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strang3lov3 · 3 months

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Seeing Red

“Because if I don’t fuck you,” he says, “Then I’m gonna strangle you. So which would you like?”

Joel’s sorry that your period sucks, but he's reached the end of his rope with your attitude. (6k)

Tags - 18+ smut, brat taming, blow jobs, face fucking, rough period sex, fingering, mating press, overstimulation and multiple orgasms, creampie, aftercare in the form of a shared bubble bath, all things periods and period symptoms so headaches, breast pain, cramps, irritability that reader takes out on Joel. You will feel so bad for being such a cunt to this man but he gets to fill two of your holes with his cum so it all kind of evens out. takes place in jackson Fic help - @beefrobeefcal and @joelsdagger for all of their love and support and eyeballs, @noxturnalpascal and @endlessthxxghts thank you both for being my compass and giving me direction and helping to make this fic perfect. I love you <3 A/N - if you're on your period, i'm sending you a hug <3 if you're not i'm hugging you too

I was reminded of my friend @covetyou's fic "Sleepless" which is a lovely piece of classic literature, just like the rest of her works, and I'd like to credit her for inspo. Thank you Lo 🤎🩷💚

You should have guessed there’d be a bloodstain in your underwear, but despite the headaches, your sore breasts, and your cramping abdomen, you’re surprised when you’re met with rusty red in your panties. Fucking great, you whisper, dripping with sarcasm, this is not what you needed today. You had so many things you wanted to get done and now you were going to be spending the whole day miserable and in pain.

“Joel,” you loudly call out. You wait a beat, nothing. “JOEL,” you yell louder.

You hear the faint sound of his recliner, the popping of his knees and the creaking of the stairs as he walks up them. His two feet are visible through the space between the floor and the bathroom door and then he knocks, “Whatcha need, darlin’?”

“New underwear,” you answer. “And a pad. Also in the underwear drawer.”

Joel walks away and returns with what you’ve asked for and slides both items under the door. You change your panties and secure the pad made of old rags and t-shirts with the clothespin attached to it. “You got it?” he asks.

“Yeah,” you reply.

“Guessin’ you just started your cycle, then.”

“Mhm.”

“Can I get you anything?”

“Nope,” you answer. “I think I’m just gonna go to bed.”

“Alright. I’ll join you, then.”

You wash your hands and rinse the bloodstain out of your panties with annoyance in the sink, wringing them out before tossing them in the dirty laundry hamper in the bathroom. When you unlock the door and leave the bathroom, Joel’s already asleep in your shared bed. He sleeps curled on his side and yet he still fucking snores - between that and the pain you’re in, you know it won’t be a restful night of sleep. You look at Joel, sleeping peacefully like a baby, and yet you wanna beat the living fucking crap out of him. You curl your body around his, stealing his body heat to soothe your cramps.

Joel wakes up early the next morning and greets you with a kiss pressed to the side of your head. “Fuck off,” you mumble, your voice is still thick with sleep but he knows you mean it so he lets you sleep in a bit while he cleans the bathroom for you. He works as quietly as he can, scrubbing it and mopping it from top to bottom. He empties the trash can and the laundry hamper, he makes sure there’s a fresh bar of soap and a new washrag for you. Joel’s just finishing up and wiping dust from the mirror when you find him in the bathroom. “Mornin’, sunshine,” he says as he kisses the top of your head. “How do you feel?”

“Shitty.” You grab at the mirror and Joel’s skin crawls as you touch the glass with your thumb, the smudges left behind from your fingertips clear as day on the freshly cleaned glass. He’ll just touch it up later. You pull out your toothbrush and frown, your nose scrunched in disgust. “It smells like bleach in here,” you complain.

“Well, yeah,” Joel chuckles. “I just cleaned it for ya. ‘Course it smells like bleach.”

“I didn’t ask you to do that,” you mumble. “The bleach you used makes my head hurt worse.”

“Oh,” Joel scratches the back of his head and frowns. “M’sorry, then. Well, we can let it air out for a while, we’ll leave the fan on. Shouldn’t smell for more than a day or so.”

“Yeah, I guess.”

If looks could fuckin’ kill, Joel thinks. You’re glaring at him. He takes that as his cue to leave. You shrink away from him as he gently brushes your arm when he walks past, then shut the door loudly behind him. Ouch. Joel knows not to take it personally, though. You’re crampy, but you’re also probably hungry. He’ll make you breakfast, something with protein because he knows you need it.

He cleans the kitchen first. He washes the dirty dishes you must’ve forgotten about last night and wipes crumbs from the table. As you come downstairs dressed in sweats and a shirt you stole from Joel, he’s finishing up making your breakfast. “Sit down, I made your favorite.”

You sit down at the table with your head in your hands. Joel puts a plate with two slices of perfectly golden brown toast and two over-easy eggs in front of you, then a fork and a knife on either side. He fills a glass with water for you as well. He walks away to clean up the stove, then turns around to check on you. Your face is contorted in disgust and you’re not eating. “What’s the matter?”

“I don’t want this,” you grouse.

“But s’your favorite. You love your eggs over easy,” Joel says. “And the toast, that’s fresh bread and butter. Eat up.”

“Yeah, but I wanted scrambled.”

Joel stares at you for a moment, dumbfounded. You usually hate scrambled eggs, and he knows this. But you’re not smirking or holding back laughter like you’re fucking with him. So maybe your tastes have changed, who knows. “Okay. Would you like me to make you scrambled eggs instead, then?”

“Yes,” you mumble in a small voice.

“I didn’t hear ya, sweetheart. Speak up, please.”

“I said yes,” you snap.

Your clipped tone cuts like a knife. Joel bites his inner cheek as he takes your plate from you. He quickly scarfs down the perfectly cooked eggs and toast as he makes you a new plate of breakfast, this time with scrambled eggs. He places it in front of you with a little less care than before and waits for you to take a bite. “Better?”

“Just okay.”

‘Just okay’. Of course you think it’s ‘just okay’, they’re scrambled fucking eggs - which you don’t like. You’re just being -

Joel needs to cool off. Hopefully once you’ve eaten you’re a little less irritable. “I’m gonna head out an’ do some errands. Be back shortly,” He’s met with no answer from you, which he expected.

He comes back an hour or so later with a few things from the market he’s been needing along with a couple of VHS tapes that he rented from the library. “So,” Joel says, “I picked out some movies for ya.” He lays four tapes down on the coffee table in front of the couch where you lay. “When Harry Met Sally, that’s a good one,” he begins, “Next is How To Lose a Guy In 10 Days, then Blade Runner, and I picked out My Cousin Vinny,” Joel says. He thinks you’re gonna pick out Blade Runner because it stars Harrison Ford, who he knows you have a thing for. “My Cousin Vinny is pretty good, I don’t think we’ve seen that one yet f’ya wanna give that a try.”

“Mmm, no.”

Shot down. “Okay. How ‘bout Blade Runner, then. S’got Indiana Jones in -”

“No. I don’t care,” you interrupt, which hurts Joel’s feelings a little. A lot, actually. “I wanna watch this one,” you point to How To Lose a Guy In 10 Days. “He’s cute.”

Of course you picked the Matthew McConaughey movie. God, Joel fucking hated him. He always seemed so skeezy, if there’s anyone who should’ve bit it on Outbreak Day, it should’ve been Matthew McConaughey. “Yeah, okay. Whatever. Do you think he’s dreamy too?”

“Fuck off, Joel.”

So teasing’s off the table too, he’ll add that to the list of things that have pissed you off today. Joel turns on the TV and puts the tape in the VHS player before he sits back down next to you. At first you rest on his shoulder, then you spread out and lay your head on his lap. It’s not long before you fall asleep on Joel, leaving him to watch this dumb fucking movie all by himself because god forbid he move you and disrupt your nap. He knows better than to do that.

“So fuckin’ stupid,” Joel whispers to himself as the movie plays, though he did find himself enjoying the part where the Kate Hudson sings “You’re So Vain” by Carly Simon. He always did like that song.

“Mmmm,” you groan, shifting onto your back. Joel’s hand is stroking your hair as you look up at him, but you push it away. “You’re too close to me,” you grumble.

“What’re you talkin’ about?”

“You’re crowding me. I feel smothered.”

