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ethanhoewke · 8 hours ago

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every man gets his wish

old man logan howlett x f!reader

18+ only

cw : smut, beard burn, fingering, cigar, smoke shotgunning, kissing, praise, aftercare,breeding, claws. Written with Old man Logan in mind, the version is up to you.

wc : 1,4k

Obligatory 'English is not my first language', and this is my first fanfiction

@nymphomatique helped bring this fic to life, thank you diva ❤︎

my twitter account is @yacinehowlett

you were in bed, asleep, when you felt him grinding against you. Logan had promised last night to have some alone time with you after he finished cutting up logs of wood for your shared cabin, the reserve by the fireplace had gotten low. you hadn’t been intimate with him in a few days, and had both started missing each other’s bodies deeply, but never having the time to satiate your mutual cravings. when he had finally gotten back to the bedroom, he had found you pretty much in your dreams, succumbing to the likes of a heavy slumber. so, he just set his hat, jacket and pants on the coat rack, and just joined you in bed in his tank top and boxers.

you faintly remember him carefully bringing your head to lay on his chest. you had stirred and tried to slide your hand under the waistband of his underwear, ready to show him how grateful you were for his return— sleep be damned. that brought a smile on his lips, but he gently stopped your hand and brought it to his lips to kiss it, and whispered we’ll have plenty of time tomorrow love, before bringing it back to his chest. you muttered a half-hearted token of protest, but didn’t push any further and just fell asleep once more in his embrace.

the sun had started to rise and soft rays started to peek through the blinds, when you felt Logan’s beard scratching your jaw while he was busy laying kisses on your neck, his hips slowly grinding on your side. you rubbed your eyes and felt your body slowly heat up to his touch, your morning drowsiness beginning to wane.

he mumbled a soft good morning sweetheart before trailing his fingers up your nightgown. Logan was big, and liked your pussy wet and welcoming for him, so he usually enjoyed giving you a release before he entered you. he continued peppering soft kisses all over your swanlike neck and as he reached his index finger just to the side of your nub, grazing it gently, as you let out soft little moans, signaling to him that his attention is welcome.

his fingers remained on your folds, rubbing circles as your breath quickened in pace and deepened in intensity. he accelerated the speed of his fingers as he brought his mouth to your lips and sucked in your moans, his tongue slipping inside , making out in tandem with his hand’s movements. his beard pleasantly scratched around your mouth, as your panting grew louder and louder before you clutched his unoccupied arm very tightly. feeling your peak imminent, Logan removed lips from yours to give you more space to breathe but continued to mutter soft little praises and sweet nothings to help you along. come for me love, he whispered in your ear as your hips bore down. your back arched and your body became as rigid as a drawn bow string as you cried out his name.

after stroking you through the afterglow, he quickly shed his boxers off and crawled between your legs, lifting your right leg with his knee and entered you with one deep thrust. Logan could feel your pulsating cunt around his cock, wet and willing. you whimpered due to the abruptness, still reeling from your first peak. he started giving small and shallow experimental thrusts to give your body time to adjust, stilling as he finally bottomed out. he leaned down to get a few more kisses from you and bring you back to him, as you finish riding the wave of your first orgasm, wanting to crest another from you. he also didn't want to completely embarrass himself and cum early. he was an old man, and slowly but surely his age was starting to show, making it harder some days to keep up with you in the bedroom.

as he felt your earlier sensitivity completely disappear, he continued working back and forth, gradually thrusting harder and harder. he felt your adorable little sounds work their way out from your lungs and into the light air of your bedroom again. Logan brought one hand to your pearl to rub it, and the other reached towards the bedside table and brought a cigar to his lips, lighting it up without stopping his movements. once safely locked between his lips, he used both arms to lift your legs and adjust his angle and began sliding in and out again, rocking his hips to the wet sounds of your pussy.

he had reached the point where he could come at any moment, the silver of his claws through his knuckles threatening to come out, but he wanted to feel you clench around him first. he leaned down again and started to blow smoke in your face, the subtle buzz of the nicotine igniting your nerves and firing them into overdrive to encourage you to another peak, but this time there was no name uttered from you, just soft little oh’s, whispered over and over again until Logan took a big drag from his cigar and locked lips with you to blow the smoke in your mouth as you shrieked in a high note and felt your insides grip him tightly, finally allowing him to coat your walls as he let out a rough, low groan, pinning his claws to the wooden headboard.

Logan rested on top of you, elbows planted on your side as to not crush you, but not removing himself from inside you until he fully softened. he reeled his claws back in and gently pushed himself to your side and brought your body against his once more, gently stroking your back to help you come back from your sweeter and softer, but no less pleasurable second orgasm. when he felt you get comfortable again, he removed himself from the bed to retrieve a towel and a damp washcloth, before returning to wipe the leftover seed that overflowed from the soft valley of your thighs. Logan put all of the pillows on the bed around your head, before putting his underwear and pants back on, walking to leave the cabin and retrieve water from the well, logs to feed the bedroom’s hearth, and a couple of eggs from the chicken’s coop.

he joined you back in bed 20 minutes later, this time with a cup of water, and an omelet with bacon for breakfast he sat down in front of you as he lit up the fireplace. he joined you back under the covers, as your eyes stirred to life again, feeling the bundle of warmth next to you. Logan always ran warm. “how’re you feeling darling?” he asks while taking another drag from his cigar. once he feels your pupils on him, he caresses the redness from the beard burn around your mouth.

