#sid writes shit

[retrosabers]

𝐟𝐫𝐨𝐦 𝐦𝐞, 𝐭𝐨 𝐲𝐨𝐮.

FICMAS DAY 3: GIFT-GIVING

bucky barnes x fem!reader

summary: as bucky’s secret santa, you’re determined to give him the best christmas present he’s ever received.

contains: grumpy buck fluff, some angst, idiots who are crushing hard, swearing

word count: 2.4k

a/n: this is a long one i’m apologizing in advance

i am SO SORRY for crickets in the ficmas department the past week, i hit a big brick wall with this and i’ve been so all over the place with my own holiday planning and such that i ended up having to cut the masterlist in half because i knew i couldn’t get it all done. i’m very sorry to anyone who was looking forward to what got scrapped, but i couldn’t bring myself to rush through writing and put out something i don’t believe it my best work.

also, do people even want avengers fix it fics anymore?? i debated between the “everything is fine the team lives at the compound together” vibe and setting this post tfatws, but ultimately decided the former was easier to write. and i think it worked in my favor because this turned out really cute :)

!! divider by @strangergraphics !!

FICMAS MASTERLIST

your heart feels like it’s going to burst out of your chest.

who’s idea was this again? wanda? tony? steve? it didn’t matter anymore. all that mattered right now was that you didn’t pass out in the elevator. a feat that was becoming more and more difficult the closer you got to your destination.

a secret santa is supposed to bring you joy, not near paralyzing anxiety.

at first, you were 100% on board with participating in a gift exchange. as much as you wanted to shower all of your teammates with presents galore, not everyone shared the same sentiment, and thus the idea of a secret santa was proposed.

excitement courses through your veins as you reach your hand into the cheap santa hat tony grabbed from god knows where in storage, with little pieces of paper containing the names of your fellow avengers. you decided to wait until you were back in the privacy of your room to open it up, afraid of any wandering eyes taking a peak. the last thing you wanted was the element of surprise to be stripped away. it was half the fun after all.

as sam pulls the last name, you quietly excuse yourself and all but rush upstairs, too eager to get in the holiday spirit and brainstorm. as soon as the door shuts behind you, you hurriedly reveal the contents of the paper.

if it’s natasha, i can get her a pair of ballet slippers. she’s been mentioning how she wants to start dancing again.

what about bruce? maybe a journal for all his ideas? he always seems to be losing sticky notes in the lab.

a million different ideas swirl around in your head, reminding you just how much joy this time of year brings. to you, there was nothing better than seeing the gleeful looks on people’s faces when they opened their gifts. the corners of your mouth turn up at the memory of your first christmas with the team. how shy and reluctant you were, afraid of going overboard. now, a few years later, you’re completely unabashed in showing just how much you care about them.

your bright smile morphs into a deep frown as you unfold the paper.

bucky barnes.

quite possibly the most difficult person you could’ve chosen.

to be clear, there’s nothing wrong with bucky. he may be a bit grumpy and standoffish, but it’s with good reason and you know it. that also doesn’t change the fact that he’s going to be impossible to try and shop for.

what do you get for the man who seemingly despises anything the modern world has to offer? the same man who you’re 99% sure hates your guts. come to think of it, how did you even pull him? he most definitely wasn’t downstairs 20 minutes ago when everyone scribbled down their names and tossed them in tony’s direction.

it was irrelevant now. you were stuck being his secret santa, and you’d be damned if you didn’t give james buchanan barnes the best christmas gift he’s ever gotten in his century-long lifetime.

the two weeks it took to come up with an idea sure felt like a century. if it wasn’t for the concerning amount of snooping you did, you’d probably be showing up empty handed. thankfully, at almost 1 in the morning on a random tuesday, a lightbulb went off in your brain. you scrambled bright and early the next day to go shopping, and by some lucky form of divine intervention, you acquired the perfect gift.

flash forward to now, and you’re carrying an insanely large box up to bucky’s room. in a blatant stray from what the rest of the team was doing, you decided to give him his present one on one, secluded from everyone else. partly because you were afraid of public embarrassment if he hated it, and partly because you knew bucky wasn’t very fond of being put on display.

you hope he’ll at least be grateful for that.

when the elevator finally chimes, signaling you’ve arrived at the dormitory floor, the box nearly slips from your grasp. not just from how heavy it was, but from the nervous sweat coating your palms.

the hallway is quiet enough to hear a pin drop, save for the faint sound of christmas music playing over the speakers. with careful, calculated steps, you make your way down the length of the corridor, dragging your feet the closer you get to bucky’s room. there’s a small part of you that hopes he’s downstairs in the gym, the kitchen, the backyard, anywhere but here. dropping and dashing wasn’t what you had in mind, but the anxious thumping of your heart was becoming unbearable. you know it will only amplify tenfold if you’re forced to stare into those steel blue eyes of his. the thought alone sends a chill down your spine.

you freeze in place when you hear the sound of a door knob clicking open.