Joel scoffs. “Oh, you feel smothered? You’re the one who laid on me.” Once again, your glare is all that you need to say. “Alright then, I’ll move.” Joel concedes. He lifts your head gently and scoots down to the opposite end of the couch. And then he hears you huff. “What?”

“Well, now I don’t have a pillow.”

Joel sighs as he gets up to grab a throw pillow from the opposite couch.

“The other one.”

You’re referring to the other throw pillow that’s absolutely indistinguishable from the one currently in Joel’s hand, but he gets it for you anyway. “Lift your head,” he says softly, putting the pillow under you. He sits back down in the spot you made him move to as you both watch the movie play, but your soft groans interrupt. You’re no doubt in pain from all the cramps right now. “I’ve got somethin’ like a heating pad,” Joel says, looking at you. “S’a big sock filled with rice, I heat it up and use it for neck and back pain. Would that help with them cramps?” You nod without making any effort to meet Joel’s eyes, which he finds a little rude. But still, you’re hurting. He’ll give you grace.

So, once again, Joel gets up for you. He goes upstairs to get his rice sock from his nightstand, then comes back downstairs and heats it in the microwave for a couple of minutes. He pokes the sock to make sure it’s plenty warm for you and then gives it to you to take. “Here,” he says, “Hold it on your tummy.”

“JESUS,” you yell at him.

“What?”

“It’s too fucking hot, Joel, why would you make it so hot?”

“Just give it a second, sweetheart, you’ll get used to it.”

“No. It was burning me.”

“Okay, then let me have it and we’ll let it cool off a minute. Christ almighty.” Joel takes the sock back from you, and he knows his hands are pretty calloused but…it doesn’t feel that hot. When a few minutes have passed, he gives it back to you. “This should be better.”

You lay the big, warm stuffed sock across your stomach and frown. “It’s not warm enough.”

“You have gotta be kiddin’ me.”

“Mm-mm,” you shake your head, giving Joel back his sock like you just assume he’ll heat it up again for you.

“Just a couple minutes ago you screamed bloody murder about it burnin’ you. And now it’s not hot enough?”

“Yeah, that’s what I said.” When Joel doesn’t jump immediately to reheat the sock for you, you look at him impatiently. “Joel.”

“You can ask, you know.”

But Joel gets the hint and gets up for you a third time to reheat the sock he’s letting you borrow. You don’t say please, and when he returns with the sock reheated, there’s no thank you either. What does he get from you? “It’s too hot.”

“Then tell me how I should rectify that for you, because last time I let it cool off and it wasn’t warm enough for ya after.”

“I don’t know,” you snap. “You’re just really upsetting me right now. Everything hurts and your voice is grating.”

“I’m upsetting you?” Joel repeats your words back to you. “And my voice is grating.”

“Yes.”

He’s about at his wits end. “You know, you–” Joel decides not to finish that sentence. Instead, he sighs as he pinches the bridge of his nose and breathes out on the count of five. “Two, three, four…You need to drink some water. S’your first issue, you’re probably dehydrated. Did you drink any water?”

“It’s not your business.”

Jesus fucking Christ. “Okay, well I’m makin’ it my business.” Joel gets up for the fourth goddamn time and slams the cup cabinet before filling a glass with water from the sink. He marches back to the couch, “Sit up,” he says. “Drink.”

“I don’t want to,” you whine.

“It’ll fix your headache. Drink.”

“It won’t actually, that’s a myth.”

“Right, what do I know when you’ve got an answer for fuckin’ everything. Drink.”

You sit up, scowling at Joel as you take a sip.

“All of it.”

You drink the rest of it, glaring at him the whole time. He’s so full of shit, as if any of what you’re going through could be fixed by drinking a glass of water. Water won’t fix your cramps, won’t fix your aching and sore back. When you’re done, you slam the glass on the end table next to you and in doing so, break Joel’s reading glasses. Oops. Didn’t see those. The lenses aren’t shattered, but one of the arms is all bent now. When you look at Joel, he’s biting his bottom lip and breathing deeply. “Your glasses broke.”

“Yeah. I see that.”

“I didn’t mean to,” you tell him defensively.

“Right.”

“But you really shouldn’t leave your glasses there, Joel.”

“Yeah, right. Shouldn’t leave my glasses on the end table,” Joel says. “I should leave them where, exactly? Maybe the floor?”

“Somewhere else.”

“Right. Somewhere else.”

He’s hoping that by repeating your words back to you, you start to hear how absolutely ridiculous you sound. But you don’t seem to. Joel turns and walks away before he fucking throttles you.

“Can you put on the next movie? I wanna watch My Cousin Vinny.”

Now, now you want to watch that movie. And Joel’s gonna miss out, because he can’t stand to be around you for one minute longer. “Are your legs broken?”

“Yes.”

Walked into that one. “You’re fuckin’ impossible. Fine. I’ll put it on, then I’m goin’ away for a bit.”

“Good.”

Oh, he could fucking kill you. This whole day he’s heard nothing but complaints from your mouth, no pleases or thank you’s at all. Everything he’s done today has been for you, and you couldn’t give a flying fuck.

Joel puts on the movie, grabs his bent glasses from the end table and heads out to the garage without saying a single word to you. You wonder what bug crawled up his ass.

My Cousin Vinny plays just fine until Vinny shows up in his ridiculous suit to the courthouse. The tape begins to skip a whole bunch, the movie barely making sense, and you have no idea how to fix it - not that it’s your job to know, anyway. So you call out the name of the man whose job it is.

“Joel.”

No answer.

“JOELLLL,” you yell.

Same deal. You sigh as you sit up and get off of the couch, walking to the garage door. There’s finally a break in your cramps and you’re feeling halfway-human for the first time since yesterday. Entering the garage, you find Joel sitting at his workbench, he’s working on bending the frame of his glasses back into shape. “Joel.”

He doesn’t turn around to look at you and in fact, he heard you calling for him. He had just ignored you. “Looks like your legs are workin’ now,” Joel replies, without looking at you. “S’a miracle. Means you can follow me around now, terrific.”

You choose to ignore his sarcasm. “Whatever. You need to do something for me. The VCR is messing up and you have to fix it.”

“Hm,” he hums.

“What’s hm?”

“I’ve fixed lotsa things for you today,” he says quietly. “I need some time to fix my glasses that you broke. S’a difficult task on account of the fact I need my glasses to see.”

“You can do me one favor, Joel. It won’t kill you.”

Joel stops and gently places his broken glasses on his work bench. He turns to his right and glares daggers at you. “One favor,” he scoffs. “Oh, you’re a fuckin’ peach. You wanna try that again?”

“Try what again?”

You’re fucking with him. You have to be fucking with him. Why are you fucking with him? You’re not antagonistic like this, not usually, so he concludes that you must be looking for a fight. At this point, Joel is too.

“I’ve done you countless favors today, sweetheart,” Joel gripes.

“Yeah, but-” you begin.

Joel’s large, warm hand suddenly covers the lower half of your face, silencing your argument. “If the next words outta this mouth aren’t thank you, then I don’t wanna hear ‘em. In fact…”

He bites his inner cheek, nodding his head as he thinks. The way he stares at you, his dark eyes piercing through you - you feel the chill deep in your bones. A wave of clarity hits you as you recall some of the details of the day, the way Joel was there at every turn and while you were busy being cranky and achey, he was trying to wait on you hand and foot. Shit. You’ve been a Grade-A bitch to him all day, a total fucking cunt.

Breaking the silence, Joel finally clears his throat and continues his thought, “I’m gonna give you two options,” Joel says. “You can walk the fuck away from me, or you can get on your knees. Whichever you choose, you do so silently. Nod if you understand.”

It’s like you’re watching a scene from a movie. You hear Joel’s words, but you almost don’t believe they’re real and so they don’t quite register. He pulls his hand away from your face slowly. Your mouth falls open a bit but you don’t say or do anything.

