gaze of the setting sun, Jesper couldn't help but feel that if he could only do this for the rest of his life, it would be a life fulfilled.

[mackerel-haru]

[drabble fic ! ] — haruka nanase centric drabbles, with romantic or platonic focuses on different characters: each chapter follows haru/xyz

[bluepriestess]

OC Kiss 2023 prompt 'Yearning' featuring S!x (@sunsetting-harmony) and Summer 🥰

[nerdieforpedro]

Whew Javier, you poor, poor soul. 😭😭 You deserve love and care! ❤️❤️ He just didn’t know. Didn’t realize. This was haunting. 👏

2023 Summer Kiss Prompt #1: Javier Peña - Apology Kiss

Starting this one off with our favorite DEA agent and a request that goes a little against the grain for him. Thank you for requesting this, Anon!

Not connected to any other Javi Peña I've written and takes place after the events of the show. Written with a female Reader in mind.

Word Count: 1582

Rating: M? A little angsty, a couple mentions of Javi's informant escapades.

Javier Peña  didn’t do romance. He didn’t even usually do relationships in the traditional sense, especially after the way things had ended with Lorraine and the way his life had played out in Colombia.  

But when it came to you, he tried, even though it took him some time to accept the idea.

Years spent with the DEA, living minute to minute in foreign countries and never knowing whether or not the day would be his last had put things into perspective, though it had taken until well after he was back in Texas for the meaning of the words live in the moment to really sink in. 

At first, your gentle “let me know when you make it home” requests had bothered him. He wasn’t used to anyone that wasn’t a colleague or his father acting concerned about his whereabouts. And the way you weren’t willing to let one syllable answers and non-committal grunts speak for him when you asked how his days were rubbed him the wrong way, too, because it meant having to open up in ways that he wasn’t familiar with in order to answer.

But what had taken him the longest to get around were all of the little ways you were constantly attempting to care for him, and how useless - and frustrated - it made him feel. 

Javier knew he was a capable man. After all, he’d been lead on two of the most important busts led by the DEA in recent years. He’d managed to infiltrate cartels and offshoots of cartels and play both sides successfully without getting himself killed. He’d built and maintained a network of informants; some of them women whose company he enjoyed and others regular citizens desperate to change something, no matter how small what they had to offer in the way of information was. 

But when your patience shone through - you more than willing to explain the basics of cooking or why it was important not to just toss every article of clothing together into the same temperature water and hope for the best or when you suggested working your way through all of the movies and music that he’d missed out on instead of just starting with what was out now - it really made him feel like an asshole. 

And being an asshole was definitely not something that Javier Peña was comfortable with. 

He’d met you a few months after coming home for good. Javier was sitting on a bench at one of the many parks overlooking the Rio Grande while he waited until it was time to pick Chucho up from a meeting he had scheduled downtown about the ranch. You approached cautiously with one hand raised and extended, voice carrying even though you kept your distance. “I’m sorry to bother you, but my watch battery stopped … could you tell me what time it is?” 

His answer had relieved you - your shoulders sagging as you thanked him. For the next fifteen minutes the two of you made small talk, Javier the one that had to say goodbye first - but not before you asked him if you could give him your number, just in case he ever wanted to use it. 

He was used to women approaching him, but there was nothing desperate or cliche about your interest. Not only had he taken your number when you handed it to him on a piece of paper ripped from a pocket sized notebook in your bag, he’d given you his in return, black ink and his name scrawled in ballpoint pen over another page. 

From there, the connection grew, and it didn’t take long for either of you to realize that it was a real one. 

It was friendly at first, the two of you meeting for lunch or a single drink once a week, and then it progressed, Javier inviting you to see the ranch and you offering your couch and VCR in return, along with an almost endless supply of popcorn and the kind of fizzy drinks and sweet treats he hadn’t let himself indulge in in years.

You initiated the first kiss, and he didn’t discourage it - lips meeting for the first time on the sidewalk outside of some chain restaurant whose Tuesday night special boasted the best wings in town. From there, everything escalated. 

One night a week turned into two, and that turned into three or four, split between your place and his. You met Chucho, the man delighted by your presence and immediately launching into stories about Javier as a child whenever you came into view. 

He met your friends and some of your family too - bumping into them while you were out, or stopping to drop something off before the two of you set out for a long drive through the flatland east of the city on your days off. 

The more comfortable things got, the more uneasy he became at just how easy it would have been to get used to things being that way all the time… if he’d let it. And so when Javier showed up at your place late one night, his well-worn leather jacket snug against his frame to end it, he didn’t bother telling you the truth behind the decision. 

He told you everything but the truth instead, spitting out that he was a grown fucking man and that he didn’t need someone to coddle him all the time, and that it seemed like you were getting too goddamn comfortable making decisions for him before turning to walk away, shoulders straight as he made his way back to the truck. 

He didn’t relax until almost a mile down the road. 

You’d barely reacted to his words aside from recoiling and blinking a few times, one hand gripping the door frame as he shook his head, words pouring from his mouth in the hazy glow of your porch light. And when he turned to go, you hadn’t stopped him, Javier picking up an almost silent “Be careful, Javier,” as he walked away from you. Those three words were what he focused on while he drove. 

And what he kept focusing on as he swerved suddenly, turning around with a squeal of tires against loose gravel, the journey back to your house made with his heartbeat thundering in his ears. 

