#lumberjack!james

[shellshocklove]

moanin' & groanin' | logan howlett

pairing/AU: lumberjack!logan howlett/wolverine x inexperienced!female!reader

summery: working for your father's timber business isn't what you saw yourself doing, but when the wolverine comes looking for work it's suddenly not so bad – especially when he can teach you a thing or two.

warnings: this is an 18+ fic so mdni! age gap (in the way that his mutant abilities prolongs his life), swearing, use of pet names, smut, car sex, praise, a little dacryphilia, logan's got a dirty mouth, soft dom!logan, a little size kink (basically logan has a big dick), handjob, fingering, a little manhandling, unprotected sex (don't do it!!), no use of y/n

a/n: um hi! this is my first ever logan fic. i really hope i got him right! not beta read, and barely edited so any mistakes are my own. happy reading! <3

main masterlist / ao3

The pages crinkled under your fingertips as you turned another page. Over the top of your book you could see your father's men milling about, getting the timber ready for another outgoing truck. Day in and day out they worked like flannel-covered ants. 

He wasn't here, your father, leaving you to hold down the fort, or office to be precise, as he  ran errands. "I'll be back before lunch," he'd told you, a hand passing through the sleeve of his tan Carhartt.

The office felt bigger when he wasn't here, like his neuroticism took up twice as much space as he did himself. You looked around the room. It was small, more like a hut than anything else, raised up on cinderblocks. A tiny kitchen lined the front wall, the refrigerator had given out once this month already and something smelled like it had died in there, the white florescent light under the wall cabinets gave you a headache, and the tap drip drip dripped. The table and the mismatched chairs, your father had found at a fleamarked years ago, before you were born most likely, and they wore the wear and tear of years of use. 

Every available surface was covered in papers, and the wooden shelves on the wall dipped in the middle from the weight of the binders. When you were little you'd been afraid the wood would break in two, but they were still standing (hanging?) – maybe they'd stay like that for the rest of eternity for all you knew. Your father's office had only one desk, which made your job as occasional office manager and full-time problem solver, problematic. 

Your father would sit in his chair on one side, while you'd steal one of the mismatched chairs and occupy the other end. If you'd had your way, you wouldn't be working here. The timber business interested you just as much as your father was interested in the disco they played on the radio. "If it ain't the king of rock I don't want to hear it," he usually said and switched the channel. 

But the town was small, and no one was hiring. The summer after you'd finished high school you'd dreamt of moving to the city, but the money had been tight and your father needed you. At least the work, if your father didn't meddle, was relatively easy: answer the phone, type out the invoices and salaries, keep an eye on logistics, and make sure whatever breaks gets fixed. 

The radio hummed at a low volume, one of the singles from Tapestry, as you turned another page of your book. Leaning back in your father's office chair, you glanced at the clock over the door. He should be back by now. Just as the thought crossed your mind, the door swung open.

"Did you need something?" you asked, your book dipping down in your lap. 

Logan raised an eyebrow at you as he walked into the office on heavy steps, that damn cigar hanging out the side of his mouth. "Nice to see you too, princess," he poked jokingly, tugging at his gloves, one finger at a time, and tucking them into his leather belt. 

He sported the same outfit he usually wore; bootcut jeans, a white t-shirt under his flannel and a thicker wool-lined jacket. He must've been sweating in here with that on.

Autumn had claimed the trees and ground months ago, but this morning the frost had covered the ground and bit at the apples of your cheeks. Your breath had come out in swirling plumes when you'd locked yourself in this morning; the first glints of the sun peeking through the windows as it rose over the mountains. The first thing you'd done was crank the heater, and now as you approached midday, you'd shed your sweater long ago while the windows had fogged with condensation. 

The smallest of frowns tugged at your brows, as a heat prickled up your neck to your cheeks. Logan made you a little nervous– not in a bad way, but in a way where your thoughts would wander in his presence, conjuring up scenarios of him and yourself in… comprising positions. Okay, maybe it was in a bad way. But who could blame you when he walked around like that?

He'd arrived only a few months ago, at the tail end of the summer, looking for work. He was strong, stronger than any of the other men working for your father, and although the work was hard, it seemed like he never tired. You didn't know much about him and he kept mostly to himself, hidden away in a cabin up in the mountain, but sometimes you'd see him down at the local bar, nursing a glass of whiskey in one hand and a lit cigar in the other. More than once you'd seen him chatting up Kayla Silverfox, and more than once you'd wished it was you in her place.

"Oof," Logan groaned as he opened the fridge, grabbing his packed lunch and closing it as fast as he could. You appreciated him for that; whatever had died in there should stay in there.

"Yeah," you said, "I'm not cleaning that again, not even for a million bucks."

"Can't blame ya." 

He looked to the table for a second where the guys usually ate their lunches, before he decided to take your usual chair at your father's desk. As he sat down, you pushed the ash tray to his side of the desk, earning you a short smile in thanks as he rested his cigar. It wasn't unusual for him to talk to you on his breaks. 

So, why did you heart beat so fast in your chest?

Because it was the first time you'd been alone.

"So, where's your old man?" he asked and bit into the sandwich he'd packed in an old newspaper.

"Running errands– he should be back soon…" you trailed off.

Logan hummed non-committedly. "So, you're in here sittin' pretty readin' your book while we're out in the cold slavin' away– maybe I should become the boss' daughter."

"Well, it's not easy," you sighed, feigning confidence, "and you gotta be pretty first of all," you front teeth dug into your bottom lip as you tried to hide your nervousness.

"That's true," he grinned, "I ain't got nothin' on you, princess."

Logan held your gaze with intent, and it was like something in the air shifted. It happened sometimes with Logan, like he had this power beaming from him that sucked you in. Erratic wings fluttered in your stomach, and you had to drop your gaze.

"So, how's the book?" he asked, taking another bite of his sandwich.

"Eh," you shrugged, dog-earing the page your were on, before throwing the beat-up paperback on the table. "Too many plot twists– first they're on earth, then there's this virus spreading– so they have to move all of humanity to the moon, but then there's this species that lives under the surface of the moon who they start a war with, but one of the main characters are in love with a moonie– that's what they call them– so, now they're in love and trying to stop the war and…" you shrugged again.

Logan chewed slowly as he nodded his head. "Sounds complicated," he decided, making you let out a small laugh.

"I guess so."

A grin washed over Logan's face at your small laugh, and you felt his gaze roll over you, over your exposed skin. When he looked at you like that, like a predator drooling for a meal, you felt a small damp spot stick to your panties. You watched as his nostrils widened, his jaw clenching shut as a pulsing vein protruded from his neck.

"So, science fiction," he started, clearing his throat, "Didn't know you liked that," he continued between the last bites of his sandwich

"Some kid at the library recommended it," you shrugged, "so I thought I'd try it out. And it's not like it's that far from the truth– we've got mutants."

Logan crumbled the newspaper hard and quick, the sharp sound making you jump. "Yeah," he said, and stood to his feet, "That's true."

He grabbed his burnt out cigar, and threw the ball of newspaper in the trash. You started to wonder if you'd said something wrong, but then he said, "Your father's back," and not even a second later you could see your dad's old truck pull up outside the window.

How did he even know that? 

"Logan– wait," the words just fell out of your mouth before you could even think them through. He hovered by the door, raising a questioning eyebrow at you. 

You could be brave– Just say it! 

"Come by later would you? Before you leave for the day– I have something for you."

A gush of cold air blew in with the arrival of your father. He almost crashed right into Logan on his way out, nearly knocking him down the wooden steps. You thought you could glimpse a small nod from Logan, but he was out the door so fast you couldn't be sure. 

The rest of the day went by slowly as a growing anxiety gnawed at your neck. With your dad back you slipped out to borrow the car, driving into town to pick up some lunch at the local diner. It was routine at this point, something you did without thinking, but today your thoughts couldn't stay still. You were pulling up outside the office when you realized you'd driven the whole way with the radio off.

What was even your plan? 

You wished you were better at this. You could pretend, sure, put on a brave face to hide the nerves from surfacing, but how do you get a man like that to go for a girl like you?

You felt non the wiser when the sun had dipped below the mountains and he finally knocked on the office door. Your dad had left thirty-minutes earlier, stranding you at work with no way to get home. 

If this didn't go well, you didn't look forward to walking home.

"What 's it you wanted, princess," Logan asked, leaning against the frame of the door with one knee popped. Your eyes couldn't help but run down the length of him – his broad shoulders, the bulge hidden below his big belt buckle, and the veins of his exposed arms as he slung his jacket over his shoulder.

"Oh, um," you tried to shake your thoughts, and you rummaged the desk for the envelope. "Here," you said as you found it, stretching your hand out for him to take it.

He pushed off the door frame with a raised eyebrow, the cold air from the open door taking with it the warmth of the office. "What's this?" he questioned, taking the envelope from your hand. 

"It's your check– for this month's work," you explained.

His raised eyebrow pulled into a frown, "This is a week early," he questioned, "and I usually get these sent in the mail."

"Oh, I-I just thought I'd give it to you personally this time," you lied, fitting a shrug at the end for good measure, trying to sell how completely normal and nonchalant you were.

Logan raised a skeptic eyebrow at you, and you suddenly felt really really stupid. In your chest your heart could compete with a hummingbird's.

"Really?" he said with a smile before he dropped his chin, "Can I appreciate a little extra something in here, or…?" he trailed off, waving the envelope.

Letting out a shaky inaudible breath, you tried in your flirtiest voice, "Maybe if you give me a ride home…"

...................

The lights from the town below looked like stars scattered over the night sky, the yellow light of the roads connected them like on a string. You knew that Logan knew where you lived; the town was small, and even with the short time he'd spent here, it wasn't hard to get familiar. He'd stopped at the lookout point, about half-way up the mountain road. It was nice in the daytime, with a nice view of the town, the mountain and rivers, but at night it attracted a different kind of crowd: lovers. It was cheesy, and cliché, but clichés were clichés for a reason. 

The Led Zeppelin tape whirled, and the music stopped. 

Suddenly you felt nervous, fingers picking at a loose tread on your sweater. Logan leaned forward to flip the cassette, and his truck filled with a sound of organ, like you were back in church. When he leaned back he slung his arm over your seat. You watched how he spread his legs, getting comfortable, as his eyes found your face.

Under the wool, your heart picked up its beat.

In a brave move you shifted closer, the leather seat moaning under you, as a pleased smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. His big palm snaked around your shoulder, curling you closer to him until his lips caught your own. You only hesitated for a second before your hand found his neck, where your fingers tugged lightly at the hair at the nape of his neck. 

A low growl huffed against your lips, and he deepened the kiss, pressing himself roughly against you as he licked into your mouth. You couldn't help the small whimper escaping you. His touch was rough, almost impatient, but tender all at the same time, and you felt yourself fall apart.

The air stuck to your skin, clammy and sticky with arousal and now you started to get impatient. With a loud smack you broke apart, your lips raw and spent from use as you caught your breath. A rough hand cupped your cheek, the pad of his thumb skated gently over your skin as he tilted your head towards him.

"Such a pretty little thing," he mused. His eyes had gone dark, pupils huge and filled with lust; yours must've looked about the same as they rolled down his body. He shifted closer to you, pushing you closer to the door, and you got a better view of the bulge hidden behind his jeans.

Your heartbeat pounded in your ears, clogging up the sounds around you like you were underwater, pushing at your thoughts at the back of your mind. Logan moved with such ease, each touch natural and easy, like he'd done them a thousand times. Not like you, with only your short-lived high school boyfriend under your belt. 

"Hey," he shook your head gently, "Where you goin', bub?"

"I'm sorry," you whispered, a heat coating the apples of your cheeks. 

He shook his head, his face surprisingly tender for someone so rough, "Tell me, baby."

"I'm just…" you trailed of, trying to find your words, "I'm a little nervous– I haven't done this much," you said, avoiding his gaze.

"That's sweet, bub." The pad of his thumb rubbed the pet name into your skin as he leaned forward to catch your lips in a soft kiss, "But I wouldn't worry that pretty little head of yours 'bout it."

His breath was hot against your own, and an ache started to spread between your legs. The hand on your cheek travelled downwards to tug at your jacket, and you parted only for a second to rid yourself of it, but before you could lock your lips with his again he grabbed at your hands.

"I'll teach ya," he told you and guided your hands to his broad form. 

He let you touch him as he shucked off his jacket, your fingers dancing over the soft flannel. He was solid beneath your fingers, hard muscles from hard work. A patch of dark hair curled at his chest, peeking out beneath his white shirt, and you found yourself wondering where it lead.

Curling his hand around your wrist, he guided your hand lower; down over his chest where you could feel the solid form of him. His bronze belt buckle burned you like ice, but the heat of him as he pressed your hand to the hard bulge beneath the buckle burned even brighter.

"You feel that?" He looked you straight in the eyes. He pressed your hand down harder and you could feel the shape of him against your hand, hard and thick, and big. You barely managed a nod through the wave of heat coating your cheeks. 

"That's because of you, princess." His voice was low, almost like a growl, as he started to guide your hand to rub over the thick length.

"Me?" you questioned, breathless. 

"Yes, you," he chuckled, a heavy hand petting at your head. "D'you want to take it out? Stroke it f'me?"

"Please," you begged, looking at him with moony eyes through your lashes.

"So polite f'me," he mused, his hands tugging at his belt before he popped the button on his jeans. Slipping off your shoes, you crawled up into the seat, sitting back on your knees as you watched him pull at his jeans. Peeking out from under the denim, you could see a dark patch of hair.

Logan was in no rush, revealing only an inch at a time of the base of his cock, making a show of it as the tension rose. A wave of tickling arousal washed over you, and it made you brave, reaching a trembling hand forward, you helped him tug at the fabric.

At last his cock sprung free.

You felt your eyes widen at the sight, as you involuntarily squeezed your thighs together. Even with your limited experience, you knew he was bigger than most. The thick length of his cock bobbed from the weight, hanging heavy between his legs. At the tip of his fat head, a drop of precum pearled, almost invisible in the dark truck. 

"Come here, bub." He widened his legs as he reached out a strong arm for you, curling you into his shoulder. 

"Put your hand on it," he ordered, "like this," he grabbed at your wrist and guided you hand towards his mouth. You let him move you around, eyes blown out and wide as you couldn't take your eyes off his impressive cock. 

A wet blob of spit pulled you from your thoughts, it drew the slightest frown over your face until he guided your palm, now coated in his spit, to his cock.

Under your palm his skin was silky soft, but hard and firm at the same time. You found yourself mesmerized at the sight of your hand around him as you familiarized yourself with the heaviness of him in your hand. 

"There ya go–" he cut himself off with a groan as you formed a fist around the head of him. Your fingers struggled to reach around him, but it didn't seem like Logan minded much when you moved downwards smearing his spit over his shaft in an experimental tug. 

"That's it, good girl, just like that."

A warmth bloomed in your chest at the praise, wrapping itself around your heart. You wanted him to say it again– to be good for him. So, you reached forward with your other hand, wrapping it around the base as the other formed a fist around the head. Another pearl of precum beaded at the tip, and you took the opportunity to skate your thumb over it, massaging it into his spit.

A growl seemed to get caught in Logan's throat, and still riding off your high that the praise had sown in you, you started to pump his cock in slow strokes. A slick sound escaped under your fists with each stroke, and you watched how his head fell back in pleasure.

"Am-am I doing it right?" you asked, voice barely above a whisper.

At the sound of your voice, Logan sat up straighter, a heavy hand falling over your back to pull you closer. "You're a natural, princess."  

You couldn't contain the smile from coating your lips as he brought you in for another searing kiss. It was hot, and suffocating, and all-consuming, all at the same time. It clouded your mind, and you forgot what your hands were supposed to be doing. 

Logan's hand travelled down your body, his big palm grabbing at your ass. "Take of your pants," he ordered against your lips, "Panties too," underlining his order with a couple of light slaps to the flesh.

Shuffling out of his hold, you fingered at the button of your pants, pulling at them and your panties as quickly as you could. Goosebumps prickled over your exposed skin, the air suddenly frosty without Logan's touch – but that didn't last long.

The calloused pads of his fingers trailed up your thighs, pressing down into the flesh as he pulled you closer to him. "Come sit in my lap, princess."

He didn't wait for you to move, instead he manhandled you how he wanted. Spreading his legs wide apart he fit you between his legs, your back pressed against his hot chest with his hard and leaking cock caged against your ass. 

"I'm gonna touch you now, baby, okay?" his deep voice whispered in your ear.

"Okay," you peeped, heart pounding in your ears at this new proximity. 

He spread your legs, putting your wet and neglected cunt on display, hooking them over his knees. When his palms danced over your inner thighs, you felt yourself sink deeper into his chest, deeper into the safe scent of pine and man. 

"Need to get you ready f'me, bub– stretch this tight cunt out for my big cock," he cooed.

You ached for him, a sticky wet feeling between your legs as you wished so badly for him to finally touch you. His touch was light, but teasing, drawing circles along the thin flesh, circling closer and closer to where you needed his touch the most, before he pulled away. 

"Please," you whined, grabbing at his arm.

His breath felt hot against your neck, and you could feel the grin he pressed against your skin. He let you guide him upwards to hover his large palm over your mound, but he wouldn't let you have it. Instead, he pushed at your sweater. His hand spread across the skin beneath your belly button as prickled goosebumps followed the rough pads as they ran across your skin.

"Y'gonna feel me right here, bub?" he teased, "So deep inside your tummy?"

A whine caught in your throat and you felt like an exposed nerve. Arousal pulsated throughout your body, threatening to pull you apart unless he did something soon. Your neglected cunt dripped with an ache only he could sooth. 

"Yes, please, Logan," you whined, tears threatening to spill.

His thick beard scraped against your cheek, and you almost trembled from anticipation as he slid his hands downwards. He raked his fingers through the curls of your mound, and a gasp fell from your lips when he finally pushed at your clit.

A wide smile reached across your face when he started to circle his fingers, tight with the perfect amount of pressure. Your hips bucked to meet his touch, your cunt eager and dripping for more of him. His other arm clasped around your middle, keeping your still and steady in his lap as he had his way with you.

A bold finger dipped lower, running through your folds and teasing at you entrance. A slick sound filled the car as he played with your cunt, circling his fingers around your hole, dipping a teasing finger inside you just to the first knuckle, before withdrawing it just as quickly. 

"Such a messy pussy," Logan murmured in your ear, the deep bass of his voice vibrating into your skin. "Listen."

The sound as he played with your pussy was obscene, lewd, and so dirty you felt a heat crawl up your chest. A breathy gasp escaped you when he finally split you on his finger, and a satisfied smile coated your lips as he started to move it inside in a steady rhythm, prodding every so often at that spongy spot inside, the spot your own finger couldn't reach.

"F-feels s-so good," you managed to stutter out. 

The heel of his palm pressed against your clit with every thrust, teasing at your insides and conjuring moan after breathy moan from your lips. He guided you closer and closer to the edge, and you wanted so badly to fall. When he pulled out to slide another finger inside you, you felt a tear roll down your cheek with satisfaction.

"I can feel that pussy clenching me– you close, bub?" he poked, never stopping his fingers.

Your head rolled back, resting heavy on his shoulder as you nodded franticly, mouth parted slightly, humming out small breathy whines. You were so close, the tension in your stomach twisting and aching for release.

But then he pulled his fingers, dragging them up over your mound leaving a wet trail in your curls. You couldn't help the disappointed sigh as more tears pressed their way down your cheeks.

"Shh," he hushed you, "you're okay, bub." 

Under you, you felt him move, his strong muscles flexing as he shifted you on his lap. When you felt the blunt head of his cock slide between your folds, an eagerness came upon you. You grinded against him, making a small chuckle rumble from his chest. Logan slapped his heavy cock against your folds, coating his big cock in your slick arousal. 