please be wanda’s room, please be wanda’s room.

in front of you, the very last door on the left creaks open, revealing the tall and brooding super soldier whose company you were aiming to avoid.

it’s easy to forget how handsome bucky barnes is when he normally does nothing but grimace in your direction.

you still weren’t used to his new haircut, but it was clear he felt significantly more confident with it. is that a hint of aftershave, or cologne? whatever it was, the scent fit him perfectly; cedarwood with a hint of spice. the green henley he wears fits snugly against his broad frame, emphasizing all the muscles you’ve been caught staring at on more than one occasion. for once, he’s not wearing a scowl, though that changes when he catches sight of you.

surely you must look strange, standing dumbfounded in the middle of the hall with a box covered in santa-printed wrapping paper and a big bow that you can barely hold. right now the floor opening up and swallowing you whole was at the top of your wish list. and st. nick better make it quick.

bucky’s expression shifts from one of disdain to curiosity as he quirks a brow wordlessly. your own knit together in frustration, knowing you now had no choice but to do this exchange face to face.

“need any help?” he questions monotonously. as much as you want to be prideful and reject it, your arms feel like they’re going to fall off any second. he seems to catch your drift despite a verbal response, because in the blink of an eye he’s striding towards you, sweeping the gift from your arms and into his own with ease. you try not to gape at the way his biceps strain against fabric.

you stutter out a “thanks,” as you straighten out your sweater. bucky grunts in return and eyes the package in his hands cautiously. you’re half expecting him to shake it like a child when you catch the tiniest twitch of his upper lip.

it’s the closest thing to a smile he’s ever shown in your presence. something that gives you the courage to actually form a sentence instead of continuing to gawk at him.

here goes nothing.

“this is for you, actually,” you manage to shakily breathe out. bucky halts his observations, a glimmer of surprise briefly dancing across his face.

a beat of silence passes between you. “don’t remember asking for anything," he finally says. it’s still laced with his typical dry sarcasm, but there’s a legitimate amusement in his tone that can’t be missed.

you narrow your eyes at him playfully, feeling a little bit more at ease now that he didn’t completely rebuff you.

“i’m your secret santa, smartass,” you jab with your hands on your hips.

for the first time ever, bucky smirks at you.

“don’t recall asking for that either.”

you throw your hands up in defense, offering him a surprisingly nonchalant shrug. “don’t blame me, i’m pretty sure steve was the one who put your name in.”

“punk,” the man grumbles. he shakes his head, attention turning back to the present in hand once more.

despite his apparent annoyance, you can’t seem to stop yourself from continuing on.

“i know you’re supposed to do this kind of thing with everyone around,” you start off shaky, afraid of upsetting him any more than you may already have. his gaze immediately falls to you upon hearing your voice.

“i also know you’re not a big fan of being the center of attention,” you continue, shoving your hands into the pockets of your jeans. “figured you’d like this better if it was in private.”

bucky’s features soften. his jaw unclenched, his eyes not so narrow and judgmental. he looks relieved, flattered; a myriad of things you can’t name or place.

“i appreciate that,” he admits, suddenly shy and impish. for a second, he completely forgets about the gift you brought. the simple fact that you were kind enough to consider his feelings, despite how cold he could be to you, makes his heart skip a beat.

you simply nod your head in reply, teetering back and forth on your feet awkwardly trying to decipher your next move.

“you don’t have to open that right now you know.”

he sets the box down on the floor next to his door. “kinda defeats the purpose don’t you think?”

you shrug. “whatever you’re comfortable with. doesn’t matter what you’re “supposed to do.””

why did you care so much about his comfort level? he hardly showed any concern for yours. the notion consumes his thoughts, prohibiting him from offering anything except a nod of acknowledgement.

that awkward silence comes once again, signaling maybe you’ve overstayed your welcome, or that the moment of peace is over. you check your watch in hopes that father time was ending this exchange for you.

just your luck, he’s right on schedule.

“i uh, better get downstairs,” you announce, pointing your thumb in the direction of the elevator. “don’t wanna miss thor forcing everyone to do christmas karaoke.”

a noise akin to laughter snorts out of bucky’s nose, evoking a delightful warmth in your chest. it was different than all the other times you’ve been flustered in the presence of the super soldier. this was less about intimidation and more about…camaraderie. now wondering if maybe he doesn’t hate you as much as you thought.

it’s exactly what you need to reignite your holiday cheer and shed any remaining worries.

before you can second guess, you turn on your heels, closing the gap between your bodies. wrapping a hand around his arm, his metal arm, and offering a gentle caress, the sincerity in your words is clear as day.

“merry christmas buck.”

your touch burns straight through vibranium all the way to his chest. across his entire body, igniting every cell ablaze. a fire consuming him in ways unimaginable.

and yet. he enjoyed the burn.

as you pull away, much to his dismay, the tips of his fingers brush against the inside of your wrist. goosebumps errupt on your skin, from the cool metal, or that fact that bucky was so pretty this close, only time would tell.

