#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

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Dance imagines

Summer imagines

Birthday imagine

Prompts

Villain f/o's

Monster f/o's

Grumpy f/o's

Shy f/o's

Robot f/o's

Old f/o's

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

Memes

Art

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Aesthetic

Gifs

Asks (for f/o ask games)

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Words

[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. 

[cinnammonfairy]

⌗ babysitter reader & price ♡ — smut, dubcon, piv, daddy kink, squirting ༝

sometimes price couldn't help but treat you as he would a wife. his wife. he thinks that he wouldn't ever wish for anything more than what could likely never come true. but on days such as these, where he gets to come home early to you and his baby so naturally stuck together he lets his mind wander to making you a mother. the mother of all his children, swollen and full of his babies.

today of all days he lets his imagination get carried away when you arrived, the blithe summer sun prompting you to dress in a sweet little sundress. his teething baby all fussy for you, the discomfort palpable in your frame at the potential affliction his usually sweet child was going through. refusing to leave your side as you did everything in your power to soothe his irritable child.

the sun was well below the horizon when the cries and your soft coos to placate quieted, he stood before you and the baby whose face pressed tightly on your chest, rubbing softly on her little back, her breathing evening out, tears rubbed clean from her soft baby cheeks as you rest her down on her crib.

he leads you out of her bedroom with a hand rested on your lower back, maybe a tad too close to your ass yet at these late hours of the night he could pretend. he could pretend you were his perfect wife, and for your sake he could pass it off as a mistake of his tired subconscious.

"sweetheart, would you come sit with me for a minute?"

he knows you worry for the baby especially when she's in such a state. all he wanted to do was reassure you, console your glum disposition at the seemingly distressing situation.

he couldn't account for getting carried away, caging you in as he flips the skirt of your sundress up to expose your panty-clad cunt. your gasp and cries doing little to cease his actions, only provoking him more.

"m-mr. price this is wrong!"

yet he could see little reason, eyes fixated on the little bow adorning your panties as if your pussy was a gift just for him. pushing your panties to the side, to expose your soft folds. he grunts softly in approval as he takes in the sight of your bare cunt.

"most perfect little pussy for daddy hm?"

petting softly over your hardened clit and running his fingers through your weeping slit. teasing over your little hole, as you sobbed softly in his firm hold. spitting on your clit and letting it run down your hole so he could fit his too big fingers in your tight pussy, prepping it.

"cutest little hole for my cock."

mewling as he scissored his fingers inside your little hole, your now slick heat trapping his fingers when he attempts to slide them out.

"sweet girl doesn't wanna let go of daddy's fingers huh?"

the feel of the blunt head of his cock as he mounts you, keeping his hold on you tight on your hips. situating your legs on his shoulders, as he sinks his cock all the way in your tight pussy.

"gonna fill her up with my cum baby, gonna look so pretty bouncing on my cock swollen with my baby."

"g'nna make you my wife yeah? make this cute messy pussy all mine."

his eyes locking in on the stretch of your pussy around his cock, the ring of cream on his base, the sticky kisses of your clit and his pelvis when he thrusts deep.

one hand of his now slipping down to rub fervently at your clit to make you reach your peak.

"go on sweetheart, cum on it baby, cum on daddy's cock."

your little squirts now wetting his thighs and abs, you could feel the twitch of his cock with every clench of your release.

"that's cute baby, 'm gonna cum, gonna fill you up, g'nna make you take it sweetheart."

the warmth filling you was proof enough that he was determined to do just as he's said. as well as the ring that adorns your fingers when you wake from your slumber still in his compelling hold.

— just a drabble which i'm not rlly proud of tbh but i wanted to write smth and i cldn't stop thinking ab this :(

𖧷 header & divider by cafekitsune.

[justevelynnnn]

Drabble for a protective logan of a pregnant!reader

Pairing: Logan Howlett x Pregnant!Reader

Warnings: Pregnancy, a bit of feral logan, childbirth..

A/N: ive had this prompt on my mind for a whileee however i don’t think this will have a follow up cause i got kinda lazy towards the end

- He knows before you do honestly. Strong sense of smell and all that jazz. But also he senses your heart rate slightly increase even though you’re not doing anything

- You smell different..almost…sweeter? At least to him.

