Beard Wars

Beard Wars

Summary: Logan’s been growing out his beard, and you’re starting to suspect it might be a little too attached to his face. Now it’s become a silent standoff between you, his beard, and the world’s dullest scissors.

Pairing             : Wolverine!Logan Howlett x Wife!Fem-reader

Genre              : Fluff

You’d seen Logan do a lot of wild stuff in your time together. The man fought in wars, took bullets like mosquito bites, and still had the nerve to complain about your cooking. But nothing—nothing—had prepared you for the unholy battle brewing in your bathroom.

It had been growing… and growing. Logan’s beard, that is. The thing had practically taken on a life of its own. And sure, when it first started, it was rugged. Hot, even. You loved the whole “wild lumberjack with claws” look. But after a couple months, the beard went from sexy to Sasquatch. Now it was long enough to braid… if you dared.

You stood there, glaring at Logan as he sat on the couch, legs kicked up, flipping through channels like he didn’t have a forest attached to his chin. You crossed your arms. “Logan.”

“Hmm?”

“We gotta talk about it.”

He didn’t even look at you. “Talk about what?”

“The beard.”

He glanced up over the remote, raising one bushy eyebrow. “What about it?”

“Babe.” You gestured to his face. “It’s gotten out of control. It’s like… you’re turning into Chewbacca.”

Logan shrugged, clearly not giving a single shit. “What? It’s fine.”

“Fine? Logan, it’s a beard. Not a security blanket.” You shook your head. “I swear, it’s like you’re afraid of trimming it.”

He smirked, clearly enjoying himself. “Afraid? Nah. Just like the way it looks.”

You sighed, rubbing your temples. “Babe, it’s started curling up at the ends. It looks like a goddamn villain’s mustache from a silent film. I’m half-expecting you to tie me to train tracks next.”

Logan huffed and stretched his legs. “What do you want me to do? Cut it?”

“Yes! Just… trim it. Before it starts forming opinions and voting in elections.”

“Good one,” he muttered, still flipping through the channels. “But nah. I like it.”

You knew this was going to be harder than you thought. This wasn’t a normal beard. This was Logan’s pride. His stupid, stubborn pride wrapped around his jaw like a fuzzy security blanket. You didn’t have claws or mutant powers, but damn it, you had scissors. And a dream.

Later that evening, you were standing in front of the bathroom mirror, practicing your technique. You held up the scissors and snipped the air a few times. Yeah, you had this. Stealth, precision, quick reflexes—you’d get him in his sleep.

You glanced down at the pair of dull scissors in your hand, suddenly wondering if maybe this wasn’t the smartest plan. Those things couldn’t cut through paper, let alone Logan’s adamantium-grade beard.

“Whatcha doin’ in there?” Logan’s voice echoed from the living room, suspicious.

“Uh, nothing!” You quickly shoved the scissors into the drawer and tried to look innocent. “Just, uh, brushing my teeth.”

“Mmhmm.” He didn’t believe you for a second.

That night, you waited. Logan fell asleep on the couch, a beer bottle balanced on his chest. You crept up, scissors in hand, moving like a ninja. The beard was right there—so close. One good snip, and you could at least tame that beast.

But the moment the scissors touched one hair, Logan’s hand shot out, catching your wrist. His eyes opened lazily. “What the hell do you think you’re doin’, darlin’?”

You froze, caught red-handed. “Um… grooming?”

Logan sat up, still holding your wrist with that annoyingly strong grip. “We talkin’ dog grooming or attempted murder?”

You sighed, defeated. “Logan, c’mon. It’s gotta go.”

He grinned, clearly enjoying the hell out of this. “You really think you can take this thing down with those weak-ass scissors? Good luck, babe.”

You pouted, yanking your wrist free. “You can’t live like this forever. You look like a damn mountain man.”

“That’s the point.”

“What, you gonna move to the woods and start living off the land?”

Logan chuckled, getting up from the couch. “Might not be such a bad idea. Get away from all this.” He waved a hand around like civilization was an inconvenience he had to endure.

“Okay, Thoreau,” you muttered, “but can we at least compromise? A little trim? Just a bit so you don’t look like a cryptid?”

Logan thought about it for a second, rubbing his chin. “Alright. You get one inch. One. Any more, and you’re losin’ a hand.”

You blinked. “That’s not exactly what I meant by compromise, but I’ll take it.”

The next morning, Logan sat in the kitchen, grudgingly handing you a pair of sharper scissors. “Make it quick.”

You grinned like you’d won the lottery. “I promise it’ll be painless.”

“You better hope so.”