“good. thirsty. oh, and we need a new headboard, one with less claw marks preferably,” you tease, liking how he sometimes loses control of them during a particularly good orgasm. Logan brings up the cup of water to your mouth and retorts “I built this whole damn cabin myself, I can handle a little wooden headboard. lumber is not what we lack around here, love.” h wa e settles the cup back on the nightstand and stubs out the remainder of his cigar on the ashtray there, before coming to rub small circles around your belly.

you had both started trying for a baby recently, with Logan building furniture for a nursery in the spare room. this relationship had come a long way, from him stepping out of his place with a shotgun, demanding you to explain what you were doing on his porch when you had just wanted to introduce yourself to your new neighbor after moving to the only other cabin around these woods— a cabin that you now both use for storage since you spend all your time here anyway.

Logan was at first reluctant to have a child at his age. his hair and beard were now fully gray, even though his healing factor was still alive and kicking, he could still have at least a couple of decades left on this Earth. and what better way than to spend them building a family with you? well, he couldn’t think of a better retirement. the future seemed promising with you here by his side.

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ethanhoewke · 2 days ago

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A Necessary Conversation

Pairing: Logan Howlett (X2) x Reader

Tropes: Shy girl, flirty guy

Warnings: Kissing

Other tags: Logan being hot, reader is a mutant but there are no details about what her mutation is/does, nobody good dies bc I said so, fuck Stryker tho, mention of reader almost falling off the Statue of Liberty in X1, mention of reader shaving her legs (is that even something I need to add HELP LMAO), Logan being vulnerable

Background: You’re a mutant living at the x-mansion and you’ve had eyes on Logan ever since he first arrived.

Description: Logan returns from his solo trip to Alkali Lake and you greet him at the door. You manage to embarrass yourself, but thankfully you get interrupted by Marie. Later, you run into Logan again, but before the conversation can go too far, you’re interrupted by Stryker showing up at the mansion. When the dust finally settles, you and Logan finally get the chance to talk.

You’d been waiting for Logan to come back since the day he left. He’d given you his dog tags the day he left, asking you to keep them safe for him. Since then, you've carried them with you everywhere.

While you were in your room working on something that Charles wanted you to take a look at, you swore you could hear the sound of Scott’s motorcycle outside. That couldn’t be, Logan had taken it for his trip. There was no way.

Getting up from where you’d been sitting in your bed, you made your way over to the window and peeked out. When you saw Logan climbing off of the motorcycle, your eyes lit up. Unable to help yourself, you rushed out of your room and down the hall. As you reached the steps, you went down two at a time.

By the time you made it to the front door, Logan was standing there, his bag still slung over his shoulder. He looked just the same as he had when he left, which was really no surprise. When he spotted you, he gave you a small smile.

You ran towards him, nearly tackling him in a bear hug. Your arms wrapped over his shoulders, while his responded by wrapping around your waist. Not wanting to be clingy, you let go before too much time could pass.

“You miss me?” He asked with a smile, which, knowing Logan, was really more of a smirk.

“We all did,” you replied, not wanting to make it seem like you had missed him any more than anyone else, even if you had.

“How have things been here?” He hummed, tilting his head as he waited for your answer.

“Same as always, chaotic,” you joked. “Last week, a kid blew a hole through the wall in the kitchen by accident when he sneezed. How was your trip? You find what you were looking for?” You asked curiously.

“Kinda,” he shrugged, “I’ve gotta talk to Chuck about it. How have you been?” He questioned.

“I’ve been alright,” you replied. “I’ve been working on something Charles wanted me to take a look at. So far, I haven’t been able to get too far with it, but I’ve got a few more ideas to try before I give up.”

Logan nodded as you spoke, seemingly interested in what you were saying.

“Oh, before I forget,” you hummed, “I have something for you.” Before he could ask what it was, you raised your arm and smacked him on the chest. You tried not to let your thoughts linger on how much muscle was there. “That’s for being gone so long.”

“That your way of saying you missed me?” He teased.

“Okay, maybe I did miss you, just a little,” you relented, crossing your arms.

“Just a little?” He raised a brow. “You’re killing me, sweetheart.”

“Fine, maybe more than a little,” you huffed. “I even started missing those little tufts of hair that look like cat ears,” you joked.

“I’ve been here for less than ten minutes and you’re already insulting me,” Logan sighed, feigning offense.

“I’m just messing with you. Your hair is fine, Logan. It’s honestly more than fine, it’s good, it suits you,” you began to ramble, as if you couldn’t stop yourself from letting the words come out of your mouth. “You look good, too, not just your hair. I mean, you’re a good looking guy-” Before you could continue, Logan cut you off by clearing his throat.

“Are you flirting with me right now?” He grinned, exposing the sharp points of his canine. That just shouldn’t be allowed when you’re already flustered. Not when his smile looked like a smirk and it basically invited you to kiss him.

“What?” You asked, trying to seem nonchalant. You could feel your cheeks heating up from his question. “Psh, no,” you shook your head. “Me? Flirt? No, not at all.”