“Nod. If. You. Understand.” You nod quickly. Joel awaits your decision as you look at the garage door and contemplate your clean way out from this situation, “So what’ll it be?” he asks. Despite it all, that uneasy feeling in your gut, you drop to your knees anyway, eyes still lingering on the door before you look up at Joel. You trust him to take care of you and you think you might owe him this obedience after your behavior today. “You’ve earned yourself brownie points choosin’ the latter of the two options, but this still ain’t gonna be fun for you,” he says. It should scare you - and it does - but you’re still thrilled by it, by the way he sighs and his knees crack as he gets off of his barstool, by the cold look in his eyes as he reaches under his thick belly to unbuckle his belt. Standing above you, he pulls out his half-hard cock and pumps it, feeling it grow to full length in his hand. He’s thick, veiny, and generously sized, a pearly white bead of precum sits atop his slit. His cock is just an inch or two away from your mouth as he holds it between his fingers, his thumb on top and middle and forefingers on the underside. With his other hand, he cards his fingers through your hair and pulls you close, the tip of his cock pressing against your lips. “Open.”

You part your lips open and with that, Joel pushes himself into your mouth inch by inch. You smell him first, that musky and heady sort of scent. Next, you taste the saltiness of his skin and his precome on your tongue and for a moment it’s pleasurable, with his cock halfway in your mouth. You wrap your hand around the end of his shaft like you know what he wants but you don’t know, not really - Joel holds your hand in his own and squeezes it so that your knuckles grind against each other a little bit. He pushes himself further and you can’t lick him or savor this like you wanted to, you just feel his cock intruding, sliding into your mouth. Joel’s testing you, making sure that you can handle all of him and if you can’t, you know he’ll make you.

He draws out of your mouth entirely only to force his way back in, making you gag and sputter. You attempt to pull away but Joel keeps his hand firm on your head and holds you right where he wants you. “Nuh-uh. I don’t know where you think you’re goin’, hon.”

There’s no gentleness to it, he fucks your mouth heatedly so that you’re drooling and choking on him, your eyes springing with tears as that pressure builds behind them. “Breathe through your nose,” he reminds you. “In and out. You ain’t done jus’ ‘cause you’re cryin’.” Your lips are sore with the repeated action, your jaw is aching. He rolls his hips, his cock is deep down your throat as he relishes in your warm, wet mouth and the way it makes him feel.

“Mmm,” you moan, you’re not sure if the noise is indicative of your pleasure or discomfort.

“Quiet,” he growls. “Heard fuckin’ enough outta you today. You keep quiet.”

Your nose is buried in that thatch of coarse curls as he rocks his hips over and over, his soft and pillowy tummy bouncing against your forehead. You squirm and whine as his tip teases the back of your throat and your mouth feels so full, uncomfortably so. Joel picks up on that. “Let it be a lesson to ya, then, if it hurts. That mouth ‘a yours has done nothin’ but bitch and moan at me today. S’a punishment, ain’t ‘sposed to feel good.”

He’s grunting and groaning, eyes screwed shut as he uses you, pumping in and out of your mouth. Your jaw aches with the brutality of the way he fucks your mouth, and just as you think you can’t take anymore, you feel Joel’s cock begin to twitch and pulse. He comes in your mouth without a warning, painting your tongue with his hot spend. It’s salty and bitter and warm on your tongue. Once you’ve swallowed, Joel reaches down and yanks you up by your bicep. He thought fucking your mouth and coming down your throat would make him feel better but honestly, it doesn’t. As he looks at your face, all puffy with tears and swollen lips, he can’t quite find it in himself to let go of his anger. Not yet, at least. “Let’s go,” he grunts as he drags you with him towards the garage door. He marches you though the house and up the stairs.

“Where are we going?”

“Bedroom,” Joel growls, answering your question like it’s obvious. You suppose it should be, but you figured he was done with you. But he’s not. The regret begins to set in when you realize the retribution you’re about to be met with for the way you’ve treated Joel today. You’d be lying if you said that while wallowing in your pain you didn’t notice how your curt tone got under his skin, hurt his feelings and frustrated him immensely. The dread you feel can’t save you, it’s all too late now.

“Because if I don’t fuck you,” he says, “Then I’m gonna strangle you. So which would you like?”

“Fuck me,” you whisper.

“Exactly.”

Joel pushes you into the bedroom and locks the door behind himself. “Lie down on your back,” he says.

You protest, “But the sheets, Joel. The blood–”

“I will wash the fucking sheets. We can add it to the list of all the things I’ve done for ya today, hm?”

When you don’t jump at his request, Joel takes initiative. He pulls off your - his - shirt from your body and then bends you over the end of the neatly made bed, the old and worn comforter feels rough on the skin of your cheek. Joel pulls down your sweatpants and panties in one motion and then flips you over onto your back, your legs hanging off the end of the bed. You feel embarrassed when you catch a glimpse of your bloodied pad and underwear, moreso when you feel yourself making a mess on his bedding and between your legs.

“You didn’t make yourself come today, did you?”

“Uhh–” you stutter. “I - I…”

“No point in gettin’ bashful now, darlin’. Just gimme an answer.”

“No,” you tell him. It’s been a while.

“Figures.”

Joel had assumed sexual frustration had been playing a role in your attitude today. Cramps, headaches, all sorts of things going on with you and a needy, aching pussy to boot. He does feel sorry for you, but he feels sorry for himself too. It’s why he got his first, but now it’s time for you to get yours. An orgasm should set you straight, or two or three. Whatever he feels is necessary.

Joel undresses himself before pushing your thighs apart and hitching your legs around his waist. Slowly, he slides his thumb through your folds and then circles your clit. He knows you’re vulnerable like this - bleeding pussy on display for him as you make a mess of his sheets. But he’s patient, and he massages your clit calmly until you finally let a moan, a little mmm slip. He smirks at that.

He pushes his middle two fingers inside you, pumping in and out slowly. He then curls his fingers, searching for that sweet spot on a woman he loves so much. “Fuck,” you cry out, legs instinctually closing shut around him, and he knows he’s found it.

“Don’t fight it,” he says, opening you back up. He curls his fingers and circles your clit in tandem, making all sorts of lewd noises with your cunt. He admires your body all laid out for him like this, your breasts and your pebbled nipples, soft tummy rising and falling with your breathy oh’s and ahh’s, thick curls framing your pretty pussy like a picture just for him. Joel takes his free hand and uses it to press down on your lower stomach, intensifying the feeling of it all. You come hard, gushing on his fingers as you whimper his name.

Joel pulls his fingers from your core and wipes them haphazardly on his own torso. “Joel,” you gasp when you feel the thick head of his cock at your entrance.

“I am sorry,” he begins, notching his tip inside you and popping it out. He slides the blunt head through your folds and over your clit, then taps the sensitive part of you with himself. “That you’re in pain. It isn’t fair and I know that. But you’ve done nothing but take your hurt out on me.” He presses himself inside you again, “I’ve got a half a mind to take my own hurt out on you, y’know.” His voice is dark and angered, but he speaks calmly in a way that contrasts the darkness but maintains his authority all the same. “And I think I’m gonna.”

“Joel, I– ”

“Quiet,” he commands. He begins teasing your slit with his cock once more before he speaks, “So this is what we’re gonna do: you’re gonna take what I give you, however much or little it is. You’re not gonna cry or complain ‘cause you’ve done enough of that today. Right?” Joel pauses, “Nod your head.”

You obey his rule and nod, yes.

He drags his cock up and down your cunt again, the soft skin of your labia rubbing so nicely against his thickness. He notches himself inside you over and over again, pushing in a little bit deeper each time and pulling back out. You whine, rolling your hips in search of more. “I know, I know, sweetheart,” he coos at you to quiet you down. “You’re all out of sorts today. M’gonna fix it. I always fix it, don’t I?”

Yes. You nod again. Quiet.

“S’right,” he says. “Good girl.”

With that, Joel pushes his leaking cock into you entirely, one gradual slide that has you sucking in a breath that comes out in a strained sort of whimper. His hard, warm shaft parting your insides, filling you whole. Joel hears it in the way that you sigh, that this, this is what you needed. He rocks his hips once, twice. Experiments with shallow thrusts, inching his way in and out of you before he draws out of your pussy entirely only to thrust himself right back in, deeper and harder than before.

With the fullness of Joel inside of you, everything seems to melt away - all that anger, misplaced or not. Joel’s rhythmic thrusting soothes you, sort of. The soreness of your body, the aching cramps in your abdomen are all gone as you focus on the in and out, the in and out. He builds a comfortable pace, but one that borders on too much too soon. His hands on your waist, pulling you towards him as he pushes into you in equal measure.