You gingerly reached for the beard, Logan’s eyes watching you like a hawk. The tension was thick—one wrong move, and you knew it’d be war.

Snip. You took off just enough to make a difference, but not enough to piss him off. He grunted but didn’t complain. Snip, snip. A couple more careful cuts, and you stepped back, admiring your handiwork.

Logan rubbed his chin, inspecting it in the mirror. “Not bad.”

“See? Didn’t kill you.”

“Yet.”

You laughed, putting the scissors down. “You’re impossible, you know that?”

Logan stood up, stretching. “Maybe. But at least now I won’t get mistaken for Bigfoot at the grocery store.”

You smirked. “Who knew the Wolverine could be such a drama queen about a beard?”

He growled, but this time, you could see the smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “Don’t push it, babe. Next time you come near me with those scissors, you might lose an eye.”

“Noted.” You gave him a playful wink. “But seriously, thanks for not letting it grow legs and walk off on its own.”

“Yeah, yeah,” he muttered, grabbing his jacket. “Now let’s get outta here before you try to cut somethin’ else.”

As he headed for the door, you couldn’t resist one last comment. “Don’t worry, the hair on your head is next.”

Logan shot you a look over his shoulder. “Don’t. Even. Think about it.”

James 'Logan' Howlett (The Wolverine)

One-Shots

Series

Control Room

Summary: Bucky’s voice is in your ear, instructing you while the camera rolls; every move is his to command.

Pairings           : Bucky Barnes (The Winter Soldier) x Female Reader

Note                 : sex tape, masturbation, domination

The low hum of the camera filled the dimly lit room, casting a soft glow over the tangled sheets that lay beneath you. Bucky's voice came through the earpiece, smooth and commanding, wrapping around you like a warm blanket, igniting a fire deep within.

“Alright, doll, you ready for this?” His tone was low, a dangerous mix of anticipation and raw lust that sent shivers down your spine.

You nodded, even though he couldn’t see you. There was something about the way he said doll that made your heart race. Bucky had that effect on you—like he could light you up from across the room, making every nerve sing with desire. “Let’s do it.”

“Good.” He chuckled softly, the sound like a rumble of thunder in the distance. “Now, let’s start slow. I want you to tease the camera for me. Show me what you’ve got.”

You shifted, letting the soft sheets slide against your skin, exposing your body to the lens. The way Bucky watched you felt like a thousand eyes on you at once, but it was only his. You could feel the heat radiating from him, even through the earpiece, and you could practically see the way his dark blue eyes would be glimmering with desire.

“Show me that pretty face of yours, babe,” he urged, the gravel in his voice sending another wave of heat through your core. You bit your lip, trying to suppress a moan as you arched your back slightly, lifting your chest for the camera.

“That’s it, just like that. You look so good when you’re trying to please me,” he growled, and you could hear the slight hitch in his breath. It was music to your ears, knowing that you could bring him to the edge with just a look.

“Now, touch yourself for me,” he commanded, and it was less of a request and more of a demand. You couldn’t help but obey, feeling every bit the submissive under his watchful gaze. Your fingers trailed slowly down your body, teasingly lingering at your thighs before moving to your center, where the heat pooled, begging for release.

“Fuck, just like that. Keep going, don’t stop,” he said, his voice thick with lust, each word dripping with need. You let out a soft moan, closing your eyes for a moment, reveling in the sensation and the sound of his voice.

As your fingers moved with purpose, you could feel his eyes on you—every touch was amplified, every moment stretched out, suffocating with anticipation. “Bucky…” you breathed, not sure if you were begging or pleading.

“Keep it up, baby. I want you to feel every second of this. I’m right here, watching you, and I won’t take my eyes off you.”

You could hear the way his breath quickened, matching the rhythm of your fingers. It pushed you further, igniting something primal inside you, fueling the fire that was building. You knew he was waiting, just a heartbeat away from the edge, ready to take you where he wanted.

“Now, get on your knees,” he ordered, the authority in his voice sending a thrill down your spine. You obeyed without hesitation, moving smoothly to position yourself, the cool air brushing against your heated skin. “Good girl. Now, look up at the camera while you play.”

Your heart raced as you complied, the sight of your flushed cheeks reflected in the lens pushing you to the brink. You could hear the low growl from him, and it sent electric shocks of pleasure coursing through your body. “Damn, you’re fucking beautiful.”

“Bucky…” you whined, desperate for more, for him. “I need you.”

“I know, babe. Just hang tight for me. We’re just getting started.”

With that, he instructed you to switch positions, wanting to take full advantage of the two hours you had set aside for this. “Let’s see you ride that pillow. I want to watch you grind.”