“Maybe you should,” he shrugged, once again tilting his head.

You didn’t even have time to process his words- nevermind reply- when Marie made her way over, greeting Logan. You took that as your opportunity to excuse yourself, running off to your room to try and sort out what Logan must’ve meant.

================

For the rest of the day, you hadn’t seen Logan again. But he had said he needed to talk to Charles, so you were sure he was busy with that, along with unpacking and being greeted by everyone.

That led you to now. You sat in the kitchen eating some Doritos when Logan walked in. He wore a tank top and some jeans, and you decided that there really should be a law against his arms being exposed.

“Hey,” you greeted, nodding your head at him as he took a few more steps into the kitchen.

He gave you a grunt in reply, which wasn’t all that unusual. He certainly wasn’t the most talkative man. You watched as he started looking around in the fridge.

“If you’re looking for a beer, there isn’t any,” you chuckled. “This is a school,” you reminded him. “There’s some Dr.Pepper in there, though.”

Logan sighed, but grabbed a bottle of the soda and closed the fridge. He turned towards you and leaned against the counter, popping the bottle open.

“What’re you doing down here so late?” He spoke before taking a sip from his soda.

“Didn’t feel like sleeping,” you hummed, then nodded to your laptop that lay on the counter next to you. “Plus, I was still working on that project Charles gave me until about ten minutes ago. I realized I was too tired to make sense of anything. What’s your excuse?” You joked.

“Couldn’t sleep,” he answered, reaching over to take a chip from your bowl and eat it.

“Can I ask you something?” You started, leaning your head on one hand.

“Shoot,” he replied with a small nod.

“What did you mean earlier?” Your voice was small, nervous. “When you said I should flirt with you?”

Instead of replying, Logan held a hand up at you. He furrowed his brows and you could see his ears perking up. You’d seen him do it before, and you knew he must hear something that he was concerned about.

Next thing you knew, you were ducking behind the counter while a gun went off overhead.

================

You were relieved that things were over. You’d found out a lot, about Logan and Alkali lake, about Stryker. It was just a weight being lifted when the dust settled. Now, you took the chance to relax a little. You’d found a nice tree outside the mansion and laid a blanket down to sit on. It was peaceful, and that was what you really needed right now.

As you sat with your back against the tree, you caught movement out of the corner of your eyes and turned your head to see what it was. It was Logan, walking towards you with his hands tucked in his pockets.

“How’d you know where I was?” You asked curiously once he was close enough to talk to without shouting.

Instead of replying with words, he just pointed to his nose.

“Right,” you nodded with a smile, “Can’t hide from the guy with the nose of a bloodhound.”

“That, and Scott told me when I asked if he’d seen you,” he smiled, sitting down next to you on your blanket and leaning back against the tree.. “What’re you doing out here alone?”

“Trying to decompress from all that shit we went through,” you answered honestly.

“How’re the cuts healing?” He asked, leaning in to get a better look.

During the fighting, you’d managed to cut open your forehead and the bridge of your nose. Luckily, that was the worst of your injuries.

“I’m fine. They’re just superficial,” you shrugged.

“I should’ve killed Stryker years ago, then none of this would’ve happened,” he sighed, blaming himself for the entire situation, along with the cuts on your face.

“Lo, really, I’m fine,” you assured. “Everyone is fine, this isn’t your fault.”

Logan nodded and leaned back again, looking out in the distance in front of the two of you. You did the same, smiling. It was a beautiful day, perfect for relaxing.

“Y’know, we never got the chance to finish our conversation,” Logan stated.

“Yeah, we kinda got interrupted,” you chuckled, trying to ignore the pit of nerves growing in your stomach. “We have time to talk now.”

“You asked me what I meant when I told you that you should flirt with me,” Logan began, turning his head to look at you. “I meant exactly what I said. I wouldn’t mind if you wanted to flirt with me. I’m into you.”

“Oh.” You couldn’t believe what you were hearing. Logan ‘emotionally stunted’ Howlett was confessing his feelings for you, even if he didn’t use so many words to say it. You turned your body so you could fully give him your attention.“I feel the same,” you admitted, your cheeks warming, “I was just too nervous to say anything.”

“I know,” Logan smiled at you, “That’s why I decided to make the first move, even if it did end up making you get a little flustered and run away.”

“In my defense, I didn’t know if you were serious or not. Didn’t know if I should think anything of it, or if I should just brush it off as you teasing me,” you reasoned.

“C’mere,” Logan hummed, gesturing for you to scoot closer to him.

You did as he wanted, and his hand reached up to hold the side of your neck, his fingertips resting in the hair on your nape. His thumb ran over the hinge of your jaw slowly. Using his gentle grip on your neck, he carefully led your face closer to his. His grip was light enough that you could pull away if you wanted to, but there was no way you wanted to.

You weren’t sure how long it took for him to pull you in, but then his lips hit yours. The taste of his cigars was still on his lips as they moved smoothly with yours. He was surprisingly gentle, as if he was trying not to spook you.

One of your hands lifted to hold the side of his face. You smiled softly, feeling the hair that covered his jaw under your fingers and palm.