He fucks you without discipline, no tenderness at all to the action with those sloppy thrusts, but you’re more lost in him than he is in you - he’s focused on your face, watching you make an ‘O’ with your mouth, and he’s focused on your bouncing body, your twitching thighs spread wide. Your moans, your whimpers and your whines, babbling nothing but nonsense. Joel’s brow is furrowed as he breathes heavily through his teeth, his soft body jerking above you as he hits that sweet spot inside you over and over and over…

“It’s all ya needed, isn’t it? The whole goddamn time,” he pants. “Didn’t need to go an’ bitch me out all day if you needed lovin’ like this. Woulda been nice f’ya just said so.” Joel reaches for your breasts, harshly squeezing the tender, sore flesh. You wince in pain and he loosens his grip, focusing on your nipples instead. He twists and flicks the sensitive buds and your moans become louder, more high pitched. Joel fucking loves it when that happens, you never realized.

��Oh, Joel,” you moan, “Yeah, fuck.”

With one hand still teasing your nipples, he brings the other to your pussy. A few strokes of his thumb on your clit is all it takes to send you over the edge a second time, wanton moans and choked sobs spilling from your lips as he fucks you through it.

And fucks you, and fucks you.

And keeps fucking you.

It doesn’t end, he doesn’t slow himself and you never feel that come down, that descent from pleasure. It keeps going, like pressure with nowhere to go and you feel like you might break. “I can’t, I need you to stop, stop, Joel.”

“Nuh-uh,” he shakes his head, thrusting still. “You can take it, be a good girl. Gonna fuck you good and deep like you need. You brought this on yourself, anyway. Two more.”

This whole time, he doesn’t stop. It’s so much at once and when you thought it was going to end, it doesn’t. Tears of overstimulation spring in your eyes and flow freely down your cheeks. Joel lets you cry because he knows you need it, he knows the release is good for you. You poor thing, how much you must be feeling right now, both physically and mentally. “It’s too much, Joel, I can’t,” you plead.

“Always the tears with you, huh?” he taunts. “Always somethin’. Oh, I know. I know.”

It’s the way you look at Joel that causes him to cave, eyes all wide and tear-stained. You’re spent and he knows it, what with all that your body’s put you through. You’ve had a rough day and though he did too, he can’t help but feel sympathy for you at this moment. “Oh, my sweet girl. What am I gonna do with you, hm?”

“I don’t know,” you sniffle.

“Know you don’t, ‘n you don’t have to. S’my job,” he soothes. With his clean hand, he traces the side of your face and rubs his thumb over your cheekbone. “How about this, then - what are we gonna do next time you’re not feeling so good?”

“I’m - I’m–”

“You’re gonna tell me what you need,” he instructs, “And you’re gonna ask for it. Nicely. So that means usin’ your manners. Please, Joel. Thank you, Joel. Remember those words?”

“Yeah,” you nod, “Yeah, I remember.”

“But you forgot ‘em the whole day today,” Joel says softly. “I think you gotta learn to compromise, too,” he adds. The guilt had begun to set in before, but you really start to feel the burn now. You were unkind to Joel, and he’s been nothing but sweet, doting on every one of your needs. “I think an apology’s in order for the way you treated me today.”

He’s right, and you know it. “I’m sorry. I’m really sorry, Joel.”

“Oh, I know you are. You just needed the reminder, s’okay,” You hadn’t even noticed how his thrusting had slowed to a still until it picks up again slowly, as he presses kisses to you. Your cheeks first, then your lips. “I’ll compromise too - I’m only gonna make you come one more time, not two. Sound good? Sound fair?”

“I don’t think I can, Joel…”

“Yeah, you can, s’the last one. Take it good for me,” he encourages. “Take it good.”

That’s what he repeats as his thrusts build again, fucking you deeply. Take it good, take it good for me. He hikes you up further on the bed and joins you so that he’s no longer standing at the floor, he’s got you pressed in half instead, your knees on either side of your chest and your feet above his shoulders. This angle intensifies everything and he knows, oh he knows how much it is for you. You’re tired, sore, overstimulated. But you’ll be done soon, he’ll be done with you soon. He takes your hand and wedges it between your bodies, pressing your own fingers to your clit, “Let go for me, I wanna feel you let go for me,” he says. “Focus right here. You’re gonna come with me, keep your eyes on me…”

You don’t even have to massage your clit, the way Joel angles himself has his body doing all the work, his pubic bone adding pressure to your fingers adding pressure to your clit. It’s intense, all of it - deeply energetic, overwhelming. You can’t quite discern your orgasm as it builds, there’s no definitive start but it’s powerful, devastating almost. Washing over you in waves, you feel it in the base of your spine first. You feel it in your gut, the backs of your thighs all the way to your toes. You hardly register that he’s coming with you, filling you deep with his come. His jaw is clenched tight and he’s groaning, grunting as he milks himself in you.

He leaves you there, whimpering, twitching on the bed. You hear the faint sound of running water, you figure he’s washing himself off. You’re surprised when he returns to you, pelvis covered in your blood, and scoops you right up in his arms. He helps you to your feet and on shaky legs, guides you to the bathroom. It no longer smells like bleach but instead, lavender. He’s got a candle lit on the sink and the bathtub is filled with warm, bubbly water. “Picked out a bubble bath for you earlier when I went out. Wanna test it out with me?”

“Yeah,” you sniffle. “Yes. Please.”

Joel sits in the tub first, spreads his legs and welcomes you to sit between them. He washes the blood from your poor, sensitive core and your thighs, washes it from his own body as well. When he’s done, he pulls you back into his chest and his hands find your breasts. “They’re tender, huh,” he murmurs into the side of your head.

“Super, yeah. Sore.”

“I’ll bet,” he says. He gently massages the tissue for you, his strong hands working you out in a way you can’t quite do.

“Thank you,” you whisper.

Joel chuckles. “Bout fuckin’ time you thanked me,” he says. “You’re welcome.”

If you enjoyed, please reblog with thoughts, leave me a comment, or send me an ask! Your words motivate me to keep writing for you all 🩷

Least helpful cats award goes to these two 👇 if you’ve ever wondered what takes me so long to put fics out, it’s this. I try to write and I’m cockblocked by these fuzzballs.

#joel miller x reader #joel miller x reader smut #joel miller smut #joel x reader #joel tlou #tlou joel #tlou fic #tlou fanfiction #pedro pascal x you #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal smut #brat tamer!joel miller #brat taming #joel miller tlou #joel the last of us #grumpy joel

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minimomoe · 2 months

Text

Not just Neighbors

Pairing: Logan Howlett (the worst Logan) x fem reader

Summary: Wade had a way of attracting the most unlikely people and keeping them around, but his newest roommate Mr. Tall, Dark, and Scowling is living with him until he figures out his way in this new universe. While Logan's come to peace with not dwelling on the past, the past always has a way of coming back to him.

Tags: MDNI!, Mutual Pining, Wade Wilson is a Little Shit, Next door Neighbors and roommate situation, Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Smut, porn with some plot, unprotected sex, vaginal fingering, p in v sex, breeding (like a tad), oral (fem receiving)

word ct: 7.7k (get comfy)

song inspo: Iris- Goo Goo Dolls

AN: this could potentially become a throuple if you guys want. you just gotta let me know

You were there when Wade brought in his new flatmate for the first time. Wade had gone on and on about how he was akin to Jesus and how he managed to save you and everybody else in the goddamn world with the help of this newcomer and the rat of a dog he brought back home with him. You weren’t surprised at all. Wade had a way of attracting the most unlikely people and keeping them around. If you thought about it a little harder, it was one of the reasons why you were friends with Wade in the first place. His constant bouts of word vomit and funny quips annoyed you to no end but his kindness is what made you stick around.

But as for Logan, Wade’s new friend, they were truly the most unlikely pair. You couldn’t wrap your head around how they had to work together for anything. You suppose the “how” didn’t really matter here with everybody smiling with the occasional conversation bursting with unadulterated laughter. Wherever Wade picked Logan up from, he fit in perfectly in the group.

