#and now I think a need a cold shower

[iamthecomet]

COMET COMET COMETTTTTTT

I'm re-reading your ficlets because I have no self control. This is not a complaint. Anyway, I have a prompt, if you're interested! (I know you have a bunch.)

How do we feel about Rain and Cumulus giving each other nice, lazy handys by the lake? Cumulus makes a joke about seeing just how wet the water ghoul can get her, so he goes right on down and turns her into a fountain? :)

Holy FUCK. I've been thinking about this ask for DAYS. I'm not even close to kidding. I'm sorry it took me six hundred years to get to it.

Rain's wet against her hip. Cock leaking, slicking her fingers as he rocks up into her hand. It's slow, lazy. Cumulus sweeps her thumb over the head, gathering more wetness to smear along the hard length of him. Rain huffs out a pleased breath against her neck. They're curled up together in Rain's favorite clearing, out of view of the abbey. The lake laps against the shore by their tangled feet.

One of his legs is hooked over her thigh. He has a hand under her neck, curled around the other side of her head to tangle his hand in her curls. The other is between her legs, two fingers hooked inside of her while he rubs slow circles on her clit. She rocks her hips against his hand, it's easy to get lost in this feeling, the sun on their skin, their hands on each other. There's no urgency in it, they have all afternoon, all day. Rain's breath is cool against the side of her neck. He grinds his hips forward, the slick tip of his cock digging into her hip. "Damn water ghouls," she laughs. "You're wetter than me." She smears more precum across the head, smiling when he hisses, hips bucking towards her hand. He nips lightly at her jaw. He pulls his fingers from the warmth of her body and holds them up so the sunlight hits them. Her slick glistens, stretching between his fingers as he spreads them. He hums against her skin, "wonder how wet I can get you."

She kisses his forehead and watches as he rubs the slick between his fingers. He brings them up to his mouth and sucks both into his mouth with a groan. He pulls them out with a pop. He drags his teeth up the hinge of her jaw over the shell of her ear.

"I bet I could get you soaked, dripping." "Yeah?" Cumulus asks. She tries to keep her voice steady, to drag the joke out a little longer even though she can feel her stomach clenching at the words. She wants to squeeze her thighs together, but can't, Rain has them pinned open with his leg. He drops his spit-slicked fingers back between her legs, he runs them through her folds with little direction, just to touch, to gather more slick on his fingers before he brings them back up to his mouth to lick them clean again. "You don't believe me?"

"It's just a lot of words for a guy who isn't actually doing anything to prove it." Rain chuckles against her ear, and then he's pulling away from her, his cock slipping from the circle of her hand, the weight on her thigh lifting away. Her thighs twitch towards closing, but Rain's hand stops, pressed into the meat of her inner thigh, pressing her legs further open as he fits his shoulders between her thighs. His breath is cool when it fans out over her. She sits up on her elbows to look at him. He drags his fingers through her folds, catching his thumb on her clit and huffing out a laugh when she jolts. He looks up at her, deep blue eyes catching hers as she looks down the line of her body at him. His tongue darts out to sweep over her, gathering slick on the tip before he pulls it back into his mouth with a low groan. She collects words on her tongue intent on teasing him more, but before she can get any of them out, his mouth descends. It's still unhurried, slow, direct drags of his tongue that make her body quiver. He knocks the breath from her lungs. He's sloppy about it, and she realizes she didn't specify who the wetness needed to come from, but Satanas it's good. He's good at this in a way that always makes her head spin. She drops back onto her back, elbows refusing to hold her up anymore. She snakes a hand down her body to latch into his hair as his tongue darts up to flick expertly at her clit.

He holds her open with one hand on her thigh, fingers pressing dimples into her soft skin. With the other he sinks two fingers into her, he presses upwards with them, hunting with practiced accuracy for-- She whines, back bowing off of the blanket, her toes digging into the grass. Rain huffs out a breath against her as he pinpoints that spot and starts to stroke, gently, as she shudders above him.

She digs her fingers deeper into Rain's dark curls, mostly for something to hold onto. Her hips twitch on their own accord, grinding against his mouth and fingers, her body chasing what it needs. Her thighs shake, quivering, as he drives her higher and higher. He pulls his hand away from her thigh, and she immediately clamps both of them tight around his ears. He growls, low against her, the vibration ratcheting her even higher. She can't catch her breath. Her back arches. Her toes flex into the soft moss at the lake's edge. She doesn't have a chance to give Rain a warning. Just as she's about to tell him, he presses down on her pubic mound, hard. She wails through her orgasm, fingers tightening painfully in his hair. There's a rush of wetness between her legs as her muscles spasm around his fingers. Rain moans as he works her through it. When her body stops twitching, Rain drags his body up hers to look at her. Pressing open mouth kisses along her body as he goes. He wipes his mouth off on the back of his hand before he bends to kiss her. One hand still working between her legs, the other coming up to cradle her jaw. "Did I just--" "Oh yeah," he grins against her mouth. "I told you I could get you--." She kisses him, all teeth and tongue. "Do it again."