He didn’t ever apologize. He’d learned it was useless, because an apology wouldn’t bring back someone after they were shot. It wouldn’t unexplode a bomb, or keep someone from overdosing on cocaine. Sorry was just a word, and he’d gotten so used to hearing everyone else around him constantly apologize that the word itself made his lip curl. 

But for you, he’d try to prove that he really was apologetic for the way he’d treated you because he was scared of the alternative - as long as you’d let him. 

Javier parked his truck in your driveway and gripped the wheel for a few seconds, taking two long breaths - and then headed for your front door, his heart pounding. 

You answered after a single knock, the expression on your face sad, the hurt in your eyes evident. But you didn’t slam the door in his face, and that was a start. 

“I’m… I’m sorry.” 

It stuck in his throat but he meant it, the man’s eyes narrowing for a second before he continued. “I’m not used to this. I couldn’t be used to this, and now it’s…” Squeezing his eyes shut, Javi shook his head from side to side. “Truth is that I’ve never had anyone treat me like you do before, and I’m still getting used to it. Scares the hell out of me how much I want to get used to it, actually, because -”

“Javier.” You reached out, laying your hand against his cheek. “I accept your apology. We’re going to have to have a conversation about all of the things you said,and what you meant but -”

“I really am sorry.” He said it again, and that time the words came smoothly, the furrow of his brows easing as he realized he truly meant it. “We’ll talk about it whenever you want.”

“Come inside.” You smiled at him, gesturing to the hallway behind you with your other hand. “I just finished making popcorn. Figured it wouldn’t take you long to come back, and -” Of course you did.

He moved before you finished, both of Javier’s hands rising to cradle your face between them as he tilted your face to kiss you. 

There was no hesitation on your part, the soft sigh that escaped you when your mouths met the final thing he needed to truly relax. 

It wasn’t a prelude to a frenzied removal of clothes or the two of you making your way to the couch, only unzipping and pushing what was necessary to the side. It wasn’t to keep you from prying or to keep himself from having to make an excuse or avoid a conversation.

It was just a kiss because he wanted to kiss you, and when he pulled back enough to murmur the words a third time - I’m so sorry - you nodded, tugging on his belt to pull him fully into your house and then pushing the door shut behind him. 

At the sound of the quiet click, your lips still flush with his, Javier smiled without stepping back, thumbs sweeping over your cheekbones. He still didn’t like apologies, but part of him was very thankful for the opportunity to make them to you - no matter how many it took.

---

[agrinsosardonic]

The humidity seethed one July evening hanging heavy like a noose and just as suffocating. Packs of teens descend upon the dense darkness of the woods near New Dorp with only the waning crescent moon as their pitiful navigator to the path towards the beach. Slapping away meddlesome mosquitoes and pushing through rogue spider webs, they come upon the secret beach at the end of their world. Only secret because it takes the cops an extra fifteen minutes to battle through the brush and trees to break up their juvenile fun–if they even cared at all to stop them. And with the rhythmic pop, bang, and sizzle of fireworks, there were more pressing matters for the police to handle. 

[thewritetofreespeech]

aemond - prompt 1

Prompt list - 1. Breeding kink

------------------------------⚔️---------------------------------

“Up! Up!”

“Up! Up!”

“Hehe…you’re both too big now for me to carry the both of you on my hip like before. Why don’t we flip a coin then? Heads Jaehaerys you can go first, and tails means Jaehaera can go. Sound like a fun game?”

Aemond watched from the table with his family as his wife made a deal with his niece & nephew. Completely fair. Void of favoritism. He remembers no such favors from his own childhood.

His wife was wonderful with the children. As one of the few Helaena let near them in recent months, due to some new fear she had concocted in her mind, Jaehaera & Jaehaerys clung to her like shadows. Even Maelor, still at his mother’s breast, would swing his fat little arms in his wife’s direction every time she passed. And she never missed an opportunity to give him attention or affection whenever he, or any of the children, clamored for her.

“Everything alright Aemond?”

His trance was broken by her words when she returned to him. Whatever deal or game they had struck over now as a nurse came to put the children to bed. Aemond nodded. Dreams of his own silver-haired babes following her around, tugging at her skirts, in need of constant attention from that sweet face drift out of his mind like dragon’s wings on the horizon. “Yes. I am fine. Let us retire for the evening as well.”

The sun would be up soon. He couldn’t see it from the window, but just felt it in his soul. That time of night that was more the wee hours of the morning. Where the darkness would finally break to the light.

They haven’t slept at all. Rested, but not slept. Sleep seemed immaterial in comparison to the need to fill her again & again. Sleep, water, food, air. All of it seemed trivial as he was a man possessed with possessing her.

“Aemond….please….no more….”

“Just once more.”

His wife whined as his cock still inside her slid back and into her again. One bout giving way to another with truly no rest in between this time.

He was consumed with making his dream a reality. Fill her with so much of him that his child would have no choice but to take root in her belly. They could have a babe come spring. Or a sweet summer child with his pale violet eyes and his mother’s gentle disposition. Aemond thrust harder into her, as if driving the idea home with his cock, making his wife cry out. “Ah! Aemond! Oh Gods!”

She wouldn’t have to take care of Aegon’s children anymore. She would have her own babes to keep her busy. They would be strong and perfect. In constant need of their mother like he was. Maybe she would give him twins like Helaena gave his brother? If his fragile sister could do it, surely his wife could do it too. Judging by the cum spilling out of her onto the already soiled sheets, Aemond had given her more than enough opportunity.