It was too soon when he pulled back just enough to speak, but he had no chance to get a word out before your lips were once again covering his. Now that you’d had a taste, you couldn’t get enough. He was surprised, but chuckled. He kept his lips moving with yours as he grabbed your hips and led you to straddle his lap.

When you were comfortable on his lap, you slowly pulled your lips away from his.

“Someone’s eager,” he teased, letting out a content hum when both of your hands settled against his chest.

“I’ve waited long enough for this,” you defended with a small smile. “I’ve had eyes for you since you first came here. Then you left, and I had to pine after you the whole time you were gone,” you sighed dramatically, but the smile never left your face.

“You poor thing,” he gave you an overdramatic pout.

“But, that does remind me, I do have something for you,” you hummed.

“If you’re about to hit me again, can I get a warning?” He deadpanned.

“No, I’m serious this time,” you laughed, reaching into your pocket and pulling out Logan’s dog tags. You grabbed one of his hands and placed the chain and tags on his palm. “I believe these belong to you.” You closed his hand and placed a soft kiss on his knuckles.

“Knew they’d be safe with you,” he smiled, not his usual, teasing, grin. It was soft, warm. It felt like the smile came straight from his heart.

He opened his hand and looked at the dog tags. Then, he seemed to make a decision and grabbed them, removing the dog tag attached to the shorter chain. He clasped the shorter chain back together and held it out to you.

You took it, confused on why he was giving it back.

Logan picked up on your confusion- of course he did, the man didn’t miss anything- and spoke.

“If you’re gonna be my girl, I want you to have it,” he answered your confusion as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. “Want you to keep it safe for me for a while longer.”

“I’ll keep it with me all the time, I promise,” you grinned, unable to resist leaning in for another soft kiss. “I’ll keep it safe.”

“And I’ll keep you safe,” Logan replied, pecking your lips. He then placed a gentle kiss to each of the cuts on your face.

“You always have. You did kinda keep me from falling off the Statue of Liberty once,” you joked.

“But I didn’t this time,” he cringed as he looked at the cuts on your face.

“Logan, I’ve had worse injuries from shaving my legs,” you laughed softly. “I promise you, I am absolutely fine.”

“Okay,” he nodded, relaxing as you pressed your forehead to his. “I trust you.”

Logan’s hands on your hips lifted you off his lap and sat you on the blanket next to you. He laid down fully on the blanket, using one arm to prop his head up. You had no time to question it before he opened his other arm for you.

You smiled and laid down on the blanket next to him, tucking your face into his shoulder. In response, he wrapped his arm around you to hold you close.

“I’m glad we talked,” you said softly, tracing random patterns over his chest with your fingers.

“Me too,” he agreed, giving you a squeeze with the arm that was around you.

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ethanhoewke · 3 days ago

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Okay but how about bratting out on cowboy!logan bc he’s not paying you the attention you want and when he tries to reason with you about, the fact that he’s busy and you don’t always deserve his attention, you get all stompy/stroppy trying to walk away, muttering “how bout you just kiss my ass,cowboy” and that.. your damn audacity and attitude.. just pisses him off until he’s got you bent over his lap spanking your cunt and being all mean.

A/N: cowboy!logan, mean!logan, cowgirl!reader, 18+ f!reader, angst, smut, spanking, fingering

The day has been long, filled with the usual chaos of travel and planning. Logan's focus has been firmly on the crew, the upcoming heist, and keeping everyone in line. You, however, have not failed to notice the lack of attention he was paying you, and by the time the campfire is lit and the crew starts settling down for the night, your frustration has reached its peak.

As Logan finishes giving instructions to Scott, he turns to find you sitting by yourself, your arms crossed and a sour look on your face. "What's your problem?" Logan asks, his tone blunt but curious.

You glance up at him, your jaw tightening. "Nothing.” You mutter, though your clipped tone says otherwise.

Logan narrows his eyes. "You wanna try that again?"

You stand abruptly, brushing past him. "How 'bout you just kiss my ass, cowboy.” You toss over your shoulder, your voice dripping with defiance.

Logan's jaw clenches, the audacity of your words striking a nerve. He grabs your wrist before you can get too far, spinning you around to face him. "You wanna repeat that?" He growls, his voice low and dangerous.

You glare up at him, your chin tilting defiantly. "I think you heard me." Logan doesn't waste another second.

Without a word, he sits down on a nearby crate and pulls you over his lap, your shocked protest cut off by the sharp sound of his palm landing against your thigh. You struggle, your hands pushing against his leg, but Logan holds you firmly in place. "Since talkin' don't seem to work with you," He growls, his hand coming down again, "Maybe this'll get through."

Each sharp smack lands with precision, his hand stinging against your bare skin as he has flipped your skirt up. His hand firmly grabs onto the flesh of your ass, spreading you open before he delivers another smack to your bare sex. You gasp, your defiance giving way to soft whimpers as your legs start to tremble. "Thought you'd get away with that mouth, huh?" Logan mutters, his voice rough as he delivers a few more harsh swats to your pussy. "Not with me, darlin." Your protests fade into quiet sniffles, your body going limp across his lap as you finally submit.