The first stretch of him knocked the breath right out of you, the fat tip of him splitting you in half as he helped you guide yourself down on him. You had to remember to breathe, your hand fumbling for something to hold on to. 

"Fuck," you whimpered, eyes wide, "I-it's so big– it's t-too big."

His hand wrapped around your middle held you in place, keeping you still on his cock as you adjusted to the first inches of him inside you. 

"It's not too big, princess, you're doing so well f'me," he praised, "just a little more, bub– you can do it."

With a wet whimper you lowered yourself, taking a couple more inches of him, as Logan pressed more fluttering praise into your skin. He let you take your time, easing yourself down on him at your own pace. When your thighs were finally flushed with his, he was so deep inside you, you jolted, trying to move back up, but Logan's hands held you down. You felt him in your tummy, like he'd said, his cock reaching so deep you were shaking.

"Sit still, get used to it," he told you, as you tried to catch your breath, "You're being so good f'me."

And somehow the burning stretch of him soothed away into a pleasurable pressure, one you couldn't help but chase. With an experimental rock of your hips, you felt the fat head of him prod at your spot, making you mewl. And when you started to swivel your hips, Logan groaned in satisfaction, meeting your movement with small thrusts.

Slowly, he picked up his rhythm, strong hands shifted to dig into your hips, holding you in place for him to move you as he wished. In your ear, you heard him growl, deep and animalistic as he fucked up into you.

It didn't take long until your breath came out fast between moans as the pressure built, and built, and built. 

"Logan," you moaned, tethering right on the edge.

Another growl escaped his chest, as his strong arms hooked under your legs. He pressed them tightly to your body as he picked up his pace, bucking wildly into your eager cunt. You could feel him throb inside of you, and you couldn't help but clench at the thought of feeling him spill inside you, claiming you.

"Don't stop, please, don't stop," you begged, tears streaming down your face like two winding rivers, "I-I'm gonna come."

A hand slid between your legs to rub at your puffy clit, coaxing you closer and closer with winding circles. 

"Come on my cock, baby, come all over that big cock."

It was hot, and blinding. Euphoric shocks pulsed through your body, as you fluttered and gushed around his cock. Logan's grip on your legs tightened as you shook violently with your orgasm – a million stars exploded behind your eyes.

"Oh, that's it, bub, such a good girl," he praised between heavy wet pants against your ear.    

Fucking you through your ecstasy, Logan chased his own high at a relentless pace, and all you could do was take it, reduced to a ragdoll in his hands. In your ear he muttered nonsense interlaced with praise, telling you how good you felt, and how perfect you were for him.

With a deep groan he pulled out quickly, tugging at himself until he spilled his thick spend on the truck floor. With bleary eyes you watched how it pumped in quick spurts, dripping down his hand and soiled the knuckles in his own sticky cum. 

Behind you, Logan breathed hard, nudging his nose against the column of your neck to press soft kisses to the hot skin. 

A pair of bright headlights beamed down the road, pulling you from the moment with its blinding light. Logan helped you shift off his lap, reaching to hand you your discarded clothes before he tucked himself back into his jeans. 

The cassette whirled in the car radio, and you couldn't remember when the music had stopped. Logan shifted back behind the wheel and an eerie silence grew in the distance between you.

"How 'bout I take you somewhere to eat?" he posed.

You smiled, "I could eat."

...................

hopefully this was okay? a comment telling me your favorite part is always welcome, and my ask box is always open to chat <3 and thank you for reading!!

© shellshocklove, 2024 i do not give any permission to repost, translate, feed to AI or redistribute any of my writing, with or without credit!

[mrsbarnesblog]

firewood

masterlist ko-fi ao3

Lumberjack! Bucky Barnes x Reader

Summary: When you decide to chop wood in your backyard, your hot neighbor, who happens to be a lumberjack, offers you some help.

Word count: 4.8K

Warnings: +18❗️smut, hot neighbor bucky is a fucking warning, kinda size kink, rough sex, protected sex, dirty talk, pet names

Author's note: this is one of my favorite works, so I hope everyone who hasn't read it before will like it too (it's hard to not fall for lumberjack Bucky, tbh🤷‍♀️)

“Hey, do you need help?” You stopped what you were doing. You breathed heavily, your arms ached, and you were already sweating. The man, your neighbor, whom you already saw a few times when you arrived home, was standing before you with his hands in his jeans pockets. 

He was attractive. Really handsome. Probably 6 feet tall, with broad shoulders and visibly a lot of muscles under the clothes. Yeah, that red henley left nothing for your imagination. His dark hair was put in a low bun, and he had a little stubble on his face. But you mostly noticed his bright blue eyes, which looked straight at you very attentively.

“Sorry, what?” You said as you wiped sweat from your forehead with the sleeve of your shirt. 

“I asked if you needed help. Sorry, but it seems like you have some troubles.” He smiled at you almost shyly, and you couldn’t even make yourself mad at his words. 

“Um, It’s my first time doing it.” You awkwardly smiled back, finally putting a big ax to the ground. “But I need wood for my fireplace, so I have to work with what I have.”

“I see… but don’t you have a boyfriend or a husband? I mean, it’s not really easy to do for a woman, and you seem pretty... petite for this?” It almost sounded like a question. “I wanted to say that I can help you if you allow me, because that thing might be really dangerous if you don’t know how to work with it, and I'm a lumberjack, so... it’s not a problem for me.” He awkwardly started to rub his neck. “I’m Bucky, by the way.”

“For a woman?” You playfully arched an eyebrow. “So you think that only men can do this?” You saw how his eyes widened, and you tried to hold your laughter.

“No, no! That’s not what I meant!” He lifted both hands in the air. “It’s just gonna take you forever to do, and as I said before, It’s not the safest work. And since this is my job, I could’ve helped you. As a neighbor, you know?” 

“Relax, I’m just joking.” You softly smiled at him. “Nice to finally meet you. I’m Y/N.” You reached out your hand. Bucky’s face relaxed, but then his lips curled into a mischievous smile.

“I like you.” He said, as he shook your hand. His grip was tight, and you felt that he really did a lot of physical work with his hands.

“Oh… thanks?” 

“Soo, do you need help?” He asked again.

“Um, honestly, I don’t know. I can’t just let you work for me for free. Can I pay you?”

“Doll, I have enough money, and I don’t need yours. I don’t think that you need tons of firewood, so it would be easy work for me.”

“Okay, but maybe I can give you food? Pastry? I really love to cook, and everyone said that I’m good at it.” You nervously played with your sleeve while Bucky was staring directly at you.

“Deal. I would honestly die for homemade food, ‘cause last time I ate it was at my ma’s and I really miss it. But you don’t have to do this, okay?”

“And you don’t have to help me.” You shot back.

Bucky’s smile grew wider, and he started shaking his head. “You have some temper, doll... Friday is okay?” 

“Yeah, totally, any time you’re free.” 

“Deal. I should probably go, and you better start training to cook food for me. I am really picky, and you insisted on paying me with it.” He said and started to walk back.

“Oh, shut up.” You laughed. “I know what I’m doing; don’t underestimate me!” 

“Fine. See ya, doll.” Bucky waved at you with the biggest smile on his face and finally walked away.

Well, it’s gonna be interesting. 

For the next almost two months, Bucky had been “working” for you, and you paid him with your food every single time because you couldn’t leave that man starving after he just got home from work and then willingly helped you. 

You two got closer. Bucky was a really good man; you found out it while you were sitting in your backyard looking at how his muscles were moving with every swing of the ax. He was right that it wasn't a big deal for him—the job that you would’ve been doing for several hours he did in twenty or thirty minutes. 

The conversation with Bucky was easy, he was a pretty reserved person, but he still told you everything about his job and his friends and asked you things about your life. It was hard not to fall for him. Especially when he gave you this boyish smile every time it was time to say goodbye or when you brought him your homemade food. 

Usually he comes to your house every Friday after work around 6 p.m., but today it was already 8 and he still didn’t show up. There was no light in his windows either, so you became really worried that something serious had happened. 

You were nervously sitting on the bar stool in your kitchen while your dinner was getting cold on the stove. You really had no appetite. What if he got injured from his dangerous work? Or maybe you were just overreacting and he went on a date with someone? You really had no reason to be worried that much because Bucky probably didn’t even think of you as a close friend, and you were just a too dramatic person with attachment issues. 

The light knock on the door scared you a little bit, but you still jumped out of your seat to open it. 

Bucky was standing there, visually perfectly fine and without any injuries, and you sighed with relief. 

“Bucky, oh my god, hi. Are you okay? I was really worried about you, and I don’t even have your phone number to text or call.” You mumbled as your eyes studied his face. 

“Hey, doll.” Bucky softly smiled at you, but it was obvious that he wasn’t really in the mood. “I’m fine. Just a shitty day at work. My boss went fucking crazy over nothing, and it was just a mess.” He ran a hand through his long hair. “But I have to do your firewood, so I'll go change and be back in a few minutes, ‘kay?”

He started to go back, but you caught him by his wrist. “No, Buck, wait. You don’t have to do it right now, really. I have enough wood, and you’re really exhausted. Come in; I have fresh lasagna and chocolate muffins.” 

“Um—are you sure? I mean, you don’t have to.” He mumbled. You noticed that you were still holding his wrist, but decided to leave it that way. 

“Don’t worry, I have enough food, and you look like you really need it. C’mon, don’t you want to eat something homemade and still hot after a bad day at work?” You gave him your best smile, and it was obvious in his eyes that he already agreed to your idea. 

“Okay, we can do that. Honestly, I feel like I’m able to eat a fucking elephant.” 

You both shared a laugh before you almost dragged him into your house and closed the door. Only at that moment did you realize that even though you gave Bucky a lot of food, he had never been at your place before. For some reason, you felt really excited to feed him and spend some time together. 

“Sit here while I’m heating the food.” Bucky obediently took a seat, looking with a soft smile at how you were moving around in your little kitchen.

You looked so domestic and soft in the warm yellow lights of the room in the cute pink cotton dress with little flowers all over it. The concentration was written all over your face as you tried to perfectly set plates and cutlery on the table and then put steaming lasagna on it.

“Fuck, it smells so good; you’re going to kill me, doll.” He wasn’t able to handle the amazing smell of food right in front of him. 

Your cheeks heated, and you waved your hand at him. “It’s just lasagna, Buck; don’t be dramatic.” You took a place near him, and you both started to eat your food. 

“I’m not being dramatic. I already told you that, besides my ma, you have the best food in the world. I could’ve eaten it three times a day for the rest of my life and not gotten tired of it.” He took another big bite, moaning as the taste filled his mouth. 

“You’re making me blush. No one ever told me this.”

“That’s my intention, doll. What, none of your boyfriends complemented your skills? Because I would’ve put the ring on that finger way too fast.” You looked at each other for a few seconds until you noticed that he had already finished his portion. 

“Do you want more?” Ignoring his previous words, you stood up and took his plate to give him some extra food. The dress gently flew around your thighs, drawing Bucky’s attention to your legs when you turned around. “Anyway, what happened at work? You mentioned your boss.”

“Ugh, Pierce is a fucking dipshit. Everyone there hates him, but he has too much money, so we can’t do anything. Me and Steve have really been on bad terms with him since the first day. He tries to tell us how to do our work, but his head is so far up in his ass that he can’t even listen to what we say.” You returned to your place and put a plate in front of Bucky again. The frown took place on his face while he was talking about Pierce, so you put a hand on top of his without even thinking. 

“He sounds like a total asshole. I’m sorry that you guys have to work for him.” Bucky’s face softened at your action. He flipped his hand so he could interlace your fingers, and you felt the warm feeling all over your body. 

You both definitely felt something, but you still stayed silent, enjoying the connection. It was obvious that you had feelings for each other. It was just hard to admit out loud, and, honestly, Bucky was so scared that you might think that he did all of this just to get into your pants. Which is not true. Well, he doesn’t mind, but it’s not his only intention. He wants to treat you right and ask you out on a date. 

Back then, he felt so bold and offered to help you with the firewood with the hope of getting to know you better. Steve and Sam obviously knew about his new “work” and teased him about it all day long. Unfortunately, he still didn’t find the right moment to ask you out. Those times when he came to you on Friday evenings and you were watching him work in your cute dresses or little pajamas were Bucky’s favorites. You looked so soft, cozy, and domestic that he wished to see you like this every day. 

After the last piece of a chocolate muffin disappeared in Bucky’s mouth and he let out a moan of satisfaction, he sat in your kitchen with closed eyes and a smile on his face. 

“If I had to have a shitty day just to get this type of meal at the end of the day, I’m ready for it.”

“Bucky!” You laughed at his dramatic words. “You don’t have to have a bad day. I can feed you just because.” 

“Well, you said it yourself. Now you won’t get rid of me.” You both laughed. Then he suddenly got up and started to put plates in the sink. “You sit, and I’ll wash the dishes.”

“No, Bucky, that’s not how it works!” You got up and caught him by his bicep. Really hard and big bicep. 

“Yes, it is. You’re cooking, then I’m cleaning.” He tried to get away from your grip to turn on the water, but you only held him stronger, now with both of your hands on his arms. 

“Bucky.” When he was standing so close to you, you realized your size and height difference, and it made you shiver. You turned your head up to look him in the eyes. “You are my guest; you shouldn’t do this.”

“My mother taught me to always help women because they are not our maids.” He stepped a little bit closer. “But if you’re saying this only because you want me to leave, I can do that.”

You were both looking at each other, and what you saw in his eyes made you weak in the knees. 

“No, no, I don’t want you to leave.” Your hands moved higher and fell on the sides of his neck. It was everything Bucky needed to finally kiss you.

Two large and rough hands took your face to bring your lips closer to Bucky’s height. He was gentle yet so passionate, and he slowly moved his lips against yours. It was mind-blowing how desperately you wanted him to devour you, to destroy you. While your hands were discovering his broad chest and shoulders, you felt that your body was suddenly lifted in the air and then placed on the kitchen counter.

Now that Bucky didn’t have to lean over to your height, it was easier to kiss you properly. His tongue brushed over your lips to ask for entrance, which you happily gave. Bucky felt too addicted to your taste, your smell, and the feeling of your smaller body against him. It drove him crazy.

“I've wanted to do that since the day I looked at you.” The hands on your hips tightened and moved you closer to his body. “You look so pretty, God.” Bucky’s eyes are running all over your face, trying to memorize every little thing.

“Bucky...” You dragged him closer again, desperate to connect your lips. His large hands wandered all over your body, slightly pulling up your dress and then moving higher and cupping your breasts in them. “I thought you were tired.” His large erection was obvious through his jeans, and you wanted to tease him. 

“I’m never tired for you, doll.” He mumbled against your lips. “I could’ve fucked you right on this table, but I’ll leave it for the next time. Where’s your bedroom?” You didn’t miss the promise to fuck you again, and your body felt ecstatic just because of this thought.

“Up the stairs, second door from the right.” 

Bucky didn’t say a word before your world suddenly moved, and you ended up hanging from his shoulder. Your bare ass was probably right near his face, and you couldn’t help but blush. 

He stormed up the stairs with one hand on your thigh, as if your weight on his shoulder was nothing, and then walked into your main bedroom. 

You were thrown onto your bed, and Bucky stayed in front of you for a few seconds to remember this picture. Swollen lips, eyes full of need, a short dress that pulled up and showed a glimpsing of your white underwear. Yes, you were perfect, and only for him. 

“Come here, Buck.” You raised your hands in his direction, and he obediently climbed on top of you with a smirk on his face.

He sat between your legs, moving his hands up and down the soft skin of your thighs.

“Such a pretty doll for me, in this cute lil’ dress, mm?” His body was hovering over you, and when he found a zipper on the back of your dress, you ended up lying under him only in your white lingerie set in less than a minute. 

The pair of the most beautiful blue eyes devoured your naked body as soon as the piece of clothing was removed, and you had never seen a man look at you this way. Like you were the most beautiful, delicious, and priceless thing in the world. Bucky’s hands gently touched your body from the shoulders to your legs, and you swear that you heard a moan while he was doing it.

“Sweetheart.” He mumbled and leaned to gently kiss the soft skin of your belly, moving with little kisses higher until he reached your lips. “You’re killing me, you know that?” 

“Shut up and kiss me, Barnes.” It was impossible to think straight when his pretty face was right in front of you and his muscular body pushed you deeper into the mattress of your bed. He kissed you as you asked, but it didn’t last long before he pulled away with a grin on his face. You gently brushed his brown locks out of his face and tucked them behind his ears.

“So bossy, dollface... Do I have to fuck this attitude out of you?”

“Mmm, undress, and we’ll see what you are capable of.” You shot back at him, and he just moved away with a smirk on his face. 

In a few seconds, a red henley was thrown somewhere on the floor, and you were face to face with a body that was probably made by the Greek gods. Muscles on muscles, with tanned skin and freckles from the work under the sun. Now you wanted to climb him like a fucking tree.

“Like what you see?” His smirk became wider as he saw the look on your face: slightly parted lips and darkened eyes that were looking at him up and down. Bucky's hands went straight to the belt of his pants, and with the last movement, he was standing in your almost dark bedroom completely naked. 

You almost choked on your saliva when he pulled down his pants and boxers at the same time. He was thick and long, with an angry red head. 

“No way this is gonna fit me…”

“It will, doll. I’ll take care of it. I bet this pretty little pussy will just suck me in.” 

It was over for you. You knew that. A handsome, respectful man with a perfect body and dirty mouth? Yes, he can do whatever he wants with you.

He returned to your bed, sitting in between your spread legs. He didn’t waste any more time when he reached behind your back and unbuttoned your bra. Bucky stood on his knees so perfectly that his dick landed on your covered pussy, and it made you both moan out loud. 

“Look at this, doll. ‘M gonna destroy her.” His hips slightly moved, and because your panties were soaking wet, it was so smooth and perfect. “Can you imagine that? I will stretch you out so well that I’ll ruin any other men for you. Make you–and her– mine.” He reached with one of his hands to your tits and squeezed your nipple between his fingers, while the other one was keeping your legs apart so he would be able to move his hips. 

You tried to close your legs by instinct. The tip of his cock again and again brushed right on your clit, and the slight pain from your nipple made you desperately moan and clench your bedsheets.

“Are you going to cum, pretty girl? Im not even inside of you, and you’re already a fucking mess.” Bucky’s rough voice was so sexy that it made you even wetter, if that was possible. He saw that you were close: by the way your breathing changed and how your eyes rolled back in your head. “C'mon, just let it go. Soak those panties even more.” His movements on your most sensitive parts of the body didn’t stop, and it threw you over the edge.

You were squeezing around nothing, and the most inappropriate and dirty moan escaped your mouth. It was something that you'd never experienced before, and it was so intense that you needed some time to get over it.

“Good girl.” Bucky grabbed your face and connected your lips, giving you another wet and sloppy kiss. 

Then, without hesitation, Bucky’s hands took off the last piece of your clothing, leaving you completely naked for his hungry eyes. He stared at your body up and down for a few seconds and then closed his eyes to take a deep breath and calm himself down. 

“Bucky, please, I need you so much.” You almost cried, trying to grab him and put his body on top of yours, but Bucky was much larger than you, so it was almost impossible.

Bucky finally calmed down a little bit, and he interlaced his right hand with your left, pinning it above your head. His body softly landed on you, and skin-to-skin contact sent shivers down your spine. He was now looking you right in the eyes, and judging by his facial expressions, he either wanted to fuck you lifeless or cuddle and hold you closely.

“Tell me if it’s too much, okay?” Bucky’s soft side came out again, and you slightly nodded, giving him permission to continue. The little silver square appeared in his hand out of nowhere before he ripped the package with his teeth and put a condom on. 

