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ohnaaahhh · 2 months ago

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Dream Walking l M.K.

The Nightmare by Henry Fuseli

w.c. : 4.1k

t.w. : Dark Fic, Smut (Dub-Con due to reader believing it was all a dream), angst, jealousy between the moon boys

a/n : Please read warnings for all of my works before reading. 18+ only! Also, this was inspired by the song Dream by the Pied Pipers.

Summary: Therapy and the consequences of your sleeping pills. He couldn’t be real; it was just your brain confusing dreams with reality.

“Can you tell me what happens in your dreams?”

You play with your fingers, staring into the floor, its pattern strange circles. You’ve never seen a carpet like it, you think it was meant to be soothing, almost like the paintings she has of waves and the lakes on her walls. Unlike the harsh edges and corners of squares or rectangles, perhaps? You felt anything but soothed-

She clears her throat. You glance up and you feel your stomach turn, your cheeks fill with heat.

“Uh- I just. I get ready for bed, and then it comes in through the window.”

“Which window?” she asks calmly, almost as if she were bored.

“The one in my bedroom.”

She nods at you to continue. You hesitate and of course she notices.

“You can continue.”

You inhale sharply, your legs bounce in anxiety.

“He- “

“He?”

“Yes, it’s a he. Sorry.”

She nods as if she understood. She looks down and writes something on her pad. You pretend that you didn’t notice the irritating scratches against the paper.

“Uhm. He… stays at my apartment for a while.”

“Doing what?”

You look up at her and shake your head lightly. Heat rises to your cheeks ten times hotter.

“… nothing.”

She sighs, closing her notepad and uncrossing her legs. She puts her elbows on her knees and leans closer to you.

“I won’t be able to help you if you're not completely honest with me?” she scolds lightly. She sounds like a mother, a threat behind her soft words.

You look away from her eyes and focus on her shoulder.

“I know.”

“Good.” Her lips purse into a small smile. Her eyes flicker down.

She checks her watch and sighs. She stands.

“Looks like our time is up.”

You stand immediately and move to the door. She stops you with a hand to your shoulder.

“I do hope that you try to open up more.” She pauses. “Next time.” Of course, not for free.

You nod.

“See you next time.”

…

He picks you up and you wrap your legs around his waist. His tongue slithers inside of your mouth and he tastes the sweetness of the honey you put in excess of in your tea and the bitterness of the leaves.

He stumbles around your apartment, looking for your bedroom all the while groping you through your clothes. You moan into his mouth as he starts to move his kisses down to your throat, sucking and mouthing a path.

He reaches where your neck and shoulder meet and bites down hard. You cry out and hiss. He was always a little aggressive with you, lugging your around, positioning you in different ways, fucking you until you almost passed out. You liked it. You always looked forward to when the moon shines because of him.

You always wake up with bruises that didn’t seem to be well hidden under make up and scratches that weren’t there the day before. He always left some to remind you of the night before.

At least, that’s what you like to think happened. Doctors say that you sleepwalk, that your brain doesn’t fully rest. It was the only logical explanation. It adds up. Especially since some of your stuff was misplaced or thrown to the floor the morning after.

He laid you on the bed, clawing at your sleep pants and shoving them down. His fingers met your flesh and you cried out from the way he slammed into you so quickly. He filled you, the sound of his cock driving into you making a thick squelch resound around your bedroom.

“You're so wet, Sweetheart. You miss me that bad?”

He smirks.

God, how you wish he were real.

…

“Hey Steven,” you greet cheerily.

He completely ignores you as he walks by, instead hurriedly walking to the back room where all of the storage was held.

Your face falls. Of course, he wouldn’t notice you, no one did. You ignore the amused stares of the others around you.

How pathetic of you, assuming he would even look in your direction. Assuming anyone would look in your direction.

Marc is angry. He thought you deserved the world. He wished he could be there with you. But alas, he had to make Steven believe that he was the only person in that dim witted brain of his.

But seeing tears form under your lashes, and seeing you brushing off your embarrassment set him off. Steven falls to the floor, tripping, seemingly on air.

Whenever Marc saw you glance in his direction Steven was dealt with another, minor, injury. A paper cut, a hit to his funny bone, biting his cheek when eating.

He didn’t feel jealous of the way you looked at Steven. He didn’t think Steven didn’t deserve your attention. He definitely didn’t hate the way you’d get sad whenever Steven couldn’t even remember your name. No. All he had to do was remember that you two would see each other again. That Steven was temporary.