When his hand comes back covered in your arousal, Logan can’t resist the urge to taste the slick on his palm and he groans as your sweet flavor coats his tongue. “Dirty little thing getting excited over some smacks. You like angerin’ me, don’t you?” You shake your head, but the moan that escapes your lips as his thumb slides over your slit betrays you. “Sure seems like you do, otherwise you wouldn’t keep needin’ some discipline.” Two thick fingers suddenly push into your wet cunt and you bite your lip to keep from crying out as the others are now asleep. “That fuckin’ attitude isn’t going to work in your favor, darlin’.”

“Lo-Logan,” You cry softly as his fingers are reaching deep into you, pumping slow and steady until his fingertips brush your cervix and your head falls onto his lap, your body shuddering from the pleasure and the mean words that he’s cooing at you. “I’m sorry, pl-please, let me cum.”

“You gonna behave?” He asks, his fingers curling inside you and you nod quickly, whimpering from fear that he’ll stop.

“Yes, I promise!” You say with desperation in your voice, your fingernails digging into his thigh and he laughs, fucking laughs, as he gives your pussy one more smack before stimulating your clit and letting you reach your peak. “Oh, yes!” You sob quietly, muffling yourself with your palm as you writhe on his lap while he holds you steady.

When Logan finally stops, his hand lingers on your lower back, his tone softening. "You done now?"

You nod weakly, your voice trembling. "Yeah...l'm done."

Logan lifts you carefully, sitting you upright on his lap. He tilts your chin up, forcing you to meet his gaze. "You listen to me," He says, his tone firm but not unkind. "You're real pretty, and I care an awful lot about you, but l've got a crew to lead. I can't be at your beck and call every minute of the day."

You swallow hard, your cheeks flushed from a mix of embarrassment and emotion. "I know.” You whisper.

Logan brushes a thumb over your cheek, his voice softening further. "Good. I need you to trust me on this, alright? I ain't gonna let you feel ignored, but there's a lot ridin' on me keepin' this crew together."

You nod again, your eyes shimmering with understanding. "I trust you.” You murmur.

There’s a moment where Logan’s chest tightens because he can see the vulnerability and trust you have for him and he wonders how he managed to drag you into this life of his. His lips are careful when they meet yours in a kiss and you quickly reciprocate, wrapping your arms around his neck and deepening the gesture. Logan’s hands move up your back and squeeze your waist as his tongue finds yours and you moan softly into his mouth. You’ve learned not to expect any heartfelt confessions from the outlaw, but these kisses, these moments, feel close enough.

“You’re mine, darlin’,” He tells you, his voice a quiet growl as he barely separates his lips from yours, listening as you catch your breath. “But this life comes first. Always. You understand that?” You give him a small nod, your forehead resting against his as you sigh. Logan presses a kiss to your temple, holding you close for a moment before letting you go. "Good girl," He mutters. "Now get some rest. We've got a long day ahead."

Oh, cowboy!logan, how I pine for you😩😮‍💨

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ethanhoewke · 3 days ago

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Knock You Down a Peg or Two

Pairing: Husband!Bucky Barnes x Female Reader

Summary: Someone learns the hard way that it's a bad idea to upset Bucky's wife.

Word Count: Over 1.5k

Warnings: Established relationship, violent threats (not against the reader), protective vibes, implied sexy times, Bucky Barnes (he's a warning, okay?).

A/N: I'm in a mood, lovelies. We can consider this in the same universe as Mr. and Mrs. Barnes and Handsome and Beautiful. ❤️ Not beta read and written on my phone, so any and all mistakes are my own. Please follow @navybrat817-sideblog for new fics and notifications. Comments, reblogs, feedback are loved and appreciated!

Bucky was no longer the Winter Soldier. He told himself every day he wasn't a cold killer anymore. He did his best to make amends and worked hard to clear his name. From time to time though, people pushed his buttons and got under his skin. You helped him brush it off. Their opinions didn't matter at the end of the day, only yours.

You mattered to him more than anything else. So, if someone bothers him, yeah, he could let it go. Someone upsetting you? He wouldn't stand for it.

Bucky's eyes narrowed as he spotted the little weasel sitting at the table in the break room alone. A few hours ago, you called him to vent about how this guy repeatedly tried to make you look bad in front of your superior during a meeting. It wasn’t the first time either. Your tears of frustration were obvious by your tone on the other end, though you tried to hide them. You worked hard, harder than anyone else he knew, and you took your job seriously.

He saw red when he heard you sniffle and it was the only color he had seen since then.

“Give me his name.”

“Bucky, no,” you had argued. “The guy’s a prick and I just needed to vent, so you don’t-”

“Please, baby,” he whispered, knowing full well you could handle yourself, but you were his wife and someone took joy out of your day. Not just that, they made you cry. He took this personally and he wanted to defend you. “Just give me his name so I can take care of it.”

You softly gave him the name, and he made it a priority to find the asshole. It didn’t take him long. No one even questioned why he was asking. It must’ve been his “murder strut” and glare. You once said it could break even the strongest of people.

He headed toward the empty chair beside the agent, careful not to make a sound. His stealth assisted with that. Once he reached the chair though, he made it a point to scrap the chair across the floor to get the prick's attention. The annoyance in his eyes quickly shifted to fear when he realized who he was looking at.

Good. He hoped he pissed his pants.