“Aemond….Aemond….”

She couldn’t say much more than his name now and moan. Good. There shouldn’t be any thought of others or anything but the two of them as they made their child.

He looked down at the woman who was going to give him his future and found a blank slate there. Broken with pleasure. Those intelligent, bright eyes black and hazy with lust. Disheveled to the point of madness by his own mad need to put a babe inside her.

He leaned down to kiss her rough, swollen lips and swallowed a whine from his princess. He felt her breath quicken against his lips and her walls quake around him. Her overstimulated body climaxing with even the most minor addition of stimuli between them at this point.

Aemond came just short after that. One final push. Spilling his seed just as deep as the rest before he finally, eventually, let his wife go.

He fell to the other side of the bed, listening to her gasp for breath beside him, before he got up and went to retrieve a rag for the two of them. His wife hiccupped out a gasp when the cool material touched her feverous skin. Her whole-body twitching as it was still too overstimulated to determine how the touch was intended. Aemond cleaned her body starting with her arms. Moving down to her breasts, imagining them larger and fuller in just 4 moons time, then down to her belly that would do just the same. She whined when he gently wiped at her overly sensitive cunt. Red and swollen. His seed still glistening in the folds. He doesn’t want to get rid of it but knows she would be uncomfortable sleeping like that. Aemond had already made her uncomfortable enough for one evening.

He cleaned himself off with much less care and crawled back into bed beside his wife. She willingly came to him when he pulled her in his arms. Or perhaps she was too exhausted to think and just went along with him. Her body still twitching now & then, even in her sleep, from the frenzy he just put her through.

He kissed her head, then covered them with whatever clean blanket he could find.

Come spring they would have a child of their own. A silver haired paragon, who would take Vhagar after he was gone and be his legacy for when his bones became ash. After that, they would work on another. Then another. Then another. His branch would flourish as much as his great-grandfather, and they would build their family to the point that they did not need any others but their own.

He almost felt bad for Jaehaera & Jaehaerys. Soon they would not have their wonderful aunt to dote on them. But his children, and his family, would be what came first.

[withahappyrefrain]

number one on the smut prompts with tyler owens 🫣👀

Most people dreaded summer. The heat, the random thunderstorms, the seemingly endless droughts.

You craved it.

Summer meant late mornings, tangled up in the sheets. It meant watching sunsets in the bed of a truck. It meant going to rodeos and going home instead of a random motel.

It meant tornado season was done. Summer meant Tyler was back in your arms, spending time with you (aside from the research and occasional videos).

The exhaustive heat was still there. But he made it bearable.

"Just come join me," His voice is hot on your neck, his words stated between gentle nips as his fingers toyed with the hem of your denim shorts.

You giggled, trying to remain steadfast despite your thighs clenching, "Why do I feel like you don't want to shower?"

"Because I don't. I want to stay cool and spend time with my pretty girl," Tyler was so shameless, but you couldn't fault him; in fact, you loved that about him. How he was so insistent on talking to you one night after a rodeo, leading you to this very moment years later.

"Please?" How could you ever say no to those stunning green eyes?

The cold tile was refreshing, the cool water giving your heated body a much needed reprieve. Tyler's mouth was unrelenting as it alternated between your lips and your neck, his fingers quickly thrusting in and out of your soaked folds.

You had one hand tangled in his dark blonde hair, tugging on the locks in a desperate attempt to lure his lips back to yours. The other was gripping one of his broad shoulders, no doubt your fingernails creating crescent shaped marks that Boone would tease him about tomorrow.

"Think she's ready for me?" His lips ghost over yours, so close to giving you what you wanted.

You nodded, unable to speak due to how his thumb was drawing lazy circles on your clit.

He hoisted one of your legs up, pinning your knee against his hip. Upon feeling his cock enter, you tilted your head back, a deep moan echoing off the shower tiles.

The sound of skin slapping against skin was barely audible over the shower. No matter how many times you two did this dance, it still took your body some time to adjust to the sheer size of him.

Because of course he was big.

"S'fuckin tight," Tyler grunted, his Texan upbringing shining through in his words, "Every time."

You buried your face into his neck, hoping it would muffle the sounds of your pleasure soaked sobs.

He was relentless, hips all but slamming into yours, determined to push you over the edge. You learned early on that when Tyler put his mind to something, he made sure to see it through, whether it was a storm or your orgasm.

You clutched onto him for leverage, your legs shaking as he got you closer to making stars explode behind your eyes.

"That's it, c'mon pretty girl," he chuckled at the way your tight walls clenched around his cock upon hearing his special nickname for you, "Lemme feel ya. Wanna feel ya soak me."

Almost as if on command, your vision went white as pleasure shot through your body. You were yelling saying something, most likely his name as you soared through the blissful trip.

"Ah fuck, pretty girl," his hips snapped against yours once, twice, three more times before stilling, his own release quickly filling you.

The sound of the water hitting the tiles and your heavy breathing filled the room. Finally, you were the first to chuckle, breaking the ice.

"Welcome home baby," you grinned before pressing a kiss against his wet cheek.

"Welcome home, pretty girl."

[urdreamydoodles]

hi hi! I love your writing and was wondering about what you’d think everyone’s reaction to a drunk us. Maybe we went drinking together and were a lightweight or something (idk 🥲) anyways thank youuuuu!!!

X-Men x Drunk!Reader (Part.1)

How they deal with their drunk s/o (Part.1)

A night out with your partner quickly turns wild as your tipsy self unleashes a little chaos around.