You only liked Steven because he looked like him.

…

You were tired, even in your dreams it seemed. You’ve dealt with fatigue before; you were used to feeling it weigh you down. You were starting to get better especially with the meds you’ve been prescribed. The side effects freak you out though. You’ve learned to live with them.

As you lay beside him, heavy in his arms with sleepiness, you think back on the first time he appeared to you.

It was a particularly mind numbing night. You kept on thinking about the incident. The bodies piled upon bodies of people that hurt you. You couldn’t help but feel as if even then, they didn’t deserve their fates, despite the way they kidnapped you and threatened your life for ransom money.

Money that was never going to arrive anyway.

You owed your life to him, the man wrapped in bandages and with golden crescents in both hands. But you were terrified when he snatched you up, the fabric of his suit covered in blood and rubbing against your clothes. You didn’t think heroes would decapitate the villains. You didn’t think they would leave their enemies so beaten it was almost impossible to identify their dead bodies.

You turned in your bed and were met with him, now cleaned of any blood and watching from the foot of your bed. The drugs were messing with your mind. The pills made you numb.

You sat up and stared back, unafraid.

He left after that and kept on coming back once every week, then twice, then thrice, until it became every night.

You felt noticed. You felt good about yourself. In a way, the thought of a man coming into your house, just to be in your presence, made you feel nice. Even if it wasn’t real.

He implemented himself into your nightly routine smoothly.

You sleep in his arms and wake up tucked in your bed, you almost cry from the thought that you had to go to work. You wish you were asleep a little longer.

…

You offered him a cup of tea, and he took it gently, brushing his fingers over yours. Uncovering his face from the bandages and blowing softly, he pushes the steam to you. Your face scrunches from the heat and you huff. He chuckles as you repeat the action back to him.

“You look like my coworker,” you say after staring at him for a couple of seconds.

He freezes and places his cup on the counter in front of him. You tap your nails against the wood and tilt your head as if you were analyzing him like an art enthusiast.

“You’re grumpy and you lost the accent, but you look the same.”

Marc frowns.

“The same curls, too. I didn’t think he looked this handsome up close.”

“I'm not Steven,” he mumbles.

“Yeah… I know.”

He didn’t like the way you said that so sadly. As if it pained you that he wasn’t Steven. As if Steven was the one holding you, caring for you, and pleasing you.

“I'm better,” he says sharply. Your brows furrow at his sudden shift in tone.

“He doesn’t even notice you. He doesn’t even think about you. You mean nothing to him.”

“W-what?” you stutter out.

He ignores you, opting to shout, even as you start to tremble.

“You’re always drooling over him, and he doesn’t even care.”

“I don’t- “

“It’s pathetic, the way everyone else can see that you have no chance and yet you still believe somewhere, deep in your heart, that there could be something- that there even would be anything if he looked in your direction.”

You started to breathe heavily. He finally stopped when he saw you stand from your table quickly, making the chair underneath you crash against the floor.

“Why are you saying these things to me?” you sob.

He tried to get closer to you. To calm you down.

“You’re n-not real! You are not real!”

You close your eyes tightly. Wishing that you would wake up, that his words were just a dream turned nightmare.

He enveloped you in his arms and you tried to claw your way out of his hold. You felt as if you were being suffocated. You couldn’t take a full breath in.

“Breathe, baby. Breathe with me.”

His hold on you tightens and he turns your back to his front. He breathes in deeply. You feel his chest rise and fall exaggeratedly.

You try to follow but you keep on getting choked on your own stuttering breaths. He loosens slightly and gestures with his hand in time with his breaths.

When you calmed, you felt your whole body slump. The energy zapped out of you. You didn’t see him reach back and sprinkle something into your mug.

He brings your tea to your lips. The strange new taste didn’t reach your brain. After a few minutes your eyes start to feel heavy. Your head is now turning to mush. You can only hear him, whispering into your hair, even as you start to lose consciousness.

“I'm sorry… I’m sorry… I’m sorry, baby…”

You wake up dead tired, the last thing you remember from your dreams was the man in white telling you his name wasn’t Steven. You wonder why the dream was shorter than usual.

…

“He told me his name wasn’t Steven.”

She stares at you.

“He seemed upset- “

“Do you think that maybe, this entity you’ve made in your subconscious and has to do with the incident.”

With a tight-lipped smile she continues, ignoring your surprised look.