You honestly tried to hold back the little bit of disappointment you felt when he decided to use protection. It was smart. You weren’t longtime partners, it was a question of your safety. But the tiny voice in your head told you that you would’ve let him fuck you without it. To feel his perfect d–

Your thoughts were cut off with a deep chuckle. “You look like you’re sad that I put on a condom, doll.” You swear that his eyes darkened when you stayed silent. “If you want it later, I’ll fuck you raw, ‘kay? But now neither of us can think straight.” 

“Are you a perfect man?” You laughed.

“I don’t know, let’s find out.” Your smile faded as soon as you felt the head of his dick at your entrance.

You were still sensitive from your previous orgasm, so when Bucky started teasing you again, rubbing you up and down to cover himself in your slick, you nearly lost it. 

“Bucky, please.” You whine, grabbing the side of his torso with your free hand. “Don’t tease me, please, I can’t—” 

Your words died as Bucky finally pushed inside of you. Your head fell deeper into your soft bed, and Bucky’s body tensed on top of you, trying to hold back a deep moan. 

It was overwhelming. He stretched you out so deliciously that you felt pain and inexplicable pleasure. No one ever made you feel this way—like you were on cloud nine and the man on top of you didn’t even actually fuck you yet. 

“You’re squeezing me so hard that I might cum like a teenager—fuck!” He groaned, squeezing your hand harder. “Relax, baby, I’ll take care of you.”

You tried to relax as much as you could with a dick buried deep inside of you, and Bucky was finally able to move.

Well, if it felt good earlier, then the first movement of his hips probably sent you right to heaven. Bucky cupped your face with his left hand, locking your eyes together, when he started thrusting at a slow pace. 

“So pretty for me, doll. You feel my cock in your stomach, huh?” Bucky’s lips almost touched yours when he talked, but it felt like he was too far away from you. “Good girl, take me so well. Knew that this pussy would be my death.” 

“More... harder, please, fuck me harder.” You spoke in between moans, gazing intently at Bucky's pretty face.

He started fucking you harder. Your bed was slamming your wall, but it didn’t bother you as much as the fact that he was hitting your G-spot with every thrust. You were a fucking whining mess under him, with a slightly open mouth and a drunk-looking face.

“Suck it like a good girl you are.” His thumb slipped into your mouth, and you moaned, doing as he said. “Your pussy is already sucking the shit out of me. Are you going to cum, baby? Going to make a mess on my cock while I fuck you? Imagine if I fucked you raw and filled you up with my load. I bet you’d like that.” The finger went deeper into your mouth, making you gag. You nodded your head as much as you could at Bucky’s words because you were already ready to cum.

“Give it to me, baby.” Bucky growled, sucking on your neck. His hips slammed into yours, making the nastiest noise, but it turned you on even more. A finger slipped out of your mouth, and Bucky’s face was in front of you again. “Fuuuck, I’m gonna cum.”

“M-m, B-bucky! Don't stop, pl– ahhh!” The wave of the best orgasm of your fucking life washed over you. You swear the stars started dancing behind your closed eyes as you endlessly squeezed Bucky’s cock and his body.

The way you were moaning, how your eyes rolled back, and how your whole body trembled pushed Bucky over the edge. A few last movements in your soaking wet pussy and he came, feeling almost lifeless, as if you had sucked the whole energy out of him.

He let go of your hand, which this whole time he held above your head, and cupped your face with both of his hands, kissing away the tears you didn’t even notice.

“Y/N? Baby? Are you okay?” He whispered and moved your head a little bit so your eyes were directed at him. You looked like you were high or really drunk, but he couldn’t argue with the fact that you were the prettiest woman on earth.

“I– it’s like I don't feel my body anymore.” You lazily mumbled and closed your eyes. “No one ever fucked me like this.” 

“Glad to hear that, doll.” Bucky leaned closer and kissed your soft lips with more delicacy and tenderness. “Do you need anything? Food, water, bath?”

“No… Can you just hug me and stay here for the night?” You asked, now afraid that he would leave since he got what he wanted.

“Sure, just let me get rid of this thing, and I’ll still get you some water.” He kissed you on the forehead before carefully untangling his body from yours. You hissed at the new empty and a little bit aching feeling inside of you. “I’m sorry, baby.” 

Bucky threw a condom in the basket under your table and, putting on only his boxers, came down to the kitchen to get you a bottle of water. But when he came back, he saw that you had already fallen asleep.

You looked so cute—still naked, with a peaceful expression on your face, laying in the middle of your messy bed. He thought about whether he should disturb your sleep or not, but you asked him to stay, right? Bucky hesitated for a few seconds, but then came closer to you, placed the bottle on the nightstand, and carefully scooped you into his hands, pushing away the covers. He put you back down, and then you opened your eyes. 

“C’mere…” You mumbled, still sleepy, and grabbed his hand.

Bucky quietly chuckled and got under the cover, hugging you from the back. You happily sighed before drifting back to sleep. Bucky kissed you in the hair, hugged you harder, and fell to sleep with you in his arms.

You woke up a little bit disoriented, trying to figure out what happened last night. 

The bed beside you was empty, but the aching feeling between your legs proved that it wasn’t a dream. You, in fact, fucked your hot lumberjack neighbor. But where did he go?

You found some random oversized t-shirt and walked down the stairs. Everything was silent; your kitchen was empty but crystal clean. Did Bucky just leave? 

Wait a minute. 

Yesterday there was a mess from your cooking and dinner with Bucky.

Now the room was almost shining. 

You looked around in confusion until you noticed a piece of paper on the table. 

All of your bad thoughts disappeared as soon as you read it, and you felt butterflies go crazy in your stomach.

[navybrat817]

Deep in the Woods: Part 1

Pairing: Soft!Dark Lumberjack!Bucky Barnes x Female Reader

Fic Summary: A relaxing getaway in the woods may become your permanent home when you catch the eye of a lumberjack.

Series Masterlist | Part 2

Chapter Summary: You encounter your grumpy temporary neighbor while attempting to chop some firewood.

Chapter Word Count: Over 3.3k

Chapter Warnings: DARK AU, bits of MCU canon, cheating mentioned (reader's ex), grumpy x sunshine trope, invasive behavior, reader is too trusting, Bucky Barnes (he's a warning and a bit rude at first, okay?), more warnings to come.

A/N: A new dark AU inspired by @darkficsyouneveraskedfor 's ask. ❤️‍🔥 Thanks to @targaryenvampireslayer for cheering me on! ❤️ Beta read by the lovely @whisperlullaby , but any and all mistakes are my own. Bucky edit by the beautiful @nixakimbo . Divider by the talented @firefly-graphics . Please follow @navybrat817-sideblog for new fics and notifications. Comments, reblogs, feedback are loved and appreciated!

The sun shining in the sky was deceiving as you hauled a large piece of wood to the tree trunk. It was chillier than expected, and the cold would only get worse once the sun went down. Your cabin had heat, but you'd be stuck if it went out and you didn’t manage to chop some firewood. Making a fire you could handle. Chopping wood?

That was another story.

“Okay,” you smiled, setting the log upright and adjusting your gloves before you grabbed the axe. You gripped the handle tight, raising it above your head. “I got this.”

The blade hit the log almost dead center. Unsurprisingly though, it barely pierced the wood. You hunched over, tugging at the axe, nearly losing your balance in the process. “I still got this,” you huffed, shaking out your arms and swinging again.

The next swing went deeper, but only by an inch. The swing after that, you nearly missed completely. Sweat beaded on your forehead, your body warming despite the chill in the air. After a moment, you dropped the axe and stared at the log with your hands on your hips. It was nowhere near split.

“I don’t got this,” you sighed.

“Who the hell are you?” a gruff voice asked from behind you.

Your heart leapt to your throat as you spun around, and it raced even faster when you spotted a figure just a few feet away. He was a large man, and one of the most handsome men you had ever seen. He would likely tower over you if he stepped closer. His dark hair hung messily past his shoulders, while his perfectly trimmed beard gave him a rugged edge. The flannel he wore strained against the biceps of his muscular arms, one of the shades of blue matching his thunderous eyes.

Was he glaring at you?

“Hi,” you smiled, trying to sound friendly as you gestured toward the unchopped log. “I was just trying, and failing, to chop some firewood. I hope I'm not disturbing you.”

He kicked a small twig away with his boot. “I didn't ask what you were doing. I asked, ‘Who the hell are you?’”

Your smile slipped. Maybe he was local and didn't like outsiders, though something about him seemed familiar. “Oh, yeah. Right,” you said, giving him your name and nodding to the cabin nearby. “Mr. Hunter rented the place out to me. I’m staying for a couple of weeks. Just got here this morning.” You hoped the place wasn't double booked.

He relaxed a fraction, but his glare didn't disappear completely as he took out his phone and dialed a number. You heard a ring as he put it on speaker. While he tapped a foot impatiently, you weren't sure what to say or do.

“Howdy, neighbor,” a raspy voice answered on the other end.

“Did you rent out your place?” he asked, keeping his eyes on you when your face got hot. You wanted to yell that you wouldn't lie about something like that, but that didn't seem like a good idea.

“Yeah. Pretty lady. Paid in full upfront. Clean background, too.” You looked at your feet. It was weird to listen in even though it was on speaker. And did he say “clean background”? What did that mean? “Why? Is she-”

The man hung up the phone. “Didn't think he rented his cabin out anymore,” he said more to himself than you.

An awkward silence filled the air. “Yeah, well, apparently he does. I booked it a couple of months ago and he left a code to get in and some instructions for the place,” you explained, trying to smile again as you looked around and breathed in the fresh air. “It’s a really nice place and the view up here is gorgeous, like something out of a photograph. Do you live nearby?”

He grunted and jutted his chin out. “My cabin is the next one over to the left.”

“That’s nice,” you smiled more, grabbing the axe again. “And it was very interesting meeting you, temporary neighbor, but I should try to finish this up.”

Before you could blink, the man was directly in front of you with one hand on the handle. He was even bigger up close. “If you’re thinking of taking another swing at that log, don't,” he barked at you, snatching the axe from your hands. You weren’t sure if it was his tone or him grabbing it from you that made you flinch. “This isn't a toy, it’s dangerous. And from the looks of that log you have no business trying to do that to begin with.”

Your cheeks burned again. It was bad enough that this guy didn't take your word for staying at the cabin, but the last thing you needed was for some stranger to lecture or humiliate you, and a grumpy one at that. “Yeah, well, if my cheating asshole of a boyfriend hadn't been balls deep in his colleague, we wouldn't be having this conversation. He'd be out here chopping firewood and I’d be inside cooking, which is something I'm actually good at, thank you very much,” you snapped.

Your tone surprised him enough to let you take the axe back. “I didn't…” he trailed off when you held up a hand.

“You don't know me and that’s fine, but I’m trying to be friendly and that's more than you can say,” you continued, his nostrils flaring. He didn't have to be nice to you, but he didn't need to be rude either. “And not that it’s any of your business, but I'm stuck here by myself, I’m trying my best to make it work, and I don't need some random stranger out here giving me a hard time for no reason.”

Your eyes burned as he stared at you, but you squared your shoulders and held your head high. You spent enough time crying over a prick who wasn’t worth it and you refused to shed another tear because you deserved better than an unfaithful asshole. And you sure as hell wouldn't cry in front of some hot grump with a chip on his shoulder.

The man’s pensive look dissipated more of your sudden anger and his tone softened considerably when he asked, “You’re really out here by yourself?”

You tensed up. It wasn't smart of you to broadcast that you were all by your lonesome. “Yeah, for now,” you said, your voice softer, too. Maybe you could convince a friend to stop by for a day or so. “I know I’m not good with an axe, but I tried. I just wanted some firewood in case the heat went out for any reason,” you said, your shoulders sagging. “So if you don't mind, can I please finish up?”

He nodded, taking the axe more gently this time. “Let me,” he offered, your eyes wide at his change in demeanor. “And step back. I don't want you to get hurt.”

Once you moved out of the way, he lifted the axe and split the log down the middle with expert precision. With his view on the task at hand, you swept an appreciative gaze over him. The guy was a bit of a grump, but he filled his jeans out well. “I’m sorry I snapped at you, mister,” you told him, getting a grunt in response. “My problems aren't your problems and I didn't mean to get so defensive about my lack of wood chopping skills.”

“You can call me Bucky,” he said, grabbing another log. “And nothing to be sorry for. I didn't exactly lay out the welcome mat for you.”

“It’s… Wait, Bucky.” Your eyes widened in realization. “Bucky Barnes?”

He froze before he brought the axe down again. “Heard of me?”

“Of course I have. You helped save the world,” you smiled. Years back, an alien warlord had wiped out half of the population. Not only did a group of heroes called the Avengers help reverse the wipeout, but they stopped the monster with the help of many others across the galaxy. Bucky was one of those people. No wonder he seemed so familiar. “You’re a hero.”

A tortured one at that. You remembered seeing a few articles about him. A former prisoner of war turned brainwashed assassin turned hero. He was pardoned for the crimes committed while was brainwashed, and rightfully so in your opinion, and he went on to use his skills and expertise to help others.

What was he doing out here in the woods?

“Not really a hero anymore,” he said, brushing his hair back with his forearm. “Now I’m just a lumberjack who values his privacy.”

“Oh.” That answered your question. “I guess valuing your privacy explains why you didn't roll out the welcome mat,” you teased, wringing your fingers together. You felt kind of bad again for snapping at him. Given his past that you were aware of, it made sense why he would've been suspicious of someone new popping up near his home.

He stopped to glance at you. “Guess it’s my turn to apologize,” he said.

You blinked, not wanting to lose yourself in his deep gaze. “No need. I figured you were just a local who didn't like new people around.” You smiled at the pile of wood he made. “I think you chopping firewood for me is the perfect apology. You saved me a lot of time and trouble.”

He hummed, putting the blade in the tree trunk once he finished. “You said you cook?” he asked, wiping his gloves on his jeans as he faced you.

“Yeah. I actually have a stew keeping warm right now,” you replied, shifting on your feet when he stared you down. “Are you hungry? I made plenty.”

“Sure,” he shrugged.

“Okay.” Your smile faltered when you walked toward the cabin with Bucky close behind. Was it a good idea to invite him in when you didn't exactly know him? The guy was a hero though. No reason to be suspicious.

The aroma of seasonings, beef, and vegetables greeted you as you opened the door and set your gloves on the entry table. “If you don’t mind taking your boots off, that was one of the instructions,” you told him, removing yours and hanging your coat on the hook.

While the cabin wasn’t large, it was in great condition. It was also extremely clean and tidy. The guy who owned it likely didn’t want dirt on his floors.

“Yeah, God’s kind of picky about that stuff,” Bucky said, putting his gloves on top of yours. You caught a glimpse of his metal hand, but you quickly looked away. It wasn’t polite to stare.

“Wait. The G in G.B. Hunter stands for God?” Your brows pinched as you walked toward the kitchen. “What the hell does the B stand for?” you muttered to yourself.

“That’s really what it stands for. He’s a bit of a strange guy, but a good neighbor when he’s here,” Bucky said, following close again. He was practically on top of you. “So, your boyfriend. He-”

“Ex-boyfriend,” you corrected him, inhaling deeply as you lifted the lid from the warm pot. The scent brought a smile to your face and pushed a bit of the bitterness away. “What about him?”

Bucky grabbed a couple of bowls from the cupboard. He knew where the spoons were, too, so he was at least somewhat familiar with the place. You weren’t sure how that made you feel. “How long were you two together?”

“Almost a year,” you replied. A waste of about twelve months and it wouldn't be fun to start over again.

He set the bowls on the counter before he grabbed a couple of drinks, sweeping a look over you. “Did you catch him cheating?” he asked curiously.

You froze, the image of your ex scrambling to cover himself and his colleague up as you walked in taking over your mind. You had to blink multiple times to make the image go away, but it didn’t stop your stomach from turning. “Yep,” you answered, your throat tight. Why did he want to know? “Tried to give me some lame excuse that it wasn't what it looked like, but I slapped him and said we were done. I can forgive a lot of things, but cheating isn’t one of them.”

“Loyalty is a good trait to want in a partner,” he mused.

“It is, but it’s a trait he didn't have apparently. At least we didn’t live together,” you continued, taking a breath. It hurt and felt good to talk about it. “We were supposed to come up here for a getaway and I debated cancelling the reservation, but I figured it would be a good way to clear my head.”

The kitchen felt warmer and you figured it was because you were close to the stove until you realized Bucky was right at your back. You went rigid when he inhaled. Maybe he was just smelling the food. “I’m sorry you had to go through that,” he whispered, his breath hot against your ear.

You gripped the ladle until your hand ached. “Not your fault,” you whispered, keeping perfectly still. If you moved forward, the stove would burn you. If you moved back, you’d be right against him. It was a small kitchen, but there was no reason for him to stand so close.

You didn’t exhale until he moved to set the drinks on the table. “You got a job?” he asked.

Clearing your throat, you nodded, thankful for the change in topic. “Yeah, data entry. Not too exciting, but it’s decent pay and I don’t have to go into an office or deal with traffic.” You scooped a generous portion of stew into a bowl for him, just in case he was really hungry. “As long as I have my laptop and an internet connection, I can get the job done.”

“Must be nice,” he commented, but it sounded more admirable than sarcastic. “You said you and your ex didn’t live together. Do you have a roommate? Pets?”

You side-eyed him. The tone was casual, but what was with the multiple questions? “I live alone because my apartment is about the size of a shoebox,” you said. It was cozy though and yours. “Nice thing is the rent is cheap. Sad thing is the building is pet free.”

He took out his phone as you got your bowl ready. “I have a cat,” he said, shoving the phone close to your face. It was a photo of a beautiful white cat sitting by a window. It was endearing picturing a burly man holding such a delicate creature. “Her name’s Alpine.”

You smiled at the image. “She’s really beautiful. I’ve always loved cats.”

He smiled a little, too, but it went away as fast as it appeared. “She’s very particular with people, but you’re welcome to meet her.” He took the bowl from your hand to carry them to the small table nearby. “She might like you since you’re sweet.”

Heat rolled up your neck. “That’s nice of you to offer, but I wouldn’t want to impose,” you said. It wasn’t like you had any plans during your time there, but he had done enough by chopping the firewood for you.

His jaw ticked. “If it was an imposition I wouldn't have asked.”

“Oh, I wasn't trying to imply anything,” you promised, your stomach twisting in knots. It wasn't your intention to upset him.

“Are you allergic to cats?”

“No, I’m not,” you answered.

He set the bowls on the table and leveled you with a hard stare. “Then I think you should meet her,” he said, pulling out a chair for you. It sounded more like an order than a suggestion. “Sit.”

You hesitated before you sat down. “Okay then,” you said. Maybe he was trying to make up for being rude earlier by welcoming you in some capacity. “Does tomorrow work?”

His lip curled up in a smile, giving you a nod, too. “Tomorrow. Early afternoon,” he replied, taking a seat. How did he still look so big sitting down? You watched him blow on a spoonful of stew before he took a bite, his eyes shutting with a groan. It was a deep, primal sound and you shouldn't have liked hearing it. “This is… really good.”

You beamed, unable to help yourself. You took pride in your cooking. “I’m glad you like it,” you said, digging in, too. “So, you said you’re a lumberjack now. How long have you been doing that?”

He hunched over a bit as he took a few more bites, like he hadn't eaten all day. “About nine months. Tough mission happened and I had to walk away from it.” He shrugged dismissively. Did the mission have a bad outcome or was it just the straw that broke the camel’s back? It wasn’t any of your business. “Came out to the woods with Alpine, started chopping down trees to work out some of my frustration, and it somehow became my new job. The woods suit me better than the city anyway.”

“Yeah? How so?”