Somehow you got stuck with one of the newest guests at the get together, Mary Puppins, and you looked down at the mutt with a less than ecstatic grimacing smile. You didn’t like how naked she was, her skin only having matted tufts of fur in none of the places that mattered.

“No no no, you can’t hold her and have that face. If you’re holding Dogpool you have to smile. She invokes happiness, like a vibrator,” Wade said. He took the dog from your arms and rubbed noses with her. “Who’s the prettiest princess in the world? Is it you or me?”

The floppy tongue of Puppins licked all around his face and you could barely hold back gagging. “Dude, that’s disgusting. Who knows what fucking diseases you just got.”

“Not surprised that you find true love disgusting. You remind me of a snapping turtle with chlamydia. You got an itch you can never reach so now you have to make it everybody else’s problem.”

“I just told you to stop tonguing down your dog, prick. I’d rather drink rubbing alcohol than do what you’re doing.”

Your friend gasped loudly and clapped his hands excitedly. He pointed excitedly at Logan who felt the new pairs of eyes on him from across the room even though he was in the middle of a conversation with others. His eyes hardened on Wade, glaring at him before travelling over to you. You thought you had imagined it when he had first walked in, but Logan did not want to deal with you. His eyes softened marginally before sweeping back to the laughter that bursted in front of him, tilting into concerned territories instead of pure annoyance, but still paid you no mind. You had no idea what you had done to the man, but his adverse behaviour made you eye twitch.

“He drinks rubbing alcohol! You two would get right along with your premature wrinkles from being sour pussies and the lust for emotionally reserved people. Actually, have you said hey to Logan, my newest roommate? Don’t worry, he bites. Once he sinks his teeth in you have to shake him off. I think we should get him a muzzle. I would show you the marks he left on me but they’re in places only my eyes can see.”

He tucked the dog under his arm and dragged you closer to the other man hurriedly without asking if you wanted to say hey to Logan. He was just your type, dark eyes, dark hair, imposing stature, but totally and completely uninterested in you.

“If they’re for your eyes only, why show them to me?”

“Because that’s what friends do! What are you, new here? You’ve helped me take some amazing nudes so don’t get all chaste on me,” Wade exasperated.

Unfortunately he said that loud enough for Logan to hear, who lifted an arched brow at you and Wade’s locked arms. You were getting an eyeful of his chest that was unbuttoned in his blue flannel top that made it hard to drag your eyes back up at a respectable angle.

“Logan, this is my bestie who is also the best damn cook this place has ever seen. She could cook cocaine from scratch if she put her mind to it like that one tiktok lady and it would be heavenly. I know you crazy kids will hit it off, but if you ever need a third,” he gave you a suggestive look.

You jabbed your elbow in Wade’s side. “Stop that. And I have never made cocaine before and I will never do that,” you corrected.

Wade had already left to talk to Vanessa and your irritation already ebbed away at the sight of the two of them together. You shook your head and gazed back down at Logan whose jaw was ticking and you guessed that you were the cause. You nervously shifted on your feet as you talked, not wanting to make the newcomer any more uncomfortable.

“Look, I’m not gonna pry. I do want to thank you for whatever you did with Wade. I was getting worried about him but he seems genuinely happy as of late after knowing you,” you said sincerely.

Finally Logan looked up to meet your eyes. He scanned your entire visage and something like pain flicked across his face.

“Nice to meet you. You’re also one of Wade’s friends?”

“And next door neighbor,” you waved your hands. You received another thinly veiled grimace. “I think Al is calling me,” you muttered so you could leave this painful conversation.

You couldn’t have known that Logan’s gaze stayed on you even after you turned your back on him to talk to Al. There was no way for you to know that Logan had met you before, in a different universe once upon a time, and you two were a lot more than neighbors. Seeing that you didn’t have an ounce of recognition for him was jarring but he couldn’t decide which one was worse. You having no memory of him, or you knowing just how low he got before finally getting his shit together. Whenever he caught your eyes across the room you quickly focused your attention elsewhere. As much as it bothered him, he thought it would be for the best to keep his distance.

The night passed and you didn’t make another attempt to talk to Logan. In fact, he didn’t see you again until a week later when he opened his front door and you had your fist raised in the air ready to knock on the heavy wood.

“Oh. Logan,” you drawled, dropping your hand. You were dressed for the heat in dark wash shorts that stopped high on your thigh with a cut up t-shirt of some new age tv show. Your hair was different from the last time he saw you. A million, tiny braids wrapped up in a knot on top of your head decorated with gold jewelry. Under your arm was a basket of clothes resting against your hip. You peeked over his shoulders, looking for anybody else in the apartment.

“I wanted to grab Al’s laundry while I’m heading down there. You mind if I get it?”

This was his chance to try to set the record straight. Logan looked at you for so long you started to frown, wondering if you had said something wrong.

“Your hands are already full,” he said without further explanation and you fell back when he went inside with the door closing in your face. The shock of his audacity is what kept you frozen in place, but not even ten seconds later it reopened with Logan holding Althea’s laundry basket.

“You want to do it together?” You asked incredulously.

Logan shrugged. “I got nothing else better to do.”

You said nothing as he walked past you down the hall to the stairwell. All you could do is stare at his nice ass saunter away after you rolled your eyes. When down in the laundry room on the first floor you took the basket out of Logan’s hands, quickly sorted the clothes then placed them in the machine. You sat down on the bench, staring down at your hands, clenching your fingers into your palms before slowly stretching them back out.

“What’s wrong with your hands?” Logan was still standing, leaning against a machine that wasn’t on as he looked at you with concern. You moved from stretching your fingers all at once to bending them one by one until they released a crisp pop!

“I feel like they're getting stiff. Gotta stretch so I can keep braiding hair for a few more years before the arthritis kicks in,” you sighed. “Sit down already. You’re making me nervous hovering over there like that.”

He dropped himself on the other side of the bench you were sitting on, making it creak in protest.

It wasn’t like you to fill the quiet with small talk but you didn’t know much about Logan and he seemed to be in an agreeable mood. After a few minutes of watching a video on your phone, you paused it to ask him a question.

“So what do you do? You know, for a living?”

Logan slowly tilted his head to regard your inquisitive stare. “I work in construction.”

You nodded, his occupation making total sense to you. He had the look of somebody who was blue collar. “I don’t know how it fully works but can you tell the city to fix the road on the bridge? It has holes bigger than a pornstar’s.”

Logan chuckled at your choice of words and it made you grin. It dawned on you that it was the first time you have really seen a happy expression on his face and you wanted to see more of it.

“I’ll move it up the docket,” he snorted.

“I’m counting on you.”

This was going much smoother than the first time you met him and you wondered if you had imagined the unsettling encounter in the first place. You wanted to test the waters without pushing your luck, so you went back to the paused hair tutorial on your phone and the quiet hum of the washing machines tumbling filled the empty space. You kept sneaking glances up at Logan who sat comfortably on the bench, taking up twice as much space than needed with his manspreading with arms crossed over his chest and his eyes closed. His chest rose and fell softly like he was sleeping.

“You wanna say something, bub?”

Your cheeks flamed like you were caught doing something you weren’t supposed to. “Do you call everybody that?”

Logan opened his eyes and looked at you from the corner of his eye.“I don’t bother myself too much with people’s names. It’s easier for me.”

“So you can’t be bothered to remember my name, nice,” you snorted. Before he could respond you put your hand up. “It’s okay, I’ll forget yours so we’ll be even. I was just wondering if you styled your hair like cat ears or if you just woke up like that, but then again, it looks like that every time I see you.”

He immediately ran his hands through his hair but failed to do anything about the style. You snorted then stretched your arm out to brush through his hair with your own fingers. The locks of hair were persistent in their upright position. You gave an amused hum before dropping your hand. “It’s pretty cute.”

Logan bit his tongue from mentioning how the you from his universe always made fun of his hair. He couldn’t compare the two, it wouldn’t be right, but you were so obviously the same person he cared for without even trying. He abruptly got up, leaving you bewildered on the bench by yourself.

“Call Wade to help you take this shit back to our place. I have something to take care of,” he said gruffly. Without another glance he left the laundry room. You watched his frame from the large windows walk down the street until he was no longer visible and scoffed.

“Fuck you too, Logan,” you cursed under your breath.