- A week after he noticed you tell him how you missed your period and he just just looks at you and nods like “duh, you’re pregnant…”

- You still go to Jean to get an ultrasound and what do ya know, there’s a bun in the oven!

- Immediately after it’s officially confirmed Logan forbids you to go on anymore missions or really do…anything..

- Going out with Storm? Where? Why? No, no, no stay here it’s too dangerous out there..

- He didn’t let you lift anything, do chores, cook…

- Nope nope nope just stay there.

- As time goes on you get a bit annoyed but you’ll admit it’s cute seeing him like this.

- He cuddles with you every single night, arm protectively slung around your belly. He kisses it every night and then your forehead. He’s so soft with you..

- As your bump started to show he just couldn’t stop looking. He was surprisingly very excited to be a father. He was gonna raise this kid right. Protect them from any harm as much as he can. You included.

- He’s always been protective over you but now?

- One day, You were trying to reach something and Scott comes by, noticing you need help and walks over to help you reach whatever you want. Unfortunately for him, Logan saw this from around the corner and also saw how Scott gently touched your side as he helped you.

- Logan saw red. He snarls and then lunged at Scott and damn near bites him. Scott jumps back a bit, startled by the sudden feralness.

- “Don’t. Touch. Her. Again. Got it, Summers?” Logan growled angrily.

- Scott just nodded and then quickly left.

- You scolded Logan immediately after but Logan ignored you and just looked at you for any “marks”

- So after that no one was to ever touch you unless it was Jean doing a check up. Or another mutant if she couldn’t.

- Logan didn’t care. In his mind he was keeping you 100% safe. From harm..germs…whatever

- He’d make you wear his clothes so his “scent” would be on you and also because your clothes were getting too tight

- Whatever you craved, he’d get it.

- If you wanted water at 4am, he’s up and going to get it immediately, like he wasn’t just sleeping moments before

- Back hurting? He’s now a licensed massage therapist.

- Someone’s cooking food that’s making you gag? He’s going into the kitchen and scolding whoever’s cooking.

- That one was a bit embarrassing but they never really minded and understood you were pregnant

- After a while you started to become more and more out of breath so now you reallyyyy couldn’t do anything. You had to beg Logan to at least let you get some fresh air or something because staying in bed all day was not the answer even if your feet were swelling and you back was killing you.

- He’d walk with you outside as you talked about your day and he just listened. He’d ask about the baby and how you felt and how he felt about becoming parents

- He was more cuddly when you neared the end of your third trimester. Hugging you more, kissing you more, talking to your now huge stomach and rubbing it and feeling when the baby kicked

- You both didn’t know if the baby was gonna be a mutant or not or the gender or anything but just knew it was healthy and that was honestly enough

- You decided to deliver at the mansion because well, the hospitals nearby did not like or tend to mutants at all..

- You started getting braxton hicks here and there and you knew the baby had dropped. It was getting hard to move and the mansion was on edge. Logan especially.

- He’d pace around you as you groan and winced in pain but told him, “False alarm honey…just another hick..”

- But was it? What if it’s time? What if you two ignore this and then it’s too late? What if something is wrong and and-

- There was alot of calming Logan down now..reassuring you’re fine

- A week before you were due, you were thrown a baby shower.

- It was Rogues idea and everyone gave you a little something. Diapers, Toys, bottles…

- They had all your favorite foods from your pregnancy, even the super weird cravings

- You cried.

- Logan got mad when he saw you cry. “Who did this?? Why is she crying? Was it you, Summers? Why i outta-“

- You tell him you’re just very happy and emotional right now and not sad. And, no, Scott did nothing wrong so please put him down oh my gosh…

- It’s true you were very emotional and hormonal the whole time and you were so ready to be done

- A week later, in the middle of the night you got up to use the bathroom for the 5th time. Not wanting to wake up Logan over and over just to walk to the bathroom, you went alone, waddling to the door.

- The second you got there though there you immediately started leaking. And you would’ve been embarrassed of you didn’t immediately have the worst braxton, no….this wasn’t that…this was more…

- “Logan. Logan!”

- Logan jumped up and and ran over to you asking what happened and what’s wrong..

- You start to tell him and suddenly you’re hit again with another contraction

- It was time.

- Logan woke up everyone he could after getting you tot he medical room.