As you shifted again, a wave of confidence surged through you. You positioned yourself over the pillow, feeling the plushness beneath you, imagining it was Bucky’s body instead. You moved slowly at first, teasingly, just like he liked it, but the growing need inside you pushed you to pick up the pace.

“Yeah, just like that. Feel that pressure building? I want you to let go when I tell you to.”

His voice was a tether, holding you close while pulling you deeper into that spiral of desire. You could almost feel his hands gripping your hips, guiding you along, but all you had was the pillow and the sweet promise of his words.

“Now, faster,” he commanded, and you obeyed, the sounds of skin against fabric filling the room. You felt your body respond, heat pooling and building as you chased that sweet release, and Bucky’s breath quickened in your ear.

“Almost there, babe. I can feel you getting close. Just a little more, don’t stop.”

The tension in the air thickened, coiling tighter around you as you desperately chased the edge. “Bucky! I can’t hold on much longer!”

“Then don’t. Let go for me. Now.”

You obeyed, crashing over the precipice he’d crafted with his words and that commanding presence of his. Pleasure shot through you like fireworks, your body quaking in delight as Bucky’s voice drummed in your ear, urging you on, coaxing every ounce of ecstasy from you.

“Good girl,” he praised, and you could hear the satisfaction in his tone. “That’s it. You did so well.”

As your body calmed, you leaned back against the pillows, panting, heart racing. Bucky’s next command was already on the horizon, and you could feel your anticipation building once more.

“Alright, baby, let’s switch it up. Now, I want you to lay back, and I’m going to take control.”

With that, the room filled with a new wave of heat, and you knew the next hour would be even more intense, just as he wanted. The camera rolled, capturing every second of Bucky's relentless hunger for you.

Will you be making a second party to the tinder date with Logan? I love you writing and it was super cute!

Done! Check this out!

The Wrong Wedding

Summary: You and Bucky accidentally show up at the wrong wedding after his GPS leads you astray.

Pairing            : Bucky Barnes x Girlfriend!Reader

Genre              : Fluff

It all started with Bucky's insistence that his GPS app was better than mine. He was so confident—borderline cocky—about it. We were supposed to be headed to Steve’s cousin’s wedding, which was in the middle of nowhere, somewhere off a dirt road, in a place with more cows than cell towers.

“Trust me,” Bucky had said, flicking his phone screen with his vibranium fingers. “I’ve been using this app for ages. It’s foolproof.”

Clearly, Bucky hadn’t met the one fool who could outsmart even the most advanced piece of Stark tech: himself.

An hour into the drive, I noticed something was off. The trees were looking... different. Like, spooky, “I’m going to kill you and your super-soldier boyfriend” kind of different.

“Bucky, I don’t think this is the way,” I said, squinting out the window. “Did Steve’s cousin plan their wedding in the middle of a horror movie set?”

He just grunted, glancing over at me for a second. “Relax. We’re fine. GPS says it’s just a few more miles.”

I leaned forward and saw the little blinking dot on his phone. “What does ‘Danger: No Road Access’ mean?”

He blinked. “Probably just a suggestion.”

“Uh-huh. And what about ‘Entering Restricted Area: Authorized Personnel Only’?”

Bucky shrugged, his fingers tapping the steering wheel like he didn’t just guide us into a potential military test site. “It’s fine. Steve’s family is kinda military, right? They probably booked a spot near a base.”

“Right.”

Another fifteen minutes passed, and finally, we pulled into a parking lot filled with cars. There were people milling around, music playing, and... was that a fountain of champagne?

“See?” Bucky smirked, throwing the car in park. “Told you.”

I eyed the fancy decorations and wedding arches. “Steve said his cousin’s wedding was supposed to be a ‘rustic, simple affair.’ This looks like Beyoncé’s vow renewal.”

Bucky frowned, glancing around. “Well... maybe rustic means different things to different people?”

I shot him a look but shrugged. “Fine. Let’s just get this over with. But if this isn’t the right wedding, you’re making the speech to the bride and groom.”

“Deal.”

As we got out of the car, Bucky fixed his suit jacket, pulling at the cuffs like he wasn’t used to dressing up. I, on the other hand, was just praying my dress didn’t ride up in the wind as we walked toward the entrance.

The moment we stepped inside, something felt... wrong.

First of all, there were way too many people for Steve’s cousin. Secondly, there was a chocolate fountain. With gold flakes.

I leaned over to Bucky, whispering, “You sure Steve’s cousin isn’t like, the secret heir to a throne or something? This feels kinda royal.”

Bucky’s eyes narrowed as he scanned the room. “Yeah, this seems a little... much.”