“you too,” he murmurs with a faint grin. the soft crinkles by his eyes are likely going to be the subject of your daydreams for the next week.

you flash him a smile over your shoulder before turning down the hall and averting his gaze, not wanting him to see just how much you were blushing.

while unbeknownst to you, bucky was now a very bright shade of red.

he waits until he can hear the elevator doors close before slipping back into his room and very carefully unwrapping the box. there’s a nervousness in his stomach that’s unfamiliar, but not unpleasant. as the bare brown packaging becomes exposed, he begins ripping back the numerous layers of packing tape. you really took your time on this, he thinks to himself.

that funny feeling only amplifies when he sees the contents of the box.

a record player, a very expensive looking one at that, sits inside with another three wrapped items that he concludes are vinyls, judging from their flatness. on top of it all, there was a small note shrouded in luxe stationary. bucky’s heart stutters when he sees his name scribbled delicately in your handwriting.

his fingers falter briefly before he digs into the envelope.

i know this isn’t like the ones from the 40s, but it’s the closest thing i could find. also got a few of your favorite records, and one i think you’ll like too. don’t forget i have quite a collection of my own in case you ever want to try something new.

merry christmas ♡

bucky unceremoniously plops down on the edge of his bed. the normally stiff feeling mattress now mirrored a sea of clouds and feathers. he’d gladly sink into the abyss of softness, if it meant pumping the brakes on his thundering heartbeat.

from the moment he met you, bucky knew he was in trouble.

you had an aura about you that was magnetic, always drawing people in and bathing them in your light. your unconditional kindness and consideration, hell, even your mere presence in a room seemed to liven it up entirely. it was a hypnotizing, almost dangerous thing for the man, and if there was one thing he knew how to do, it was to push people away. for their sake, and his. bucky was certain that once he started keeping his distance, that you’d eventually give up in trying to crack his tough outer shell, or that the silly feelings he had would disappear.

but right now, as he’s staring at your handwriting and rubbing his thumb repeatedly over that little heart, he knows it was all in vain.

later that night, he stares up at the ceiling, listening to the familiar croon of it’s been a long, long time wafting from his present. he tries to focus on the beauty of the song, or the lights he can see from his window twinkling out on the lawn, but it’s nearly impossible. you’re the subject of all his thoughts. have been since the moment he saw you standing out in the hall. from the scent of your perfume to the little intricacies of your penmanship. the thing that’s plaguing him the most, however, is your hand on his arm.

bucky’s real arm had been gone for over half a century, having stopped experiencing phantom limb syndrome ages ago. yet somehow he felt it there, clear as day. the same tactile sensations on his flesh, right arm, in the metal prosthetic of his left. an electric shock that he’s never recognized before, and that he wouldn’t be opposed to feeling again.

tomorrow, he plans to thank steve for mischievously adding his name into the lottery.

and to ask you about your record collection.

thanks for reading! <3

tag list: @alastor-simp @j4desblurbs @pandapetals

!! if you would like to be tagged in the rest of the ficmas blurbs, please send me an inbox message or leave a comment !!

[ohmyletter]

𝐎𝐇𝐌𝐘𝐋𝐄𝐓𝐓𝐄𝐑’𝐒 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓

* indiciates smut. MINORS DNI

𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐕𝐄𝐋:

LOGAN HOWLETT

coming soon!

BUCKY BARNES

coming soon!

TASM!PETER PARKER

coming soon!

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

𝐒𝐓𝐑𝐀𝐍𝐆𝐄𝐑 𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒:

STEVE HARRINGTON

coming soon!

EDDIE MUNSON

coming soon!

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐑 𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐒:

POE DAMERON

coming soon!

ANAKIN SKYWALKER

coming soon!

DIN DJARIN

coming soon!

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐖𝐀𝐋𝐊𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐃𝐄𝐀𝐃:

DARYL DIXON

coming soon!

[retrosabers]

thanks for including my fic!! <3

✨Absolute works of art!✨

Hello friends!

Here, you’ll find a curated masterlist of some of my favorite works—stories that have left me deeply delusional and head over heels in love with characters who’ll forever occupy my heart.

Each piece here is a treasure, a fragment of the worlds I've immersed myself in, where fiction and reality blur. So, dive in, explore, and let’s fangirl together over these beautiful tales.