Your touch had ignited something in Logan, something that he needed to walk off lest he exploded. You had no fucking idea what you were doing to him and it wasn’t until Logan looked up and realized that he was about to walk into a new city limit that his feelings dawned on him too. You had left him in the previous universe, ending things with him before he was a full blown alcoholic because you didn’t want to be there when he self-destructed. It’s not that you had left without begging him to change, trying to help him get better, but he was too busy drowning in self pity to grab the hand that was reaching out for him. Seeing your expression full of hope and wonder in this world made Logan’s chest cave in from disappointment. It reminded him of a time where you loved him before he became The Worst Logan. He couldn’t find it in him to fully explain the turmoil that was going on with his mind and heart without it sounding utterly insane to you. The ghost of your fingers in his hair replayed in his mind for days as he kept himself busy with work and the gym, trying to minimize his chances of bumping into you to zero. The only problem was that it was an impossible task. You lived next door, and you were Wade’s friend. He could hear your voice through the drywall when he holed himself up in his room while you talked to Wade and Al.

“Trust me, he doesn’t hate you. Unless you have a smart mouth. Then he might hate you a little bit.”

“Is that really all the advice you can give me?”

“He really likes Madonna?”

“Thank you. Thank you for absolutely nothing,” you groaned.

—•—

Even though days have passed since his time spent in the laundry room with you, he was bound to cross paths with you again. He came home late at night at the same time as you who was having trouble with opening your door.

“Shit,” he heard you mutter. “Fuck. Shit-fuck, where is my key?”

More rustling ensued as he came up the stairs to see you paw through your bag. You dropped your hand in futile defeat and pressed your forehead on the door with a soft thump. You then whipped around, making your way to his apartment, Wade’s apartment, and freezing like a deer caught in headlights when you see him down the hall. You started to backtrack but Logan called out your name.

“I was just gonna ask Wade to pick my lock again. I can’t get in,” you explained.

“Wade’s not in there. He went out with Vanessa,” Logan said. He took slow steps closer to you and you stiffened up. “I could open it for you.”

Your eyes widened at the offer, then you eyed him suspiciously. “Are you saying that but gonna fuck off to who knows where halfway through?”

Logan sucked his teeth in. “I’m sorry about that. I just— I needed to leave.”

You gave him a disbelieving stare. Even now with the tiredness of the day weighing you down you looked beautiful to him. You had your hair held back with a silk scarf that freed your face so your knitted eyebrows were showing clear confusion. Your full lips were hard pressed in a line with the corners tugging down.

“Fine. Whatever. Just open the door,” you scoffed. “Please,” you added after some thought.

He would’ve opened it even if you yelled at him. You stood behind Logan, unable to see him extend a single claw to pick your lock. In no time you heard the click of your door being opened and you clapped in relief. Logan opened the door wide for you to step in, fully prepared to close it after but you took his hand to drag him inside.

“Thanks,” you muttered. “You’re coming home late too so you must be hungry. I doubt Wade got anything good to eat over there.”

He watched you move around your space, kicking your shoes off at the corner and hanging your bag on some hooks next to the door. He did the same with his shoes, padding behind you in his socks as you walked over to your kitchen.

“Un-fucking-believable,” you scoffed. He looked at what you were staring at and it was your lanyard of keys sitting pretty on your countertop. “Well, is there anything you’re in the mood for?”

“Do you still have any of that lasagna you brought over last time? It was fucking amazing.”

“So you do eat my food,” you said bashfully. “Unfortunately I do not but I’ll make it again soon, buuut I do have spaghetti sauce with big ole meatballs leftover, so we can have that.”

You gave Logan a hopeful look, silently asking him to stay for dinner. He didn’t know what else to do with himself in your tiny kitchen but he stuck around, scanning the walls and other surfaces for bits of you plastered all over the place. You had a little bit of everything tucked in all corners, books in haphazard stacks, miniature plants in colorful pots, and random trinkets tucked in corners. It wasn’t messy, but your space was lived in. It was a visual representation of your personality.

In the same bowl you threw your keys in after you found them there was a large flat disc that he recognized. It was a token given to those who attended the same AA meetings he went to, the exact same design, that said “1 year”. You saw him eyeballing the coin and picked it up.

“Oh yeah I don’t drink. Gotta keep my streak up,” you chuckled dryly. “It’s actually been three years but I don’t go as often as I should. I think I got a good handle on it now.”

Logan’s brow raised up. He only recently started to go to AA meetings secretly on his own. While he didn’t have to hide it, having everyone close to him know how much he needed help made his stomach turn. The way you spoke about your past freely to him made him more willing to be open and honest with himself.

“I’m trying to get better at that too,” he said in a steady voice, looking at you head on. You regarded him without any apprehension. “I go to the latest meetings of the night.”

“At the rec center on 5th?”

Logan nodded and you gave a soft smile. Your thumb brushed over the engraving on the token. “They’re good people over there. They really helped me get back on my feet.”

You shuffled over to your pantry to pull out a pack of spaghetti, then to your cabinets to get olive oil and salt.

You moved with ease in your kitchen like you could find all the stuff with your eyes closed and it reminded Logan of simpler times. Him coming back from a mission to you making a meal if it wasn’t the middle of the night. He’d stick to your side like a starfish, not wanting to let go until you started complaining about your dwindling range of motion. Then he’d pull you in his lap when food was served, having you sit and feed him until you slowly stopped bringing out two plates to just one so you could eat off of one together. This domestic scene that played in front of him was something that Logan thought that he had lost forever.

“I grew up in Butt Fuck Nowhere, USA. All there was to do for fun was go to the liquor store and get drunk in parking lots until it wasn’t just for fun but a necessity to avoid everything. Over the years I just… wandered. When I ended up in the hospital and nobody came to check on me is when it really hit. I could’ve died and I wouldn’t have anything to show for my life.”

Once you filled a pot full of water on the stove, you toyed with the token while leaning over the counter. You spun the coin around on the table until it reached the speed to where it looked like a transparent sphere.

“I must’ve relapsed at least 50 times when I first started going to meetings. Hell, it took me almost two years before I even went to meetings regularly. I don’t mean to lecture you or anything. Lord knows I have no business giving advice to anybody,” you chuckled. The coin slowed and collapsed on itself. You flicked it over to Logan and he caught it under his fingers. “But I do know what you’re going through. So if you feel yourself slipping let me know. It would’ve been nice to have somebody to lean on back then.”

The only noise that could be heard in your apartment was the soft bubbling of the pasta boiling. Logan picked up the coin that you slid over to him and turned it over in his hand. The timer you set for the spaghetti beeped so you went to tend to the pot, grabbing oven mitts for the drawer and prepped your strainer. You poured out the boiling hot water in the sink, hissing when the steam billowed in your face.

“Careful,” Logan muttered behind you, his hand on the small of your waist. He took the burning pot out of your hand with no protection and placed it back on the stove.

“It’s just a little steam,” you waved off. “You must’ve burned yourself. Here, run your hand under cold water first.”

You took his hand to inspect it and saw the red welts and fingertips quickly disappear back into his normal skin color. You gaped at his hand, running your fingers over his palm like a psychic reader.

“You’re like Wade,” you gasped in awe. “No wonder he brought you home.”

He carefully slipped his hand out of your hold and held it over the sink, exposing the claws that sprung from between his knuckles. When he retracted the claws you took his fist and inspected his knuckles, trying to find the exit point with knitted eyebrows full with concern.

“Does that hurt you?”

“I barely feel it anymore,” he shrugged.

“How much do you know about mutants?” Logan breathed out. This was the closest you've ever been to him. He could smell your shampoo wafting off of your hair and the slightest bit of your perfume. Just like his old timeline, you always favored vanilla and coconut scents.

“Not much. Something, something, genetic mutation, the next step for human evolution, can be a variety of different powers or appearances. I know that a few of Wade’s other friends are mutants and I unfortunately have the base model human form,” you joked. “But it’s a good thing you’re not hurt.”

You never stopped rubbing Logan’s hand and he never took it away. Instead he pressed his palms to yours then slotted his fingers in the available spaces until he was gently holding your hand. You nervously cleared your throat but didn’t say anything for him to stop.

“I don’t know how much of the story you got from Wade, but I had my own timeline, my own universe, that I fucked up before he pulled me out of there to save this one. You were there.”