- He left the students be but it’s not like they couldn’t hear you yelling anyways

- He stood by you the entire time as you squeezed his hand and cried in pain. He almost growled at Jean hooking you up the machines but he knew it was to monitor if you and the baby were okay.

- He was so focused on you that he didn’t care for everyone crowding also but when it was time to push he barked for everyone to get back even Jean

- He let you squeeze the life out of his hand as you pushed and encouraged you the whole time and wiped your forehead

- And after several minutes of this chaos…

- “Congratulations��you guys are now officially parents!” Jean says as she holds the crying newborn baby.

- As she helped lay the baby on your bare chest, you and Logan just smiled at your child.

[urdreamydoodles]

Hello!!! I just found your page and yes I already I love your work!!

If it’s no trouble, may I ask for X-men characters with a Pregnant s/o headcanons? Like how they would be when you tell them you’re pregnant, how they are when you’re pregnant, and how they’d be during labor! 😵‍💫😵‍💫

Could I also ask it be with: Logan, Scott, Gambit, Ororo, Colossus, and Kurt??

If not it’s totally okay! Have a great rest of your day 💖💖

X-Men x Pregnant!Reader

How they handle your pregnancy

Each X-Man reacts differently to your pregnancy, from initial surprise and joy to unwavering support during labor, reflecting their unique personalities and love for you.

Characters: Logan Howlett, Remy LeBeau, Scott Summers, Ororo Munroe, Kurt Wagner, Colossus (+ my personal addition : Erik Lehnsherr, Wade Wilson, Wanda Maximoff & Pietro Maximoff)

Thank you for saying that, hearing that my work is liked makes me really happy, thank you ♡ And it's not a trouble at all — love the prompt! — Love, Marie, your friendly marvel fangirl

Logan Howlett (Wolverine)

When you tell Logan you’re pregnant, his initial reaction is a mix of shock and silence. For a moment, he’s frozen in place, his gruff exterior cracking just enough to reveal how truly taken aback he is by the news. He’s been through so much, lost so many people, and had so many regrets in his life that the thought of bringing a child into this world overwhelms him. But after a long, quiet moment, his eyes soften, and he gently places a hand on your stomach, the roughness of his calloused palm contrasting with the tenderness in his gesture. His voice, usually gruff and low, is quiet when he says, "I’ll protect both of ya… no matter what."

During your pregnancy, Logan becomes fiercely protective. He’s always been the protective type, but now it’s ramped up to an entirely different level. He doesn’t let you do anything that might risk your health or the baby’s, even if it’s something small like lifting a grocery bag. He makes sure you’re comfortable, constantly checking in with you—though he tries to act like he’s not worried. You often catch him watching you, eyes filled with a mix of awe and uncertainty. He tries not to hover, but you can see how much he cares. The moment you’re uncomfortable, he’s there, ready to do anything to help. His biggest fear, though he never outright says it, is that something will happen to you or the baby, so he keeps an almost obsessive eye on both of your well-being.

When labor begins, Logan is a mess of emotions. He’s usually the calm in any storm, but seeing you in pain makes him feel helpless in a way he’s not used to. He holds your hand, trying to keep you calm, though his own heart races. "I’m here, darlin’. You’re strong. You got this," he murmurs, pressing kisses to your forehead, staying close, trying to mask his own panic. When the baby finally comes, and he hears that first cry, tears fill his eyes. He never thought he could experience something so beautiful and terrifying at the same time. Logan would quietly hold the baby, marveling at the tiny life you both created, knowing he’s going to protect this child with everything he has.

Remy LeBeau (Gambit)

Telling Remy you’re pregnant is like lighting a firework. He’s always been a charmer, quick with a grin and a flirtatious quip, but when the news sinks in, his eyes light up with uncontainable excitement. "Mon dieu… I gon’ be a papa?" he says in disbelief, his signature grin widening as he pulls you into his arms. His hands immediately find your stomach, even if there’s no sign of the baby yet, and he plants a loving kiss on your lips. Remy is the kind of man who loves with his whole heart, and now, the idea of a family with you makes him feel like the luckiest man alive.