He shrugged again. “It’s quiet, peaceful. No judging or prying eyes,” he answered, pushing the now empty bowl away. It almost sounded like he was hiding from the world. “And I don’t mind working with my hands. Can chop trees down pretty fast and it doesn’t take long to get the logs to the sawmill. Even built some of my own furniture in my place.”

“You build your own furniture? That’s so cool,” you smiled. It took a moment, but he smiled back a little. “Being a lumberjack sounds like hard but satisfying work,” you added. You admired him for being a hero, but also for his new, humble lifestyle.

“Yeah, it is.” He leaned back in his chair, rubbing his stomach. “This might be rude to ask, but you wouldn’t mind making us lunch tomorrow, would you? I can cook, but it’s nothing like yours.”

You bit the inside of your cheek. Part of you took it as a compliment that he liked your cooking, but something in his stare made you want to squirm. Could it be the assumption that you were going to have lunch with him when all he said was that he wanted you to meet his cat? “I don’t mind,” you smiled. Maybe the guy was a bit lonely and just wanted someone to share a meal with. You could sympathize with that. “Anything in particular you like? If I don’t have it, I can go to town and-”

“Surprise me, doll.” The chair scraped along the floor as he pushed himself up, towering over the table and you. “And don’t bother going to town. Whatever you have here to cook, I’ll eat it.”

“I’ll surprise you then.” Your brows pinched as he went back to the kitchen. He walked around like he owned the place. “Oh, help yourself,” you said when he stopped at the stove for another bowl.

He paused to look back at you. His blue eyes looked a shade darker and you couldn’t help but shiver. “I plan to,” he stated.

You gave him a smile, discreetly patting your pants pocket to make sure you still had your phone on you. It wasn’t like you needed to call anyone for help, but you were all alone and had to be careful. You were still going to have a nice time though. It would be a relaxing trip and you could catch up on reading, relaxing, whatever you wanted.

Besides, Bucky was nearby just in case. The guy didn’t seem to have a complete sense of boundaries, but he wasn’t a bad guy. He was a hero. You didn’t have anything to fear.

Right?

Oh, our reader did herself no favors by answering truthfully that she's all alone. I wonder how Bucky will play this... Love and thanks for reading! ❤️

Masterlist ⚓ Bucky Barnes Masterlist ⚓ Ko-Fi

[marvelstoriesepic]

The Splinter and the Spark

Pairing: Lumberjack!Bucky x Neighbor!Reader

Summary: Your cabin’s heating breaks in times when you need it, so you try yourself at chopping firewood. But the last person you want help from is your smug, axe-swinging neighbor.

Word Count: 3.2k

Warnings: enemies to lovers; mild injury; slow burn tension; Bucky being smug; Bucky being worried

Author’s Note: Gosh, this grew way too long for this challenge again. But I just didn’t want to cut anything. I love them so much. Thank you for sending me this amazing request, my lovely!! I hope you’ll enjoy ♡

2k Drabble Challenge Masterlist | Masterlist

It started with the axe.

Not a chainsaw - no, that would have been too simple, too civilized, too modern. It was the thud of an axe that first made you hate him.

Every morning at 6:17 sharp, right when the sky was still learning how to be blue, you’d hear it. The clean, smug crack of metal meeting wood. Again and again. Like a heartbeat that belonged to a different kind of human - one with too much muscle and not enough consideration.

That first time, you’d stormed outside barefoot in your robe, clutching a coffee as if it might serve as a weapon. You asked him if he could wait until at least 8 am and he’d only given you a slow, lazy grin that stretched too wide on a face carved too perfectly and said, “Didn’t know we were keepin’ princess hours around here.” You had half a mind to actually throw your coffee at him.

The next time, he only grinned at you, blue eyes glinting under the brim of his flannel-lined cap. “Mornin’, princess,” he had greeted you with a voice that suggested he knew exactly that you’d come out. “Don’t call me that,” you’d snapped. “Would sweetheart be better?” he only teased back with a spark in his eyes.

You’d gone back inside fuming.

And that was just the beginning.

Since then, Bucky Barnes - your lumberjack neighbor with the smug jaw and unfairly sculptured arms - had accidentally parked his truck partially on your side of the gravel driveway twice. He’d borrowed your Amazon package - “didn’t even look at the name, swear it” - so you were forced to walk over to him and ask for it back, which he finally agreed to only after a discussion lasting over thirty minutes.

You had tried to out-snark him. Out-quiet him. You even filed a passive-aggressive noise complaint with the HOA, only to find out he was on the damn committee.

You hate him. You hate how his flannel sleeves always roll up just enough to show his thick forearms. You hate that his hair always looks a little too perfect for someone who supposedly lives without WiFi. And you especially hate that he looks amused every time you get mad.

Today, you need firewood, yourself.

The heating in your old, overpriced cabin went out last night - again - and the guy who promised to come fix it flaked for the third time in a row.

Your backup electric heater fried with a dramatic sizzle that nearly took your cat down with it, and now you’re left with a fireplace, a stack of unsplit logs, and more pride than sense.

You tie your hair back.

You’ve got gloves. Thin ones - meant for gardening. But that’s close enough, you guess. It has to be.

You’ve got a borrowed axe from Mrs. Caldwell down the lane. Pink-handled. Surprisingly heavy.

And you’ve got determination. Stubbornness. An undying loathing for asking Bucky Barnes for help.

You’d rather die barefoot in the freezing cold than ask him for help. He’s already smug enough, with those thick hands and smirking lips and Jesus Christ, the way he wipes his forehead with the back of his hand when he is sweating as if it’s performance art.

The air is harsh on your cheeks as you step outside. The wind snatches at your coat. There are logs stocked beside the chopping block. You plant your boots.

You drag the axe overhead, trying to remember what your uncle taught you once at a campground years ago.

You let the axe down. And you miss. The log shudders under the dull weight of your poor aim, laughing at you, maybe. You feel the reverberation up your arms.

Gritting your teeth, you reset, and swing again. Nothing. Just a dull smack, as if hitting a pillow made of shame.

“You tryna kill the wood or yourself?”

You freeze. You curse internally.

But you don’t turn around right away. You can hear the grin in his voice and you want just one second to school your face into something that won’t betray your flustered rage.

“I don’t recall inviting commentary,” you state annoyed. Only briefly granting him a glare.

He’s already at the fence line, one hand braced on the top rail, other gripping a thermos. He’s chewing on something. A toothpick? A matchstick? His own smugness?

“Y’gonna hurt someone with that form, princess,” he assesses easily.

“Mind your own business, Barnes,” you hiss unkindly.

He grins. Pushes off the fence with the easy grace of someone who knows they’re built like mythology.

“Hard not to when you’re over here looking like an axe-wielding toddler.”

You roll your eyes. Hard. But a fire burns low inside your body. It’s as if you’re trying to summon the strength of the gods for this conversation.

“Don’t you have logs to scream at or whatever it is you do every morning? Why are you even looking over here?” you bite out through clenched teeth.

There is steam curling from the lid of his thermos and he’s got the audacity to sip it slow as if this is all very amusing to him “You’re louder than I am today,” he remarks smoothly, still grinning with sparkling eyes. “A real accomplishment, considering how much you complain ‘bout me.”

You huff out a breath. It clouds around you. You grip the axe tighter.

“I didn’t choose to do this, Barnes. But I can.”

“Oh, I believe you,” he eases, sauntering through the open gate now, because he has no respect for boundaries. “I just don’t believe the logs will survive your technique.”

You don’t dignify that with a response. Instead, you turn back, lift the axe in indignation, and swing again.

Thunk.

“Y’know,” he drawls, getting closer, boots crunching across the frosted ground, “if you wanted me to come over, all you had to do was ask real nice.”

“I’d rather freeze.”

“Kinky.”

You spin, axe hanging at your side, panting more from rage than effort.

“Go away, Bucky.”

But he doesn’t. He only moves closer, ignoring you. As always. He smells of cedarwood and coffee and damn it, effortless masculinity. His beard is a little too neat, the plaid stretched a little too tight across those shoulders, and he’s looking at you with those annoying, laughing eyes.

He’s enjoying this.

You lift the axe again, jaw set, and swing.

This time, it lands. The log splits just a little at the top, not much, but enough to make you stand a little straighter.

Bucky whistles now. “Look at that. She’s got claws.”

“I told you I don’t need help.”

“I heard you,” he drones out, stepping closer again, and now his hand is on the handle of the axe with yours. The heat of his skin sears through your glove. “But I’ve also seen what you’re doing to these poor logs. You don’t have to be a martyr.”

You want to yank your hand back, yell, bite, something. But you just look up, ready to glare.

Suddenly, a sharp sting shoots through your palm. You flinch. Just subtly.

But he sees it.

“What is it?” he asks, voice shifting a little softer, quieter. Concern elbowing amusement out of the way.

“Nothing,” you lie, too fast.

He catches your wrist. Gently. His fingers are rough and warm and careful and it makes your stomach twist. “You okay?” he asks without sarcasm this time.

You want to say yes.

But your pride is bleeding out of your palm with the little splinter lodged deep beneath your skin, and somehow your hand is already in his.

“Lemme see.” He peels off your glove, gentle but fast, as if he’s done this a hundred times.

You try to pull away, but he holds on.

“Hold still.”

His thumb brushes over your knuckles. His face is different now - focused, brows knit together, all the flirt and teasing gone. And for the first time, you feel the quiet in him. As if under all that swagger and plaid, there’s a silence he doesn’t let out often. It makes your chest churn uncomfortably.

“I’ve got tweezers in the shed,” he says, voice low and grim. “Stay here.”

“I can-”

“Don’t argue.” His eyes meet yours. “You’ll dig it in deeper.”

You nod. Small and jerky.

He’s back in seconds, unsurprisingly quick, and he orders you to sit on a log before he kneels at your side. You expect him to be rough, maybe uncareful, but he’s not. He works delicately and precisely, eyes flicking up to yours every so often to check if it hurts, and when he finally pulls the splinter free, you don’t even feel it.

His fingers don’t let go. Not right away. Not even when the splinter’s gone completely and your hand is wrapped in the warmth of him. You feel the heat of his touch and you hate that it calms something in you. That it quiets the buzzing in your chest.

He’s still crouched in front of you, thick brows pulled together as though your skin is glass and he’s afraid to leave a mark. His eyes are focused entirely on your hand, sweeping over the lines of your palm. And it does things to his face. Softens it. Opens it. As if someone peeled away the cocky grin and the smart mouth and what’s left underneath is quieter, deeper.

You’ve never seen him like this.

And the worst part is, you don’t know if you want it to stop.

“You should disinfect this,” he notes, voice low, nearly hoarse.

“It was just a splinter.”

His gaze drifts up to yours. Locks in. But he doesn’t look at you like a man who enjoys the game. Not like the neighbor who calls you princess and sweetheart with a grin in his voice and a challenge in his eyes. This look he’s giving you right now scrapes across your bones. “Doesn’t take much. Even a splinter can fester. Get infected. They carry bacteria. Especially out here, with all the dirt and bark and- can get infected faster than you think. Fever. Swelling. Might need stitches if it goes bad. You don’t want to mess around with that.”

His voice is anything but teasing now. There is no glint in his eyes. Just steel. Seriousness. Something else that looks like concern.

It’s as if someone rearranged the pieces of his face and gave him a conscience.

You blink at him. He’s still holding your hand. Still cupping it as if it’s something valuable. As if you’re something worth careful handling. Just enough softness to keep you wondering.

You’ve fought with this man. Argued over property lines, over noise, over the fact that he whistles while he works like some Disney lumberjack. You’ve accused him of waking the dead with his morning routines. You’ve shoved snow back into his yard with passive-aggressive vengeance. He once left a Get Better Soon balloon on your porch after you sneezed twice on the way to your car.

And yet now. Now, his thumb brushes your wrist as if he forgot he was touching you. As if maybe he wants to keep forgetting.

“You’re starting to sound as if you care,” you murmur, maybe a little amused, but confused nevertheless.

Something flashes across his eyes. Behind them. He looks away for a second. One breath. Two.

“Next time,” he starts, quiet but sharper. Firm. “Come to me before you try to do something like this on your own.”

Your pride bristles, instinctive and stubborn. You straighten your spine, try to pull your hand back, but he doesn’t let you go just yet.

“If I remember correctly, and I do, I didn’t come to you at all, Barnes. It was you who walked into my-”

“I mean it, Y/n. You can always come to me. Promise me, you will,” he insists intensely, lowly.

There’s something in his voice that sits heavy in your chest. You feel it. All of it.

“Fine,” you relent finally, reluctantly.

Only then does he release you.

With the clear of his throat, he steps back. The loss is sudden. Cold. You almost feel foolish for missing it.

“I’ll disinfect it,” you say at last, trying not to sound too much as if you’re surrendering.

Bucky nods once. “Good. But go do it inside. Warm up.”

Your mouth opens immediately. “I’m not fragile, Barnes. A splinter doesn’t knock me out of the game.” You say it with a small teasing tone, but Bucky doesn’t seem to pick it up. Or he ignores it.

He only crosses his arms. Tight. His flannel strains across his chest. “Didn’t say it did. But that doesn’t mean you should be swingin’ an axe anytime soon. I’ll do it.”

He says it with a kind of dominance that makes you scoff. “I didn’t ask for your help.”

“Don’t need you to ask.”

There is no grin. No smirk. Just the stubborn set of his jaw and the firm intensity in his eyes. It unnerves you. Not because it’s sharp - but because it’s gentle. Because he’s not teasing you. Because he’s worried, and you don’t know what to do with that version of Bucky Barnes.

So, with a sigh and slightly trembling hands, you turn and head inside. But the warmth in your cabin is nothing compared to the heat still lingering in your chest. You rinse your hand under water that runs slow and cold, and dab antiseptic. But your thoughts stay outside. Stay with those blue eyes watching for signs of weakness as though he’s reading a weather report.

He’s never been like that before. Never so serious. Never so close.

And when you step back outside, your breath catches.

Bucky is already splitting your wood.

His form is fluid, practiced. Each swing of the axe is poetry. Violence tamed. He doesn’t grunt or growl - he just moves with expertise. One hand on the handle, the other steadying the log, shoulders flexing beneath that worn flannel with every arc. The axe comes down like thunder. Wood cracks, clean and quick, falling in neat halves at his boots.

He’s got his sleeves rolled up past his elbows again, breath misting in the air. The sound of the logs cracking echoes through the trees like a song with no chorus.

You lean against the railing of your porch and watch him work.

And you hate that he’s mesmerizing.

He doesn’t look up. Just sets another log in place.

“Sit down,” he says, calm as a lake.

You stare. “What?”

“Or go back inside. Warmer there. I’ll finish up.”

You narrow your eyes at him. “Are you seriously ordering me around?”

“Nope,” he deadpans, finally glancing at you. “I’m instructing you. There’s a difference.”

You’re still staring.

He gives you a look. Not mean. Not commanding. Just firm.

“You don’t have to do everything by yourself, you know.”

You flinch as if the words are sharp. As if they know something about you they shouldn’t.

You want to argue. To say watch me. To toss something sarcastic just to get back the balance.

But you don’t.

You sit. On the porch steps, cold wood stinging the backs of your thighs but you stay and watch him work.

His swings are controlled. His jaw is clenched. No more cocky remarks. No smile. Just focus. He splits like a man trying to prove a point - to you, or to himself, you don’t know.

“You can stop now,” you voice after a moment.

But he doesn’t.

“Bucky.”

Still nothing.

He sets another log. Lifts. Crack.

You cross your arms. Raise your voice.

“Barnes. That’s enough for now.”

Finally, he pauses. Looks over to you. His cheeks are flushed from the cold. He’s starting to sweat slowly. And still, he doesn’t smirk. Doesn’t tease.

“This won’t last long,” he says gruffly, nodding to the pile of wood at his feet. “You’ll be left freezin’ in less than a month.”

“That’s alright,” you try to argue. “I’ve got this guy coming by-”

But he interrupts you with the almost too-loud crack of another log splitting to pieces, his arms winding up to thunder down another time. He’s not even listening to you anymore. Just keeps going.

He looks so determined, it might even be endearing.

But you don’t say anything. You wouldn’t be able to bring out another word. Because this man surely is an enigma.

You didn’t know a man could be this quiet and still make so much noise inside your body.

You’re not sure how long you stay there, watching. But when he’s done, he gathers the logs in his arms as if they weigh nothing at all. Walks them to the side of your house, where the covered racks wait. He stacks them neatly. Tucks a tarp over them.

And then he turns to you.

His breath is ragged slightly, his eyes are unreadable, but there is something softened in them. Like thaw.

“You’re all set.”

You swallow, mouth dry, hands restless in your lap.

“Thank you,” you say. It feels like swallowing rocks.

He nods. Doesn’t say you’re welcome. Doesn’t wink.

He just turns and walks back to where the axe is resting. He picks it up. Fingers sliding over the pink handle. His expression is unreadable.

“Is this yours?” he asks, voice low, thick with something you never heard in his voice before.

You shake your head slowly. “Mrs. Caldwell’s. She loaned it to me.”

He nods. Slow. Thoughtful. As if he is filing that away in the same place he stores the weather, the weight of wood, the sound your boots make when you’re frustrated and trying not to show it.

“I’ll bring it back to her,” he voices. Deep and sure.

You’re thrown for a second.

There’s nothing performative about it. No smirk. No spark. He doesn’t even look at you when he says it - he just studies the axe again as if it’s dangerous.

You stare at him, hands curled into the sleeves of your coat. Trying to decide if the stuttering in your chest is from the cold or something far less logical.

Is he just trying to be polite? Returning something for you? Or is this about control? About making sure you won’t be getting your hands on that thing again?

You search his face for a clue, but he’s turned now, adjusting his grip on the handle as if he’s already taken care of this for you.

“You don’t have to,” you still try.

He moves around to you again, his gaze falling onto yours. “Nah, I’ve got it,” he insists, but his gaze is not as nonchalant as his voice is.

“Uhm, okay,” you start, a little unsure. “Thanks.”

Another one of his nods and it starts to make you uneasy. He keeps standing there for a moment too long, looking at you as though he might say something more.

But he doesn’t.

He just turns. Walks back across the yard, his boots crunching slightly on the ground, the axe hanging over his shoulder like some kind of burden he’s used to carrying.

You watch him disappear, into the warm glow of sunrise burning between the pines.

And you wonder.

You wonder what it means when the person you thought was your enemy touches you as though you’re important to him.

You wonder why it felt safer than anything else ever has.

[thinkinonsense]

i just listened to sabrina's new album and oh my god the song slim pickins is such a song that was written from daydreaming about lumberjack!logan, oh and the recent fic that you reblogged was just so yummy and perfect for that song especially the lyrics "a boy who's jacked and nice" like god having to settle down for less because nobody can be him 😭😭😭 need him expeditiously im afraid

it's slim pickins

lumberjack!logan howlett x fem!reader

cw: yearning!! fluff, tiny nsfw conversation (nothing graphic)

a/n: this request couldn't have come in at a better time because i'm seeing sabrina on opening night of her tour tomorrow night!! <3

masterlist

"am i just destined to be alone forever?"

another friday night in the hole in the wall bar outside of town. another date gone horribly wrong. your question hangs heavy in the air as you gossip to your best friend who's bartending tonight.

"you keep picking douche bags." she answers without missing a beat.

"well, that's fuckin' rude." you slur slightly, sipping on your third fruity drink tonight.

"well, it's fuckin' true." she smiles, looking over your shoulder at a group of men that walked in. "why don't you go talk to one of them? they look hot."

you spin around in your stool to see a group of lumberjack workers. these were the men that you worked with, you can't flirt with them.

"i work with those guys!" you hiss.