[michameinmicha]

Im very into lavender these days but not in the woo woo 'this will fix my sleep problems and all other issues' pseudoscience way, it's just that i really love the smell and it's very comforting to me, which i can use a lot of right now so i try to surround myself with it as much as possible 💜

[altruistic-meme]

i hate having executive dysfunction and decision paralysis cus i have shit i need to get done today but im staring at the list of things to do and going "idk where to start :( guess ill just Sit Here until i magically decide" and internally in like "NO YOU HAVE TO PICK SOMETHING. YOU WILL WASTE THE WHOLE DAY" but externally im just chilling.

[mxwhore]

can i get a fucking Break

[tankerfishthesimp]

my room is such a mess tho wtf

[freebooter4ever]

So um im not reblogging it but shoutout to that one poll post in his tag that sent me on a googling spree during lunch today O.O thats...wow...gonna b thinking about that

almost as good as when taylor liked the lesbian p*rn here on tumblr. I feel like people forget what exactly started her uhhhh... very (overly?) devoted ... lesbian/bisexual fanbase. Like give us one tiny little bit of fantasy and we're in for life.

Edit: I FORGOT TO TO CENSOR SHIT i dont want this in tags lmao

[milo-is-rambling]

I am so high I love you dabs I love you big bong rips I love you huge heavy bong I love you only having 20 dollars to my name and no plans but getting high and ignoring it I love you oh no I’m thinking about it

[bitegore]

"i can totally draw drag strip and motormaster fucking and be normal about it!" no i can't

[phagodyke]

I feel like my meds keep wearing off earlier and earlier in the day ugh.. having to lie down now im home from work I'm shattered :-(

[writersdrug]

Simon "Ghost" Riley is the kind of man who:

In your shared home, always sits with his legs spread. Manspreading king. Adores it when you cross your arms and give him a disapproving look, saying there's no room for you. "Course there is, luv. Jus' sit between my thighs."

Refuses to let you do simple tasks around the house, like making tea, folding his underwear, or putting away the dishes. One might think it's a sweet, husbandly gesture - but he's just super picky. You made tea in the microwave once, and now you're banned from ever touching his tea stash. Likes his underwear folded in a specific way, and you don't understand the importance of it. He got tired of you stuffing his underwear in his drawer, so now he folds it himself. And the dishes? Couldn't stand how you put them away. "There's no rhyme or reason to 'em." "I didn't think there had to be, Si-" "Just gimme the damn bowl." Fewer chores? You aren't complaining.

Looks like he's always on edge - and he is, kinda. When he's out with you, he can't help but be alert and watchful, and extremely protective of you. You've tried to get him to loosen up - it's the supermarket, what could happen? - but have just come to accept it as his nature. Plus, you get that giddy feeling when you see other men look straight down at the floor, avoiding Simon's stare as the two of you pass.

Is the grumpiest, poutiest, and most indignant man ever when he gets sick. Doesn't want you doting on him in case you catch whatever he has. But, wait - where are you going? "Get your ass back in this bed - 'm cold." Grumbles like a child when you force him to let you get up to grab him soup, tea, or medicine. And no, he doesn't care how sick he is, he's not wearing that stupid, floppy ice pack hat.

Brings Johnny over unannounced, and you've grown used to it. The moment you hear that Scottish yapping out the front door as the key unlocks, you grab a third plate for dinner - he insists you don't need to feed him, but you always make extra for Simon's lunch the next day regardless, and the last time he'd said that, he ended up grabbing an extra fork and picking from Simon's plate. Which, of course, had Simon up at 1 am making instant ramen because he was still hungry, but didn't have the heart to ask you to make him a decent meal. So, yes, Johnny would be fed.

Loves spoiling you on your birthday. What is a man if not someone who spoils his partner rotten? Orders in food from your favorite bakery, sets all your presents neat and nice on the table (the excellent wrapping job done by yours truly, Gaz), flower petals sprinkled on the ground and the table top (also Gaz's idea), and a seat on his lap so for you while you open your presents. Loves watching your face light up, and each little "you remembered?!" fall from your lips as you open each gift. Scoffs and shifts in his seat. "I's not that much of a fuss, luv..." as you squeal excitedly, but you know he's biting back a proud smile. The blush, he can't even attempt to hide.