Characters: Logan Howlett, Remy LeBeau, Kurt Wagner, Scott Summers, Jean Grey, Ororo Munroe, Rogue, Erik Lehnsherr, Charles Xavier, Bobby Drake, Wanda Maximoff, Pietro Maximoff, Emma Frost, Raven Darkhölme & Laura Kinney

I was extremely inspired by this prompt, thank you <3

Logan Howlett aka. Wolverine

- Logan is absolutely used to handling chaos, but nothing quite prepares him for the brand of trouble you unleash when tipsy. When you’re several drinks in and decide it’s a good idea to start a spontaneous dance battle with some random patrons, Logan just sighs and crosses his arms, watching with a mix of amusement and exasperation. He’s tempted to pull you away but can’t deny how much he’s enjoying the show.

- He’s mostly unfazed when you start taking your "battle" a bit too far, challenging one particularly large guy to a dance-off. Logan leans against the bar with a smirk, ready to step in if things get out of hand. He figures you can handle yourself, but if anyone so much as looks at you the wrong way, he’s already prepared to make his presence known.

- When you stumble over to him, grinning like you’ve just won a gold medal, he can't help but chuckle, pulling you close and whispering, “You’re a handful, y’know that?” But it’s clear he’s enjoying this different side of you, especially when you insist on dragging him onto the dance floor despite his protests. Logan grumbles but lets you lead, his usual stoicism softening just for you.

- It’s when you try to order “a round for everyone” on his tab that Logan decides enough is enough. He firmly wraps an arm around your waist and steers you away from the bar, muttering about how he’s “not made of money” as you laugh and lean into him. He’s torn between scolding you and letting out a laugh of his own.

- On the walk home, you ramble about the night, sharing exaggerated stories and embellishments that make Logan roll his eyes but secretly cherish every word. Despite his gruff exterior, he listens to every detail, finding the way you see the world endlessly entertaining and a perfect counterbalance to his own guarded nature.

- By the time you’re back, Logan’s more than happy to tuck you in, brushing a stray strand of hair from your face. You’re finally starting to settle, mumbling something about how much fun you had with him. He just smiles, placing a soft kiss on your forehead. “You’re trouble,” he murmurs, though you can hear the affection in his voice. He wouldn’t have it any other way.

Remy LeBeau aka. Gambit

- Remy absolutely thrives on chaos, and he’s more than ready to encourage it the moment he sees you’ve had a few drinks. When you suddenly decide it’s a great idea to “borrow” someone’s hat and start spinning it around like a magician, Remy’s right there, egging you on with a wicked grin and suggesting even wilder antics. “Go on, chérie, show ‘em what you got.”

- He’s delighted when you turn to him with that mischievous sparkle in your eye, pulling him into your impromptu show. You two quickly become the center of attention as he plays along, letting you use his trench coat for added flair while he flourishes a deck of cards with his signature charm, drawing oohs and ahhs from the crowd.

- When you start loudly declaring that Remy’s “the best-looking man in the room,” he just smirks and pulls you close, whispering, “Tell me somethin’ I don’t know, ma belle.” You can tell he’s absolutely eating up every bit of attention, and he makes sure to dip you dramatically on the dance floor, laughing along with you.

- Things escalate when you decide to start a card game with some nearby strangers, with Remy’s deck, of course. You might be a little hazy on the rules, but he’s having too much fun watching you bluff your way through. The two of you make a formidable (if slightly unorthodox) team, charming everyone at the table with your combined wit and unpredictability.

- Remy makes sure to keep you steady when you start wobbling a bit, an arm always draped around your shoulders as he guides you from one bit of chaos to the next. He’s vigilant without being obvious, letting you have your fun while ensuring no one gets too handsy or tries to take advantage of your state.

- When the night winds down, he insists on carrying you back if you’re stumbling, laughing when you protest that you can walk just fine. Once home, he lays you on the bed with exaggerated gentleness, grinning down at you with that signature smirk of his. “Ma belle, you certainly know how t’ keep things interestin’,” he whispers before placing a soft kiss on your hand. For Remy, nights like this with you are what make life exciting.

Kurt Wagner aka. Nightcrawler

- Kurt is simultaneously amused and a bit alarmed when he realizes you’re tipsy. He’s not used to you being so bold, so when you start loudly complimenting him and declaring him “the handsomest guy in the room,” his cheeks turn a dark shade of blue. He tries to calm you down, but you’re too busy grabbing his hand and dragging him toward the dance floor.

- At first, Kurt’s hesitant to join you, worried that his appearance might draw stares. But you’re so unbothered and so full of joy that he can’t help but relax, letting you lead him. His movements are clumsy but endearing, and he laughs along with you, his tail swishing in rhythm as he finally lets go of his worries, at least for tonight.

- When you start insisting on “showing everyone his bamf trick,” Kurt chuckles nervously, trying to talk you out of it. But you’re persistent, so he finally gives in, teleporting the two of you across the room in a puff of smoke. Your delighted laughter is infectious, and he starts teleporting you both to random spots around the club, filling the room with giggles and gasps from onlookers.

- Eventually, you try to climb up on a table to make an “important announcement,” and Kurt quickly teleports you back down before you can get too carried away. He’s laughing as he steadies you, but there’s a hint of worry in his eyes. “Mein liebe, maybe we should stick to safer activities, ja?” he teases, holding your hands firmly in his.