That made your eyebrows fly up. “Holy shit— there’s another me? Or another variant of me. I think that’s how Wade explained it.”

“Yeah, another variant of you. And I let you down. I mean I fucking blew it at the time. So I see you now, knowing that I’m being given a second chance, and fuck I’m scared I’m gonna mess it up again.”

All the agonizing looks and sudden disappearances finally made sense. You always felt like Logan had known something about you that you weren’t aware of, albeit you weren’t thinking it was this major. Still, the corners of your mouth curled up.

“Don’t go looking too far ahead in the future, Logan. You could start small by not running out of the room when you see me and you could always stop by for dinner.”

Logan’s heart was drumming in his chest so hard he swore you could hear it. There you went again, bridging the gap between him and you like you always did. You stated things so simply because it was that simple to you. You went back to preparing dinner, dishing out plates of spaghetti for the both of you and diving into a story about the marital issues one of your clients were having. You were so animated when you talked, your eyes bright and hands waving, he held onto every single word. Before he knew it there was no food left on his plate and you two had been talking for nearly an hour. Once he saw you yawn he excused himself, taking your plates and washing them off, promising to see you the next day and you looked happy with his new attitude.

So Logan started small just like you said to. There wasn’t a time when he saw you that he didn’t say hi, and your face lighting up made him want to say it again and again. He surprised you with compression gloves to help your hands and offered to do your grocery shopping whenever he could. You made good on your word by bringing twice as much food over to the apartment, going as far as packing him a separate plate with his name written on a neon post it note with your curly handwriting. You had no idea how long he kept one of the notes in his pocket, neatly folded until the corners were devoid of pigment. He would swipe over it while he went to his meetings and be reminded of your encouraging voice.

When he felt himself itching for a drink, his throat feeling dry and the tremors in his hand returning, his first call was to you. It must’ve been almost 12 am when he called the first time, but you answered and talked him down out of the bar full of his temptations and into your apartment where you had two cups of tea and a listening ear. When he didn’t want to talk you offered a distraction, putting on the shittiest comedies you found and forcing him to sit on your couch and watch them with you until the tension in his shoulders melted away and he could finally hear the voices that were coming from the tv. By that time you were already in a deep sleep, your face peaceful and the most interesting thing to watch was you, not the screen. Movie nights became a normal, weekly occurrence for the two of you after that, something that Logan looked forward to.

Even Wade and Blind Al noticed the change in the relationship.

“It’s always ‘where’s Logan, Logan, Logan?’ with her. Soon she won’t even bother to cook for us anymore. I used to be the only person she’d make chimichangas for so why the fuck do you get a plate now? All she cares about is that slutty waist decorated with a big fat shiny belt buckle,” Wade complained.

“Motherfucker, if that little angel stops bringing me her sweet potato pound cakes, I will drop kick you out of the window.” Al pointed her can in the middle of Logan’s chest.

Logan’s phone buzzed on the coffee table and all three of them turned to face it.

“Speaking of that gorgeous devil. Must be a slow day at work if she can be sexting you. Do you even know what that is or do you only send horny notes via quill pen and carrier pigeon?”

“Mind your own goddamn business,” Logan said, snatching up his phone before Wade could reach it. It was a message from you, and it wasn’t a sexy message at all (to someone who isn’t attracted to you like Logan was). Instead you had sent him a picture of one of your client’s hair with an intricate braid design with only your fingers in the frame. You were wearing the gloves he gave you and he was too busy looking at that than the hair. Another message popped up.

-took me only ten hours and she tipped the same amount as the price!!!

-finally gonna buy a new stand mixer

“Oooo she sends you hand pictures. I didn’t know you had a fetish for that, you freaky frogs. Cover your eyes Althea, they’re getting nasty.”

That earned Wade three stabs in his leg and Logan stepped out of the living room to call you back in peace.

—•—

Another night eating dinner together and you excitedly pulled Logan to the kitchen and made him cover his eyes with the palms of his hands so he wouldn’t peek. He heard the fridge open and close, matches being struck, and the soft ring of utensils being set down. Then you stood behind him, replacing his hands with yours.

“Okayyy open!”

Logan opened his eyes to a small, round cake displayed in front of him with a single candle lit in the middle. In elaborate cursive, “Happy One Month” was written in blue and yellow frosting. He had given you his token earlier this week from his meetings with a shy smile and you were ecstatic for him. He wasn’t expecting you to do anything more than that from you because he still had a long way to go. But you stood behind Logan, your hands resting on his shoulders while you peeked over his body to try to see his expression.

“We need to celebrate things like this,” you said fondly. “You’re doing fucking amazing.”

Your hands left his body and you went to get plates to serve the cake with. “I hope you like chocolate cake. You seem like a chocolate type of guy.”

Your knife was poised over the cake ready to slice down when you felt Logan’s heavy hands rest on your waist. You have been trying to be normal about him for weeks, not wanting to assume that he would be interested in you now because you looked similar to someone he knew before while your own attraction was off the charts. His body heat covering your entire back and circling around your abdomen made it impossible to make a steady cut in the cake and you pulled out a crooked slice.

“Logan?”

You pivoted on your heels to face him. His arms never loosened around your body. His expression was dark and heady, ever so ready to eat you rather than the cake. Your gaze went from his eyes to his lips before dragging back up. Heat swirled in your stomach, one that has been growing since you met him but it was finally bubbling over.

“Nobody else would think to do this but you,” he said in a low voice. It only sent tingles right down your spine. You ran your hands on his shoulders before hooking them together behind his head. Logan slotted one leg in between yours, his thigh pressing lightly on your sex, and your lower back pressed into the table. The cool tile barely soothed your sizzling skin.

“It doesn’t take much to do,” you shrugged. “I want to cheer you on.”

One of his hands snaked up the front of your body until he cupped your chin, tilting your head back and you both shared open mouthed breaths. You combed his nape, watching his eyes roll back into his head and he cursed. Logan’s lips came crashing down on you with reckless abandon, his tongue making quick acquaintance with the inside of your mouth and you hiked your leg up his waist to lock him in closer. He lifted you up to sit you on the counter and the heights changed. You sat a little taller than him, controlling the kiss with just as much gusto and both legs around his waist. You pushed off the jacket he was wearing, not liking how many layers of clothing were separating you from him and his hands rubbed up your bare thighs till he was under your shorts. A moan that left you biting his lip escaped your mouth and Logan showed just enough restraint to say something.

“Tell me you want this,” Logan groaned. His gaze was so deep, full of the regret of some other timeline where he had once failed you once before and he needed to know that this wasn’t some hyper realistic dream that he was letting himself get swept into. You cupped his face, kissing the stray tear that fell from his right eye before capturing his lips again. He was hungry for you, getting drunk off the salty kiss but had enough control left to pull away and repeated himself. “Say you want this.”

“I want this,” you nodded vigorously. “I want you. The Logan that’s here in front of me. I want all of you.”

You were afraid that your answer wasn’t enough as Logan stared at you like he couldn’t believe that you were real. His head dropped to your shoulder and your hands made home in his hair. You gently scraped his scalp with your nails when you felt open mouth kisses on the side of your neck that shot electricity through your veins. You hummed quietly, sagging into his embrace and he continued his burning map of passion down your body. He heaved you off of the countertop, walking over to your sectional rather than your room because he couldn’t afford to waste any more time before settling into the soft cushions with you on top of him. Your mouths were back on each other, feverishly seeking what the other was offering in a desperate manner. Teeth clashing on each other did nothing to slow you down outside of giving you a moment to breathe before you could get lightheaded.

Logan’s large hands roamed over your body, nearly tearing off your shorts to feel the wetness of your pussy. You meweled when his fingers slipped past your folds and smeared the arousal he gathered from your entrance. Not wanting to be the only one feeling good, you worried his belt buckled, jerking the leather out of the way to free his length from the confinements of his pants. Your fingers wrapped around his cock strung out a long groan from Logan from deep inside his chest. You were equally as loud, whimpering whenever he circled your clit and clenching your thighs around his hips.

“Holy fuck, Logan,” you shuddered. He inserted another one of his thick fingers, moving two in a scissoring fashion that made your vision hazy around the corners. You were tight and he wanted to take his time preparing you, but you were riding his hand and his palms were drenched in your arousal. You spat in your hand and pumped his cock faster, taking his mouth again for a dizzying kiss.