“Witnesses say that the suspect was wrapped in bandages and had glowing eyes, things you’ve described this person in your dreams as having. Could you be making this figure in your head, perhaps in an attempt to stabilize your fear?”

“I don't- “

“You did say you had feelings for your co-worker. Are you associating this person with someone you know? Some encounters might be inherently sexual because of your feelings for Steven.”

You feel tears gather in your eyes; a deep sadness builds within you. You knew from the start that he wasn’t real, that he was a dream, but you felt as if you have a relationship with him, a deep and emotional relationship. Of course he was a result of trauma.

She made sense, you didn’t. As always. You had to face reality again. She thought you were getting too into your fantasies.

You cry silently and she watches from her seat, not moving from where she sat to console you in what you felt was a deep loss.

…

He sits on your bed, watching as you lay on your side and face the wall. Your back was to him, and you didn’t turn as you felt his weight press against the mattress. He knew you were awake by the way your heart thuds erratically as he snakes his hand up your shirt and smooths over your back. He unhooks your bra skillfully and you sharply inhale.

You didn’t move. Instead, you close your eyes tightly and shoving him away. The pang of rejection turns into that of irritation. He moves over your body, but his face softens when he sees tears fall from your eyes.

His mask retracts and his gloved hand comes up to caress your cheek, swiping at a tear.

“What happened?” he asks. “Who made you cry?”

You don’t look at him, instead focusing your gaze on his shoulder.

“You’re not real.”

He guffaws and pulls you to sit up in his lap. He cradles your face with both hands, making you look directly at him.

“I'm real. As real as can be.”

You pull his hands away. He pouts.

“You’re a dream.”

“I’d hope so.”

Your lip wobbles and your brows twitch uncontrollably.

“I wish you were real.”

He pulls you against his chest, urgently trying to comfort you. It just made you cry harder.

“It’s true, she told me. You're just something I made up in my head. I knew from the start- b-but once she told me… I just feel pathetic,” you say in between hiccups.

He shivers at your use of that word. He feels guilt and anger build in his stomach

“Who told you this?” You were too caught up in your emotional breakdown to notice the danger in his voice. Or the rumble that resounded in his chest filled with pure rage at the idea that someone could have hurt you this badly.

“My psychiatrist, the one who gave me the pills to sleep better.” You were confused. If he was something that you made up in your head, how could he not know everything that was already in there.

His anger built up. His hands tighten around your shirt as he rocked you. He thinks he’s going to pay someone a visit.

“I need a name, baby,” he says softly, against your hair. You mumble out a quiet response.

“Address?” You adjust against his hold and start to play with the crescent on his chest. He almost didn’t hear you when you said the street name from how quiet you’d gotten.

He kisses the side of your head. His hands rub your back soothingly as you cry against him.

“I'm going to prove I’m real. You won’t have to cry again.”

…

Steven’s been having dreams. Dreams of you. They usually feel as if he’s waking up. As if he was placed in situations with you at random.

They were only glimpses, blips of your face and cheeky smile. He always felt incredibly hot whenever he saw you in compromised positions, stopping for a moment to gather himself and then continuing whatever dream he was doing.

He now has your moans, your little gasps and your begs on his mind. He really didn’t know where they came from.

“Stevie!”

He almost drops the boxes in his hands. He sees someone round the corner.

“It’s Steven, actually!” he shouts back in irritation.

He grumbles under his breath cursing the job he’s stuck with at the moment. He turns and regrets the impression he made, especially since you caught him yelling.

Donna looks between the both of you, motioning Steven over. He looks at you in awe. You looked exactly like his dreams up close. From the mark on your cheek to the small scar under your jaw.

You felt insecure as he basically ogled at you, probably judging you as Donna talked.

“… Anyways, Steven, I brought you help. Show her where things go and what not.”

“Course’ Donna,” he says as he continues to stare at you.

She made a face at the fact that he was being weird, weirder than usual at least. That was none of her business. She left quickly after.

You look around the room in concern. It was incredibly disorganized. When Donna asked or more like threatened you to help, you thought it wasn’t going to be as bad as she made it seem. You thought it seemed much worse now that you’re there.

“Uh… hi I’m- “

“Oh, I know who you are. No need to introduce yourself,” he says cheerily as he places his hand on your shoulder.

You smile shyly, but your heart thumps wildly. He reminded you so much of your dream man. His gaze was very heavy. Intense. You chuckle awkwardly when his hand doesn't move and instead his fingers spread on your shoulder.