"sooo...?" she smirks.

both of you quickly end the conversation with the five guys approach the bar. the last thing you needed was for these guys to see the desperate and pathetic look on your face. quickly, you rummage through your purse for some cash to put down.

"what are you doing here, doll face?" a familiar voice asks.

you look up and see the most handsome of the men, in front of you; logan. twice your size, buff, toned, tan... god, you had such a crush on him. never in a million years would you go after him though, he's too good to want a girl like you. you were just a friend. he make small talk with you, laughed at your jokes, calls you little nicknames, and refills the coffee pot for you but thats what friends do, right?

"oh... um, i'm just-"

"she's been sitting here moaning and bitching to me all night about her horrible date." your best friend smiles then introduces herself to logan with a handshake.

"thanks asshole." you mumble under your breath at her, making logan chuckle.

"tough night?" he asks, looking down at you in a way that makes heat rises up your face.

"kinda, but i'll save you all the gory details." you admit, sliding off the tall stool a little ungracefully. "have a good night, logan."

"wait, doll face." he says, grabbing your arm to balance you. "wanna talk about it? i'm sure your friend here is busy."

the alcohol let him take you to one of the booths. all the other men noticed logan and you sitting together, definitely making mental notes to tease you both on monday.

"so, what's on your mind?" logan asks, taking a swig of his beer.

"it's nothing really..." your mouth says one thing but your phone says another; practically buzzing off the table.

"you sure?" he raises a brow.

"uh... yeah?" you sound confused as you peak at the notification. an annoyed groan falls from your lips as you slam the phone back down and sink into the booth. "why? why? why?"

"why what?" he squints.

"be honest, do i have dumbass written on my forehead?" you sigh, hazily looking over at logan. the question threw him off guard; unsure if you're joking or not.

"no." he answers.

" well, i sure feel like one. every guy i've gone out with is either the most obnoxious asshole i've ever met who's still hung up on his ex or he's absolutely perfect but he's just not ready for a commitment right now? what the fuck does that even mean?"

all of your drunk rambling surprised logan. at work, he's only seen your shy personality as you scribble down numbers and log them into spreadsheets. this was a completely different side of you.

"i know what you're thinking, 'why not just try dating a woman?'. well, i fucking would if this town wasn't stuck in the 50's, except the men aren't going to war in order to get away from you, instead they just run back in between their ex's thighs and pull that 'it's not you, it's me' bullshit."

it was getting harder for logan not to crack at your silly yet, adorable expressions as you rant.

"and the worst part is that they can't even get a woman to orgasm." you say a little quieter. logan stores that quote in his pocket for another time. "a few weeks ago, i literally had a man in my bed who didn't know the difference between their, there, and they're! i don't know who's stupider, him for not knowing or me for letting him give me the worst head in my life."

if you were even a little sober, this would be mortifying. sitting in front of your work crush and spilling pathetic details of your love life to him. if you were even a little sober, you would have notice his eyes turn dark and lustful under the dim bar lighting. logan couldn’t fathom that you were having trouble in your love life.

"sounds like it's slim pickins out there."

"you have no idea." you sigh.

"if it makes you feel any better, i don't think that you're stupid."

"you're just saying that to be polite. trust me, everyone thinks i'm an idiot for taking these guys back every time. im just like my mom, my sisters, my friends, and every other girl i know. we make up excuses for their shitty behavior because we are afraid to be alone."

logan could see tears forming in your waterline, about to roll down your cheek. it hurt him to see you so heartbroken over these losers. everyday at work, you came in like a ray of fucking sunshine. you didn't deserve to be treated like this.

"it's not your fault that those asshole don't know how to treat a woman." he sighs, leaning forward in an attempt to comfort you.

"i know, i know..." your voice was cracking and you didn't want logan to see you so vulnerable. suddenly, you rise from the booth. "thanks for listening, logan."

"where do you think you're going, doll face?" he asks, following you out the door.

"should head home." you mumble, pulling up the number of a car service about twenty minutes out.

"let me give you a ride home." he offers. "you've been drinking too much."

it's late, you're exhausted and heartbroken so, you let him help you into his truck. it's kinda old but full of character, like logan.

"what's going on in that pretty head of yours?" logan asks, breaking the silence in the car. "still sad?"

you shrug. "think i'm just going to become a nun."

he tried, he really did, but he had to laugh.

"sweetheart, there's no need to become a nun."

"well, i'm never going to find the man i'm looking for so, might as well join the sisterhood."

"what are you looking for in this dream man?"

logan's question has your eyes wondering over to where his left hand sets on the wheel and his right on thigh. the images of what his hands could do flood your fuzzy mind.

"j-just a good guy who's um, who's kind, jacked... respectful, good with his hands...."

it was shameless, your staring that is. logan worried you might get drool on the car seat, not that he would mind.

"hm... those seem like simple requirements there."

"apparently not." you giggle. "it's fine, though. i'm sure the nuns will be friendly."

"still thinking about joining the 'sisterhood'?" he asks, pulling up to your drive way.

"maybe... i'll give it twenty-four hours and if he doesn't come knocking on my door, i'll just buy a chasity belt and go off the grid with the nuns." your smile warmed his cold bitter heart. "thanks for the ride, lo. i'll see you monday."

as logan watches you fumble with your keys and make your way inside, he fights an internal battle over his feelings. he has had a crush on you since the day the two of you first met. by the end of the week, you had baked him some cupcakes, babbling about how you do this for all the new employees, which was far from the truth he later learned.

you captured his heart. even when he tried to burry his feelings for you, when logan looked at you, his world stood still for a moment. he looked forward to all your silly jokes in the break room or the ridiculous gossip you would tell him when he lingered outside of your office door. he couldn't let you slip away into the arms of another asshole who didn't deserve you.

before logan could comprehend what he was doing, his feet lead him up to your door, knocking twice. the wooden door opened and he knew he made the right decision.

there you were in your light blue and grey plaid pajamas with a cupcake in your hand and vanilla frosting on your bottom lip. logan had never seen you look prettier.

"hey? did i leave something in the–"

in the blink of an eye, logan’s hands reach up to caress your jaw, leaning in until his mouth engulfs yours. the taste of vanilla and alcohol surrounded both of you. forgetting the cupcake in your hand, dropping it to reach up and pull logan closer. kissing him was like drinking a glass of wine after a long day. no more stress or anxiety over anyone else’s bullshit. the two of you gasp against each others lips, catching your breath.

“i could be the good guy, you know?” logan pants, now forever addicted to your taste. “i could be the good guy for you.”

your heart fluttered as you stared up at his pretty hazel eyes, twirling a piece of his hair around your finger. this had to be a very realistic dream, thats the only answer to this.

“you would do that for me, logan?” your delicate voice could bring him to his knees, worshiping the ground you walk on.

“i would do anything for you, honey.” he whispers, leaning back in to kiss you again. maybe your dream guy wasn't as far away as you thought?

[mostly-marvel-musings]

can we ask for threesomes for kinktober? in case we can... bear with me. worst!Logan x reader x whatever version of Logan you choose + this prompt “I bet they can’t fuck you like I can.”.

horny goblins have taken over my brain since I watched DP&W, I'm sorry 😭

More of you

A/N: Don’t worry anon, our horniness for this man knows no bounds. Thank you for sending this request!

Pairing: worst! Logan x F! Reader x Lumberjack! Logan

Warning: 18+ pure smut, threesome.

🍁🍂 Kinktober 2024 🍂🍁

.

Your dreamy sigh followed by a faint moan is what roused Logan from his sleep.

Initially he was concerned but as he saw a hint of a smile on your features, he was relieved you were probably just dreaming. It amused him as yet another quiet moan escaped your lips, your legs parting while you caressed the pillow underneath you.

Whatever this dream was, sure seemed like a pleasant one.

If only he knew…

Biting your bottom lip, you rolled your hips seductively against Logan's crotch, smirking when you felt him twitch underneath you. He had his vice-like grip upon them, almost possessively keeping your anchored to him while the other 'him' hovered around like a predator on a prowl.

His gaze wasn't as gentle or loving as your Logan's was but the eyes sure held the same darkened lust as they drank you in, it was one thing they had in common. The intensity made a shiver run down your spine as he approached, using your hands to undo his zipper.

"Open your mouth and take me—all of me in like a good girl.." the other Logan growled, letting out a shaky breath when you wrapped a hand around his length, stroking him.

On cue, your Logan slid your panties aside, gathering your slick on his fingers before undoing his zip to free his own erection. He didn’t seem completely onboard, he could never be. Logan still needed to be the one inside you, claiming you as his while the other guy had his fun.

Desire pooled deep within your belly as you tasted meaner Logan's salty eagerness on the tip of your tongue, your warmth coating his cock deliciously as you made room for more, obeying his command.

“What a good fuckin girl..” he grunted, tugging on your hair as his cock twitched inside your velvety mouth.

Your moan was muffled as the man underneath you shifted, pulling you up only to have you sink down on his sizeable dick.

"All mine, Y/N." Logan murmured, teasing his thumb against your clit while the other guy scoffed, letting his fingers tangle in your hair before guiding himself deeper in your mouth.

It could only be a cosmic blessing you were experiencing to have not one but two Logans agreeable, albeit reluctantly, to your every dirty desire. Your body had never felt more alive, every cell greedy for them, craving them both carnally.

Logan began fucking your mouth deliberately, making your eyes water as he hit the back of your throat with every thrust, as the man used you for his pleasure, pleasure you were more than willing to give.

With your pussy stuffed as luxuriously as your mouth, the sensations tingling all over your body were both too much and not enough all at once. You could feel the building tension desperate for release, the coil that tightened as the men had their way with you.

A needy whine escaped your mouth as your body shook, abruptly jolting you awake, making your eyes snap open.

You were so close…

“Good dream baby?” Logan smirked, his fingers already trailing south towards the evidence of your horny subconscious. Leaning his head against his hand, he knew you had a sex dream before you could confirm or deny. He had smelt your arousal.

“The best.” You blushed, letting out a soft gasp as his fingers dipped inside your moist folds.

“Is that so? Who was it? Whoever it was I bet they can’t fuck you like I can.” Logan was already rolling on top of you, determined to prove a point.

The apparent jealousy in his voice made you chuckle, making your train of thought resume its journey. What a wild thought you had had.

If only he knew...

[buckysslut]

Hear me out. LUMBERJACK! BUCKY!!!!. Maybe the reader gives him a surprise visit and ofc he is all sweaty snd grimy bc he just came home from work so he feels a little self-conscious. But her girl just loves his musk and is all over him kissing and licking begging him to fuck her

Ovulation hits hard🙇🏻💢

𝐥𝐮𝐦𝐛𝐞𝐫𝐣𝐚𝐜𝐤!𝐛𝐮𝐜𝐤𝐲

He pants as he brings the axe down again, the wood chopping in half and falling into the rest of the pile. He wash shirtless, his flannel removed and tied around his waist, showing off his abs which were shining with a thin sheen of sweat. You step down the porch steps into the backyard. "Hey baby.." You say gently, feet softly padding against the grass as you approach him. He puts the axe into the stump, turning around to face you. "Hey sugar.." He murmurs, looking you up and down. You were barefoot, dressed in the pretty, flowy, white sundress you liked to wear. He bites his lip slightly, licking his lips slowly. You approach him, going to put your hands on his shoulders. He quickly takes your wrists, stopping you, his hands gigantic compared to yours. "I gotta finish work and shower yet, doll.. Don't wanna touch me when I'm like this.. I'm all gross and sweaty.." He murmurs, thumbs gently rubbing your wrists as he holds them.

You glance down, eyes fixing on his abs that were glistening in the sunlight, the sheen of sweat only making him look more ethereal. Your breath catches, practically melting as you look at him. Your eyes eventually trace back up to his face, the few strands of hair sticking to his forehead, his baby blues staring intently at you, his cheeks tinged a soft pink from his labour. "Fuck me.." You murmur, running your hands over his shoulders. "Doll.." He nearly groans, "C'mon.. I've still got work to do and I'm all gross-" He murmurs, getting distracted by the feeling of your gentle hands tracing over his shoulders. You move your lips to his, lazily making out with him and humming against his lips, "Don't care.. Need your cock.. C'mon.. Come take a break and fill me up.." You murmur, arms slithering around his shoulders to pull him closer, going up on your tiptoes to keep up the kiss.

He gives in, lips moving against yours, hand going to the back of your head to pull you in deeper, the other wrapping around your waist. "Jump.." He murmurs against your lips, bracing himself to support you. You obey, jumping up and wrapping your legs around his waist, not daring to break the kiss. He wraps his arms under your butt to support you, his hand groping at the flesh and kneading it. He tilts his head for better access, murmuring, "C'mon doll.. you're takin' it raw tonight.." before beginning to walk over to the house.

Tags: @chrisevansleftnipple , @homiesexual-or-homosexual , @httpsells , @avengemepercy , @raikan624 , @multiversefanfics , @majulians-groupie ' @maryevm , @grilledcheesewithjalapeno , @yaboyguzma69 , @hopeofwinter , @buckybarnesslutshop

[whambamsami]

snowed in pt. 3

pt. 1. pt. 2

summary: after a brutal breakup, all you want is a snowy escape in the mountains. what you get is a cabin that's very much occupied, a dangerously attractive roommate, and no exit strategy. you plan to avoid the situation by visiting the town center. often.

such a shame the weather has other ideas.

warnings: 18+, swearing, alcohol, smut!

note: i wanted to slow burn but i can't not write them hooking up so this is my solution

You don’t remember how you got here. 

It starts with warmth.

Not the kind from your blankets. From a hand. Big. Calloused. Sliding slow across your waist beneath the hem of your shirt.

His voice, low and rough, ghosts over your neck.

“Didn’t think you’d be this soft,” he murmurs, breath hot against your skin.

You can’t speak.

“Been thinkin’ about this since the second you walked through that door,” he adds, mouth at your ear now. “All attitude, actin’ like you weren’t lookin’ at me the same way.”

He pins your wrists above your head with one hand, the other dragging down your thigh, coaxing it open.

“Tell me to stop.”

You don't.

You arch into him instead, desperate.

“That’s what I thought,” he growls, and then he’s kissing you, claiming you, and you’re gasping his name like it’s the only word you know.

His voice scrapes against the shell of your ear, sleep-rough and devastatingly low.

“Didn’t think you’d let me touch you like this.”

You don’t answer. You just sigh. Already gone.

That arm tightens. His palm spreads over your stomach. He presses closer from behind, hips snug against your backside.

“You’re warm,” he mutters, lips grazing your neck. “Sweet.”

You gasp as his hand slips lower, sliding beneath the band of your underwear. His fingers graze that aching spot between your thighs like he’s done it before.

“This what you wanted?” he breathes. “Waking up like this? Me in your bed, hand between your legs?”

Your hips roll back into him like your body knows something your brain doesn’t want to admit. You can feel him, hard behind you, and it’s filthy, it’s wrong, it’s-

“Tell me to stop. C’mon, sweetheart, use your words.”

You can’t. Won't.

Instead, your fingers grip the sheets and you whisper his name.

“Bucky-”

Your eyes snap open. 

Legs tangled in the sheets.

No warm body behind you. 

Just the ghost of his touch haunting your skin. 

You sit up way too fast, hair clinging to your forehead, heart pounding. Thighs pressed together like your body’s still grasping for what it almost had.

Groaning, this time out of mortification, you run a hand down your face.

One night. One tender dinner. And your body’s already betraying you. 

You don’t let yourself think too hard about what your subconscious had just confessed to you. 

Instead, you swing your legs out of bed, throw on a sweater, and head to the kitchen. Like a normal person. Who had normal dreams. 

Bucky’s already there. Of course he is.

“Mornin’, sunshine,” he tosses over his shoulder. 

He’s got a worn henley on, sweatpants low on his hips. 

Flipping a pancake over the stove.

You’re going to scream.

“Thought you didn’t cook,” you mutter, hoping that your casual tone covers up for the guilt that is surely thinly veiled on your face. 

“Don’t usually have such pleasant company,” he teases, “plus, I figured we’d both need something heavier for breakfast after last night.”

Right. 

Last night.

You’d sat by the fire with Bucky. Had two of those god-awful beers, maybe three. Socked feet tucked under you, sipping slowly. You were tipsy, he was steady. 

You’d almost wished he was drunk. It would’ve given you an explanation on why it looked like he was figuring out what made you tick, what made you laugh, made your eyes roll, how you’d blush the tiniest bit when he called you ‘doll’ with that gravel in his voice. 

He told you about himself.. He’d grown up in Brooklyn, apparently. Spent some time in the army, even made it up to the rank of Sergeant. Lost his arm in a battle a long time ago. Escaped to the mountains, desperate for some quiet. Found Alpine. Found peace. 

You’d told him about your life in the city. A bit more on your shitty ex, but mostly… other things. About your favorite speakeasy, the cafe by your apartment. How it was so easy to get swallowed up, to feel alone in such a busy place. How being here, even with a near stranger, was the first time in a long time you’d really let yourself exhale.

He’d listened. No judgement. Just warm. Solid. 

At some point you’d fallen over laughing over his reaction to how much you paid for rent in your tiny apartment. He’d sputtered at the number you’d thrown out. 

“For a closet?”, he’d repeated, scandalized, “that’s how much I paid for my first apartment! For the whole year!”

“Times change, grandpa”, you’d laughed.

Somehow, your legs had ended up tucked under you on the couch, body angled slightly toward him. His arm had draped lazily along the back of the couch, close enough that you could feel the heat of him even without touching. Alpine had claimed the space between you, curled in a ball, clearly smug about her front-row seat.

“City people are wild,” he murmured after a moment, almost to himself.

You raised an eyebrow. “You used to be one.”

“Yeah. Then I came to my senses.”

There was a beat of quiet after that. The kind that makes your heart beat a little faster.

“Glad you did,” you murmured.

He turned to look at you. Eyes steady. A little warmer than before. “Yeah?” he asked softly.

You nodded. “You built a good life here. Quiet. Peaceful.”

“And lonely,” he admitted, surprising both of you.

You blinked, caught off guard by the honesty.

He looked away, tapping the edge of his bottle with his finger. “But… not so bad tonight.”

You swallowed. Suddenly very aware of how close he was. Of the flush creeping up your neck. Of the way your gaze kept dropping to his mouth.

“I should, um…” you cleared your throat, setting your beer down. “I should probably go to bed before I say something embarrassing.”

He smirked. “You already called me grandpa.”

“Fair point,” you said, rising to your feet. “Goodnight, Bucky.”

He didn’t follow, didn’t press. Just gave you that same, steady look and murmured, “Night, sweetheart.”

You made it to your room. You brushed your teeth. You changed.

But as you curled up in bed under flannel sheets and wool blankets, staring at the ceiling in the quiet dark, his voice came back to you. His laugh. His eyes. That low, thoughtful way he’d said “sweetheart.”

And then.

Then the dream came.

Of hands on your waist and flannel brushing your bare skin. Of fingers curling around your throat as his mouth claimed yours in the shadows. Of growled words and his body pressed on yours, the burn of being wanted like that. Wanted by him. 

Which brought you to this morning. 

He plates a pancake and slides it in front of you.

“Sleep alright?”

“Like a rock.”

He gives you a look. One of those slow, knowing ones that feels like it peels the truth right out of you. “Sure about that?”

You nearly choke on your coffee.

He grins.

Asshole.

“I slept fine,” you say, biting into the pancake more aggressively than necessary.

“Good,” he says, leaning back against the counter, arms crossed over his chest. “You talk in your sleep?”

You go still. “What?”

He shrugs. “Just wondering.”

Your face is on fire.

“I do not.”

“Never said you did,” he replies, but he’s clearly enjoying this. “Just saying… if you had something you wanted to get off your chest, you know, out loud-”

“Eat your damn pancakes, Bucky.”