Throughout the pregnancy, Remy is absolutely doting. He spoils you beyond belief, making sure you have everything you need. He constantly brings you little gifts—flowers, chocolates, or even things for the baby—and he can’t help but talk to your belly every chance he gets, whispering sweet nothings in French. "Cher bébé, you gon’ have de best life wit’ us," he coos. He’s also incredibly playful, making jokes to keep your spirits high during the more uncomfortable parts of the pregnancy. If you’re feeling tired or sick, he’s quick to comfort you, but he does it with his usual playful charm. "You look beautiful, ma chérie, even wit’ a lil’ bump," he teases, kissing your cheek. Remy’s energy makes the whole experience feel lighter, more fun, and less daunting.

During labor, Remy’s usual calm and collected demeanor falters. He’s still his charming self, but there’s a frantic edge to his words as he holds your hand. "You okay, chérie? I’m right here wit’ you," he reassures, though you can see the worry in his eyes. He’s not used to seeing you in pain, and it shakes him more than he thought it would. As the labor progresses, he stays by your side, whispering sweet encouragements in French and English, never letting go of your hand. When the baby finally arrives, he’s completely overwhelmed, tears of joy running down his face as he holds your child for the first time. "Our lil’ miracle," he says softly, his heart full to bursting with love for both you and the baby.

Scott Summers (Cyclops)

When you tell Scott you’re pregnant, he’s stunned, standing still for a long moment as he processes the news. Scott, being the logical and responsible leader he is, has always thought about the future and the possibility of a family, but hearing it from you makes it real in a way that both excites and terrifies him. "We’re… we’re going to be parents?" he asks, his voice soft with disbelief before his arms wrap around you tightly. You can see the joy in his face, mixed with the weight of responsibility that’s already setting in. He’s already planning everything in his mind—how he’ll protect you, the future he’ll build for the three of you, ensuring that you and the baby are always safe.

Throughout your pregnancy, Scott is incredibly attentive and thoughtful. He’s the type to read all the parenting books, meticulously prepare for every scenario, and ensure that you’re comfortable and healthy at all times. He schedules every doctor’s appointment, makes sure you’re eating well, and insists that you take things easy. He’s also incredibly emotional during this time, though he tries to hide it. You often catch him looking at you with a softness in his eyes, one hand resting protectively on your stomach. "I love you so much," he says out of the blue one night, his voice filled with quiet awe. Scott takes everything seriously, and your pregnancy is no exception—he’s already planning how to be the best father he can be.

When the day of labor arrives, Scott is calm and composed, but you can feel the tension rolling off him in waves. He’s a natural leader, but this is out of his control, and it scares him more than he’ll admit. He holds your hand the entire time, murmuring words of encouragement, but there’s a tightness in his voice that betrays his worry. "You’re doing great, we’re almost there," he says, though you can tell he’s just as nervous as you are. When the baby is born, Scott is overcome with emotion. He’s usually so controlled, but in this moment, tears stream down his face as he holds your newborn in his arms. "We did it," he whispers, looking between you and the baby with a sense of awe and love so profound it leaves him speechless.

Ororo Munroe (Storm)

When you tell Ororo you’re pregnant, her reaction is calm yet filled with quiet joy. She has always been a steady presence, and that doesn’t change even in a moment as life-altering as this. You watch as her eyes widen slightly, and she takes a deep breath, letting it out with a smile that’s filled with nothing but love. "A child," she says softly, as if testing the words out on her lips before she steps closer, pulling you into a tender embrace. She kisses your forehead, her fingers gently brushing your stomach. "We will raise them together with the strength of the earth, the wind, and the skies," she whispers, her voice filled with a quiet reverence for this new journey you’re about to embark on together.

During the pregnancy, Ororo is a pillar of strength and grace. She watches over you with care, making sure you feel supported and at peace throughout. Her connection to nature allows her to sense even the smallest changes in your well-being, and she’s quick to help ease any discomfort you feel. She spends hours talking to your growing belly, whispering stories of the world, of the sky, and the beauty of the elements. Her presence is soothing, and she brings you peace in moments where the discomforts of pregnancy are hardest to bear. At night, she holds you close, her hands resting protectively on your stomach, often saying a quiet prayer to the earth for your safety. "You and our child are my heart," she says softly one evening as you drift off to sleep, her love for you as powerful as the storms she commands.