- As the night goes on, Kurt never strays far from your side. He’s a mixture of amused, charmed, and just a little bit flustered by your antics, but he’s also keenly aware of the attention you’re drawing. When anyone tries to get a little too close, he’ll bamf in between you and them, a protective look on his face as he politely but firmly keeps them at bay.

- Once you’re back home, he’s the sweetest caretaker, making sure you’re comfortable and tucking you in with a gentle smile. He holds your hand as you drift off, murmuring softly in German about how lucky he is to have someone as vibrant and fearless as you in his life. Even in your chaotic moments, Kurt’s love for you only grows stronger.

Scott Summers aka. Cyclops

- Scott is a bit hesitant when he notices you’ve had a few too many drinks, but he’s dedicated to making sure you’re safe and enjoying yourself. When you start insisting on trying to wear his visor and “see the world through his eyes,” he’s both flustered and exasperated, gently guiding your hands away with a laugh. “Trust me, you wouldn’t want that,” he says, trying to keep a straight face as you pout.

- You surprise him by dragging him onto the dance floor, and Scott, ever the responsible one, initially tries to decline. But seeing you so excited and insistent, he finally gives in. He might be awkward at first, but he quickly adjusts to your rhythm, even pulling you close and twirling you in an attempt to match your enthusiasm.

- When you declare loudly to a few nearby patrons that Scott Summers is “the best and most handsome leader,” he can’t help but blush. He’s clearly flattered and a bit embarrassed by the attention, but he just nods, smiling shyly, as you shower him with compliments. He feels oddly proud of your open affection, even if he’s a little overwhelmed by it.

- Scott keeps a close eye on you throughout the night, gently steering you away from any potential trouble or prying eyes. When someone bumps into you, causing you to stumble, he’s right there to steady you, one hand firmly on your waist. He’s the picture of a protective boyfriend, subtly keeping others at bay while still letting you enjoy yourself.

- When you start to get a little too loud and insist on “making a toast to the greatest mutant leader ever,” Scott decides it’s probably time to get you home. He chuckles softly, catching your hand and guiding you out of the club, all the while listening to your increasingly dramatic proclamations of love and admiration. He’s touched by it all, even if he won’t admit it.

- Back home, Scott helps you settle in, making sure you’re comfortable and well-hydrated. He sits by your side, holding your hand as you drowsily tell him how much you love him. Scott just smiles, pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead. “I love you too, even when you’re a handful,” he murmurs, content to stay by your side until you fall asleep.

Jean Grey aka. Marvel Girl / Phoenix

- Jean is equal parts entertained and concerned when she realizes you’re tipsy. She’s usually the responsible one, but she can’t help but laugh when you start slurring your words and calling her your “favorite telepathic goddess.” Jean blushes, clearly flattered by your adoration, and gently shushes you, though she’s clearly enjoying every second of it.

- When you start dancing wildly, Jean initially tries to calm you down, worried about drawing attention. But seeing the joy in your eyes, she eventually lets her guard down and joins you, holding your hands and spinning you around as you laugh. She’s surprisingly graceful and a fantastic dancer, easily matching your energy and guiding you through the moves.

- At one point, you insist that you and Jean “show off your telepathic connection” to the crowd. Jean laughs, gently steering you away from the idea. Instead, she subtly uses her powers to make sure you don’t stumble, mentally guiding you to stay upright and steady. Her subtle help goes unnoticed by you, but she’s just relieved to see you having fun.

- Jean finds herself laughing even more when you start a friendly debate with a nearby stranger about the “genius” of her red hair. She can’t believe how fiercely you’re defending her beauty, even as you insist it’s a “scientific fact” that she’s the most gorgeous woman in the room. Jean’s cheeks flush, and she wraps an arm around your waist, whispering, “You’re adorable, you know that?”

- When you start to get tired, Jean’s the perfect caretaker, gently guiding you out of the bustling club. She makes sure you’re cozy, even grabbing her own jacket to drape over your shoulders. She keeps a hand on you the entire way home, reassuring you and quietly laughing at your sleepy, affectionate murmurs.

- Once back, Jean gets you settled on the couch, brushing stray hair out of your face with the softest smile. You reach for her hand, mumbling something about how lucky you are to have her. She blushes, leaning down to press a soft kiss to your forehead. “I’m the lucky one,” she whispers, more to herself than to you, as she sits by your side until you drift off.

Ororo Munroe aka. Storm

- Ororo is incredibly amused when she realizes you’re tipsy; she’s rarely seen this side of you, and she finds it adorable. When you start calling her your “queen of the skies” and insisting she “make it rain just for fun,” she laughs and gently pats your cheek, reminding you that some powers are best kept for emergencies.

- You grab her hand and pull her onto the dance floor, much to her surprise. Ororo might be a graceful and poised leader, but she has a playful side too. She lets you lead, laughing as you spin her around, her silver hair flowing around her as she dances with surprising ease. It’s a rare sight, and you can tell she’s having fun, loosening up just for you.

- When you start loudly telling everyone nearby that “Ororo is the most powerful woman in the world,” she tries to shush you, laughing softly. She’s both flattered and slightly embarrassed by the attention, but she allows you to bask in her presence. She’ll gently tease you for your enthusiasm, a fond look in her eyes as she watches you defend her honor.

- Ororo’s always watching out for you, subtly guiding you away from any potential trouble. If you start to stumble or look a little too wobbly, she’s right there to steady you, her hand on your shoulder and a calm smile on her face. She finds a certain joy in taking care of you, grateful for this softer side of your relationship.