He smirks, like he knows something you don’t. “Yes, ma’am.”

And it’s entirely unfair how attractive that sounds coming out of his mouth.

You’re halfway through your second pancake when Bucky glances outside the window, drawing your attention outside.

The snow had really come down last night. Was still falling now, the front yard so bright it almost hurt your eyes to look. 

It felt like you were in a snowglobe. The sun reflected off the snow, shining into the cabin, but the clouds were starting to thicken again. 

“You know,” he says, stealing your fork and taking a bite off your plate, “they’re saying this storm might knock us off the map for a few days.”

You give him a look. “You already stole my cabin. Don’t think you’re allowed to steal my breakfast too.”

He smirks and shrugs, still chewing. “Communal living, sweetheart. And I made them.”

You grab the fork back with narrowed eyes. “Fine. But if we’re snowed in and I have to start rationing pancake mix, you’re out.”

He laughs softly, eyes crinkling at the corners. “Deal.”

You tilt your head. “Wait-actually serious question. If the power goes out, what happens to the heat?”

He leans back, finishing off the beer he apparently considers a breakfast beverage. “It’ll hold for a bit. We’ve got the fireplace and the generator. I can keep us warm.”

That last part comes out low. Confident.

Your stomach does a little flip and you refuse to look at him too long. “You mean it can keep us warm. The fireplace.”

“Sure,” he replies, deadpan. “Let’s go with that.”

You roll your eyes, but your smile gives you away.

“Anyway,” he continues, nodding toward the window again, “once the snow starts coming down hard, we’re stuck. Roads’ll be blocked in an hour. Power lines are old out here. You stocked up, at least?”

You shrug. “Got batteries. Canned soup. Tea. And the important stuff.”

“Which is?”

You gesture to the fridge. “Beer. Obviously.”

He grins, but before he can make another smartass remark- 

Flick.

The power goes out.

[librababe99]

Savage Devotion

cw: MDNI, 18+ ONLY, Logan (X-Men: Origins specifically), Fem! Reader, established relationship, heavy smut, animalistic tendencies, rough sex, dom/sub dynamics, degradation, P in V, unprotected sex (wrap it up!) overstimulation, slight breeding kink (if you squint) word count: 2.5K

Summary: where pleasure and pain blur, but Logan shows you exactly what it means to be taken by a beast.

A/N: I was in the mood for something a little spicy tonight 🤭 soooo I hope y'all enjoy this one! Please feel free to comment, like or reblog! Happy reading <3

(Marvel Masterlist)

You had always known Logan was a rough man. His reputation had preceded him long before you'd ever met him, tales of the Wolverine, a man with claws of adamantium and a growl that would make even the bravest quiver. You’d heard the stories, seen the aftermath of battles he’d been through, and yet, none of that had prepared you for the real thing—the man in front of you, the beast in your bed.

It wasn’t the first time. You weren’t naïve. You knew Logan carried a roughness in him that most men didn’t, a raw and untamed energy that hovered on the edge of feral. But there was something about the way he looked at you, even through his gruff exterior, that made you shiver—made you want more.

Right now, Logan loomed over you in the dimly lit cabin, his eyes glinting in the low light, like a predator sizing up its prey. He had that look on his face, the one that always sent a tremor through your core—a dark promise in those eyes, a wicked curl to his lip. Your wrists were bound above your head with a thick, coarse rope, tied to the wooden headboard. It wasn’t uncomfortable, not quite, but the tension in the rope was constant, a reminder of the control he held over you in that moment.

You shifted beneath him, testing the bonds, and his eyes narrowed. “You tryin’ to get free, sweetheart?”

His voice was like gravel, low and rough, sending a surge of heat between your legs. He was still fully clothed, wearing the same worn leather jacket he always did, his jeans sitting low on his hips, but that did nothing to hide the coiled strength beneath them. You bit your lower lip, knowing exactly what kind of game you were playing.

“Maybe,” you teased, letting your hips arch slightly off the bed, a subtle challenge.

Logan’s gaze darkened further, his nostrils flaring as he took a deep breath. He reached out, one gloved hand cupping your chin roughly, forcing you to meet his eyes. “You’re gonna be a brat tonight, huh?” His thumb pressed hard against your lips, forcing them open slightly, and you couldn’t help but flick your tongue out, just to taunt him.

That earned you a growl. Low, dangerous. Logan wasn’t the kind of man who played soft, and tonight, it was clear you’d pushed a button. He wasn’t going to be gentle. But that’s exactly what you wanted.

“Always trying to get a rise outta me, aren’t you?” he murmured, his voice dripping with the weight of a threat. “You want to see how far I’ll take this, don’t ya?”

His thumb slid further into your mouth, forcing you to suck on it, and you complied, tongue swirling around the rough skin. It tasted like leather, like the residue of smoke and iron. Logan was in no rush, his thumb slow and deliberate, controlling the pace of your mouth on him. He watched you with a hungry gaze, his body hovering over yours, dominating the space.

“I think I’ll teach you a lesson tonight,” he muttered, pulling his thumb from your lips with a soft pop. He leaned back, taking a moment to shed his jacket, revealing the taut muscles beneath his fitted shirt. Even in the dim lighting, you could see the way his muscles flexed beneath the fabric, the outline of scars, both old and new, that littered his body.

You tried to wiggle your wrists, but the ropes held firm. It was intoxicating, the way you were trapped, fully at his mercy, even though you trusted him not to go too far. Your heart pounded in your chest as he moved closer again, this time bringing his knee between your thighs, spreading your legs wide as he knelt between them.

“You don’t get to squirm,” Logan ordered, his voice deep and authoritative. “You wanted this, didn’t ya? So now, you’re gonna take whatever I give you.”

His hands, rough and calloused, slid up the inside of your thighs, teasing, but not gentle. He wasn’t here to pamper you tonight. You could see it in the way his jaw clenched, the way his eyes raked over your body with a predatory gleam. This was Logan in his element. Raw. Dominant. Unforgiving.

You were already soaked, anticipation pooling between your legs as his hands pushed your thighs further apart. His fingers teased at the waistband of your panties, hooking underneath them, but he didn’t pull them off yet. Instead, his fingers just hovered there, barely touching your skin, and it drove you wild.

“Logan, please,” you whimpered, trying to shift your hips toward his hand, desperate for more contact. But he pulled away just as quickly, his hand coming down hard against the inside of your thigh, a sharp slap that made you gasp.

“What did I say about squirming?” His voice was a growl, sending shivers up your spine. “You don’t get to tell me what to do, sweetheart. You don’t get to beg yet.”

You whimpered, trying to compose yourself, but the heat that pulsed between your legs was unbearable. You wanted him—needed him. Every inch of you was on fire, burning with desire, but Logan wasn’t going to make this easy for you. He liked to make you wait. Liked to see you unravel beneath him.

He leaned down, his mouth grazing the skin of your inner thigh, right where he had slapped you moments before. His teeth nipped at the tender flesh, and you squirmed again, biting down hard on your lip to stifle a moan.

“Sensitive tonight, aren’t ya?” he muttered against your skin, his stubble brushing over the sensitive area as he kissed his way higher, dangerously close to where you needed him most.

But still, he didn’t touch you where you wanted. His fingers teased the edges of your panties, his breath hot against the damp fabric, and all you could do was writhe beneath him, restrained and helpless.

“Please,” you gasped, voice hoarse with need. “Please, Logan, I need you.”

His response was a low chuckle, dark and full of promise. “Oh, I know what you need, darlin’. But I ain’t giving it to you until I’m good and ready.”

His fingers finally hooked into your panties, pulling them down agonizingly slow. The cool air against your exposed skin made you shudder, and Logan took his time, admiring the sight of you spread out before him, bound and at his mercy. He didn’t say a word as he tossed your panties aside, his eyes roaming over you with a hunger that was almost palpable.

You could see the bulge in his jeans, the way his body was already coiled with tension, and yet, he was holding back, savoring every second of your anticipation. The bastard loved it—loved watching you squirm, loved making you beg. And god dammit, you loved it too.

Logan’s fingers slid between your folds, slick with your arousal, and he growled low in his throat. “So wet already,” he muttered, his fingers spreading you open, teasing at your entrance but not pushing inside yet. “You really are a needy little thing, aren’t you?”

You bit your lip, trying to stifle another whimper as his fingers circled your clit, slow and deliberate. He was toying with you, building you up slowly, and it was driving you insane. You needed more—needed him inside you, needed the roughness, the way only Logan could fuck you.

“Logan, please,” you begged again, voice desperate. “I need you. Please.”

His fingers stilled, and for a moment, you thought he might finally give in. But instead, he pulled his hand away entirely, leaving you empty and aching.

“You don’t get to call the shots, darlin’,” he said, his voice hard and unyielding. “I’m in control here. You want me? You’re gonna take what I give you, and you’re gonna say thank you when I’m done.”

He stood, his presence towering over you, and you watched as he undid the belt on his jeans, the sound of leather sliding through metal sending a shiver of anticipation through you. You watched, breathless, as he pulled his cock free, hard and thick, the sight of him making your mouth water.

But Logan wasn’t in any rush. He stroked himself slowly, his eyes locked on yours, making sure you could see just how much he enjoyed watching you squirm. “Is this what you want?” he asked, his voice a low growl. “You want me to fuck you, sweetheart?”

You nodded, unable to speak, your throat tight with need.

Logan smirked, crawling back onto the bed, his body pressing down over yours as he lined himself up with your entrance. “You better be ready for it, ‘cause I ain’t going easy.”

And then he was inside you, a single, brutal thrust that filled you completely. The sensation was overwhelming, the stretch of him sending a white-hot pulse of pleasure through your body, and you cried out, the sound muffled by his mouth as he kissed you, hard and demanding.

Logan didn’t give you time to adjust. He set a punishing pace, his hips slamming into yours with each thrust, driving himself deeper inside you. His hands gripped your hips, holding you in place as he fucked you hard, each thrust sending a jolt of pleasure and pain through your body.

“Look at you,” he growled, his voice a low rumble in your ear, “taking me so well, even when you’re all tied up. You’re such a good little slut for me, aren’t you?”

His words sent a fresh wave of heat pooling in your belly, a mixture of humiliation and lust that made you clench around him. You could barely respond, your breath coming in ragged gasps as he pounded into you relentlessly, each thrust a reminder of just how much control he had over your body. The ropes around your wrists burned slightly as you pulled against them instinctively, desperate for something to hold onto, something to ground you in the whirlwind of sensation.

Logan’s grip on your hips was bruising, fingers digging into your flesh as he pushed you closer and closer to the edge. You could feel the tension building, that tight coil of pleasure deep in your core that threatened to snap with every thrust, but Logan wasn’t letting up. He was relentless, taking exactly what he wanted from you, the sound of your moans and the wet slap of skin filling the small cabin.

“Don’t think I didn’t notice you clenching around me,” he growled, his breath hot against your ear as he leaned down, his stubble grazing your cheek. “You like it when I’m rough with you, don’t you? You like being used.”

The degradation hit you like a punch, and you couldn’t stop the moan that escaped your lips, your body arching up to meet his brutal pace. You hated how much you loved it, how much his cruelty turned you on, but Logan knew you too well. He could see the way your body responded to him, the way your thighs trembled as you hurtled toward the edge of oblivion.

“I want you to come for me,” he demanded, his voice sharp as his fingers found your clit, rubbing tight, firm circles over the swollen nub. “I want to feel you come around my cock. But you better thank me when you do, understand?”

You nodded frantically, tears of pleasure pricking at the corners of your eyes as the sensations overwhelmed you. His pace was merciless, the rough pressure on your clit pushing you right to the edge of orgasm, but Logan wasn’t going to let you go until you gave him exactly what he wanted.

“I said, do you understand?” he snarled, his voice commanding, and you gasped, nodding again as the words tore from your throat.

“Yes! Yes, Logan, I understand!”

“Good girl.”

That was all it took. The coil inside you snapped, and your orgasm hit you like a freight train, tearing through your body with an intensity that left you shaking and breathless. You cried out, your body spasming beneath his as you came hard, the feeling of his thick cock driving deep inside you the only anchor in the storm of pleasure.

“That’s it,” Logan grunted, his own voice rough with barely-contained lust. “Feel how tight you are around me? So good, fuckin’ perfect.”

But he didn’t stop. Even as you trembled and gasped beneath him, the waves of pleasure still crashing through you, Logan kept going, his hips slamming into yours with a punishing rhythm that only seemed to heighten your sensitivity. It was too much—too intense—and yet you wanted more, needed more. Every nerve in your body was alight, each thrust dragging another desperate moan from your lips.

Logan was close, you could tell from the way his breathing had grown ragged, the way his grip on your hips tightened. His pace grew erratic, each thrust harder and deeper than the last, and you knew he was about to come. But Logan wasn’t a man who would take what he wanted without giving something in return.

“You feel so fuckin’ good, sweetheart,” he growled, his voice thick with desire. “So tight, so wet for me. I’m gonna fill you up, gonna mark you as mine. You want that, don’t you? Want me to come inside you?”

“Yes!” you gasped, your body still quivering from the aftershocks of your orgasm. “Please, Logan, I need it—need you.”

That was all he needed. With a final, brutal thrust, Logan buried himself deep inside you, groaning low in his throat as he came, the warmth of his release spilling into you. His body tensed above you, his hips jerking as he rode out his orgasm, and you felt him pulse inside you, filling you completely.

For a moment, the only sound in the room was the harsh breathing of both of you, the weight of Logan’s body pressing you into the mattress. You were spent, your body limp and sated, the ache between your legs a dull reminder of just how rough he had been. And yet, you wouldn’t have traded it for anything.

Slowly, Logan pulled out of you, his eyes still dark with hunger as he watched your body tremble in the aftermath of your shared pleasure. He untied your wrists carefully, his rough hands gentle now as he rubbed the red marks left by the rope.

“You did good, sweetheart,” he murmured, his voice softer now, though no less rough. “Took everything I gave you.”

You smiled weakly, your body still buzzing with the remnants of pleasure. “I told you I could handle it.”

Logan smirked, his fingers brushing over your tender skin as he leaned down to kiss you, this time slow and possessive. “I know. That’s why I fuckin’ love you.”

The words sent a different kind of warmth through you, and you wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him closer. Even after everything, Logan still managed to make you feel safe, cared for, even when he was at his roughest.

As you lay there, tangled in each other’s arms, Logan’s rough fingers tracing lazy patterns on your skin, you couldn’t help but smile. This was the man you loved—feral, dangerous, but always wanting to please you. Always wanting to take care of you in his own brutal, primal way.

And you wouldn’t have it any other way.

[caramilena]

Swing

Lumberjack!Logan x f!reader

Summary: Logan fucks you at his work

Rating: explicit

Warnings: 18+(Minors DNI), p in v, smut, dirty talk, fingering, reader has hair, Logan can pick up reader, established relationship, reader ogles Logan, nicknames (honey, baby, sweet girl), competency kink, no mention of Logan’s powers.

Divider: @saradika-graphics

Logan had left for work in a rush that morning. Work was hectic with the new contracts he’d taken on. He was also handling a management position until the real manager- a frail, old man- had recovered from his hip replacement surgery. So, he had a lot on his plate at the moment.

That’s why, when he forgot to grab the lunch you had packed him, you decided to stop by his workplace to drop it off. He was already quite overworked so you made it paramount that he didn’t skip meals, if you could help it. It was a short drive… And maybe you’d get a chance to watch him swing an axe, shirtless. 

Once you got there, Logan wasn’t in the office. After asking around, you gathered that he went into to the woods for chores. Already tickled by that information, you didn’t waste your time to go find him immediately.

The wind caressed your cheeks and flew your hair about as you walked into the forest in search of him. He couldn’t be too far. Birds flew overhead. The tree leaves danced with the wind. You stepped over any branches or uneven ground as you cautiously traversed the wilderness. A few meters away, faint clacking sounds could be heard. At last. You picked up the pace. This was a pleasant afternoon walk practically. 

As you got closer, you could hear grunts and thuds, successively. You stilled when the source of your affections and concerns came to view. He donned his white tank top, overshirt probably discarded somewhere. He raised both arms that clasped a mighty axe over his head and brought them down with enough force to halve the wood. There was a pile of cut planks to his left. Every raise of his arms would cause the muscles in his back to ripple with life and tighten under the skin. Skin that glistened with a thin, shiny sheen of sweat. The air was relatively chill, but the physical exertion was what probably caused the faint perspiration.

Every downward motion as he hit the wood, would trigger the muscles in his tricep to tighten and contract, like your insides as you watched it all unfold, transfixed. His thick forearms were corded with years of manual labour. Of course, his biceps were your favourite pillow. Extensive physical labour was the foundation of his robust and sturdy physique. He was big and dependable. Competent, like no other man you had been with before.

He hadn’t noticed your presence yet since you stood facing his back, so you took your time ogling him as he worked. Aware of the growing wetness in your panties. Your eyes travelled down to his big, veiny hands as they gripped the handle of the axe. Mind immediately reminiscing to when they were pumping in and out of your messy hole. 

As you attempted to shift your weight from one foot to other and relieve the growing tension between your thighs, you accidentally stepped on a branch. His head snapped up and back. The deep frown between his brows relaxed slightly when he saw it was you.

“Hey,” he straightened and dropped the axe on the ground, “didn’t see you there. Were you waiting long?” 

He grunted as he walked over to a nearby tree and bent down to pick up the brown flannel shirt he had originally left the house in. Pulling it over his shoulders and beginning to button up, to your disappointment.

“Not too long,” you waved dismissively. “You forgot your lunch…” 

“Oh.” He paused. “My bad, honey. Sorry you had to come all this way,” he walked over to you, taking your hands in his and squeezing. He looked apologetic as he stared down at you.

“Are you kidding? It’s not everyday I get to watch you work in a tanktop,” I shrugged as if it’s a no-brainer that I’d miss an opportunity like that.

His mouth twitched and one corner turned up. “Yeah? You like what you see?” He stepped closer, crowding you.

You looked around before leaning in and whispering, “wouldn’t you like to know.”

His warm hands that still clasped yours, squeezed, thumb running circles on your knuckles. His eyes flitted behind you to also check for people nearby. He pulled your hands behind your thighs and held them there, walking you back until you felt your back press against a tree. His eyes darkened as he looked between your mouth and eyes. “Show me.”

It would’ve been nerve-wracking doing something like this in public, but seeing him in this virile, sweaty state, ignited a fire that couldn’t be snuffed with an entire waterfall. You took his hand and shoved it in your underwear. Right where it belonged right now. Lauding yourself internally for wearing baggy, sweatpants that made the action possible.

His nostrils flared and his lips pursed. He buried his face in your hair and groaned a low ‘fuck’. His fingers immediately began to slide through the wetness and circling the entrance. You gasped and gripped his forearm. “Did you get so soaked from just watching me, baby?” He grunted as his thumb circled around your clit.

A soft, needy sound came from the back of your throat. It was ridiculous when he put it like that. But it was true… He chuckled darkly, “dirty girl.” Before slipping two fingers in to the hilt.

You gasped and clenched around his digits immediately. He pumped furiously, curling his fingers. Swearing under his breath as the motion created wet, squelching sounds. “Oh honey, did you come here just to get fucked?” He mumbled in your ear. “I don’t fuck you enough at home?Now that you’re showin’ up to my work with this needy pussy,” the last two words were delivered with two quick slaps to your cunt.

You whimpered, you wanted to protest against those sentiments but he just shushed you with a thumb to your lips. The same thumb he was rubbing your clit with previously. You could taste your arousal on his thumb as he dragged it across your bottom lip. His brown eyes were practically swallowed up by his pupils as he gazed at you. “It’s okay,” he crooned. “I’ll fuck you wherever you want, baby.” He grinned indulgently and leaned in.