When the time comes for labor, Ororo is a calming force by your side. Even as the pain begins, she stays with you, her hand in yours, reminding you to breathe, to focus on the world around you. "Feel the wind, my love, let it guide you," she murmurs, her voice steady as she helps you through each contraction. You find yourself drawing strength from her presence, her deep connection to the elements grounding you. When the baby finally arrives, she cradles the tiny life in her arms with such tenderness that it brings tears to your eyes. "Welcome to the world, little one," she whispers, her eyes filled with awe and love. Ororo knows this is a moment of great power, not just in the birth of your child, but in the creation of a family bound by love and strength.

Kurt Wagner (Nightcrawler)

When you tell Kurt you’re pregnant, his first reaction is pure, unfiltered joy. His golden eyes light up, and in an instant, he’s pulling you into a tight embrace, his tail curling around you protectively. "Mein Gott! You are serious, ja?" he asks, his excitement palpable. When you nod, he lets out a delighted laugh, teleporting you both into the air for a brief moment in his excitement before bringing you back down gently. He cups your face in his hands, pressing kisses all over your cheeks and lips, his happiness absolutely infectious. "I am going to be a papa?!" he repeats, as if he can’t quite believe it, but the pure joy on his face shows that he couldn’t be happier. He immediately begins to talk about your future together, about how he’ll be the best father, about how lucky the child will be to have you as their mother.

Throughout your pregnancy, Kurt is an absolute ball of energy and love. He’s always fussing over you, making sure you’re comfortable, making sure you’re happy, and doing everything he can to make you smile. He talks to your belly constantly, telling your baby stories of his own childhood, sharing his love for adventure and his deep faith. "You will be loved, little one. So very loved," he whispers often, his tail lightly wrapping around you as he presses his head to your stomach. Despite his own rough upbringing, Kurt is determined to make sure your child is raised with nothing but love and joy. He’s so excited for every little milestone, constantly asking how you’re feeling, and making sure that you never feel alone or overwhelmed. He even starts knitting baby clothes in his spare time, determined to create something personal for your child.

When labor begins, Kurt is nervous but tries his best to stay calm for your sake. He teleports in and out of the room, fetching things, bringing you water, doing anything he can to help. "You are so strong, meine liebe, you’ve got this," he says, though you can see the nervous energy in him as he paces slightly. When things get intense, he stays by your side, holding your hand tightly, his usual calm demeanor replaced with pure awe at what’s happening. The moment the baby is born, Kurt is overwhelmed with emotion. Tears fill his golden eyes as he looks at the tiny life you’ve created together. "Our little miracle," he whispers in awe, his tail brushing gently against the baby’s tiny hand as he cradles them carefully. His heart is full, knowing that this is the start of a new, beautiful chapter for your family.

Piotr Rasputin (Colossus)

When you tell Piotr you’re pregnant, his first reaction is one of quiet shock. His gentle nature has always been a core part of who he is, but the idea of becoming a father leaves him momentarily speechless. He stares at you for a moment, as if processing the magnitude of what you just said. Then, slowly, a smile breaks across his face, and his massive arms gently pull you into a warm, protective embrace. "We are going to have a child?" he asks, his voice soft and filled with wonder. His metal form, cold to the touch, somehow feels comforting as he holds you close, his hands resting gently on your stomach. "I… I will do everything to protect you and our child," he promises, his deep voice filled with determination and love.

Throughout your pregnancy, Piotr becomes an even more protective and attentive partner. He’s already used to being careful with his strength around you, but now he’s even more cautious, always making sure you’re comfortable and safe. He spends hours drawing and painting, creating art that reflects the love and joy he feels for you and the baby. His gentle nature shines through as he constantly checks in with you, making sure you’re well-rested, eating enough, and not doing anything that could put strain on you or the baby. "You should rest, moya lyubov’," he says softly, offering you a cup of tea or a warm blanket whenever you look the least bit uncomfortable. He talks about the future often, about how he wants to raise the child with the same love and care his family gave him, how he wants to teach them to be strong but gentle, like him.

When labor begins, Piotr is a bundle of nerves beneath his calm exterior. His metal form shifts, and you can see the tension in his usually composed demeanor. He stays by your side, holding your hand gently, though you can tell he’s trying not to show just how worried he is. "I am here, love, you are so strong," he says softly, his voice a low rumble as he reassures you throughout the process. As the labor progresses, he’s there every step of the way, doing whatever he can to help. When the baby is finally born, Piotr is overwhelmed with emotion. He carefully cradles the tiny life in his large, metal arms, his eyes shining with tears as he looks at you with pure love. "Our family," he whispers, his deep voice filled with awe and devotion. "You have given me everything."