His thumb rubs against your clavicle and he zones out. His eyelids lower slightly and his tongue peeks out a little between his lips. Your whole body goes hot. He stares into your shoulder. His hand looks huge on your shoulder.

He wonders what other part of your body his hands would look good on. You clear your throat lightly. He snaps out of it, realizing his hold on you was getting too tight.

“Right! Thank you for the help, darling. I could really use it right now,” he smiles warmly.

“N-no problem.” Your stomach was filled with butterflies. You felt as if you wanted to puke. Darling. Jesus.

He shows you where the things are supposed to be. Telling you a random fact about each piece of merchandise and ranting to you about when they got things wrong or were factually incorrect. You listen intently, catching his every word even when he starts to ramble.

“Oh. Sorry, I go off on my own a lot.”

“No worries, I get it. You're passionate about history.”

His smile widens.

You two make quick work of everything. He usually stopped to point at something he found funny or cute and your cheeks would heat up from his attention.

By your side you only needed to store one more box.

You bend down to check the contents inside and he groans. He’s had visions of you like this. He remembers the way your back arches, the way you cum so easily in that position. His pants feel very uncomfortable.

You stand up straight, but he still has the image of you, ass up and head buried in pillows presenting your sweet pussy to him. He swears he could still see your lips glisten and could feel how wet you were.

He stops you when you lean down again to pick it up, insisting that he could do it for you.

“Looks like everything here is good,” you say as you stretch your arms out.

He nods, clearly not focused on what you were saying. He was probably tired, you thought. He definitely wasn't watching the way your breasts bounced as you moved.

You nervously kicked your foot back and forth, colliding with the stand and unbalancing spare boxes from atop.

Packing peanuts are all over your hair and one or two boxes thump to the floor loudly. He snorts as he sees you surrounded in packaging.

You thought you were going to die of embarrassment. He was laughing at you. You try to chuckle to cover your urge to run and hide. When he starts to help you pick up some of the heaps of wraps and boxes, you start to feel your eyes well with tears. He looks at you in concern.

"Oh no, you're not crying about your hair, are you? Here- I'll fix it for you." He pushes past the mess of plastic on the floor and cradles your face instinctually. He practically coos at you. Your tears seem to dissipate, your embarrassment turning into confusion.

He starts picking the peanuts from your hair, softly reassuring you that it was alright and that you would soon be in tip top shape. When he’s done he smooths his hands over your head, slowly moving them to cup your face. He stops and admires it.

You're as plush as he remembered. He can see your soft tummy from this angle, the way your hips curve and the way your thighs press against each other softly. He starts to lean his head into yours. His eyes start to close?

“Steven, what- “

He kisses you. You were in shock. But as he pressed himself further into you, you couldn’t help but reciprocate. His hands find their way to your waist and squeeze at your flesh.

You were so damn soft and plump, he felt as if he wanted to devour you.

His tongue passes through your lips, and you whine. He didn’t know how he knew you liked that. You feel as if you could explode from the way his head buried on your neck and he bites down on your spot.

A loud crash makes you both jump and pull away. One of the boxes fell from a pile. You turn back to him and see him staring at the mark he made. He snaps out of his trance when he sees you touch the tender skin with your fingertips.

Just like your dreams, you both thought.

You hear someone call your name. You hurriedly adjust your shirt and straighten your work attire.

“Stevie, pick up the mess,” she says tiredly as she rounds the corner. She points to you with two fingers, holding a clipboard on one hand.

“You. I need you to do something for me.”

She gets irritated when you don’t move, instead staring at her with wide eyes.

“Come on then, I don’t have all day.”

You mumble a quiet sorry as she leads you out of the room and shoves the board in your hands.

You look over your shoulder to see Steven frowning, his shoulders slumped and his head lowered.

…

The next day, you stared at the note on your fridge. A magnet you got from the gift shop holding it still. You had just woken up; your dreams were extra rough that night. The dream man was not gentle, he seemed even more possessive than previous interactions. You woke up with more bruises than usual.

Call your psychiatrist. I’m more than real.

It wasn’t in your handwriting. You don’t remember ever writing it. You were more than a little scared.

You were going crazy. You called. She’d probably tell you that you wrote the note yourself. That in your state of delusion you made it seem as if someone else did it.

“Can I talk to Dr.- “

“I'm sorry miss but she didn’t come to the office today.”

“I thought her days off were the weekends.”