He made a show of slipping off his leather jacket before taking a seat, making sure the agent got a good look at his metal arm. He also made a show of getting one of his knives out, one you gifted him. “I think we can skip the introductions since you know who I am and I really don't give a shit who you are,” he began, his voice low as he twirled the knife between his fingers. “But I understand you know my wife and, well, she’s the reason I’m here.”

The guy blinked when Bucky made eye contact, the blade still expertly weaving in his hand. “S-Sure. Everyone knows your wife.”

Bucky smiled softly, taking a second to glance at his wedding band. “I’m usually not one to brag, but I can’t help it when it comes to her. She works hard and deserves all the praise she gets, but she’s still humble. Appreciative. Loyal,” he boasted, still smiling before he glared again. “She’d never throw anyone under the bus, especially in front of a superior.”

The little weasel cleared his throat, sitting up a bit straighter in his chair. He seemed to notice for the first time that they were the only two people there. “Look, I don’t know what your wife said, but-”

Bucky pointed the blade at him. “I would think very carefully about what comes out of your mouth next,” he snarled, his eyes as cold as ice.

There was a beat of silence as the guy squirmed in his seat and averted his gaze. Bucky wished you were there to see it. And Steve and Sam. “I may have run my mouth a bit. I just wanted to knock her down a peg or two, you know? She keeps getting promoted and…” he swallowed when Bucky’s eyes narrowed to slits. If this fucker even thought about implying that you slept your way to get where you were today, he may actually cut his throat. “Please, don't kill me.”

The silence after that statement may have been uncomfortable for some, but Bucky didn’t break a sweat. No, he was just thinking of all the different ways he could put him in the hospital for even thinking he had a right to put you down. Putting the knife away, he slowly got to his feet. “Get up,” he said quietly, flexing his hands in intimidation.

“Fuck.” The man nearly knocked his chair over as he stood. “Listen, I’m sorry,” he blurted out, putting his hands out in front of him. “I’ll apologize to her first thing tomorrow, I swear.”

“You think that makes up for it? And are you sorry for trying to make her look bad or are you sorry that you’re under my radar now?” Bucky’s stare remained steady as he knocked his chair out of the way, the piece of furniture nearly splintering when it hit the wall. “Everyone knows what I'm capable of, but do you know what happens to people who upset. My. Wife?”

Bucky refused to say that you cried. The asshole might take that as a sign of victory and he wouldn’t give him any sort of win. He didn’t deserve it. He didn't deserve to be in the same space as you.

The guy’s mouth parted as he took a few steps back on shaky legs. “I-It won’t happen again! I swear!”

“No, it won't, but how about I cut your tongue out so you can’t run your mouth again? Maybe pull out your teeth, too?” Bucky knocked the table away next as he advanced. “Or how about your eyes so you won’t look at her either. Hell, I’ll settle for taking your arm. We’ll match.”

The man let out what sounded like a whimper, his teeth nearly chattering from his fear. Scaring people had given him nightmares, haunted him, but it fueled his fire when he terrified anyone in your honor. “I won’t bother her ever again! I’ll tell my boss she deserves another promotion! I'll transfer! You have my word! I’m sorry!”

Bucky laughed after a moment, a bitter, chilling sound before he held up a hand. “I’m just fucking with you.”

His eyes were still wide with fear. “W… What?”

“I was just trying to scare you a little. You should see the look on your face,” Bucky chuckled again, lightly smacking the guy’s cheek. “Listen, you don’t have to transfer and I’m not going to torture you. Just apologize to my girl and we’re good, okay?”

“Okay.” He let out a breath and chuckled, too. “You really won’t torture me?”

“No, I won’t,” he grinned, grabbing his shoulders. “But I will knock you down a peg or two.”

The prick didn’t see the headbutt coming, but he felt it before he hit the ground. Bucky knew he’d feel it in the morning, too. He got off lucky.

“You know, after you apologize to my wife, I hope you do stay so you can see her continue to thrive,” Bucky toed the guy’s body with his boot. “And speaking of, I need to go buy her some flowers, chocolate, and wine. She deserves it.”

Grabbing his jacket from the broken chair across the room and brushing it off, he whistled as he left the room. He waited until he was a good distance away to call. You picked up on the second ring.

“Hey.” You sounded much better than you did earlier. “So, what’s the damage?”

“Hey, baby,” he smiled. “I headbutted the prick. And before you ask, my head feels great.”

The former assassin may get suspended for that and damaging the table and chair, but he doubted the asshole would have the balls to speak up about what happened.

“Bucky…” you sighed. You were probably pinching the bridge of your nose. “What am I gonna do with you?”

“You’re gonna let me eat you for dessert when I get home,” he smirked. Not that he needed an excuse to dive between your legs, but he'd take any chance he had. “Figure I'll give you at least two orgasms before dinner.”

“Is that right, Mr. Barnes?”

“That is right, Mrs. Barnes.”

The sound of your giggle spread warmth through his chest. Your happiness was his happiness. “Better not keep me waiting,” you teased, pausing for a beat. “Thank you.”

“Nothing to thank me for,” he said. You always stuck up for him without question.

“Love you.”

His heart swelled more. “Love you, too.”