Erik Lehnsherr (Magneto)

When you tell Erik you’re pregnant, his initial reaction is one of deep, contemplative silence. You watch as the weight of the news settles over him like a heavy cloak, and for a brief moment, there’s an unreadable look in his sharp eyes. He’s always been a man burdened by the past, his life filled with loss and pain. But then, his expression softens, and he reaches out to touch your face, his fingers trembling ever so slightly. "A child," he murmurs, almost as if he’s afraid to believe it. Slowly, a smile tugs at the corners of his lips, and he pulls you into a tight embrace, burying his face in your hair. "We will give them the world," he promises, his voice low and filled with the intensity that only Erik can bring. Though you can tell the news has stirred up memories of his past, the joy he feels for this future with you is undeniable.

During the pregnancy, Erik becomes fiercely protective, bordering on overbearing at times. He’s always been a man who values control, and now that you’re carrying his child, that instinct is heightened tenfold. He monitors everything, making sure you’re safe, making sure you’re comfortable, and making sure nothing threatens you or the baby. His magnetic abilities become almost a subconscious part of how he protects you, moving objects out of your way before you even realize they’re there, adjusting the temperature of the room without a second thought. Despite his intensity, there’s a tenderness in the way he speaks to your belly, as though he’s already trying to form a connection with your unborn child. "You will be strong," he says one evening, his hand resting on your stomach. "I will make sure of it."

When labor begins, Erik is calm but incredibly focused. He’s been through many battles in his life, but this is something different—a battle of a more personal kind. He stays by your side, his hand gripping yours tightly, though you can see the tension in his jaw as he tries to remain composed. "You can do this, my love," he says, his voice steady despite the worry in his eyes. As the contractions grow stronger, he channels his abilities to make the environment as soothing as possible, dimming the lights, adjusting the metal fixtures in the room to make everything feel more comfortable for you. When the baby is finally born, Erik is silent for a long moment, staring at the tiny life you’ve both created. Then, without a word, he takes the child in his arms, his eyes filled with a rare vulnerability as he gazes down at them. "I never thought I would have this again," he whispers, his voice thick with emotion. "Thank you."

Wade Wilson (Deadpool)

When you tell Wade you’re pregnant, his reaction is, unsurprisingly, over the top. He stares at you with wide eyes, his mouth hanging open comically for a moment before he suddenly breaks into a huge grin. "Are you serious?!" he shouts, throwing his arms in the air and spinning around in excitement. He grabs you and starts bouncing you up and down, all the while chattering on about how you’re going to have the coolest kid in the world. "Oh man, this is going to be awesome! Our little baby Wadelette, or Wadelino!" His excitement is infectious, and though his humor never stops, you can tell there’s genuine love and excitement behind his wild antics. He talks about everything from baby names to what kind of mini-costume the kid will wear, all while being completely and utterly himself.

During the pregnancy, Wade is a chaotic but devoted partner. He’s constantly hovering, making ridiculous jokes to keep your spirits up, and finding the weirdest ways to pamper you. "You’re eating for two now! Gotta keep that belly happy!" he’d say, handing you a tray of the strangest food combinations you’ve ever seen. Wade has a way of making even the most uncomfortable moments of pregnancy into something funny, but when the serious moments hit, he’s surprisingly thoughtful. He talks to your belly in exaggerated voices, telling the baby stories of his adventures and promising to be the best (and weirdest) dad ever. Though he can’t quite stop being himself, you know that beneath all the humor, Wade is completely committed to you and the baby.

When labor hits, Wade is... well, Wade. He’s running around like a madman, alternately panicking and cracking jokes to try and keep things light. "Okay, okay, I’ve got this! I’ve fought ninjas, I’ve blown up buildings, how hard can this be?!" he says, though the genuine concern in his eyes gives him away. As things progress, he becomes a little more serious, holding your hand and whispering words of encouragement between his nervous ramblings. When the baby is finally born, Wade is struck speechless for once in his life. He stares down at the tiny bundle in awe, his usual mask of humor slipping as he gently takes the baby in his arms. "Holy crap," he whispers, his voice barely above a breath. "We made a tiny person." He looks at you with wide eyes, his usual bravado replaced with pure, unfiltered love.