“We, ehm, don’t actually know where she is at the moment.”

“Oh.”

“I’ll call you back when she’s in, yeah love? I’m sure she’s just running late.”

“… yeah.”

She was found lying half dead in her bedroom. A note was attached to her blouse.

Proof

…

You’ve been having a shitty day. The one person that you could talk about anything was gone, and the person in your dreams was grumpier than usual. You even felt a little fear being around him, the note was too much of a coincidence.

But the thought of seeing Steven again cheers you up immensely. You get giddy as you walk through the door to the entrance.

Your heart pumps in your chest, you could hear it beat in your ears.

“Are we still on for Seven tomorrow?”

He nods slowly. “Seven. Tomorrow?”

She smiles at him. He copies her.

“Best steak in town?”

“Oh, yeah. Yeah, right.”

“Yeah? Okay.”

Your stomach plummets and you almost trip mid step. You stop. You didn’t notice her leaving the gift shop desk already. You start to move again when you catch Steven’s gaze. He tries to walk up to you but Donna goes up to him.

“Stevie, you absolute rascal. I didn’t know you had taken a crack.”

You shuffle away quickly. Despite the tears welling in your eyes and blurring your vision you were able to find the bathroom and lock yourself in a stall.

You avoid everyone the whole day.

…

Marc treasures his time with you. Ensuring that he soothes your tears. He feels a little sympathy for you, for what Steven did. He’s sure it was a mistake, considering he doesn’t even remember Steven talking to the woman in the first place.

He stays with you, consoling you and drying your tears.

Maybe it was a good thing.

You just needed to understand; he couldn’t be with you. He’s sure as time passes your sadness will pass. You have him. Who else could you possibly want? Who else would care for you as much as he has?

--------------------

Thank you all for reading! I didn't really change much from this one, I like it how it is. Comments and Reblogs are much appreciated!! Part two on its way...

-Alejandra 💋

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ohnaaahhh · 2 months ago

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PERFECT I love it

apparently i am on a jake kick soooo here's more driver!jake/rich girl!reader even tho no one asked for it lmao

(this is rated m, literally just pure, unadulterated smut lmao, not proofread---please forgive any bad spanish translations, i tried 😭)

---

Your moans are soft, your fingers clenching in his hair as you arch gracefully against the leather seat in the back of his limo. Jake groans at the slight sting in his scalp, his face buried between your delectable thighs as he feasts on you, slowly, torturously dragging you closer and closer to the edge. His hands grip your hips, fingers digging into your skin as he traces quick, delicate circles around your clit with the tip of his tongue. You sigh his name, body quivering with pleasure.

Jake hums against your sopping folds, completely lost in the sweetness of your cunt. He's already made you come twice, your juices flooding his tongue, running down his chin and neck. He could stay here for hours, he thinks, your thighs shaking against his shoulders, those sweet little noises falling from between your lips as he makes you come again and again---

"Jake," you whine, hissing in pleasure as he wraps his lips around your clit.

He hums again, lapping at the sensitive bud with the tip of his tongue. The choked moan you let slip almost makes him come in his pants, your breath stuttering in your chest as you fight to maintain your composure. Jake pulls his mouth from your sex, licking his lips as he meets your gaze.

"Give me one more, bebita," he croons, slowly pushing two thick fingers inside you. "Just one more and I'll fuck you, mmm?"

You groan as pumps his fingers in and out of you, pussy clenching around the digits at his words. His dark eyes are trained on your face as he works, eagerly watching your every expression. A furrow appears between your brows when you're close, your eyes falling half shut, breath leaving your lungs in short pants.

"Jake," you plead again, mouth falling open in ecstasy when he drags his fingers against your fluttering walls.

He leans in again, flicking your clit with his tongue as he slowly fucks you with his fingers. You come with a yelp, body convulsing beneath his ministrations. He drags your pleasure out, groaning with delight as your pussy drenches his fingers. You hiss when he removes them, a moan catching in your throat when he brings the digits to his mouth. His eyes fall shut as he sucks them between his lips, humming in pleasure as the taste of you explodes on his tongue again.

"You taste like heaven, cariño," he rasps, swiping his tongue over his lips.

He feels your fingers curl around his tie, and he lets you pull him toward you. You claim his mouth in a sloppy kiss and he groans, tongue prodding the seam of your lips as he braces his hands against the seat on either side of you. You sigh as he licks into your mouth, shifting so you can pull his body down on top of you.