- At one point, you try to “command the winds” like her, playfully imitating her powers. Ororo laughs, incredibly entertained by your antics. She doesn’t mind the teasing, and she even indulges you by summoning a soft breeze that ruffles your hair, making you gasp in delight. “See? The winds listen to you too,” she jokes with a wink.

- When you’re finally ready to head home, Ororo makes sure you’re comfortable, holding your hand and gently brushing your cheek as you murmur about how amazing she is. She chuckles softly, telling you stories of her adventures to help you relax. Once home, she tucks you in with a gentle kiss on your forehead, whispering, “Sleep well, my love,” as she watches over you, content and deeply in love.

Anna Marie aka. Rogue

- Rogue is equal parts amused and nervous as she watches you go from a few drinks to a bit too tipsy. You start telling her she’s “the prettiest southern belle ever,” and she can’t help but blush and laugh, giving you a playful shove. But there’s a touch of worry in her eyes—she’s protective and feels a need to make sure you’re okay.

- When you try to dance with her, Rogue hesitates, but your enthusiasm is contagious. She ends up joining you, making sure to keep her gloved hands carefully in place. She’s gentle but full of energy, matching your moves while constantly keeping an eye on you to make sure you don’t trip over your own feet. Her laughter is light and warm, and she looks almost carefree.

- You start raving about how amazing Rogue is, telling random people nearby how she’s “a hero who can’t even touch people, but still manages to save the world.” She gets a bit flustered and shy, trying to hush you with a soft “sugar, that’s enough,” but the pride in her eyes is unmistakable. No one’s ever praised her like that before, and it means a lot.

- When someone accidentally bumps into you, and you look about ready to start a tipsy argument, Rogue steps in with a charming Southern drawl and defuses the situation. She’s got a sweet, calming presence when she wants to, and she manages to steer you away with ease, laughing about it afterward while holding your arm gently.

- Rogue knows when you’re reaching your limit and insists on taking you home, using a soft but firm tone to make sure you listen. She doesn’t want anything bad to happen to you, and seeing you a bit out of it brings out her nurturing side. “Alright, sugar, let’s get ya back before you do somethin’ we’ll both regret,” she says, guiding you with a patient smile.

- Once home, she sits with you, listening as you tell her how much you love her and appreciate her strength. Rogue’s heart swells with emotion, and she gently brushes a gloved hand along your cheek. “You’re somethin’ special, darlin’,” she murmurs, her voice warm and full of affection, staying with you until you’re sound asleep.

Erik Lehnsherr aka. Magneto

- Erik is a bit bemused but mostly wary when he notices you’re getting tipsy. He’s used to maintaining control in every situation, and your loosened inhibitions make him a bit nervous. But when you start complimenting his intelligence and calling him “the smartest, most powerful man in the room,” he lets a rare smile slip, finding your praise amusing.

- You start dragging him around, pointing at various metallic objects in the bar and insisting he show off his powers. He rolls his eyes at first, but he eventually indulges you by making a few small metallic items hover, just to see the joy on your face. Erik isn’t one to perform tricks, but he finds himself unable to say no to you.

- When you loudly declare that “Magneto is the future of mutantkind,” he tries to quiet you, but he’s clearly flattered by your support. He’s a man who’s used to admiration but doesn’t often receive it so openly. There’s a softness in his eyes as he places a firm hand on your shoulder, guiding you back to your seat with a chuckle.

- Erik stays close to you, watching with an amused smile as you stumble through conversations and rant about how incredible he is. He’s fiercely protective, stepping in if anyone so much as looks at you the wrong way. He’s calm, composed, and carries an air of authority that subtly warns others not to mess with you.

- At one point, you try to mimic his deep, imposing voice, quoting some of his more famous speeches. He’s visibly amused, and even a bit impressed at how well you remember his words. Erik finds your respect for his ideals endearing, and he places a gentle hand on your back, chuckling as he listens to your tipsy impression.

- When it’s time to leave, he’s entirely in control, guiding you out with a strong arm around your shoulders. Once home, Erik sits with you, listening as you share your adoration for him. He’s not the most openly affectionate man, but he reaches out, gently squeezing your hand as he says, “Your loyalty is a rare gift, and I don’t take it lightly.” He stays by your side, quietly protective, until you’re resting peacefully.

Charles Xavier aka. Professor X

- Charles is endlessly patient as you start to get a little tipsy, a gentle smile on his face as you go from poised to adorably unfiltered. When you begin praising his brilliance and calling him “the kindest genius in the world,” he chuckles, incredibly touched. “Flattery will get you everywhere,” he teases, his eyes warm with affection.

- You insist that he shows off his powers, and Charles tries to decline, but your insistence eventually makes him give in. He subtly uses his telepathy to give you an image of your favorite place, a soothing mental picture that instantly makes you smile. He finds joy in seeing you happy, and he uses his powers in the gentlest, most comforting way.

- Charles is protective and attentive, ensuring you’re comfortable and not getting yourself into any trouble. When you loudly declare your love for him in front of others, he’s both embarrassed and deeply moved, his cheeks flushing slightly. “You’re quite the charmer tonight,” he whispers, his voice filled with warmth as he gently holds your hand.

- When someone tries to join your conversation, and you’re too tipsy to notice their intentions, Charles politely but firmly steps in, his calm authority enough to send them on their way. He might be gentle, but he can be firm when needed, and he’s especially vigilant when it comes to keeping you safe.