“That’s enough,” he growled out. With a bruising grip he guided your hips to line up with his stiff cock. His tip nudged your oversensitive bundle of nerves and you hissed, your fingers digging in his shoulders. You sank down slowly on him, his cock splitting you open with a delicious stretch you had been imagining for weeks now. None of your toys could compare to the real thing. Logan coaxed you to keep your eyes on him while he fucked you from below. Your lashes were lined with tears as you slid down inch by tantalizing inch of his length. You still had your top on and that was a problem for Logan. He hastily pushed your shirt off of your body and was rewarded to your breasts falling in his face. If he could smother himself with them he could. Your nipples stood out, clearly begging for his attention, and he flattened his tongue to lap them up.

You clutched him to your chest, gasping and writhing on top of him, still trying to get down to the base. He closed the gap, bucking his hips up with a satisfying slap to the back of your thigh.

“Yesss,” you hissed. “God yes.” Logan was fully seated inside of you, your velvet walls pulsing around him in an intoxicating rhythm. A sob of relief fell from your lips when he controlled the tempo from below. He could leave handprints on your ass with how tightly he was holding you, rolling your hips, hurtling you towards an orgasm. It was your turn to take off his shirts. You didn’t need anything to slow the large wave of pleasure ready to crash over you. Once you had a clear view of his top half, viewing his muscles that flexed from holding you up, you splayed your hands on his broad chest to steady you. His hands wrapped around your wrists, bringing one up to kiss the pulse point that was beating a hundred miles a minute, then drag his tongue over the vein. He left open-mouth marks up your arm, pulling you closer until it was your lips he was devouring once again.

Logan’s thumb stimulated your clit and you whimpered in his mouth. You were forehead to forehead, eyelashes tangling with each other with each blink. You always broke contact first, too overwhelmed with the building pressure deep in your core and Logan would lure you back to him.

“Don’t leave me all alone, pretty,” he moaned, and it was all it took to have you staring deep in his eyes again.

You came crying out Logan’s name. You buried your face in his neck, rolling your hips feverishly against him to ride out the rest of your high. His arms laced around your back, holding you together as you fell apart. When you released the final heaving breath he flipped you on your back on the couch, slipping out of your sex to settle his head between your plush thighs.

“Whaa–?” You were still dazed, floating in the cloud with slight tremors running through your body, only being brought back down to earth when you felt the brush of Logan’s beard on the inside of your leg.

“You have no idea how good you smell,” he gritted out.

He was practically salivating at the sight of your pussy, his hand cupping your ass and he spread your legs further apart so that no part of you was hidden. You rested on your elbows to watch him from down below, his hazel eyes blown wide at the feast presented to him. He dived in nose deep, messily eating you out, drenching the bottom half of his face from his spit and your arousal that dripped all over the couch. Your hands made a home in his head of hair, tugging him to and fro whenever you thought you were close. Arching your back off the couch offered you no break, Logan’s hands curled around you to keep you in place and firmly stuck on his mouth. He enjoyed the harsh pulls on his scalp, the way that you murmured sorry like you could actually hurt him. “Lo–logan,” you whined out. It was almost too much to bear. He was relentless, his oral fixation on your clit becoming numbing as your nerves were in overdrive. Your nails clawed his back, the tops of his shoulders, trying to find purchase in anything to keep from the mounting spiraling sensation that kept you crying for him.

“Keep saying my name like that,” he commanded. It came out muffled, you didn’t actually hear a word that came out of his mouth, but you felt the vibrations of them and it made more tears fall from your eyes.

He moved from fucking you with his tongue to slipping his fingers inside, crooking them up to your spot and keeping a tight seal on your clit. Your release hit you like a freight train. You clamped your shaking thighs together around his head, and Logan fucked you through it until you were sobbing, begging him to let you breathe. Every muscle in your body was trembling from the gratifying exertion.

However, Logan was far from finished with you.

His beard was slick with your second orgasm. He finally came up for air, kissing up your softness of your stomach, a slow trail through the middle of your chest.“You taste fucking amazing too.”

“Let me see,” you crooned, cuffing the back of his neck to mash your lips on his. Both your arms and legs wrapped around Logan, containing his body in your embrace with the rest of the strength you could muster up. He slipped inside of your cunt in one fluid motion, fucking you to the edge once again. You fluttered and clenched around him, his strokes languid yet hitting your spot with precision. You were beyond fucked out, a blubbering mess that wanted him to finish inside of you.

“Please, please, please give it to me. Come on– fuck, baby,” you begged. “Don’t you wanna come inside?”

“Asking so nicely,” he gave a low chuckle. “How bad do you want it?”

Your hands squeezing his ass was all the answer he needed. Logan was notched deep inside of you, hips rolling and teeth bared over your skin. Desperation fueled him. The need to make you completely his, filling you up with his come. Your eyes wandered to between you, the point where you both were conjoined to watch the raunchy scene of his cock fucking your slippery pussy with amazement. You glided your finger over your clit for one more high with Logan’s filthy words in your ears.

“Come for me, sweetheart. One more time and I’ll give you exactly what you're begging for. You already made a fucking mess everywhere–”

You crested with a high keen that made everything flash white. The sheer force of your orgasm had you coming for what seemed to be a few long minutes. Words were useless to describe the lewdness of your moans accompanied with the final, sharp snaps of his hips on the back of your thighs. Logan couldn’t hold out any longer, finally spilling inside of you with a growling shout. His hands were sunken inside of a decorative pillow above your head on your couch that was ruined from his claws extending at the height of his peak. Ragged pants were shared between you, heart rates finally slowly. You locked your legs around his waist, wanting Logan to lay his full weight on top of your body like a stone press. You basked in the afterglow, grazing your nails on his skin, enjoying his body heat. He nestled further into your neck, breathing in your scent, content with your affectionate embrace. Logan could finally put all worries of ruining his relationship with you in this world to bed.

—•—

You weren’t sure if you had slept for only a few minutes or hours, but you woke up feeling hungry, sore, and overheated. It was all due to Logan, who was starfishing on top of your body. Only one hand was curved around your waist to ensure that you wouldn’t escape even while he was in the dreamlands and you chuckled. You took the liberty of touching him freely while he slumbered, craning your neck to skate your finger down the slope of his nose and cheek. His nose twitched, shaking off your finger to remain sleeping. You really had to pee but you didn’t want to disturb him. That’s when you realized that you were no longer on the couch like you were the night before. You don’t know how many times you did it, how many positions you went through with the insatiable man who craved you for hours. He must’ve carried you to the bed when you were too tired to walk on your own and when you ran you hand down on parts of your body that wasn’t buried under him you were clean. You thought about waking him up so you could convince him to take a shower with him when your phone rang on your nightstand. You felt your way to grabbing it, stretching your arm as far out as you could to snatch it off the table and read the caller ID.

“Wade, this better be important.”

“Good morning to you too, sunshine. I just wanted to say the headphones you got Al work great. After the third, or was it the fourth round, I put those bad boys on and couldn’t hear a thing. Send me the link so I can buy them for myself.”

You threw your arm over your eyes in embarrassment. “Fuck me, you heard us?”

“Oh yeah,” he snickered. “You two sounded like banshees fucking on a rollercoaster. Tell me, is he huge down under? I would take a hike down his happy trail any day.”

“I’m hanging up now,” you said, and did just that. You tossed your phone back on your nightstand when Logan rustled.

“Who was that?” His voice was even deeper than usual, hitting your ears with a delicious gravelly tone. You pressed your legs together at the sound of him.

“Wade. Just know that he heard us and will be an annoying little shit about it.”

“Fucking great,” he groaned. You combed your fingers through his hair to soothe him.

You were going to say something else when the state of your pillow caught your attention.

“Holy shit,” you murmured, running your hand over the torn fabric. Three streaks sliced through it, exposing the soft down within. Logan tilted his head to see what you were looking at and winced.

“I’ll replace that too.”

You could only laugh in disbelief. His chin rested on your sternum and you held an amused expression, a small smile dancing on your lips.

“What is it?” He asked.

“My question is finally answered. You wake up with the little cat ears.”