Jake breaks the kiss with a groan when he slips inside you, burying his face in your neck, your fingers tangling in his hair. You wrap your legs around his waist, breath hitching as he sinks in even further. He mouths at the base of your neck as he rocks into you, searching for the spots that make you keen.

"Sientes tan bien," he murmurs, groaning again as your tight cunt convulses around him.

You moan in agreement, hands sliding down his back to cup his ass. His pace increases a little as you squeeze his cheeks, pleasure zinging through you when his pubic bone catches against your sensitive clit.

"Fuck," you whisper, eyelashes fluttering as you pull your lip between your teeth.

He hums, mouthing at your skin as he drags his lips down, down past your collarbone to the swell of your breasts. Your breath hitches when he nips at the delicate skin there, your fingernails digging into his skin.

Slowly, Jake works you back up, the heat building in your belly with every push of his hips, until you're clawing at his back, begging him to fill you to the brim.

And he does, painting your inner walls with his hot seed, the excess spilling out onto the leather seat beneath you as he keeps rutting into you with his softening cock. You whimper when his thumb finds your clit again, his mouth at your ear, asking you for "just one more, hermosa." His moan is broken when you come, your cunt squeezing him, milking every last drop from his cock.

If you enjoyed this, please let me know! I appreciate every single reblog and/or comment. Thank you. 💖

🌟 Masterlist 🌟

i am no longer doing a taglist. please follow @charmingupdates for updates and turn on notifications.

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ohnaaahhh · 2 months ago

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yall dont understand how bad i need dick rn but all of yall works got my back for so damn long ily

#old man logan #james logan howlett #ex machina #poe dameron #moon knight meme #nathan bateman x reader #moon knight fanart

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ohnaaahhh · 2 months ago

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THIS IS FUCKING AMAZING WE LOVE THE HONORABLE MENTION OF HIS PROMINENT VEIN YESSSSSS I WAS YELLING AT THE TOP OF MY LUNGS

Prince Charming

Old Man Logan X F!Reader

Plot: He's really no Prince Charming, but he is to you, and you'll treat him like one too.

A/N: I really just wanted to write old man Logan being taken care of...and also being a little softer because he had someone taking care of him...I just want to give him a hug (and other things...)

Warnings: Smut (18+ only!!), Oral (M recieving), Fluff too!! reader gives Logan a massage (in more ways than one ;) ) pet names like princess and baby used, reader loves Logan a lot, a small section of angst but not really?

Word Count: 2401

Soft jazz played in the background as candlelight flickers against the wall of your…bedroom- if you could call it that. Curtains pulled over large windows, fluffy rugs on the floor, a few pieces of furniture placed carefully around the room, with pictures and decorations and a lamp that gave the room a warm, soft lighting- creating an inviting atmosphere that was nothing but welcoming and cozy. The sound of a shower running in the background added to the relaxing atmosphere that you managed to create inside of a smelting plant.

So, was living in an abandoned factory what you imagined you would be doing when you grew up? Not exactly; especially considering you’d always wanted a castle… an old smelting plant can be kinda like a castle, right?

But, did you get that ‘prince charming’ you always dreamed of?

Well…maybe not everyone would call him Prince Charming…

But you did. Handsome, brave, intelligent. He was someone you’d always dreamed of sweeping off your feet and he did exactly that. Your Prince Charming has adamantium bones, lived over 200+ years (he probably met your great grandfather!), and is the crankiest motherfucker some days when there’s rain coming and his old metal bones get a little rusty and needed oiling like Tin man from Wizard of Oz (Did he see that when it first came out in 1939?). You adored him, and everything else was noise.

Maybe Charles questioned your taste in men one time when he was feeling a little moody- but what does he know? He had a situationship with a guy who controls metal, and was, by the way, a bit of a nut.

You were curled up in your shared bed reading a book. When you first moved in- and eventually began sleeping in a shared bed, his bed had torn sheets, flat pillows, and a blanket that barely covered his large figure. He didn’t necessarily see an issue with that- but once you surprised him with memory foam pillows, silk bed sheets, and a huge soft duvet, he quickly changed his tune. He’d come home from a long night at work, collapse into the bed, and his aching bones would melt into the mattress as he’d fall asleep almost immediately, you’d wake up in the night- tucking him in at your side and kiss him on the cheek, and go back to sleep.

That’s what you did, you took care of him all the ways he didn’t take care of himself.