Is somehow a magnet for your young nephews. Every time he comes along to your sister's place, he's either making conversation with her husband in the living room, or he's interrogated and cornered by her two sons. And, lord help him, he doesn't understand it either. He'd always expected kids to look at him like a monster, but, especially with these two, that was never the case. They'd ask him for stories about "being in war" - half of the time, he'd make up some not-too-gory adventure, sparing them the details of real war. The rest of the time, he'd talk about "Soap, my mate who blows everything up." And they'd listen with wide eyes and jaws on the floor.

Has scared you unintentionally, more than too many times. He'd come home at three in the morning from a mission, and all he wanted was to quietly peel his dirty uniform off and slip into bed with you. His main intention was to avoid waking you up, because you'd force him to shower before joining you in bed - and he was too tired for that. However, you'd been rounding the corner, up for your 3 am glass of water - you screamed as you saw the hulking, dark figure by the front door, launching your phone at him. He'd caught it effortlessly and shoved it into his back pocket. "What've I told ya 'bout using the bat?" "I was just getting water!" "I coulda been anyone." "Well you're not." "Missed ya, luvie." "Missed you too- but you're grimy. Go take a-" "No." He grabbed you and threw you over his shoulder, ignoring your protests as he hauled you back to bed.

[thebibliosphere]

I’ve had an increase in rainbow aura with my migraines lately (I used to get them once a year, if that. Now, I’ve had it twice in one month) so I’ve become somewhat paranoid whenever something flashes over my vision.

Sometimes, it's just light reflecting off my phone, but it still makes me freeze up in a fear response when it happens because it usually means I’ve got about 20 minutes before I’m in agony.

Apparently, this new paranoia extends into my dreams now, too, because I was running down a long corridor, aware that there was something behind me that I needed to escape, but all of a sudden, in my dream, rainbow zigzags consumed my vision, and I stopped, dead and went, “fuck, migraine.”

That's when I became aware of James Bond/Daniel Craig standing beside me, gun drawn.

“Oh, shit. Do you need to lie down?” he asked while I stared at him.

I said, “What about the thing chasing us?”

“Oh, don’t worry about that, darling. If you need to lie down you can lie down. I’ll just kill them.”

I blinked at him for a bit, still winded from running then said, “Sure,” starting to get to my knees, ready to lie down on the cold stone floor beneath us.

“Sure?”

“Yeah. Kill ‘em. I’m just gonna...” I gestured vaguely at the floor. “Be right here, I guess.”

“You can go upstairs, you know,” he said, loading a fresh clip into his gun. “This museum has a hotel on top of it.”

“Oh good,” I said, starting to suspect this was a dream and not Daniel Craig about to murder the people chasing me because I had a migraine. “I’ll do that then.”

So I got back up and started climbing the stairs that looked an awful lot like the stairs in the Kelvin Grove Art Gallery, only to abruptly walk into Deathstroke and Nightwing doing their best to kill each other in the corridor of what was clearly a hotel based on the room service tray Nightwing was using to deflect projectiles.

They froze. I looked at them. They looked at me. “I’ve got a migraine,” I said,

“Shit, sorry,” Nightwing said, putting down his tray as both men stepped back to let me walk down the decimated corridor. “We’ll be more quiet.”

“Room 13 is open,” Deathstroke helpfully informed me.

“Is there a body in it?” I asked, now leaning against the wall, less walking along, more sliding.

“Not anymore.”

“Do you need anything?” Nightwing asked, “pain killers? Ice pack?”

I waved them off and made my way into room 13 where David Jason dressed as Detective Jack Frost looked up at me from the book he was reading on the bed.

“This is a dream,” he informed me.

“No it isn’t,” I said, despite knowing it was as I hobbled over to the bed and flopped down beside him. “And this room was supposed to be empty.”

“Open, not empty,” corrected Jack Banon who had taken David Frost’s place, dressed like young Alfie from Pennyworth as he sat beside me on the bed, leaning back against the headboard. “There’s a very distinct difference between the two. Oh, don’t look at me like that. Who do you think moved the body?”

“I need to sleep,” I said, “if I can fall asleep, the migraine might go away.”

“That's all right,” he said. “You do that. I’ll make sure no one else comes in. Oh, just one thing before you do.”

He reached into his pocket and pulled out something I couldn't quite see and held it out to me. “You’ll need this.”

“What is it?” I said, my brain doing the dream thing where it refuses to read books or interpret numbers correctly. “I can’t see, what is it?”