- You start telling Charles that he���s the greatest leader mutantkind could ever ask for, and he’s genuinely humbled, listening with a fond smile as you praise his wisdom and kindness. He doesn’t always let himself accept such compliments, but coming from you, they mean the world to him, and he quietly thanks you with a soft, appreciative kiss on your hand.

- When it’s time to leave, he makes sure you’re steady, guiding you with gentle hands and a reassuring presence. Back home, he helps you get comfortable, listening as you continue to express your admiration for him. Charles smiles, stroking your hand and murmuring, “I’m grateful for your support more than you know.” He stays by your side, his calm and comforting presence grounding you until you drift off to sleep.

Bobby Drake aka. Iceman

- Bobby finds your drunken antics both hilarious and endearing. As the night progresses, you start comparing him to a “walking snow cone” and insisting that he make ice sculptures for you on demand. Bobby, always up for a bit of fun, humors you by creating little ice animals in the palm of his hand, laughing as your eyes light up in delight.

- When you slip on an ice patch he accidentally created, Bobby quickly catches you, apologizing profusely while chuckling. You start calling him your “snow prince” and playfully berate him for “making the world slippery.” He just grins, his hold on you steady, clearly enjoying your tipsy declarations and the way you cling to him.

- You insist on taking selfies with him, urging him to freeze up cute little props for the photos. Bobby goes all out, conjuring up ice hats, snowflake glasses, and even a tiny ice crown for you. By the end, your phone is full of adorable photos of the two of you laughing and posing together.

- When you go off on a tangent, telling the bartender and anyone nearby how incredible Bobby is, he gets a bit bashful but loves every second. Bobby has always loved being the center of attention, but hearing you proudly gush about him has him smiling like a fool. He playfully nudges you, saying, “Keep it coming, babe; I don’t hear this enough!”

- When you get a bit too warm in the crowded room, Bobby uses his powers to create a gentle, cool breeze just for you. You giggle and thank him, calling him your “personal A/C,” and he chuckles, wrapping his arm around you and playfully cooling you down whenever you request it.

- By the end of the night, Bobby is happily holding you up, guiding you home with an arm around your shoulders. He listens as you continue to talk about how wonderful he is, and he just grins, giving you a quick, frosty kiss on the forehead. “You’re pretty amazing yourself,” he says, staying with you until you’re safely tucked in and fast asleep.

Wanda Maximoff aka. The Scarlet Witch

- Wanda is amused by how talkative and unfiltered you get when you’re drunk. She’s often quiet and reserved herself, so seeing you let loose makes her smile. You start rambling about how “beautiful and powerful” she is, and she blushes, trying to brush it off, but your sincerity warms her heart.

- When you ask her to use her powers to make things “magical,” Wanda gently warns you, not wanting to attract too much attention. But when she sees the hopeful look in your eyes, she can’t resist. With a subtle flick of her fingers, she makes tiny red sparks dance in the air around you, creating a little “magic show” that leaves you giggling with joy.

- At one point, you try to mimic her iconic hand gestures, waving your hands around dramatically as if casting a spell. Wanda laughs softly, guiding your hands in the proper motions. “Like this, darling,” she murmurs, her fingers intertwined with yours as she playfully shows you her “magic moves.”

- When someone bumps into you a bit too roughly, Wanda steps forward, a protective fire in her eyes. Though she doesn’t escalate the situation, there’s a warning in her gaze that makes the person quickly apologize. She holds you close, whispering, “You’re safe with me,” her voice soothing and reassuring.

- As the night goes on, you keep insisting that Wanda is “the most powerful and amazing person ever,” and she laughs, flattered by your drunken praise. “You might be a little biased,” she teases, but there’s a soft blush on her cheeks, and you can tell she’s deeply touched by your admiration.

- When it’s time to go home, Wanda wraps an arm around you, using a bit of her magic to guide you gently so you don’t stumble. Once you’re home, she stays with you, listening as you continue to talk about how much you adore her. She strokes your hair and whispers, “You mean the world to me too,” staying by your side until you drift off into a peaceful sleep.

Pietro Maximoff aka. Quicksilver

- Pietro finds your drunken state absolutely hilarious, especially when you start trying to mimic his super-speed by running around. He quickly catches you each time, his laughter filling the air as he playfully warns you that “You’re not quite fast enough, babe!”

- You start challenging him to races, even though you know he’ll win. Pietro humors you, letting you “win” a couple of times, but eventually, he zips past you with a playful smirk. “Better luck next time!” he teases, only to scoop you up and spin you around when you pout about losing.

- When you get tired, Pietro is immediately by your side, lifting you into his arms without a second thought. You giggle and tell him he’s “better than a rollercoaster,” and he laughs, racing around just to hear your delighted squeals. He loves seeing you happy and will do anything to keep you smiling.

- When someone looks at you a bit too long for Pietro’s liking, he’s instantly protective, wrapping an arm around your shoulders and making it very clear that you’re his. He glares at the person until they look away, then turns back to you with a soft smile, his fingers brushing your cheek affectionately.

- You start bragging to strangers about Pietro’s speed, telling them he’s “the fastest guy in the world,” and Pietro just laughs, loving how proud you are of him. “Keep it up, and I’ll have to show off even more,” he says, giving you a cheeky wink as he zips around the room, just to impress you.