Happy reading! ✨

Logan Howlett

This is Ours by @d1stalker

Loving him was never enough by @wyniepooh

Meet-Cute by @mistyorchid

80's Logan by @murdrdocs

go about things the wrong way by @murdrdocs

THE GRAVE OF LUST by @moonlight-prose

Quiet Drive by @wlwloverwrites

Right Where you left me (Masterlist) by @moonlight-prose

Never is a Promise by @joelsgoldrush

Hugh and you are WIRED by @bluetimeombre

Old Logan! by @inkedells

You missed the damn line (Hugh) by @cupidscorpsee

Logan Howlett × Squirter! Reader by @fartcloudfartcloud

Love Language by @joelsflower

Logan x reader by @inkedells

Until I Found You by @mcrdvcks

Silk and Submission by @tteotlma

Missed Every Inch by @tteotlma

Wicked by @thinkinonsense

Guilty as a Sin by @logansbaby

call me if you're only by @thinkinonsense

After Midnight by @eufezco

You can Use my Skin to Bury Secrets In by @joelsgoldrush

Misery Reigns My Lonely Neon Nights by @dilf-docs

Nasty by @mcrdvcks

Friendly competition by @bpmiranda

Role Play by @bpmiranda

Beggin' for Seconds by @yxtkiwiyxt

The Art of Make-believe Matrimony by @gothgoblinbabe

Futuristic Lover by @briseroyawritingsblog

Off Camera by @bpmiranda

Best in The Business by @bpmiranda

I COULD PLAY THE DOCTOR ( CAN CURE YOUR DISEASE) by @sceletaflores

How I look on you by @retrosabers

Javier Peña

Under your skin by @pedgito

Frankie Morales

Life In The Fast Lane by @mylostloversbookmarks

you make loving fun. by @redahlia-writes

Listen by @frannyzooey

Meant To Be by @absurdthirst

Plastic Hearts (Masterlist) by @guess-my-next-obsession

Sweet Lies (Masterlist) by @lavendertales

Tony Stark

Billion Dollar Man (Masterlist) by @angelicthor

[literaryslapshot]

9 and 18 with coach!sid please <3

"without ever touching him, how can i be guilty as sin?" & "i can tell when someone wants me" | poetic prompts | warnings: smut (18+ MDNI, i can redo if you don't want smut with these prompts!)

takes place after this fic.

"girl, quit eye fucking and leave some room for the rest of us. i can tell your fantasizing, but i don't blame you."

"i'm not touching him, so how can i be guilty of anything?" y/n co-workers words snap her out of her daze as she teases back. it was the beginning of an emergency staff meeting, the meaning was unknown and it was causing quite the buzz around the gymnasium. teachers, admin, and athletic staff alike were sitting together asking each other what they'd heard, known, or if they were getting fired. there was a heavy level of anxiety sitting in the room amongst them.

"sorry," y/n mumbled and sitting up straight. her friend chuckled beside her. but she couldn't help but stare, it had been a week since their dinner together, and it was all she could think about. she'd had trouble teaching, would zone out when talking to carter, their scandalous encounter was taking over her life.

"what do you think they're gonna talk about?" the other teacher asked sitting next to her, sipping coffee out of her tumbler and scrolling through emails looking for clues. "i think they're gonna talk about staff relationships."

her words made y/n's stomach drop. did it get out? did someone see her car at his house? did carter say something? did carter find out? it's amazing how many questions can run through the brain in just two seconds.

"i heard that the boys tennis coach, thomas, is having an affair with the girls tennis coach. i think one of the players caught them in the athletic offices but they did something to keep the kid quiet." y/n feels her nerves calm down, but not all that much. her eyes met with sidney's and she felt like he was trying to silently tell her something but she couldn't pick up on it. they weren't that connected.

yet.

moments later the superintendent gets on the mic and announces to faculty that in fact, both the girls and boys tennis coach were let go due to their actions. the boys coach resigned, and the girls coach was fired due to threatening the school district since she didn't do anything wrong and she was a single woman.

she felt a ball coil up inside her stomach as the staff were reminded of the policy: relationships among staff must be brought before the board if they occur within the school year. it was a district policy, to keep drama out of the way, and to keep relationships private to the parties benefit. at least, that was the way it was explained.

-

that meeting was bullshit. sent 10:45 am

y/n's phone pings signaling a text from sidney. she reads it as her students are taking their test. she feels butterflies and anxiety at the same time. her leg bouncing underneath her desk as she plans a reply.

...but what did he mean? was he against the rule, meaning he wanted a relationship? or was it just a waste of time? yes, it was a waste of time.

i know, it could have just been an email. sent 10:48

he never responds, but she gets too busy with other class periods. she gets lost back in time once more, fantasizing about that night. during lunch break spent in her darkened classroom, a bowl of warmed up soup in front of her as she grades papers until the next class comes through.

but she gets lost, in the deep trance of the memory of him. if she thinks really hard she can still feel his tongue sliding against her slick core, she can feel herself coming undone again at the force of his skilled and talented body.

she can feel his calloused but soft hands sliding down her body, grasping at her breasts while he sucks all of the sweet juice that flows out of her. she remembers her back arching off his wooden dinner table while he lapped at her for at least ten minutes straight, before he slid his thick cock inside of her for another ten.

she's taken out of her daydream by the sound of the school bell. she has three minutes to get herself back in order to teach again. she considers assigning today a reading and catch up day...so she can continue to reminisce.

dinner at my place? sent 1:23 pm

hell yes sent 1:24 pm

-

"you're bad at hiding your feelings, y/n." sidney stated, flipping over the steak on the grill and setting his wine glass down on the granite countertop. y/n sat on the barstool across from him, drinking a cocktail she made herself.