His lips pressed against yours and he hummed against the taste of your arousal on them. One of his hands travelled up your nape to tangle in your hair and angled your face up, while his other hand kept pumping into you. You moaned as his tongue licked into your mouth. Deep, rumbling growls from his chest rang in your ears. His fingers were repeatedly thrusting up into the spongy wall that made your knees weak. 

“M’close, Logan…” you mumbled against his mouth once he pulled back to look at you. He responded with fast swipes of his finger on your clit. Your back arched and a moan left your parted lips. But just before you could reach the bliss of coming around his fingers, he pulled his digits away. You frowned, “what-“

In a swift motion and a grunt, he pulled you up by the backs of your thighs to hitch around his waist. Your hands immediately went to circle around his neck for balance. “How about you help me with this little problem first, sweet girl..” he said huskily and pressed his clothed erection against the damp spot on your sweatpants.

You suppressed a whine as you pulled your sweatpants down your hips and he helped jostle them down your ankles. He quickly unbuttoned his jeans and pulled out his member. Sliding it over your covered core and at the edges of your underwear with a low groan. Your toes curled as he teased you and you cried out his name in warning. His chest rumbled with a chuckle and he pulled your panties to the side. You felt his cock twitch at your entrance. “Look at her, she’s drooling for my cock… Should I give it to her?”

“Please.” You shifted your hips forward impatiently. He tutted disapprovingly at that. 

But all the same he gathered up your slick with his tip, and pushed in. In one go, he seated himself all the way to the base. You both moaned at the sensation. You were filled to the brim. Your head dropped forward to rest on his shoulder. He was sliding impossibly deep.

He picked up the pace and began to put his weight behind each thrust. You moaned in hiccuped sounds as he bounced you on his cock. There were voices all of a sudden. Distant but unmistakable. They didn’t get closer though. It just highlighted the fact that you guys were outside and anyone could happen upon you in this compromising position.

Your eyes widened in worry but you clenched around him. At that, his already thinning restraint, extinguished to nothing. His jaw clenched and the vein in his neck looked ready to pop. He snapped his hips faster. Growling in your ear as each thrust punched the air out of your lungs. “You want others to watch you take my cock like a good girl?” His hand quickly found its way to your clit again and began rubbing quick, tight circles on it.  You moaned loudly and he slapped a hand over your mouth.

Your eyes rolled back as his hard thrusts drove you up and down the side of the tree. Your hoodie was sure to be stained and possibly torn by the friction.

His hips stuttered and you knew he was close. He buried his face in the side of your neck as he thrusted a few more times. Growling when he couldn’t hold back anymore. 

Your hands squeezed his nape and he pulled his face back to kiss you deeply. Tongue in tune with his thrusts. Your entire body tensed as you came. Thighs shaking with the abrupt and powerful force of your orgasm. He ripped his mouth away to moan at the feeling of you squeezing him when he was already close. 

His teeth sank into your neck as he thrusted unsteadily a few more times before coming inside with a drawn-out grunt. He didn’t pull out until every drop was deposited in you. He panted once he was done and cupped your cheek. “You okay?” His warm, green eyes searched your face for discomfort.

You smiled and nodded, “Just peachy.” He snorted in amusement and helped you down. 

He pulled your sweatpants up and patted your mound over them, appreciatively, “don’t waste a drop. I will be checking.” 

You left that place 10 minutes later, still leaking his cum and thoroughly satisfied. 

Notes: first time writing smut, scared to post. Needed more Logan fics so I ended up writing one.. let me know if I missed any warnings!

[itsonlyjoseph]

Port Valley | Bucky Barnes x Reader - Chapter 1

Synopsis: After catching your boyfriend with another woman, you pack up and move across the country to a small logging town. swearing off men forever, a certain grumpy lumberjack might change your mind.

Warnings: for this chapter nothing. little angsty

Word count: 2.1k

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Winter was already settling deep your bones and it was only a week and a half into the season. The brisk New York City air flew past your jacket and down your back, chilling you instantly as you rounded the corner, heading back to your apartment. Well, your boyfriend’s apartment.

It had been 2 and a half years since you started dating and 9 months since living with Adam. It was nice. He was nice. You met him at a bar downtown and hit it off instantly. You had similar interests and values and could see yourself marrying him and popping out a few of his kids one day. The thought warmed your cheeks despite the temperature outside.

The sudden heat of the inside of the brownstone welcomed you as you made your way up the stairs. You had been planning on talking to Adam about potentially getting a dog or a cat or something to take your relationship to the next step and were going to ask him today.

Your key slotted into the keyhole and turned leading you inside the home. Your home. Yours and Adam’s home. Life was nice.

Once the door opened, you heard the music playing. Adam was big into rock music and often played it to help him concentrate on this work. Walking into the study, you expected to find him holed up behind his computer, furiously typing away but were instead met with an empty room. Odd

You furrowed your eyebrows and made your way to the bedroom, opening the door.

You found Adam. You were about to open your mouth to speak when the scene before you suddenly registered. Adam and another woman. In your bed. Having sex.

They hadn’t noticed you yet and your stomach turned. He was moving so passionately with this woman in a way that he'd never moved with you. He was touching her in a way he'd never touched you. Making sounds with her in a way he'd never done with you. It felt like a shot gun blast to the face, honestly.

A loud shriek in the form of a what the fuck left your mouth as your eyes turned as wide as saucers.

They finally noticed you. Adam pulled the blanket up to their chins as if that would somehow make things better. Better for her, obviously. That hurt.

“Y/N..” Adam exclaimed, clearly very surprised.

“What the fuck!?” You repeat, just louder.

The interaction was a big blur after that. Adam didn’t even try to give you some lame, half baked excuse. He was just speechless. Didn’t know what to say and did think he’d get caught. He did tell you he loved you though. Told you that he still wanted to be with you. If you weren’t so blindsided you might have laughed.

That’s how you ended up here, a week and a half later, at your dad’s house in Port Valley, on the other side of the country. Port Valley was a sleepy logging town in Washington State that your father and late mother retired to 8 years ago. They found it on a map and decided that that was their new home because it gave a sense of calm and belonging. At least, that what they said about.

You’d never actually visited, considering work and travel and Adam was always busy with whatever but you had spoken to them everyday since. Your dad now texted you twice a day since your mother’s passing.

You were wearing your dad’s big button down shirt, some horribly worn sweatpants from high school and socks so fuzzy your feet were starting to sweat despite the gentle snow fall outside. Some bad hallmark movie was playing on the tv in the living room and you were surrounded by empty boxes of chocolates. You had a tummy ache after all the sweets and junk but you didn't have it in you to care.

When you called your dad that fateful day, he was expecting the usual. Talk about work, talk about the show you were watching and so on but you were sobbing, barely understandable as you told him what happened.

He didn't get angry like typical dads would. He was sad that his baby girl was hurting at the hands of someone who was mean't to love and care for her and that hurt him. He paid for your airfare the next day and picked you up from the airport.

He walked into the living to find you scoffing at the male love interest proclaiming his undying love.

"You just wait, sister. You just wait." You groaned, annoyed at the movie.

��Sweetie, you’ve sat on this couch for a week. Does your job know that you’re here?” Your dad asked.

“No.. I’m not going back anyway.”

“Back…”

“To New York, to that job. To those people. None of it. It makes me sick to think of that city now” You mumbled.

“Baby, I’d love to have you stay here with me, I really would. But you need to work. You need to live.”

“Yeah, yeah.. I know.”

“I can ask around for you if you’d like? Try to get you a job here? If you really plan on staying for a while.”

You looked at your dad and saw his hopeful smile. He was a good man and only wanted the best for his family and now that your mom had passed away, he was extra attentive.

“Okay, dad. Thanks.” You managed out a small, sad smile.

****

The snow was getting heavier as the nights wore on. Bucky was working overtime at the lumberyard trying to make ends meet and distract himself from the boredom of his life. He’d lived here in Port Valley for the last 32 years and knew that he’d probably never leave. He didn’t care to. His job was here, his friends were here, his mom was here. Life could be worse.

Obviously life could be way better too.

Bucky’s jaw was locked tight as the cold nipped at him, hauling log and after log around as if they weighted nothing.

Bucky was a strong man. Stronger than most. He knew that. He also knew that it came with downsides. He was always hungry. So very hungry. His stomach rumbled at the thought of dinner after his shift.

Just a few more logs to go…

He was going to see his mother after work and eat with her since she’d begged him to a dozen times in the last week alone. He had to yes to his mom eventually or he wouldn't hear the end of it.

****

The bookstore your dad took you to the next day was located about a 5 minute walk from your dads house but felt longer with the cold wind against your face.

“Winnie! This is my daughter, Y/N.” Your dad called out to the woman sitting behind the counter of the Port Valley bookstore. She was short, sweet looking older woman with curly brown hair and glasses perched on her little nose. She looked up and smiled as the two of approached.

“Hi, I’ve heard so much about you! Oh my, you are so stunning, you look just like your mother.” She beamed.

I gave her a half smile and said thanks.

Her expression turned from warm to remorseful in seconds, though so you knew your dad had told this woman what had happened.

“Your father told me about what happened. I am so sorry dear. I know just how awful men can be.”

“Yeah, no kidding.” You said to her statement, somewhat amused. You were still kind of in shock about it all.

“How old are you dear?” She looked at you with an inquisitive brow.

“Uh, 27..” You mumbled out, tired.

“Oh! You’re a few years younger than my boy, James. You’ll meet him soon. He’s a nice man. Gentle giant as they say.” She smiled.

You tried to smile at her and nod your head, but it probably came off very strained. You honestly didn’t care to meet her son, or anyone else’s son for that matter. The thought of a man made you want to roll your eyes.

Winnie thankfully turned back to your dad and started talking about some town event that was coming up that they both needed to organise a booth for. You zoned out during this.

Your dad had mentioned to you that this Winnie woman would gladly give you a job if you were half as kind as your parents were. You were thankful of course and truely hoped you lived up to that claim, but it was hard to show these days. That’s why your dad brought you down here to meet her and check out the store before you started. You felt like a teenager again and you hated it. So young with no control, needing your dads supervision in public. It made anger bubblenunder your skin. It was all Adam and that floozy’s fault-

Before the anger could bubble over and explode out of you, the doorbell chimed and you heard Winnie talk.

“James! There you are!”

You turned at the sound, somewhat curious, and saw a man standing in the doorway with a hard emotionless look painted on his face.

“This is Albert’s daughter, Y/N! She’s going to be working with me. She just came in from New York last week!” Winnie smiled.

James, apparently Winnie’s son, looked rather uncomfortable. He gave a stiff nod and then his eyes went back to his mother. He had long dark hair that stopped just above his shoulders, hidden underneath a baseball cap, he looked to be around 6’4 or close to it and built like a brick house. You’d never actually seen a man so… large. Strong looking… you could see the muscles flexing and tensing under the tight shirt as he shifted on his feet.

You quickly let the thoughts evaporate from your mind.

No. Men bad.

“Well, I have a dinner date with my son. Y/N, I’ll see you on Monday morning?”

“Uh, yeah, thanks again.” You said as you turned back to her.

She smiled and the three of you walked back to the front door to close up. James was already out and waiting by his truck.

You’d said your goodbyes and watched as James and Winnie drove off towards the diner on the other side of town. Not a far drive at all considering the tiny surface area. Half of Port Valley was just forest land. You guessed that's why this was a logging town.

You’d gathered that James was either in a bad mood today or just a grumpy asshole. You’d be offended if you weren’t so heartbroken from Adam.

****

“So, what did you think?” Winnie asked Bucky, with a sly smile on her face as they slide into a booth in the far end of the diner.

“About what?” Bucky mumbled, his voice gruff and hard, as he looked over the menu that hadn't changed his whole life.

“About Y/N. She’s beautiful, right?” Winnie gushed.

This made Bucky finally look up at her, narrowing his eyes at her grin.

“What are you trying to do, ma?”

“Nothing, nothing. I’m just saying.” She had her hands up in mock surrender. “I think she’s going to be staying with Albert for a while, so I'd like to make her feel welcome. And that includes you.”

They got their food after 10 minutes and started digging in.

“Her boyfriend cheated on her. In their bed. She walked in on them.” She started up again, cutting into her meat..

“Ma!” Bucky sighed. “Can we just eat?”

There was a moment of silence, but if Bucky knew his mother, and he knew her well, that silence was short lived.

“When was the last time you were with a woman?”

“Jesus, ma!” Bucky nearly choked, dropping his fork and reaching for a napkin. The idea of talking to his mother about his non existent sex life was actually mortifying.

“I just want you to be happy, James. That’s all I care about.”

“I know, ma, I know.” He mumbled, mouth full of food. “I am… happy.”

Winnie looked at her sweet boy with a sad smile.

She knew Bucky wasn't depressed or suicidal or anything. He’d always been a quiet boy. Even before he went off to Afghanistan. Even before his father left when he was a teenager. But he’s never brought a girl home or really “hung out” with the guys besides his lunch breaks. She wanted him to be whole, in whatever form that took.

He wanted him to have a purpose beyond his job. Maybe that purpose would be a family.

“I know, my baby.” Winnie smiled, digging back into her food.

[whiskeyandcigarsmoke]

This is how Wade describes Logan’s snoring. You know that man saws the largest logs in his sleep.

[navybrat817]

Deep in the Woods: Part 2

Pairing: Soft!Dark Lumberjack!Bucky Barnes x Female Reader

Fic Summary: A relaxing getaway in the woods may become your permanent home when you catch the eye of a lumberjack.

Part 1 | Series Masterlist | Part 3

Chapter Summary: You chat with a friend about the grumpy lumberjack and pay him a visit.

Chapter Word Count: Over 4.5k

Chapter Warnings: DARK AU, bits of MCU canon, cheating mentioned (reader's ex), grumpy x sunshine trope, invasive behavior, bits of insecurity, tension, reader is too trusting, Bucky Barnes (he's a warning, okay?), more warnings to come.

A/N: Next part of our lumberjack is here! ❤️ Beta read by the lovely @whisperlullaby , but any and all mistakes are my own. Bucky edit by the beautiful @nixakimbo . Divider by the talented @firefly-graphics . Please follow @navybrat817-sideblog for new fics and notifications. Comments, reblogs, feedback are loved and appreciated!

Bucky didn’t make small talk when he came back to the table with his second helping. You sat for maybe a minute before you went to clean out your bowl. As pretty as he was to look at, it felt rude to sit there and watch him eat and you weren’t going to force him to chat. Standing at the sink, you felt him staring at you. He didn’t look away either when you snuck a glance at him. He looked fascinated and you couldn't imagine why.

“Do I have food on my face?” you asked, swiping at your cheek when he continued to stare.

“No.” He swallowed his last bite and licked his lips, making your cheeks warm as you looked away. “Was just looking at you.”

You glanced down at yourself, a nervous giggle bubbling up. “Not much to look at,” you mumbled, going back to get his empty bowl. “So, you said early afternoon tomorrow to go to your place. Will 1 o’clock work?”

He leaned back in his chair, nodding. “Should be fine,” he said, observing you in continued curiosity as you finished cleaning up. You weren't used to someone observing you the way he did, and you couldn't pinpoint if the feeling in your stomach was nerves or butterflies. “You trying to kick me out?”

“No,” you said, your brows pinched as you sat back down. “Does it seem like I am?”

“Just cleaning up quickly and asking about tomorrow. Seemed like you were trying to get me out of here.” He lifted his shoulder in a shrug. “I could be wrong.”

“I’m sorry if I gave you that impression.” You hadn’t exactly planned for his company, but you didn’t mind, and you weren’t trying to be a bad hostess. You almost reached across the table to touch his hand but opted to give him a soft smile instead. “It’s nice having you here.”

His gaze softened, his lips inching upward before he cleared his throat. “Any plans for the rest of the day?”

“Not really. I do have to get on my laptop for just a few minutes, but that’s it,” you answered. Since the trip was meant to be a romantic getaway and you were alone now, you didn't have much of anything planned besides relaxing. “You?”

“No,” he said, tilting his head. “Why did you say that earlier?”

“Why did I say what?” you asked.

“That you aren't much to look at,” he said, tilting his head with another tiny smile that made your knees go weak. “You’re beautiful.”

Your eyes widened, your cheeks hot. “That’s…” You thought for a second that he was joking, but his eyes were serious. The compliment was also completely unexpected, especially from a man who wasn't too welcoming a short time ago. “Thank you, Bucky, but I’m not-”

“Don’t do that. If I made you uncomfortable, just say so.” His cheek twitched and guilt churned in your stomach at the thought of upsetting him. “You don't need to brush off the compliment by trying to put yourself down.”

You looked in your lap, not wanting him to see the sadness in your eyes. Your ex should've called you beautiful, should've made you feel that way, too. And what happened? He strayed. You couldn't hold onto him. As much as you wanted to think there wasn't anything wrong with you, there was still that voice of doubt that said you weren't good enough or pretty enough. Insecurities had a tendency to seep in like poison. What was the remedy for that?

“I wasn't trying to brush off your compliment,” you promised, lifting your gaze. He didn’t look convinced and that made you feel worse. He was only being nice. “It’s just… My confidence is a little shaken and self-deprecating is a defense mechanism, I guess.”

You wanted to run to the bedroom and hide when he regarded you. Why did you tell him that? Why did you tell him anything? He wasn’t your friend or confidant, and it wasn’t fair to unload anything like that onto him.

“I’m sorry. I-”

“Don’t apologize. I understand what it's like,” he said, glancing at his metal hand. “To have your confidence shaken.”

After what he had been through, you could only imagine. “How did you pull yourself out of it?”

“Still working on that,” he replied, his eyes distant as he pushed himself up from his chair. “I should get going.”

“Oh, okay,” you smiled politely and got up to follow him to the door. While it wasn’t your intention to push him out, you may have inadvertently driven him away. “Thanks again for chopping the firewood.” It saved you a lot of trouble.

“Thanks for the meal.” He swept his eyes over you once his boots were on. “Guess we took care of each other, huh?”

“I guess we did,” you said. And you really appreciated his compliment. It felt nice after everything.

You were reminded once again just how large he was when he straightened up, your heart racing when he stood directly in front of you. That close you could smell the forest on his shirt. “Don’t touch that axe again,” he ordered, his voice low and commanding. “If you need anything, you come to me.”

Your throat went dry. He was so dominant in his stance, something in his tone sending a delightful shiver down your spine. There was also a predatory shadow in his eyes that gave you pause. He could eat you alive.

Out here, all alone, he could do anything.

“Say it,” he whispered.

“If I need anything.” You had to clear your throat. “I’ll come to you.”

Bucky stepped back and took some of the warmth with him. “Lock the door tonight. I need you safe,” he said, leaving without another word.

The silence in the cabin was deafening as you were left alone. Bucky was… something. Curt at times, a bit defensive, and didn’t have regard for your personal space bubble, but you weren’t going to judge his social skills when yours were nowhere near perfect. He also seemed to like your company at least a little and was oddly protective of you.

“Probably thinks I’m just a damsel in distress,” you muttered, going to get your laptop.

You thought back to the conversation you had with Bucky. He was out here for nine months now and had a cat. And you… your stomach sank when you realized you told him you lived alone and worked from home. He already knew you were out there by yourself and you basically implied that no one would realize if you were gone. At least, not right away.

“It’s fine,” you said, pushing the weird feeling away. Bucky Barnes was a hero, and you were a stranger in his territory. It was natural that he’d have questions. You had nothing to worry about.

You decided to sit out on the porch so you could look at the picturesque view again. Part of you wondered what it would be like to live out here full time. To walk outside on a cool morning and inhale the fresh air. To see the sun rise through the trees. You wouldn’t have to worry about the bustling sounds of the city but could instead take in the quiet.