“Oft, sorry. Can’t tell you that. More than my job’s worth.”

“You’re job...”

“Yeah.” and thats when he leaned over, stuck me with a needle and said, “Night night.”

And I woke up to the sound of @mothman-etd getting into the shower and Holly Mop wiggling under thre covers with me.

First words out of my mouth were, “What the fuck?”

And then I immediately pulled up Tumblr to write this down before I forget it because what the fuck.

Didn't wake up with a migraine though so... *knock on wood*

[machveil]

I can't resist the siren call

Roommate!Simon Riley that low-key enjoys fucking with your friends Y/N

subtle foreshadowing… I suppose I can dip into my nsfw Roommate!Simon Riley thoughts

Roommate!Simon Riley who shares a laundry bin with you, it had been agreed a long time ago that just doing a big load would be easier. you takes turns, knowingly stealing each other’s clothes every couple days when the laundry is fresh out the machine. you know Simon took an oversized t-shirt you owned, but that’s okay, you took his favorite gym hoodie

Roommate!Simon Riley who doesn’t get embarrassed about his underwear being in the bin with yours, it’s all going in the machine anyways. that doesn’t stop him from raising an eyebrow though when his favorite boxers go missing. he was sure he put them in with the dirties, well, the cleans now. he figures the machine ate it, or maybe they’ll show up some day by chance - he shrugs it off and separates his clothes from yours, snagging one of your oversized sweaters to lounge in later

Roommate!Simon Riley who freezes when he sees you on the couch that night. eyes wide and jaw slack, he can’t bring himself to move. sat watching something on the tv - he can’t be bothered to acknowledge whats playing - he stares at you, wearing his boxers as shorts. “Hey, come watch this— I’ll catch you up since it just started. I’m not pausing it though so you better pay attention.”, your words are all in one ear and out the other. suddenly his legs are moving on their own, stopping in front of you. he doesn’t register what you’re saying, telling him to move because you can’t see the tv, but then he speaks

Roommate!Simon Riley whose voice is deliciously deep, a little raspy from how his throat suddenly feels dry, “S’that mine?”, he asks, eyeing his boxers. he’s never had such a hard time swallowing before, heartbeat erratic as you casually respond, “Huh— oh, yeah. They’re really comfy, the fabrics nice.”. fabrics nice, yeah, he knows. “You— ya know those are boxers, right love?”, he asks, hands twitchy as you reply, “Mhm, just borrowin’ them.”

CW: guilty wank, man is hopeless [kisses his cheek]

Roommate!Simon Riley who’s a mess after that interaction. you wouldn’t be able to tell by looking at him, but he’s losing it on the inside. he’s seen you be audacious with stealing his clothes before, taking his loose-fit tank tops that left little to the imagination on you, stealing clothes you knew he favored and parading around in them, but his boxers? that had him stalking back to his room, quick to turn on his heel before you could see his pants tent

he’s sweating, closes the door to his room a little harder than he meant to. god, he wants to go back out there and see you again, get an eyeful of how comfortable you looked - wearing his boxers like they were yours. you wouldn’t know, and he can’t help but think about it, but you had stolen his favorite pair. they’re plain, a simple black pair, something he bought at the store because he needed new underwear. but when you wear them? they suddenly looked different, makes his heart hammer against his chest. it feels like he walked out into the living room and you wearing lingerie, not something he got for fifteen pounds

he feels a little guilty, shoving his jeans down his thighs as he sits down on his bed. you’re home, sat in the living room just down the hall, and here’s Simon fishing his leaky cock out of his underwear. he really shouldn’t, he should sneak into the bathroom for a cold shower, think about war and blood and bullets to get his boner down. but he isn’t, he’s spitting into his palm and groaning, bringing his free hand up to cover his mouth - he’s never been good about keeping quiet. it’s not his fault you were out there wearing his clothes, you were the one that decided to look so— so cozy and content in your makeshift shorts. domestic

when that word settles at the forefront of his brain Simon’s hips jerk, you looked domestic, wanting to watch some show with him. his leg jolts slightly, hand moving to shallowly pump his weeping head. maybe your friends are right, Simon does take care of you - could bend you over and make you sob his name - he’s basically your boyfriend, often mistaken for your husband. his thighs tense when he imagines a ring on your finger— no, his dog tags hanging from your neck— god, holding you at night as an actual couple—

he’s choking out a moan, muffled and hoarse, as he coats his hand. eyes fluttering shut and breathing heavily, all his thoughts fly out the window as his cum drips down his fingers - all his thoughts except for one. he’s going to have to go back out there later to eat dinner with you, and oh, fuck, he sucks in a deep breath as he chubs up again

[wolviensabes]

NSFW Alphabet: Wolverine

a/n: I was excited to write a nsfw version of this because his character was surprisingly fun and easy to write for this. I like Logan because you can really be flexible with how he is in bed. It all depends on preference and writer ofc, but still it was fun to write. Wrote mostly gender neutral, on parts where body is described, I wrote for afab and amab. Not edited please ignore mistakes ty <3

18+ under the cut. MDNI.