You heard the shower turn off, and in a moment Logan came in, towel wrapped low around his hips, his hair wet on his forehead, and he pushed the wet strands back as he walked to the dresser that sat parallel to the bed. You bit your lip as you admired his figure, watching water dripping down his hairy chest and abs, as your eyes trailed down to the prominent vein that disappeared below the hem of the towel, curse that towel.

“I did your laundry today-” You informed him, snapping out of your lustful state, and he looked at you, the corners of his eyes crinkled, and a warm smile came across his face.

“Thanks princess.” He says in a low voice, walking over to you and leaning over to give you a peck on the lips- something you happily returned, settling on your knees to meet him halfway. He groaned as he attempted to straighten back out.

“You alright?”

“Yeah.” He grumbled, hand going to his back, “Back s’just killing me from sitting in that damn car all the time.”

You look at him sympathetically, when an idea strikes your head. You crawl backward and patted the bed. “C'mon, lay down.” You say. He raised a brow, unsure of what you wanted,

“Feeling frisky baby?” He grinned, and you rolled your eyes- but you couldn’t help your smile. Maybe you were, but that wasn’t what you were planning. Yet.

Shaking your head, you patted the bed again, “Lay on your belly. Off with the towel too” You say. He gave you a questioning look once more, but eventually obliged. You were never one to do something he wouldn’t have enjoyed anyway. He dropped the towel, giving you a nice view of his member, before he climbed onto the bed, and landing on his stomach; He wrapped his arms around a pillow, face planting into it as he waited for you to do whatever shenanigan you were planning for him. You smiled at his resting figure, reaching over to pinch one of his buttocks

“Ay!” He growled. You giggled, holding your hands up to show you wouldn’t do it again, and returned to your task.

Reaching over, you grabbed your favorite scented lotion, before moving to straddle his back, around his waist. He let out a soft groan, not because of the weight of you- it was slightly comforting to have the pressure of you there, relieving some tense muscles over where you sat.

Flipping the cap of the lotion off, you squeezed a generous amount onto your hands, clasping them and rubbing the lotion into them, before you placed your hands on Logan's shoulders. You gasped at just how knotted and tense they felt- you’d think the shower would have loosened him up a bit…

He let out a small groan as you pushed and pulled at the muscles in his shoulder, slowly- but surely, you began to loosen the knots as you massaged the lotion into his skin. Using different techniques, like rubbing your thumbs in circles in various spots- that really made him groan, something that sounded almost erotic. You grinned, as your hands moved down to his shoulder blades and upper back.

“Keep moaning like that and even Caliban and Charles will hear you.” You comment, he grunted.

“Let em, I don’t care.” He mutters into his pillow, turning his head so you could understand him. A small giggle escaped you, as you continued your ministrations over his back, palming at tense points and working at his large muscles, thumbs pressing into knots and loosening them, you ran your nails up and down his back- scratching the skin that sent shivers through his whole body.

You admired the scars on his skin; as you felt every ridge and bump as you ran your hands over his back and up his arms. You knew it wasn’t a good thing, that he doesn’t quite heal like he used to. You still saw them as a part of him, a beautiful part of him that made him a survivor, that kept him alive and kept him coming back to you. You didn’t know how close it would be before those wounds couldn’t heal up, when he may not make it home. You weren’t one to worry about the future though- not when he was here with you now, and you could take care of him the way he deserved.

You worked him over for an hour, and at one point you were pretty sure he fell asleep, waking up after and claiming he didn’t fall asleep. You sat up on your knees, and gently pat his side, urging him to now roll on his back, which he does so in a slow movement.

“That was great baby.” He muttered, his eyes half-lidded, and his large hands moved to rest on your thighs that hugged his waist as you sat back to straddle his waist. You smiled, leaning forward to kiss his forehead, pressing your hands to his chest.

“I’m not done yet.” You say softly, kissing the tip of his nose, and then his lips. Your hands smoothed down his chest and over his stomach, your fingers twining through his coarse chest hair. You ran your nails down the skin- making his stomach flex in reaction and you grinned.

“Enjoying yourself?” He asks at the sight of your amusement. You smiled down at him and nodded, before moving your hips- grinding against him. Something serious came across his face, as his hands began to squeeze your thighs, leaving dimples in the skin. You rolled your hips again, and you could feel him getting harder underneath you. “So you were just getting frisky hm?”