"what's that supposed to mean?" she took a bigger swig of the alcohol this time, holding eye contact with him as he leaned onto the countertop with his hands, making himself appear bigger in front of her. it worked.

"i can tell when someone wants me. half the women in that school want me, but you're the only one who went for it." she feels like a crook who was caught. "i know you act like last week didn't happen, but it's all i've been thinking about." now he's standing just inches from her on his back patio, the smell of grilled steak and vegetables filling her brain and the firm but agonizing touch making her go weak.

"it's all i can think about too." his thumb glides across her cheek, his whiskey colored eyes staring into her soul, what it feels like for hours. he bites his lip and she thinks she's gonna pass out.

"tell me what you thought about, maybe we'll reenact it after dinner. can't have you eating cold steak, can i?"

[mlmgaze]

daniel waking up to marius kinda starting to press into him and, after getting his bearings, his first move is to ask sleepily if marius had another dream about daniel getting hurt. marius says no, and after a second daniel asks if marius had a dream about armand getting hurt. and marius just freezes (because of course obviously that's what it is because marius dreamed again about armand going into the sun and he wants to feel comforted and reassured but armand isn't here and daniel is and daniel is still blood of his blood and *i am dragged away by the guards)

[gayaristocrat]

Wdym you don’t wanna match my freak? If I can’t keep your heart in my drawer like Mary Shelley did to her dead husband then what are we even doing?

[reagantalkssports]

My favorite wag!!

[gummy-sharks666]

Allow me to introduce you to a ship that’s been plaguing my mind all day long

[hidingoutbackstage]

ada deserves better than to be tied to that white man

[hoodienanami]

since were living in this new age of understanding when it comes to how becoming famous (especially tabloid famous/infamous) at a young age negatively effects your mental health and psychological development i think its time that ppl start reevaluating how they talk about the sex pistols

[retrosabers]

𝐰𝐫𝐚𝐩𝐩𝐞𝐝 𝐢𝐧 𝐫𝐞𝐝.

FICMAS DAY 5 - UNWRAPPING

A RETROSABERS X PANDAPETALS DOUBLE FEATURE

old man logan x fem!reader

summary: logan didn’t believe in exchanging christmas presents. so, you offer him something you know he can’t refuse. a night where’s he’s free to have you all to himself.

contains: 18+ content below the cut. MINORS DNI. making out, some dry humping if you squint, oral (fem receiving), implied age gap, a dash of angst, swearing

word count: 2.6k

a/n: you thought i’d let a whole season pass without a little taste of some festive smut? absolutely hilarious. this is my first time writing for old man logan, and i think i did pretty alright considering i have yet to watch the movie (i’m terrified of the pain it will bring)

any feedback is always greatly appreciated!

also, don’t be confused by the fact that this says day 5 when i still haven’t posted day 4, i’m writing these bad boys out of order

and finally, a huge shoutout & thanks to the wildly talented @pandapetals for agreeing to do a little collaboration! please go check out her blog and all of her amazing work! <3

FIND HER PART HERE

!! divider by @estrelinha-s !!

FICMAS MASTERLIST

“are you sure your eyes are closed?”

logan grunts. “they’re closed, darlin’. promise.”

he’s been sitting here for almost fifteen minutes now, waiting for you to bring out this so-called “surprise.” from the ambient lighting and freshly washed bed sheets, the man thinks he’s got a general idea of what it is, but you’ve been fiddling in the bathroom too long for him to be certain.

still, he appeases you, and waits patiently at the foot of your bed. even if it’s a little bit uncomfortable on his knees.

meanwhile you’re fussing over every little detail of your appearance in the groggy bathroom mirror.

this was your solution to getting around logan’s “i don’t need anything for christmas” rule. you always begrudgingly abided by it, save for the box of cigars that always mysteriously turnt up in his nightstand on christmas eve. you knew he could never turn it down, no matter how much he tried.

logan could never say no to a smoke break with a nice pack of cubans. and he most certainly couldn’t say no to you.

that's how you decided upon this whole scheme. dolling yourself up and donning a new set of lingerie themed to the occasion, knowing logan had no leg to stand on. because technically, you didn’t buy anything for him. you bought this for you. he just so happened to be the person who was going to help take it off.

or rip it off, knowing your man’s track record of impatience and eagerness.

you share the exact same sentiment, though your tendency to be anile overpowers all else. you know it doesn’t matter if you have a hair or two out of place, or if your lips are slightly over lined. perfection never mattered to logan, but it still didn’t stop you from doing everything in your power to be pretty damn close to it tonight.

even if it meant making him wait a few extra minutes.

you pay your reflection one final glance before sauntering out into the bedroom.

he smells you before he hears you.