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex):

Aftercare king.

He knows just what to do, especially since sex with him is normally pretty rough and crazy. He leaves you a mess under him and you're barely able to walk. "Atta girl/boy, princess/prince, up you come." he grabs hold of you and lifts you up, carrying you to the bathroom to get you all clean.

He's a messy partner so you need a shower to get all the sex off you. He leaves you alone to do anything you need privately, but otherwise he's helping you maintain your balance in the shower and drying off.

You're in such a dazed state, you feel dizzy and lightheaded, still a little loopy. He will get you back to bed and lay you down, feeling pride and satisfaction within himself at how he could bring you to such a state. Only he could do that to you.

He will hold you close to him, you feel cold now, his body will warm you up. He likes skin to skin, so unless you want a shirt, he won't dress you so he can feel your softer skin against his own.

The praise he gives you makes you feel so special and worth so much, it helps when you come down from your high, knowing he was satisfied and loved every moment of the act.

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s):

I don't think he really has a favorite part of his partner, but I will die on the hill that he likes his partners a little chunky. He loves to grab onto you, he likes how he can manhandle you without worry of hurting you.

Those plush hips and belly drive him insane. If you are afab, your ass draws his hand in every single time and he loves to smack and grab it. If you are amab, he will grab onto your thighs or soft, relaxed chest muscles and squeeze them. Both afab and amab, his hands come around from behind and gently knead your belly.

Logan is a dude so on himself...he holds his manhood very high, and for good reason.

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically):

Filthy.

He gets that shit all over the place and he loves it.

He loves marking you inside and out. He loves shooting his spunk on your body just as much but something about releasing inside you makes him somehow cum harder and with more.

He's not that bad taste wise, I mean cum doesn't taste great, but he's not bad. Not too bitter, not too salty, but his cum is thick. And when he does climax, he cums a LOT.

D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs):

Logan, being a primal mutant, loves scents. It's one of the things that he relies on a lot, and your scent is intoxicating. He steals some of your clothes and smells them, or sometimes he will dive into your crotch and inhale you.

Not exactly dirty, but Logan secretly likes when you scratch his head or mess with his hair after sex. He likes to keep himself up as a tough guy most of the time but when you wind down, even if he's the one holding you, he sometimes scoots down enough to let you play with his hair.

He will move his head where he wants your hand to scratch and leans into it when you reach that sweet spot.

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?):

He's over 200 years old, he's got experience.

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying):

Literally anything where he can watch you mewl and moan for him.

He also likes from behind or positions where he can watch his cock sink into you with each thrust.

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.):

Logan isn't goofy but he also isn't serious. He's open to messing around and with tossing, turning, all sorts of play, it's not going to be serious 100% of the time.

He will chuckle and tease, sometimes funny noises are made, that's just how it is, and you both will laugh a little...but then you get back to it because who can resist?

Sometimes he will play fight you, wrestle you down to the bed and hold you there, with ease, and he smirks down at you trying to overpower him. It's a fun way to rile him up for sex and he enjoys it quite a bit.

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.):

Logan is hairy, but not insanely so. I think below he is pretty crazy but he trims it down enough once you two get more intimate. Though he thought it was funny watching you spit out his pubes.

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect):

He can be romantic but he is more passionate than anything. He likes to make sure you feel good, and he loves doing it. Once he gets you feeling good, he gets a little more rough and tells you what he likes without shame.

He's very forward, and his communication in the bedroom is immaculate. You wished he were like that outside of the bedroom sometimes, because there's no hesitation, no secrets, he's fully confident and tells you exactly what he wants.

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon):

Sometimes he masturbates, sometimes he doesn't. It all depends on how horny he is in the moment.

He'll fist his cock to the thought of you, or since he likes your scent a lot, he will practically inhale your underwear and jerk himself until he cums all over his hand.

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks):

Logan...he's kinky as hell.

Dom/sub dynamics drive him up the wall. He loves being in control, manhandling you, having you listen to what he says without fail.

Slight primal play would be up his alley. The playful wrestling and fighting gets him going and he likes to bite and mark you up during sex. Almost looking like an animal attacked you, but no, it was just Logan marking you as his.