Wanda Maximoff (Scarlet Witch)

When you tell Wanda you’re pregnant, her initial reaction is one of quiet, overwhelmed emotion. You watch as her eyes fill with tears, her hands trembling as she reaches out to touch your face. "A baby?" she whispers, her voice filled with disbelief. For Wanda, this news is a dream she never thought possible, a hope she had long since buried beneath the weight of her complicated life. She pulls you into a gentle embrace, holding you close as she tries to process the enormity of what this means for the both of you. Her powers flicker around her, responding to her heightened emotions, but she calms herself quickly, pressing her forehead to yours. "I never thought I would have this chance," she says softly. "But now… now we can have a family."

Throughout the pregnancy, Wanda is a bundle of emotions—both excitement and worry. She’s incredibly protective, her powers always at the ready to keep you and the baby safe, but there’s an underlying fear that something could go wrong. Despite her concerns, she embraces the experience fully, surrounding you with warmth and love. She spends hours researching everything about pregnancy, reading books, and using her magic to ensure you and the baby are healthy. She talks to your belly every night, using her magic to create little illusions of what she imagines your child might look like. "You will be so loved," she whispers to your stomach, her hands gently resting over the growing life inside you. Despite the fears that linger in the back of her mind, Wanda finds joy in the journey, grateful for the chance to experience this with you.

When labor begins, Wanda is nervous but focused. She holds your hand, her magic swirling around the room in gentle pulses, trying to ease your pain and keep you calm. "You’re so strong," she says, her voice soft but full of conviction. "I’m here with you." As the contractions intensify, Wanda uses her powers to help as much as she can without interfering too much, guiding you through the pain with a steady hand and reassuring words. When the baby is finally born, Wanda is overwhelmed with emotion. She cradles the newborn in her arms, tears streaming down her face as she gazes at the life you’ve created together. "Our child," she whispers, her voice filled with awe. "I can’t believe it… they’re perfect."

Pietro Maximoff (Quicksilver)

When you tell Pietro you’re pregnant, his reaction is fast—literally. He zooms around the room at breakneck speed, his excitement palpable as he tries to process the news. "Wait, wait, wait—seriously? I’m going to be a dad?!" he exclaims, coming to a sudden stop in front of you with wide eyes and a grin that stretches from ear to ear. He’s so thrilled that he can barely stand still, constantly moving from one side of the room to the other, muttering excitedly to himself about baby names, future races, and all the things he’ll teach your child. "They’re gonna be fast, I just know it!" he says, already imagining a little speedster following in his footsteps. His excitement is contagious, and though he can be overwhelming at times, you know that Pietro’s joy is genuine and heartfelt.

During the pregnancy, Pietro is both attentive and hilariously impatient. He’s constantly zipping around, checking on you, fetching things, and making sure you’re comfortable. "You need anything? Water? Snacks? Foot rub?" he asks at lightning speed, already halfway out the door before you can answer. His energy is boundless, and though it can be a bit much at times, you appreciate how much he cares. Pietro is always talking to your belly, encouraging the baby to hurry up and grow faster. "Come on, little one, we’re all waiting for you!" he says with a grin, pressing a kiss to your stomach. Despite his impatience, Pietro is incredibly sweet, and he does everything he can to make sure you feel loved and supported throughout the entire process.

When labor begins, Pietro is a whirlwind of nervous energy. He’s constantly pacing, moving from one side of the room to the other, his speed betraying his anxiety. "You’re doing great, babe, really great!" he says, though his voice is tinged with nervousness. He tries to stay calm for your sake, but you can tell he’s on edge, desperate for everything to go smoothly. When the baby is finally born, Pietro’s world comes to a complete standstill for the first time in his life. The moment they place the baby in his arms, everything around him slows, and for once, he’s not in a rush to go anywhere. He stares down at your newborn child, his usual cocky smirk replaced with a look of pure awe and disbelief. "Wow," he whispers, his voice soft and reverent. "I… we made this." His hands, usually moving a mile a minute, are gentle as he cradles the baby close, eyes wide with wonder as he examines every little detail of their face.