your scent wafting into the room captures his attention more than anything else. logan’s senses may not be as keen as they once were, but the fragrance of you was something utterly unmistakable. a sweet yet sultry aroma that he ached to have on his skin, his clothes, anywhere, to keep him grounded. to remind himself that you were real and you were his. it only adds to the anticipation building inside, the mere seconds he has to wait dragging on like hours in his mind.

a wave of lust overtakes you as logan comes into view. somehow just the sight of him is enough to send a bout of arousal down to your core.

that crisp white dress shirt he always wears is unbuttoned at the top, sleeves rolled up to reveal those chiseled forearms you love to have wrapped around you. the soft glow of the lamp on the bedside table illuminates the weathered curves of his face so beautifully. a contrast to the ruggedness of his position; legs lazily spread wide and long, thick fingers tapping mindlessly against his thigh.

the picture of a real man. and he’s all yours for the taking.

the sound of your footsteps padding against the floor grows louder. obediently, logan’s eyes stay shut, despite the fact that the other aroma you carry is hot and heavy in his nostrils. his upper lip twitches with a knowing smirk.

so this is exactly what he had in mind.

on instinct, his thighs spread even further when he senses your approach, hands itching to find their place on you somehow. when your own stay glued to your sides, he takes that as his cue to do the same.

logan really hates to admit it, but there’s something about this little bit of mystery that’s got him going before you’ve even begun.

“you ready?” your voice comes out breathy, and if logan didn’t know any better he’d think you’re nervous. and truth be told, you were. not that logan wouldn’t get his kicks, you were certain of that. more so that you’d be unable to walk come tomorrow morning.

though neither of you would consider it a bad thing

“yes ma’am,” he grumbles in response, knowing exactly the effect it has on you. the cockiness on his face is inevitable when he hears your breath hitch.

tease. if that’s how he wants to play, you’re in for a long night.

with a quiet sigh, you splay your fingers over the expanse of his broad shoulders. the man takes it as permission, calloused palms wrapping around your calves and not daring to travel any further. he knows he’ll lose any remaining self control if he gets so much as an inch closer to the apex of your thighs.

“okay.” you murmur. “you can open your eyes.”

slowly, those dark irises begin to drink you in. his grip on you tightens as soon as he gets the whole picture, a visible tent forming in his dress slacks almost immediately.

logan thought you were the most beautiful women he’s ever seen under any conditions. didn’t matter if you were sick, if you were bare faced, none of that changed how otherworldly you looked in his eyes. but nothing, and i mean nothing, compared to the sight of you before him right now.

you look like something out of a dream. hair styled in a way that drives him particularly crazy, makeup done to highlight your features so elegantly in the dim light. the best, and quite possibly logan’s favorite part, however, is that your lips are painted a shade of red to perfectly match the ensemble adorning your body. it sparks a slideshow of rather lewd images in his brain, wanting the color scattered across his cheek, his chest, his cock. anywhere you’re willing to brand him.

he’s committed every inch of you to memory by now. countless nights of exploring, mapping out your curves with hand and tongue. and still, everytime he sees you like this, practically offering yourself on a silver platter, he can’t help but stare back as though this is the very first time.

especially when that crimson silk is accentuating your figure so nicely.

“do you like it?” you ask coyly, bottom lip tucked between your teeth like you’re not fully aware of the power you have over him.

logan scoffs out a laugh, dragging his hands higher and higher until they tug at your hips, pulling you to straddle his lap in one swift motion. you squeak at the sudden display of strength, forgetting that despite his age, he was still infinitely stronger than any man you’ve ever met.

even beneath the layers of fabric between you, the sheer size of him was impossible to ignore. fuck, and he wasn’t even fully hard. you bite back a moan at the outline of his length pressed between your legs.

“that answer your question?” he quips back lowly, smirking smugly.

you hum in content, pressing your hands further into his shoulders as you experimentally grind your hips. the pair of you preen at the contact, desperate for any form of relief after being pent up and waiting.

“careful,” logan grits out in warning. “gonna cum in my pants like a fuckin’ teenager if you keep that up.”

you tsk in response, cocking your head with faux concern. “can’t have that, now can we?”

logan shakes his head at your antics, eyes wandering back over your body once more. before tonight, his favorite set of lingerie you owned was a black lacy number. simple and classic. but the more time he spends inspecting what’s currently adorning your frame, the more he thinks that red might be his new favorite color.

something warm spills over him when he glances at your chest again. something different than what he normally experiences every time he catches a glimpse of your cleavage, anyways.

“is that a bow?” he questions, a little bit amused.

you let out a soft giggle, nodding in reply.

“wanted you to be able to unwrap your present.”

you can count the amount of times logan has laughed, really truly laughed, on one hand. and as much as it sounds like music to your ears, you’re rather confused as to why he’s laughing right now.