Dirty talk king. He is so brazen with his language, whispering it into your ear as he pounds your poor, swollen hole full of another load.

Praise, praise, praise! He loves to praise you and how good you take his thick cock inside you.

Overstimulation/denial, he loves the control. He often makes you cum multiple times before even penetrating you just to hear you cry and whimper for him.

Maybe a slight breeding kink, since he loves the idea of filling you up to the brim with his thick cum, (this goes regardless of afab or amab), he's going to fill you up regardless if it's biologically possible to impregnate you or not. It's just for fantasy anyway.

L = Location (favorite places to do the do):

He will do it anywhere he feels like. He doesn't care who sees. You're his and he likes everyone around you to know it.

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going):

I love that most everyone agrees that wearing his clothes makes him fucking feral. He would lose it seeing you in a shirt of his...or maybe even naked and only wearing a flannel. Slowly unclasping each button to make him growl and almost rip the damn thing off you.

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs):

He'd never want to hurt you. There are things he likes that might harm you but he doesn't actually want to cause you harm.

He can be rough and he doesn't want to actually hurt you. A spank or choking just enough to get you dizzy is about as far as he would go. Logan would never intentionally try to harm you, especially during something as intimate as sex.

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.):

He has a hard time picking what he likes better. He loves diving between your legs and lapping you. But he also loves to see you choke around his thick cock.

Logan loves the dirtiness of it, his dick in your throat and watching you try your best to please him. He loves seeing you choke and gag on him, your face gets so sloppy with spit and cum, it makes him more crazy in bed when he's fucking you.

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.):

With Logan it can be 50/50. He can be rough and hard, or slower and passionate. Most of the time he is ensuring you cum multiple times, and then he fucks you into the bed while you cry around his cock. Then, he gives you another orgasm, he cums, and the cycle repeats until you literally can't take it anymore.

Then he cleans you up and makes sure you know how good you were for him. You'll have trouble walking for a few days.

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.):

He's down for a quickie, he can make you cum fast when he wants to. However he does prefer to make you whine and beg instead of giving you a solid, quick orgasm unless you really need it.

Sometimes he needs a quick one too, so a fast blowjob helps. But again, he likes to take his time rather than rush it.

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.):

He takes plenty of risks. He loves to test the waters with you and experiment with all sorts of things. He's down to try almost anything.

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?):

His mutation allows him to have enhanced stamina so be prepared for that.

He can go for literal hours and not be tired at all. His mutation also allows his refectory period to be very short. So...you will be filled to the brim.

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?):

I don't think he would have any for himself, but he would start to grow a collection if you had any or showed interest in some. He'd keep them under his bed in his room whenever you wanted to spice things up.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease):

Logan is the king of teasing you. He loves to tease until you can't take it and tears are rolling down your cheeks.

He always gives you what you want in the end, but not without that asshole making you beg.

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.):

He doesn't give two shits who hears him, or you, he is loud. He grunts, groans, snarls. Not to mention the insane level of dirty talk he does, and he loves to make you scream out his name.

By the time you're done, you swear half the mansion heard you.

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character):

He dirty talks like crazy.

Sometimes he will fuck you when you're wearing his clothes, or when he comes back from a mission, he doesn't bother cleaning up before he storms up to your shared room and he fucks you.

Angry sexxx

He lets out his frustrations from missions as he pounds into you.

"Goddamn slim, stupid fuckin' self-designated leader thinks he can boss me around like I'm nothin' but a loyal scout to 'em." he grunts and snarls with each plap of his hips into you, his cock driving against you. You have no idea what happened on the mission but can you complain? No.

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes):

Logan's dick is huge let's get that out of the way.

He's thick, it feels like he rips you open each time he penetrates you and it feels fucking incredible. That also means lots of foreplay~

He's veiny, his cock throbs as he stands erect, and his balls are heavy.

He's a good 8 to 8.5 inches fully erect, the damn thing leaks precum constantly when he's horny.

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?):

Insanely high. He will fuck you every single day if he could.

He is down to fuck all the time, anytime. You just have to say the word and he's on top of you.

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards):

Logan makes sure you're comfortable before he even attempts to sleep. He stays awake, letting you curl into him and he watches you, making sure nothing he did was too much or causing pain.

Once you seem okay and have fallen asleep, he will allow himself to relax and fall asleep beside you.

Thanks for reading.

*SNIKT*

Tag list: @strawberryshortcake20

Please let me know if you want to be added to the tag list by leaving a 🧡.

dividers by @/strangergraphics

[chvoswxtch]

“Would you please, fuck my wife?"