“I’m just taking care of you Lo-” You say innocently, fluttering your eyelashes at him, you wiggle your hips down, shuffling down his body, where you start pressing kisses over his chest. Your eyes looked up at him as you ran a tongue over his nipple, eliciting a muffled groan as he tightened his jaw, and squeezed his eyes shut, chest rising and falling as he felt anticipation surge through him at every touch you pressed on him. You moved down his stomach, reaching the vein you were staring at earlier, sticking your tongue out, you licked down it- right to his pelvis, and he let out a shaky breath.

You felt slick between your legs at the sound of Logan becoming worked up. He always acts like the boss, the protector, and the provider. The moment you go down on him though, treating him like the prince you saw him as he melts in your arm like putty, appreciating the soft tenderness you give him, and the care you take to make sure everything feels good for him- that he enjoyed you the way you enjoy him. It turned you on hearing what you do to him.

“You’re something else, princess…” He mutters under his breath. You grinned against his skin, as you took in the smell of him, he smelled of cedar and whiskey, the scent of a soap you got him a while back. You bit the skin of his pelvis, making him thrust forward with a groan, as you soothe it over with your tongue. Your hands continued running up and down his belly, as you finally made contact with his erect member. You licked your lips as you sized him up. He was large, the prominent vein from his stomach traveling up to a swollen red tip that leaked a generous amount of precum- beautiful

Logan was an old man, but you never had trouble getting him up.

Planting yourself between his legs on your belly, you kicked your legs playfully behind you as you took his member in your hand, tapping his tip against your lips, before sticking your tongue out, licking the vein from the bottom of his shaft to the top, as your other hand fondled his balls. He groaned.

“You like playing with me don’t ya princess?” He rasped, sitting himself up on his elbows so he could get a nice view of you and watch as you took care of him.

You smiled sinfully up at him, and you felt his cock twitch in your hand. His lips parted as he took you in before him, his eyes full of lust. “I’m just helping you not be so tense baby.” You cooed, beginning to stroke his member up and down, he tipped his head back, as you began stroking faster, before taking his tip between your lips, swirling around him and moaning at the taste of him on your tongue. You never truly enjoyed the taste of someone until you met him, and some days it felt like you couldn’t get enough.

His hand went to your cheek, carefully caressing it- before reaching to pull your hair out of your face- holding it back for you as you worked over him.

“Look at you darling, so damn pretty…How’d an old man like me get someone like you?” He muttered. You took him deeper into your mouth, slowly working your tongue around him, as spit began to dribble down your chin as you messily sucked him off. He moaned, his hips moving forward, his length going deeper into your mouth, his tip nearly at the back of your throat. You knew he was getting desperate, eager- just barely holding back from shoving you down on him and forcing you to take him completely. You moaned at the thought, eyes rolling back. “Fuck, you feel so good, princess.” He breathed, his voice losing that deep timber, wavering- signaling to you that he was getting closer.

Your hands braced against his thighs, as you took him in fully down your throat, gagging a bit before you force yourself to swallow, allowing you to bob up and down on his throbbing cock without as much trouble. His hand that held your hair back set the desired pace as he brought you back up to his tip, and down the base, where your eyes began to water, as his very hairy crotch tickled your nose. He was panting, and you now let him take over, as spit covered you chin and his cock, he began thrusting his hips up into your mouth. You felt his thighs begin to shake, and he was cursing under his breath before finally pulling you down over him- head tipped back, a loud curse escaping him, and you felt hot spurts of his cum going down your throat. The pure sight of him was enough to make your legs shake, your stomach tensing as small spasms of an orgasm ran through your body. He let go of your hair, body shaky as you continued to suck him until he rode through his orgasm, and pulled off of him with a pop. You licked your lips, wiping your chin off of the spit.

He fell back onto the bed, a groan escaping him as he brought his hand up to his face, running it down.

“Fuck princess, you’re something else.” He mutters, and you clambered over him, giving him a sweet kiss. “I love you.” He says softly, bringing his hand up to cup your cheek.

“Love you too honey.” You purred, kissing his cheek and then his jaw, before curling into his side, his arms wrapping around you. “You feel better?”

“Much.” He mutters, and you could hear he was falling asleep, making you smile. “I’ll return the favor, don’t worry.”

You hummed. “Not a favor Lo. I like taking care of you.”

You felt the small exhale of his chest, and you knew it was an exhale of relief. One where he is silently asking, “What did I do to deserve you?” and you knew simply that all it was, was that he was your prince- and you were his princess.

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