Which was interrupted by the sound of your phone ringing.

You smiled when you saw Kenna’s name pop up. She was one of your oldest friends. “Hey,” you answered, putting the phone on speaker so you could continue to type. “What’s up?”

“Hey, girl. Work sucked. I’m seriously considering getting a sugar daddy.” You scoffed. She would never. She hated relying on others. “How about you? How are the woods?”

“Gorgeous,” you smiled, stopping to look around. “Sorry work sucked.”

“It’s whatever. You actually get reception out there in the woods? Nice.”

“So far, so good,” you said. You expected it to be a bit spotty, but it was fine for now.

“And you're feeling okay?” she asked with a hint of concern. “That cabin was supposed to be for-”

“I’m fine. Really.” You didn't want her to worry about that. “But I may have done something kind of stupid.”

“God, you didn't call him, did you?”

“No! No way.” You blocked his number and all social media accounts. You wanted nothing to do with him.

“Then what did you do?” she asked curiously.

“Well, there’s this kind of grumpy, really hot lumberjack who lives near the cabin I’m staying in,” you said, looking around to make sure Bucky wasn’t nearby. It looked like you were all alone. “He wasn’t exactly nice to me when we met earlier today, and I may have snapped at him a little bit.”

“You snapped at a guy who was rude to you? That doesn't sound stupid. Sounds like he deserved it.”

“Yeah, that wasn’t the stupid part,” you said, taking a breath. “I may have told him that I am here all alone for the next couple of weeks,” you blurted out, leaving out that he knew you lived alone, too, and that the grump in question was Bucky Barnes.

Your face scrunched up when you waited for Kenna’s response. “Oh, sweetie…” There it was, the condescending tone complete with a “sweetie” on top. “Why would you tell him that?”

“I don't know!” you exclaimed, lowering your voice with a sigh, “Because I’m an idiot.”

“You're not an idiot.” There was a pause on the other end. “I mean, you did kind of shine a beacon over yourself that says ‘hey, take advantage of me!’ because your self preservation skills aren’t the sharpest, but I know that wasn't your intention.”

You made a face at the phone, your fingers taping the keys harder than you needed to. “Wow. So, I am an idiot and anything that happens to me is my fault?” you asked. You were being defensive when Kenna was only being honest, which you appreciated. But being in the woods, the only thing you should have to worry about was bears, not people with bad intentions.

“No! That’s not what I meant. You just see the world in a much brighter light than most of us do, you know? You feel like you can trust people to have your best interest at heart when you open up to them because you choose to see the good. But the reality is, the world isn't that bright, and most look out for themselves first.”

“Rose colored glasses, I know,” you said, softer this time.

“Listen, I shouldn't have said you put a beacon on yourself. People who do bad things are the ones at fault, not the people they take advantage of.” There was another pause. “Maybe you won’t have to worry about this guy but try to be careful.”

“I will,” you said. You had to look out for yourself.

“And before you say more, let me guess. You were nice to the grump after you snapped at him?”

“You know me too well,” you smiled sheepishly. “I fed him.”

“Oh, God, he tasted your cooking? Yeah, you’re in danger,” Kenna teased. She always praised your cooking skills. “He’ll probably be on the doorstep every day asking for a meal and you’ll give him one.”

You giggled. “Because I’m a pushover?”

“It’s because you’re a good person, so stop with the self-deprecating,” she said. First Bucky, now Kenna. “If I could just give you some of my pessimism and you give me some of your optimism, we’d be perfect.”

“The perfect blend,” you said, though you didn't think Kenna was that pessimistic. She was just realistic.

“Also in your defense, a hot grumpy lumberjack is like something out of a romance novel. I probably would've jumped his bones.”

“Trust me, you would,” you said. Bucky was drop-dead gorgeous, and he would probably have fun with Kenna. Why did that thought make you feel sick? “He has a cat. And he said I was beautiful,” you said, your heart skipping a beat from the memory.

“Oh, he did, did he? Okay, I know I just told you to be careful, but… maybe this guy can blow your back out.” You looked around again and debated taking her off speakerphone when you thought you heard a twig snap in the distance. “I mean, you deserve multiple orgasms after what he who shall not be named put you through.”

“Kenna…” you sighed, not in the mood to discuss your ex. She never liked him but tried to tolerate him for you while you dated. You were grateful she didn’t say “told you so” when you broke up. “I just met this guy.”

“And? People go to bars and leave with people all the time. And all I’m saying is that your ex is out of the picture, and you have some wounds exposed,” she said carefully, not wanting to upset you. “So let this guy lick them clean if he offers. Let him lick something. I mean, he’s a lumberjack. He’s probably pent up and a beast in bed.”

Heat spread between your thighs before you mentally dumped a bucket of cold water on yourself. No way did Bucky want you. “So, I’m no longer supposed to be careful. I’m supposed to let him, what, fuck me?” you asked.

“Be careful and let him fuck you. Establish boundaries but have fun over the next couple of weeks. Go see his cat and then show him yours.”

You burst out laughing and covered your mouth so the sound wouldn’t echo. “You’re the worst.”

“I’m also the best,” she stated. She really was. “And who knows? This could be the start of something new.”

“I don’t think…” You sat up when another twig snapped, this one closer. You couldn’t see anything when you did a quick scan from your seat. “Hey, what would you think about coming out here for a couple of days so I’m not alone the whole time?”

There was a beat of silence on the other end. She was probably looking at her calendar. “Hmm. I’ll try to swing it with work, but no promises. I’ll keep you posted,” she said.

“Yeah, just call or text me,” you said, shutting your laptop. If she couldn’t, maybe one of your other friends wouldn’t mind spending some time away from the city. “I gotta go.”

“Me, too. Take care. Carry pepper spray. Be safe,” she said, hanging up.

You slowly went to the edge of the porch and looked around the side of the cabin. There was a good chance the sounds came from an animal nearby, maybe a deer. You could blame the chill that ran through your body on the breeze. It was getting darker though and not being able to see much beyond the nearby trees didn’t soothe your sudden nerves.

With a shake of your head, you went back inside. No one was there. You were just being paranoid.

Locking the door like Bucky instructed, you breathed a bit easier and wondered what you’d cook for him tomorrow. Something not too heavy since it was for lunch, but tasty. It was nice to have someone to cook for since the plan was to cook for two for the next two weeks.

You also thought about what Kenna said. Would there be any harm if anything transpired between you and Bucky? It would be nice to have some fun, but that wasn’t really your style. You were always a relationship kind of person. And Bucky, well, you had no clue what he wanted.

“Forget it,” you muttered.

Curling up on the sofa, your heart ached as you stared between the board games on the shelf and the small fireplace. There really wasn’t much to do by your lonesome, but there was reading. Television. And you wouldn’t put stock in Bucky spending lots of time with you while you were there. He wasn’t responsible for you.

Sniffling, you curled into yourself more. The cabin was meant to be filled with laughter, sounds of pleasure, and more. Not silence. But you’d still have a nice time. You owed it to yourself. And if anything, maybe you’d end the trip with a new friend.

You were in much better spirits when you headed to Bucky’s cabin the next day. The spring in your step was partially thanks to the good night's sleep you had after reading. The bed was extra comfortable, and you woke up bright and refreshed. You could get used to that feeling.

The other spring in your step was, well, because you were having lunch with Bucky. You didn’t want to admit how long you took to pick out an outfit in between making lunch and baking cookies. It wasn’t like you were trying to get his attention or impress him, but you still wanted to look nice and presentable. And you wouldn't allow the thought of loneliness to dampen your mood.

“Wow,” you whispered when his cabin came into sight. It was larger than the one you were in, simplistic and beautiful in design, and had a wraparound porch. You wondered how often he sat on the porch swing and if he brought Alpine out with him.

Taking a breath as you walked up the stairs, you gently knocked on the door. You didn’t know why you were nervous. It was just lunch with Bucky. A handsome, brooding-

You didn’t realize that Bucky had opened the door until you blinked, his blue eyes locked with yours. How many people cowered under his stare? He took up almost the entire door frame and a tiny sound escaped your lips when you noticed he was shirtless. The man had no shirt on.

You bit your lip involuntarily, trying your damnedest not to leer. Were you supposed to look at his massive chest? The scars on his left shoulder? The metal arm? Or was your gaze supposed to dip down past his torso to his jeans and… No. No. You weren’t supposed to stare at all.

“Right on time.” His voice was gruff, holding a hand out to take your bag. “Did you have a good night?”

“Um, yeah. Did a bit of reading and went to bed early.” His fingers touched yours when you handed the bag over and you let it linger longer than you should’ve. It wasn't like there was any tension between you two, right? “You?”

“Yeah. Uneventful,” he said before he deadpanned, “You staring at me?”

Your mouth fell open as he raised an eyebrow. Saying yes would make you look like a creep and saying no might hurt his feelings. “Well, you’re shirtless,” you answered, making a point to look away when you gestured to him. You felt kind of bad looking, but it also felt wrong to not look. As if that was an excuse. “You’re not cold?”

“It’s warm in here and I run warm as it is.” He didn’t look at all embarrassed when you snuck another glance at him. “It’s also more comfortable with the arm sometimes to go shirtless,” he explained, giving you just enough room to squeeze past him. You couldn’t stop your body from pressing against his since he didn’t provide much room and you hoped he didn’t notice the hitch in your breath. “If it bothers you-”

“This is your home and I want you comfortable,” you said, putting some distance between you once he shut the door. If he wanted to go shirtless, you wouldn’t stop him. You could deal with him and his sexiness for a short time and get through a meal.

“I appreciate that,” he said, taking your coat and purse. “Make yourself at home.”

You lingered in the living room. Rustic with the exposed wood beams, but cozy and inviting with the plush sofa and chairs. The large stone fireplace drew your attention, along with the rug in front of it. The perfect place to sit and gaze into a fire on a cold night.

You moved close to the mantle to look at the three photos that rested there. One was of the sun shining on a large body of water with trees on each side. It looked warm and peaceful.

The second was Bucky with two other men, all three of them in leather jackets. You recognized them after taking a closer look: Steve Rogers and Sam Wilson, heroes just like Bucky. While they looked relaxed and happy, Bucky wasn’t smiling at all.

Was that photo taken before or after the tough mission?

But the third photo wasn’t a photo at all. It was an empty picture frame. Where was the picture?

“Wakanda.”

You jumped and spun around, nearly bumping the mantle with Bucky so close. Your racing heart didn’t go back to normal immediately. How did he move around so quietly? “Wakanda?” you repeated.

He nodded to the first picture frame. “Where that photo was taken. It was right outside of my hut, sometime after I started healing. I didn’t have any nightmares that day.” His smile was soft as he reminisced. “It was a peaceful time.”

You smiled softly, too. He deserved peace. “It’s a beautiful view,” you said. The view he had there was beautiful and peaceful, too.

“I assume you know who Steve and Sam are?” You nodded in confirmation. “That was Sam’s birthday. He made us take a picture together and insisted on framing it.” He rolled his eyes, but there was affection there that he couldn’t hide. “I only have it up here because Steve said it would hurt his feelings if I threw it out.”

You looked at the photo again. Bucky’s hair wasn’t as long as it was now and his stance wasn’t as stiff, but the brooding expression was there. “I think that’s nice,” you smiled. It was good that he had friends. “And what about that frame?”

His jaw clenched, his fingers grazing the glass. “It’ll be a family photo,” he whispered longingly. “One day.”

Your heart broke for him and the urge to soothe him skyrocketed. Before you could stop yourself you put a hand on his arm. His muscles tensed under your touch and you pulled away, regretting your action immediately. “I’m sorry I touched you.” You felt terrible. You should’ve asked. “I’m sure it’ll be a beautiful photo. A beautiful family photo for your beautiful home,” you assured him as he let out a breath. He’d have that one day like he wanted.

He leaned in close, his lips close to skimming your ear. “Your touch doesn’t bother me,” he whispered like it was a secret between you before he pulled away. If he caught you quivering, he didn’t say so. “If you think this room is beautiful, wait ‘til you see the rest of the place,” he said, leading you away and not mentioning the family photo again.

You gasped when he brought you to the kitchen, your eyes bright as you took in the room. The rustic and cozy theme continued and you wondered if Bucky built the cabinets. You envied the open concept and counterspace and you wanted to weep over the large stove. The kitchen was the heart of a home and it was very much true for Bucky’s place.

“You like it?” he asked.

“Are you kidding? I love it,” you said, running a hand along one of the counters. You didn’t miss the way his chest puffed out with pride. “My kitchen is so small, but a space like this…”

He unpacked the bag of food you brought, giving you a sideways glance. “Maybe you can cook here,” he casually stated.

Your eyes lit up. “Really?” you smiled, nearly throwing yourself into his arms. You refrained. “I can cook here?”

“Yeah, really,” he said, tucking his hair back. Standing in front of the counter, shirtless, his hair down, he looked like a wet dream. “Like I said, I’m not as good of a cook as you. It’ll be nice to get some better use out of it.”

You clapped your hands giddily and he actually smiled a full blown smile. “Thank you, Bucky. Really,” you said. You’d make something extra special. “I hope you like the sliders. I made cookies, too.”

He turned to face you, his muscles rippling as he stepped a little closer. This man really didn’t understand personal space, did he? “How did you know I wanted dessert?” he asked, that husky tone back in his voice. Was he implying… No.

It was like Kenna was both the angel and devil on your shoulders, one telling you to flirt a little, and the other telling you to play it safe. “Just a guess,” you said lightly, going for something in the middle.

You didn't feel like you could breathe properly until he stepped back. “I almost forgot…” he trailed off, sauntering from the room.

You swallowed as you stayed rooted to the spot. What did he forget about? That he was still walking around without a shirt on?

Bucky came back with a beautiful cat in his arms, and you were close to swooning. It was quite the sight seeing a shirtless Bucky Barnes holding a cat, who looked at you with a curious stare. You didn't blame her for staring. You were a stranger in her home.

“Al, this is the woman I was telling you about,” he said, making your heart flutter when he said your name. He actually talked about you to her? It didn't mean anything special. He probably told her that a new visitor was stopping by. “Can you say hi?”

Alpine gently meowed, bringing a smile to your face. Bucky smiled, too. They made quite the pair.

“You can hold out your hand for her,” he said.

You did so gently, not wanting to startle her. “Hey, Alpine,” you smiled.

Her nose tickled your fingers before she nuzzled it, urging you to pet her. You did so, which earned you a purr in response. It was nice to get her seal of approval since Bucky said she was particular with people.

“Wanna hold her?” Bucky offered.

“If she’ll let me,” you said.

As soon as you held out your arms, Alpine crawled into them. Bucky looked pleased when she got comfortable and continued to purr. “She really likes you.”

“I like her, too,” you smiled down at the feline. She was a sweetheart.

“Perfect…”

You glanced up to find Bucky holding up his phone. “Sorry. Just thought it would be a nice photo,” he said, his expression not at all apologetic as he showed you the picture he took of you holding Alpine. “You don't mind, do you?”

“Oh, no. That’s fine,” you said. Maybe he didn't have pictures of others holding her.

He glanced at the photo again and nodded. “I might have to frame this one,” he said, tucking his phone away.

Your smile wavered as he grabbed a couple of plates. That wasn't weird, was it? No. It was just a guy wanting a sweet photo of his cat.

“Let’s eat,” he said, rubbing his chiseled stomach. “I’m starving.”

We deserve a shirtless Bucky, don't we? Is that photo going in that empty frame? What do we think will happen next? Love and thanks for reading! ❤️

Masterlist ⚓ Bucky Barnes Masterlist ⚓ Ko-Fi

[pleasantlycrazyworld]

Someone requested lumberjack!Logan I hope you like it <3 if you do please like, comment, and reblog it helps me stay motivated to keep posting on here. Request are open for Logan and Bucky and I am running out of things to write so please send in request!

Lumberjack!Logan builds you a house.

I see this happening in two ways; either he builds it in secret and surprises you or you help him design the floor plan and he builds what you have planned.

I personally think it would be more of a surprise, maybe a wedding gift for the two of you and he lets you decorate it instead of getting involved with the dirty work that is involved with building. He doesn't want you to get calluses or splinters and God forbid you hurt yourself with one of his tools.

He has the blueprints all prepared by the time he proposes, every week when you kiss him goodbye, he heads to the private land he bought and starts to build, he makes sure that he has it done before the wedding. The night of your wedding he carries you to his truck and he drives the two of you to the new home. It doesn't have much yet, just a mattress for the two of you to use for the night but when he carries you through the threshold you feel your heart swell. The man you love more than anything built you a home from the ground up.

"Logan this is beautiful" you squealed and jumped out of his arms to look around, before you could really explore, he starts to lead you to the master bedroom he made for the two of you and the two of you spend the night tangled in the sheets and each other limbs.

In the morning, he wakes up to the sunshining through the windows and he can't stop himself from purring when he feels the warmth of your body pressed so close to his. He has plans for the two of you to go out and buy whatever decorations and furniture you might want; he painted the walls colors he thought you might like but he wasn't stuck to the colors so if you wanted to repaint then that's fine by him.

He just wanted to provide you with shelter and warmth and comfort. As he looks around the room, he starts to think he did a pretty damn good job at achieving that, so he doesn't care how you want to furnish the house because he knows you'll make it a home for the two of you. And maybe soon it won't just be the two of you...he did make sure to build a few extra bedrooms for future use.

Tagging:

@userchai

@mahi-tamashi

@100percentlazybonez

@lanassmarty

@western-pyro

@misscrissfemmefatale

@marit332

@navs-bhat

@fluffy-b33z

@chaimshelii

@aoi-targaryen

@eyes-ofhell

[buckyblogs]

lumberjack!bucky au 😫

[buckysslut]

Shy beefy Lumberyard! Bucky who met a cute baker that seems "innocent" but somehow provoked him until he finally decided to have his way with her

𝐥𝐮𝐦𝐛𝐞𝐫𝐲𝐚𝐫𝐝!𝐛𝐮𝐜𝐤𝐲 & 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐛𝐚𝐤𝐞𝐫

"God, nobody knows how much of a slut you really are, do they?" He groans as he bounces you up and down on his cock, your back pressed up against the wall. "Does anybody know how much of a dirty talker you are? All the others at the yard told me you were the sweet one." You giggle breathily through an airy moan, gripping onto his shoulders tightly. "I-" He goes to speak, cutting himself off as his cheeks flush pink, both from the physical workout and from the embarrassment of what you've just said as well as what he's just said. He never thought he was that much of a dirty talker.

"Yeah well.. everyone thought that you were the sweet little baker.. don't think anyone knows you liked this kind of cream pie.." He murmurs, continuing to bounce you. Those muscles from working at the yard all day definitely paid off in more ways than one. "Yeah- Well- Only your ones.." You say breathlessly, head falling back against the wall as you clench around Bucky, arms around his shoulder to stay upright and not fall straight back down, "Hey baby..?" You pant, biting your lip, "Yeah..?" He grunts in your ear, going dizzy with the pleasure of your pussy wrapped around him, so tight and warm. "If we were a jam donut, I'd be the donut and you'd be the jam.." You mumble, eyes rolling back. Bucky just groans, cheeks still tinged pink. "Seriously..?" He grumbles, biting a hickey into your shoulder, "I'll make up for it by making donuts for later."

"Deal."

(A/N: lemme know what you guys think, i’m not really sure how to feel about this, i’m not very proud of it 😭)

Tags: @chrisevansleftnipple , @homiesexual-or-homosexual , @httpsells , @avengemepercy , @raikan624 , @multiversefanfics , @majulians-groupie ' @maryevm , @grilledcheesewithjalapeno , @yaboyguzma69 , @hopeofwinter , @buckybarnesslutshop , @iamthatonefangirl , @themidnightblog01