EXCUSE ME?????

Hi I have a Matt x reader x Frank castle smut request. Matt tells Frank what he does to you after his patrol, how he spoils you with his tongue, how tight you are and how good your pu$$y tastes. Matt takes Frank to your home and the 3 of you have fun together.

I've put a slightly different spin on this and sorry it's taken so long Nonnie!

|| Vacancy ||

Female reader x Frank Castle x Kingpin!Matt Murdock

w/c: 3200

Tags/warnings: When you want something Matt won't hesitate to give it to you. Two guys one girl, bit of oral, unprotected p in v, p in a, creampie. Thank you to @albatrossandivys for the moodboard! 😘 Teeheehee, this was fun to write!

"You got a good reason why you're so fuckin' late, Red?" Frank grumbles as Matt Murdock strides up to him at the bar.

Matt just smiles, he looks ridiculous in that red suit, matching fucking red-tinted glasses and stupidly quaffed hair. He makes a show of licking his lips.

"Yeah, and I can still taste her." He replies.

Frank shakes his head. "Christ… you planning on sharing the details of your sex life every time we meet?"

Matt shrugs and smirks. "Dunno, you just always seem… interested."

There's a silence for a while before Matt starts up again and Frank reluctantly resigns himself to it.

"Sometimes that's all she wants, my mouth between her thighs all night long. God, she tastes so fucking good Frank, and the sounds she makes…" He bites down on his lip for emphasis.

Frank shifts slightly, something that Matt doesn't miss. He leans in closer to him, his voice low in that fucking growly 'devil of hell's kitchen' way as he keeps on going, knowing how much it's riling Frank up.

"Sometimes she begs, when I'm fucking her, begs for more. You know, your name came up the other night." Matt tells him, so casually Frank wasn't sure he heard him right.

"My name came up?"

"Yeah. When we were fucking." He adds nonchalantly.

"Wh-when you were fucking…" Frank repeats with incredulity. "'course it did."

"Asked her if she thought she'd be able to handle you."

Frank almost chokes on his own spit.

"She acts all sweet and shy but she can't lie to me. Her cunt gripped my cock like a vice when I said your name, Frank. She wants you."

"Uh…"

"And anything my lady wants, you know I do all I can to make certain she gets. If you were to do this for me, I'll owe you one. So what do you say, Castle?"

Frank swallows and absently checks that the safety's on his handgun, his hands urgently in need of something to do. "Murdock, what the hell are you askin' me?"

"God, you can be so fucking dumb sometimes." Matt grins, shaking his head as he takes a sip of the whiskey the barman has put down for him. "Would you please, fuck my wife?"

Frank looks at him blankly and then sighs, staring out the window at the flashing lights and sirens of the night. "Jesus…"

He'd met you briefly a couple of times when Matt had brought him back to his place when he got a little more banged up than usual. You had helped stitch them both up and you tended to like doing it while wearing the skimpiest little outfits.

Frank scratches his stubbled chin while he acts like he's seriously mulling it over. "Is this some entrapment shit or somethin'?"

Matt just grins. "No, it's not. But I will be there of course, 'case you try to steal her away."

"Well alright, if that's what she wants. But if I'm gonna take care of her I'm doin' it my way."

Matt claps him on the back of his shoulder, pleased with his decision. "Attaboy!"

.

You're surprised but not shocked when you open the penthouse door to see Frank standing there in a sharp suit with a bouquet of your favourite flowers in hand. Matty had told you to dress up for dinner and that he had a gift for you. You just thought that the gift would be a 'thing', not a person, and least of all Matt's friend, the man you admittedly had a bit of a 'thing' for.

"Hey." He says in an adorably gruff way in greeting.

"Frankie." You smile sweetly, accepting the flowers from him. "This is, unexpected… but nice, thank you."

He clears his throat as he's taking you in. You were wearing a beautiful long dress with a plunging neckline and side split, the soft fabric skimming over your curves. "Uh yeah. You look gorgeous."

"Oh Frank, thank you, and I swear I've never seen you looking so…" So fucking good in that suit, you think. The jacket broad at his shoulders and tapering in to his narrow waist, the tailored pants hugging around his huge thighs… You have to restrain yourself from wanting to rip him right out of it in that instant. Instead, you hum as you pop the flowers in an empty vase near the door and take his offered hand. "Shall we?"

He takes you for an Italian meal, it's delicious and in such an intimate setting. Frank is a perfect gentleman throughout, but as the evening goes on you start to let your touches linger on his arm, and under the table, on his thick muscular thighs.