- By the end of the night, he’s carrying you home, his arms strong and steady around you as he runs. You cling to him, your arms wrapped around his neck, and he smiles, whispering, “I’ve got you, always.” Once you’re home, Pietro stays by your side, listening as you drift off, mumbling about how much you love him. He kisses your forehead, whispering, “Love you too, my slowpoke.”

Emma Frost aka. The White Queen

- Emma finds your drunken state absolutely fascinating, especially when you become more playful and bold. Normally calm and reserved, you start teasing her about her “icy” demeanor, and she’s amused, a rare smirk on her face as she listens to you try to “crack” her tough exterior. She’s secretly charmed by your confidence.

- When you dramatically declare that she’s “the most beautiful woman in the world,” Emma rolls her eyes with a soft laugh but secretly enjoys every word. She’s used to compliments, but something about hearing them from you, even in your tipsy state, makes her feel genuinely adored. She’ll brush a hand over your cheek, murmuring, “Careful with those compliments, darling—you’re liable to spoil me.”

- As the night progresses, you start showing off for her, attempting overly elaborate gestures and winking clumsily. Emma finds your efforts hilarious but still looks at you with genuine affection. Her fingers brush yours, and she lets herself be a bit softer with you, impressed by your uninhibited side.

- When someone gives you a bit too much attention, Emma is instantly protective. She’ll stand close to you, radiating that commanding aura, and make it clear that you’re taken. She’ll give you a subtle nod, as if to say, “Don’t worry—I’ve got you,” and her calm confidence reassures you instantly.

- You get a little bolder as the night goes on, playfully daring her to dance or try something “un-Emma-like.” Amused and intrigued, she might indulge you, swaying slightly to the music or even placing your hand in hers for a private moment. She’ll laugh, saying, “You’re lucky I’m in a generous mood tonight,” though you can tell she’s enjoying herself.

- When it’s time to leave, Emma makes sure you’re steady, her arm around your waist as she guides you to the car. She’ll whisper little reassurances, telling you how much she appreciates this rare, open side of you. Once home, she’ll help you settle in, her voice soft and reassuring, reminding you that she’s there for you completely.

Raven Darkhölme aka. Mystique

- Mystique is both amused and intrigued by your drunken state. Normally guarded, you become surprisingly talkative, telling her all sorts of stories. She listens with a raised eyebrow, smirking at your candidness. “So, this is what I miss when you’re sober?” she’ll tease, clearly enjoying this rare glimpse into your unfiltered thoughts.

- You keep reaching out to touch her, fascinated by her blue skin and how it shifts under your fingers. Mystique finds this endearing, gently teasing you but allowing you to trace her features. She’s rarely this vulnerable, but your innocent curiosity brings out a softer side, and she even leans into your touch.

- When you start rambling about how “amazing” and “mysterious” she is, Mystique just chuckles, a rare, genuine smile crossing her face. Normally, she brushes off praise, but hearing it from you makes her feel appreciated in a way she’s not used to. She might even mutter, “Careful, or I’ll start believing you.”

- As the night goes on, you get into a bit of mischief together, with Mystique indulging your chaotic ideas. She’ll shift into different forms to amuse you, and you giggle every time she surprises you with a new face. Her laughter is warm and genuine, her guard completely down as she shares these fun moments with you.

- If anyone even looks at you the wrong way, Mystique’s protective instincts kick in. She’ll throw a deadly glare their way, making it very clear that you’re off-limits. Her fierce loyalty to you is both comforting and thrilling, and you find yourself feeling safe and cherished in her presence.

- When it’s time to go, she keeps an arm around you, guiding you back with quiet reassurances. She murmurs little words of comfort, her voice softer than usual, and even hums a low melody to keep you calm. Once home, she stays by your side, brushing your hair back and promising, “I’m here, always.”

Laura Kinney aka. X-23 / Wolverine

- Laura is a bit confused by your drunken antics, as she’s not exactly used to seeing you so uninhibited. She watches with curiosity and maybe a little amusement as you sway around, stumbling slightly. Laura finds herself oddly charmed by this side of you, even if she’s unsure how to respond at first.

- You keep reaching out to hold her hand or touch her arm, and though Laura is usually reserved, she lets you. Your affection surprises her, but she’s not one to pull away, especially with you. When you look up at her with that tipsy grin, she can’t help the tiny smile that breaks through her usual stoic expression.

- When you start playfully teasing her, calling her “your fierce protector” and joking about her serious demeanor, Laura is both amused and a bit flustered. She’s never had someone look at her like you do, with so much warmth and admiration, and your words mean more to her than she’ll let on.

- As the night goes on, Laura gets a bit protective. If you start wandering or leaning too close to others, she’ll gently pull you back, her grip steady but careful. “Stay close,” she’ll murmur, her voice soft but firm, a little blush on her cheeks as she realizes just how much she likes keeping you safe.

- You keep talking about how “amazing” she is, going on and on about her strength, courage, and loyalty. Laura is taken aback, not used to hearing such open admiration, but she listens quietly, her heart swelling with pride. She doesn’t say much, but her hand stays in yours, squeezing gently whenever you look her way.

- By the end of the night, she’s helping you home, a quiet but steady presence by your side. Laura makes sure you’re comfortable, brushing hair from your face as you drift off. Before leaving, she murmurs, “I’ll always keep you safe,” her voice barely a whisper. She stays nearby, her protective instincts on high, ensuring you’re well cared for as you sleep.