“what’s so funny?” you huff, brows knit together and bottom lip jutted in a near pout.

logan averts your inquiry, burying his face in your neck so you can’t see him grinning like an idiot. instead, he busies himself with dragging his lips up and down the column of your throat, reveling in the breathy moans spilling from your lips with each and every press against your skin.

from the moment you met logan howlett, you fantasized about that salt and pepper beard. longed to feel the delicious sting of scruff against every part of you. as addicting as it is, the sensation isn’t enough to keep you completely distracted.

“logan,” you whine, titling your head back to grant him more access. “m’serious.”

he doesn’t halt his ministrations, too consumed with making sure your neck is painted every shade of lavender under the sun. he only stops when you rake your fingers in his hair and physically pull him off, much to both your dismays.

you give him a look. that pursed lips, narrow eyed “what aren’t you saying to me” look that signals he’s going to have to fess up to whatever’s on his mind, or else the evening would be coming to an end right here and now. from the way he’s about to burst through the zipper on his dress slacks, you know he’s not considering weighing options.

logan sighs heavily. if you didn’t know all the variations of the sound, you’d think he was upset with you. but that was far from how the older man felt. he begins to examine your face, observing everything from the slopes of your bone structure, to the color of your irises. he studies your features like an artisan in a gallery, content on not missing a single detail.

after a moment, the corners of his mouth turn up a hair. eyes almost dopey; filled with a lovesickness he never thought could be possible.

“you’re somethin’ else, y’know that?” he murmurs into the air, rough fingertips tracing back and forth across your spine.

you speak the language of logan fluently, knowing exactly what the underlying message of his words were. in reality, he was saying, “what did i do in this life to deserve you? will you ever know how much i love you? i hope you’ll be mine for as long as you’ll have me.”

suddenly his round of laughter from before rings brighter in your ears.

instead of saying another word, you guide his face to yours, connecting your lips in a silent understanding.

logan always kisses you like a man starved, devouring you whole as though every kiss may be the last. there was nothing tame, or tender about the man they once called the wolverine, but you managed to slip between the cracks of his stony disposition, and bring forth all the parts of himself he swore he lost decades ago.

your hands encircle around the back of his neck, logan’s squeezing at the flesh of your hips. he pulls you impossibly closer, pressing the swell of your chest against his own. the feeling of your nipples pebbling through velvet fabric reminds him of the true nature of your current situation.

tonight was for him. his pleasure, his enjoyment. he knew you’d be heavily dissatisfied if he didn’t indulge in what you were offering.

and what kind of man would logan be, if he disappointed his sweet girl?

you’re not expecting him to be so gentle when he turns and flips you over, mouth never once leaving yours. a large hand spread across your back as he lowers you down onto the mattress with a care reserved for you and only you. a fact that adds to your current state of arousal. your legs open like second nature, and logan slots himself between them as though that’s where he was always meant to be.

the whine that leaves you when he pulls away would be embarrassing if it weren’t for the hunger in his stare. those normally hazel pupils now a brownish black that overshadowed bright white. he sits back on his haunches, glazing over your pretty little lingerie with a newfound appreciation.

he reaches to toy with the end of the bow tied snugly between your breasts, a teasing invitation that he graciously accepts.

at a tantalizing pace, he begins to unwrap his present, watching with lustful eyes as more and more skin becomes exposed. you arch your back the slightest bit to get the job done faster, the shoe of impatience now snug on your foot instead of his.

normally, logan would scold, spit something about “being a good girl and waiting.” but he’s just as riled up and eager as you are, and he gives the velvet one final tug that has your breasts springing free.

god you were absolute perfection.

he can’t resist running a thumb over your erect nipples, reveling in the way you squirm over such a small touch. your color coated lips swollen and shiny from his kisses. body already relaxed and pliant, willing to do whatever he so pleases.

a few minutes ago, he would’ve torn your outfit off without second thought and shown no mercy. let the shitty week he was having take control, guide him through the motions of achieving pleasure. but something inside logan urges him to be a little sentimental; take his sweet time on the off chance that he wakes up and discovers this was all a dream.

so he decides that’s exactly what he’s going to do.

the path down to your core was a familiar one, a route he knew like the back of his hand. sloppy, wet kisses trail down your stomach, a small crack in logan’s otherwise composed exterior. by the time he reaches the hem of your panties, tongue teasing beneath the waistband, you’re bursting at the seams with desire, unable to stop yourself from whimpering and bucking your hips upward.

“i gotcha honey,” he whispers against the inside of your thigh, rubbing soft circles with his thumb. “m’gonna take real good care of ya.”

logan knew you were soaked the second you walked into the room. didn’t need to see or feel it to know. still, he indulges his ego and stares proudly at the dark patch in the center of your underwear. knowing it was all his doing, that he was the only one who could get you like this.

when he pulls the fabric to the side and is met with your glistening folds, he can’t help the groan that rumbles in his chest.