Just as we were about to turn around, a woman wearing a glittery, over-the-top dress—clearly tipsy—grabbed Bucky’s arm. “Oh my God, you made it!” she squealed, eyes wide. “Natalie will be so happy!”

I stifled a laugh as Bucky’s face froze in horror. The woman didn’t even give him a chance to respond before dragging us toward the dance floor, where the bride and groom—Natalie and some dude we had never met in our lives—were having their first dance.

“Yep,” I whispered, biting back a smile. “We’re at the wrong wedding.”

Bucky glanced at the bride and groom, then back at me. “You wanna leave?”

“Are you kidding?” I grinned. “Hell no. We’re staying.”

He sighed, rubbing a hand down his face. “Why do I let you talk me into this crap?”

“Because you love me, obviously.” I tugged him toward the open bar, smirking. “Come on, might as well enjoy the free booze.”

We spent the next half hour trying to blend in, sipping champagne and stealing bites of hors d'oeuvres that looked way too fancy for regular humans. Bucky kept looking around, clearly uncomfortable with the whole situation. I, on the other hand, was living for it.

“So,” I teased, leaning on the bar, “when are you going to make that speech you promised?”

His face went pale. “You were serious about that?”

“Dead serious.”

Before he could protest, the tipsy glittery woman from earlier suddenly appeared, now holding two glasses of champagne. “Oh my God, you have to give a speech! You’re practically family!”

Bucky looked like he wanted to disappear into the floor. “I’m practically family?”

The woman waved him off. “Natalie will love it! Go, go!”

I shoved him lightly. “Come on, Barnes. Time to shine.”

He groaned but stood up, adjusting his jacket like he was going into battle.

As he took the mic, I could see him searching for something to say. Anything.

“Uh,” Bucky started, clearing his throat awkwardly. “So… weddings, huh?”

I bit my lip to stop from laughing. This was already a trainwreck.

“They’re... great,” he continued, glancing at the bride and groom who were staring at him expectantly. “You know, marriage is like... teamwork. Like... um, the Avengers. You got your Iron Man, who’s always doing his thing, and then there’s Cap—Steve—who’s, uh, really good at giving speeches...”

Oh. My. God.

I buried my face in my hands as Bucky rambled on about superheroes and teamwork, comparing marriage to “coordinating a mission,” and something about “taking down Hydra together.”

By the time he wrapped it up with, “So yeah... uh, congrats, I guess,” the room was dead silent.

Then, suddenly, the bride—Natalie—burst out laughing, clapping her hands. “That was amazing! Best speech ever!”

The rest of the crowd erupted in applause, and I couldn’t stop laughing as Bucky stumbled off the stage, red-faced and glaring at me.

“Did you really just compare marriage to taking down Hydra?” I gasped between fits of laughter.

“Shut up,” he muttered, downing the rest of his champagne. “I hate you.”

“No, you don’t.” I leaned over and kissed his cheek. “You love me, remember?”

He grumbled something under his breath, but I saw the smirk tugging at the corner of his lips.

The rest of the night was a blur of dancing, stealing more fancy food, and somehow convincing Bucky to slow dance with me. He wasn’t great at it—he kept stepping on my toes—but seeing the Winter Soldier awkwardly trying to sway to a love song was probably the cutest thing I’d ever witnessed.

By the end of the night, we were sitting by the chocolate fountain, eating cake and pretending we belonged there.

“So,” Bucky said, licking some frosting off his thumb, “wanna tell Steve about how we crashed the wrong wedding?”

I shook my head. “Nope. This is between us. Our little secret.”

He smirked. “Deal.”

As we got up to leave, the bride ran over to us again, giggling as she handed Bucky a massive box of cake. “Take this with you! You guys were so fun, I’m so glad you came!”

Bucky blinked, looking down at the cake. “Uh, thanks?”

And just like that, we walked out of the wrong wedding, carrying more cake than we could eat in a month.

As we got into the car, I glanced over at Bucky, who was still holding the box. “So... GPS app of yours, huh? Foolproof, right?”

He shot me a death glare. “Don’t. Say. A word.”

I grinned, leaning back in my seat as he started the car. “Admit it, Barnes. You had fun.”

He didn’t respond, but the small smile on his face told me everything I needed to know.

And as we drove away from the most ridiculous night ever, I couldn’t help but laugh. Who knew the Winter Soldier could be such a troublemaker?

Cheesy Pickup Lines

Logan: If I were cheese, you’d be the cracker. Y/N: Aww, that’s the cutest thing ever! ❤️ Logan: .....................I’m disgusted by how cheesy that was.