He’d have some more explaining to do once he got home and would probably have to pay for the damage he caused. He was also sure that you were plotting the demise of the man’s career and would tell him that he didn’t need to do anything, but he wanted to. He was no longer the Winter Soldier.

But he was your husband and he’d defend you with his life, no matter what.

Violence isn't the answer, but this is fanfiction and we all deserve a loving Bucky. ❤️ Love and thanks for reading! ❤️

Masterlist ⚓ Bucky Barnes Masterlist ⚓ Ko-Fi

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ethanhoewke · 4 days ago

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benson couldve just taken them to the zoo but hes a freak and a mess

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ethanhoewke · 5 days ago

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And then I ask her if everything is okay, I get my answer, the only thing I can say, I say "Yeah, yeah."

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ethanhoewke · 6 days ago

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The Sea Wolf |l. howlett| intro

A/N: pirate!logan, pirate!au, mentions of blood and violence, this will be a co-written series with the lovely @themareverine

The year was 1706 when rumors first reached the far corners of the Caribbean: a new threat had come to terrorize the high seas. No man, they whispered, could do what Captain Logan Howlett had done in his first battle - seize a vessel of war and walk away without so much as a bruise or a scratch. Crew after crew spun tales of a pirate who refused to die, who bled one moment only to stand up strong as ever the next. His ship, the Sea Wolf, soon grew into a seafaring legend, a colossal predator of the waves, fully armed and always hungry for prize and plunder.

From the quarterdeck, in the dim glow of a lantern swinging overhead, Captain Howlett, a tall, broad-shouldered figure with wild, unkempt hair and a thick beard, scanned the horizon with eyes that had seen countless horrors and faced them all unflinching. From between his knuckles, three bone claws glinted ominously, reminders of his lethal prowess. The sight alone was enough to make even veteran pirates think twice before crossing him. No sailor could fully explain the phenomenon of the bones that slid between his fingers before he drove them into an enemy’s chest, nor could they comprehend the speed at which his flesh stitched itself back together in the heat of battle.

Across the Caribbean, Logan’s name grew in infamy. Spanish, English, Dutch, and French privateers alike retreated at the sight of the Sea Wolf’s masts on the horizon, hoping to avoid confrontation with the wild-eyed captain who seemed impossible to wound. Those who attempted to stand their ground seldom returned to confirm the whispers about his uncanny resilience. The man went by many names; The Claw, The Wolf of the Tides, but most commonly, The Dead Captain, they called him, a man who must have been sent by the Devil himself in search of souls to drag down to the burning pits of Hell.

On a stormy night in 1712, the Sea Wolf gave chase to a merchant brig called the Mary-Hope, rumored to be carrying precious silver and exotic spices. To the average crew, the howling wind and towering waves would have signaled caution, if not outright retreat - but for Captain Logan, the storm was merely another advantage. He urged the helmsman to press forward, the ocean spray stinging each crew member’s face like needles.

They caught the Mary-Hope within the hour. Grappling hooks and swinging lines shot across the gap between the ships, and Logan was first across, slashing through the enemy sailors with his bone claws. His roar rose above the storm, a sound that made men drop their swords on the spot. Lightning flashed to reveal the carnage - though outnumbered, the Sea Wolf’s crew pressed on, fueled by the presence of their unbreakable captain.

Despite gunfire and steel at every turn, Logan charged ahead. Several shots tore into his coat, blood appeared on his chest, only to vanish by the time he advanced a few more steps. In less than half an hour, the Mary-Hope’s deck was Captain Howlett’s domain, and its crew surrendered, trembling with fear of the pure animal violence displayed. Wet from both rain and the blood of their fellow seamen, the new prisoners saw firsthand the glare of a man who could not die.

When Logan stood before his own men, surveying the aftermath of battle, they gave him a berth of distance out of both awe and fear. They never voiced open defiance; you didn’t cross a man who survived sabers to the heart and emerged alive minutes later. Yet they admired him just as strongly, for never once had Logan asked of them something he wasn’t prepared to do himself. In the thick of combat, he was first to board an enemy ship, first to wade into the chaos of grapeshot and swords. If anyone fell injured, he was the one to haul them back, bellowing over the roar of cannons.

These loyalties ran deeper than the typical bonds of pirate crews; somewhere between terror and respect lay the secret admiration they held for their captain. They saw him as a force of nature, a phenomenon more than a man, and in their whisperings below deck, they spoke with hushed tones of Logan’s “devilish healing” - some calling it a blessing, others a curse.

By the 1720s, Captain Howlett’s reputation had grown so fierce that rival pirate captains considered joining forces against him. His biggest challenge came off the coast of Tortuga when an unlikely alliance of English frigates and Spanish corvettes lay in wait. The Sea Wolf cut through the blockade like a shark among minnows. Cannons thundered from both sides, smoke cloaking the azure water in a haze of black and gray.

In the midst of it all, Logan roared commands - his voice a razor through the din of cannon fire - and flung himself across one of the enemy ships. His bone claws, raw and dripping, tore down sailors faster than they could muster a counterattack. Musket balls ripped through his coat, and cutlasses slashed across his arms and torso, yet he refused to fall. Instead, he fought harder, red mist swirling where he should have been fatally wounded.