“merry fuckin’ christmas to me,” he all but growls before diving right in.

it’s in moments like these where he wishes that photographic memory was his mutation, though he doubts he’ll ever forget this. his perfect girl, laid out so delicately beneath him, basking in the pale moonlight that seeped in between the curtains. his own personal utopia, paradise within the four walls of this rickety building you called home.

logan wonders if maybe he’s finally succumbed to the poison in his bones. because this sure does feel like heaven.

at the very least, it most definitely feels like christmas.

because having the privilege of watching you come undone was the gift that kept on giving all year round.

thanks for reading! <3

taglist: @alastor-simp @j4desblurbs @pandapetals @hextech-bros

!! if you would like to be tagged in the rest of the ficmas blurbs, please send me an inbox message or leave a comment !!

[ohmyletter]

𝐍𝐀𝐕𝐈𝐆𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍.

𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 | 𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐦𝐩𝐭𝐬 | 𝐫𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭 𝐠𝐮𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐞𝐬

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

[magefelixir]

my life after leaving the scream fandom

[snekdood]

i mean i should probably stop saying shit just to be mean

[memethebum]

*taps microphone* happy @soulxmakaweek bitches, bros, and non-binary hoes!!

Got a hospital fluff-ish fic for Day 1: Devotion hehe

————————————————————————

Soul was no stranger to self-worth issues, but this particular situation appeared to shoot towards the top of his Why I Hate Myself list.

Kim’s solemn expression while giving him and Maka basic treatment only appeared to solidify that fact before the heavy layers of bandages across his body and the stiff mattress of the hospital bed caused his thoughts to linger through the quiet evening.

Know your place Giriko’s words cut through Soul’s head while he tried not to stare at Maka, although he could tell she was already aware of his dilemma after probing their link for a few minutes.

“Don’t,” the Deathscythe murmured as Maka began to roll out of bed, causing his partner to give him a flat stare.

As if you’d listen to me if I said that he could practically hear her think through their murky connection as she gripped onto the wall and jumped forward each step.

Their hospital beds weren’t too far apart, allowing Maka to quickly plop onto the empty space of his mattress with a huff.

“Hey,” she mumbled through a weak smile before Soul slowly tucked a few of her bangs away from her face.

“Hi,” he chuckled while his partner laced their fingers together. She then carefully rested her head against his chest, causing Soul’s body to relax as they both let out a sigh in content.

“I already miss my bed,” Maka sighed onto his neck before he let out a low snort.

“Yea, but we’ll have to make due for at least a week after the ass whoopin’ we got,” Soul joked, earning him a quizzical stare from Maka.

“What?” the Deathscythe questioned, although he immediately regretted the decision after feeling his partner gently rake her palm across the bandaged wound Giriko had given him.

“He was dumb Soul,” she whispered before tapping a finger against the tip of the gauze.

“Dumb but not wrong,” he huffed back once realizing that he couldn’t rope his way out of the situation.

“What kinda’ Deathscythe am I if I couldn’t even hold my own ground? Not to mention how the black blood has me running in circles sometimes, the way I always have to wait n’ see what you wanna do in a fight, and still can’t deal with not being as great as We-,” Soul lamented before biting his tongue once realizing how he was about to bring up his life before moving to Death City.

However, if Maka caught on to his mistake, she didn’t seem to be all that interested in squeezing any new information out of him.

Instead, she shifted her hand once more and laid it flat on the center of Soul’s chest, causing his cheeks to redden from the gesture before remembering how she’d done the same thing when he’d first gotten the discolored scar etched across his body.

“You haven’t been scrambling around by yourself y’know,” Maka murmured, forcing the Deathscythe to focus on the way her eyes seemed to have been glossed over while she mapped out both his new scar and the old one.

He then took a moment to survey the blotched bruises against Maka’s neck and the multitude of cuts against her arms and legs before pausing for a second and then letting out a chuckle.

Guess that bastard was on to somethin’ Soul thought as it dawned on him how much his place had become her place ever since he’d laid his soul out to her when they’d first introduced themselves.

He’d thought running away from his past was possible, but being able to take in Maka’s disheveled yet resolute appearance time and time again had slowly shown the Deathscythe how he’d interlocked their pain and experiences together.

The impromptu wake up call had also elicited a small flicker of hope for finally being able to share his past with Maka without feeling like a failure or coward, although he supposed that could wait until they weren’t getting hospitalized every other Tuesday.

Guess I gotta build up a lil’ more courage until then Soul thought before snaking one of his arms around Maka and letting his face fall onto the soft expanse of her scalp.

“That sounds familiar,” the Deathscythe heard his partner exclaim before realizing he’d been humming out loud.

“Erm, yea…thought it might calm our nerves,” he murmured, eliciting Maka to release a sigh in understanding.

He’d ask Sid about some basic self-defense lessons later on, but for now he was more than content with allowing himself to absorb the warmth, hurt, and comfort he and Maka were collectively radiating.

[disruptxrr]

hellooo my darling how have u been today??? <3

hiiii, today i felt pretty awful but i'm way better now. sorry i took so long to answer this i forgot :( i think it's sweet that you asked how my day is going. i hope u had a great day i luv u <3