One by one, the allied ships either surrendered or were scuttled, terrified by the unstoppable fury they had attempted to cage. The Sea Wolf rumbled onward, battered but intact, led by a captain who stood upon the quarterdeck, muscles coiled, clothes stained with soot and blood but body miraculously unbroken.

By 1726, the pirate courts whispered that Captain Howlett had amassed enough wealth to buy an entire island, perhaps even a small kingdom. Yet his pursuits never seemed to wane - he chased challenge on the seas, not comfort on land. Wherever the Sea Wolf made anchor, locals stared and retreated from the crew’s path, well aware of the horrors those pirates could unleash at a single word from their invincible leader.

Ask any member of the Sea Wolf’s crew about their captain, and they’ll speak in hushed tones, voices wavering between reverence and fear. They admire his raw strength - evident in his rippling arms and the sinewy muscle that flexed whenever his claws unsheathed—but his true power lies in the fierce loyalty he shows them. Though a whirlwind of fury in battle, Captain Howlett insists on fairness: every bit of loot plundered from captured vessels is split in careful shares. Many a pirate has claimed that the Captain’s very presence on deck could still the harshest storm. He stands at the prow in silence, staring out into the horizon, as though in wordless conversation with the sea herself. To his crew, it is in those moments of calm that they sense something almost gentle beneath his hard exterior - like a beast that has found a pack worth protecting. However, loyalty is a two-way street, and betrayal is a sin not easily forgiven aboard the Sea Wolf.

One ill-fated night, an ambitious crew member, Garrett Finch, let greed overtake him. He pocketed several priceless pearls meant for the communal stash. Captain Howlett discovered the theft when the pearls were found hidden in Finch’s hammock, despite the thief’s desperate denial. The Captain’s claws slid out in one smooth, bone-rattling motion. Finch recoiled, horror etched across his face as the wind howled around them. Though he could have cut the man down in a heartbeat, Logan gave him just enough time to comprehend the depth of his treachery. The next few seconds were a blur of roars and screams, blood stained the deck. By the time the crew dared to move again, Finch was on his knees, eyes wide with terror, three ragged slashes across his face and chest. He wasn’t killed outright - Logan’s brutal lesson was meant not only to punish but also to warn. Stripped of any rank or claim on the spoils, Finch was banished at the next port they reached and left as living evidence of The Dead Captain’s cruel justice.

For the rest of the night, nobody spoke a word. The deck glistened wet beneath the stars. Captain Howlett’s temper had subsided almost as quickly as it had erupted. He turned away without fanfare, returning to his post at the helm. The message was clear: no quarter or mercy would be given to those who wronged their brothers aboard the Sea Wolf.

When the Sea Wolf finally reached a place of respite - the infamous safe-haven port of Nassau known for catering to pirates and rogues - spirits on board lifted. Lantern-lit pubs and winding streets thrummed with music and laughter, the air thick with the scent of rum and roast meat. Locals and dock workers bustled, shouting welcomes and offers of fresh water for the ship.

No arrival caused more of a stir than Captain Howlett’s. Women on the balconies waved embroidered handkerchiefs and fluttered their lashes at the rugged man stepping down the gangplank. Despite his wild exterior and the dangerous edge in his eyes, he tipped his head politely at the ladies, a faint ghost of a smile creasing his lips. Some were bold enough to call out, offering a night of comfort or a chance to banish the loneliness they sensed under all that hardened steel. Logan, ever haunted by the storms in his mind, could scarcely focus on such invitations, however. The toll of countless battles and the pursuit of the next treasure weighed on him. Though he might manage a soft-spoken “ma’am” or a short bow, his thoughts drifted, his gaze slipping past them to the open ocean. Deep in his core, he felt more at home among the crashing waves and howling winds than in the warmth of a woman’s embrace. Still, he did not begrudge the attention - at the end of the day, he was a man, a pirate. Logan accepted their eager affections for a night before he returned to the tasks that only he could shoulder.

And so, the Wolf of the Tides continued on, bound by both duty and the siren call of the sea. His bone claws remained a promise and a threat, as likely to save his crew as to punish them if they turned traitor. Yet beneath that stern surface, a flicker of a wounded soul occasionally shone through - his loyalty a testament that true strength goes hand in hand with a fierce determination to protect his own.

Stories still circulate about Captain Logan Howlett of the Sea Wolf. Some sailors say they’ve encountered him in hidden coves, alive and as brash as ever, despite the century that has passed. The only physical difference in the seafarer’s appearance being the thickness and length of his unruly beard and hair, as if he had not aged a day out in the harsh sun on the seas. Others dismiss him as a myth, a cautionary tale invented by superstitious mariners. But if you ask those who felt the dread of his bone claws and saw bullets bounce off his hide, they’ll swear that The Dead Captain was - and perhaps still is - real as the ocean itself, forever roaming the waves in search of the next unstoppable storm.

🏴‍☠️🏴‍☠️🏴‍☠️🏴‍☠️🏴‍☠️🏴‍☠️🏴‍☠️🏴‍☠️🏴‍☠️🏴‍☠️🏴‍☠️🏴‍☠️🏴‍☠️🏴‍☠️🏴‍☠️🏴‍☠️🏴‍☠️🏴‍☠️

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