When he doesn't reciprocate you know it's because he's terrified of Matt. You find the whole situation hilarious, the Big Bad Punisher shitting himself because you, the Kingpin's wife wanted to fuck him.

You finally take the initiative and his hand from its resting place on his knee. "You're allowed to touch me, Frank."

He takes a large sip of wine and nods as you lean closer to him, the plump valley of your breasts right in his eyeline.

"So touch me." You purr as you guide his free hand and fingers between your legs to graze the intricate lace of the exquisitely beautiful lingerie set that Matt had bought you especially for tonight.

"Shit." Frank curses under his breath when you spread your legs wider and pull your panties to the side. He can feel your hot wet cunt right on his fingertips, it'd be so fucking easy just to…

"Bella, your dessert. Please enjoy!"

Frank barely stops himself from jolting and flipping the fucking table over as the waiter places your tiramisu down in front of you. You thank him, smiling so sweetly and telling him just how delicious it looks before taking a spoonful and moaning at the taste licking the cream from your lips as you shift your hips forward and the pad of Frank's finger glides over your clit.

The waiter looks pleased. "So glad you find it to your satisfaction!"

You take another bite, urging Frank to keep going. "Mmm, it's soooo good Frankie, would you like a taste?"

His cock has been squeezed tight to the inside of his thigh in these damn pants all night with the way you'd been acting, and now you had him fingering you in a restaurant like it was nothing. It takes every bit of his military training to remain still.

"I'll, uh, get somethin' later, when we get home." he grits out. You were something else.

"Just a lil taste? C'mon Frankie, don't be shy. You can use your fingers…"

Frank can help but relent, swiping his index finger through your slick folds and pushing inside your tight entrance. His cock twitches as you let out a tiny whimper of pleasure as he strokes back and forth before bringing his hand back above the table cloth, gathering a dollop of cream from your plate before he sucks and licks it off along with your juices from his fingers.

"Check please!" He almost yells and you just laugh.

The car journey back to your penthouse was an event itself. You instruct the driver to put up the privacy screen, so you could finally get your manicured hands on Frank's rather sizable package, squeezing and rubbing him through his suit pants so much that he was almost tearing right through them.

"Jesus Christ, Red wasn't screwing around when he told me about you."

"Hmm, or me about you Frankie. I don't know if I can take all of that…" you whine as you cup his bulge, nipping at his scruffy jaw with your teeth.

"Fuck sweetheart, you're gonna be the end of me." He runs his big paw-like hand over your breast, gently squeezing the flesh and running his thumb over the nipple through the fabric of your dress making your breath hitch. "So what's the deal anyways, the hot shot lawyer not doin' it for you anymore?"

"Oh he does it for me enough Frank. A girl just gets a lil greedy sometimes…" you grin and pull him out of the plush town car and into your even plusher building, your mouth on his all the way up in the elevator to where Matt is waiting for you both.

He's reclined on the huge leather couch, tie hanging loose around his neck with a whiskey tumbler in hand as you drag your new toy through the door.

"Hey kids! I know you had fun tonight, I can smell it." He drawls, taking a sip of whiskey before he gets to his feet. "Did you take care of my darling girl, Castle?"

Frank flushes red. "Think she's the one takin' care o' me Murdock."

You pull Frank with you as you wind yourself around Matt, tasting the booze on his lips as you kiss him. "Get my zipper for me, Mister Castle?" You plead, and Matt nods at him before Frank moves to slide the zip of your dress slowly all the way down from your nape to the small of your back. His fingers brush over the thin waistband of your underwear and you hum, shimmying free of your dress and unhooking your bra. The fabric pools down at your feet leaving you naked except for your panties. You turn around and Frank is left drinking you up with his eyes.

"Time for bed I think, don't you?" Matt says, and Frank nods as he watches your hips swing as you walk towards the huge bed on the other side of the room. You slide your knickers down your legs, bending over and giving Frank an eyeful of your bare ass and everything else before kicking off your heels and making yourself comfortable on the bed. Matt's already shirtless and following, snapping his belt free of the loops, his red tie dangling from the fingers of his other hand. "Did you have some dessert?"

Frank's tongue peaks out from between his lips as he catches the faint remainder of your taste. "A little, yeah."

Matt grins twirling the tie. "Such a sweet perfect pussy, could eat her all night long." he muses. "But, sometimes she gets wild, much safer to restrain her."

"Hey!" You huff in mock protest.

Frank slowly unbuttons his jacket, aware that you're watching his every move. "S'that so?" He replies, carefully rolling up his shirt sleeves and prowling towards you. You give him a satisfied smile as you know he's gaining more confidence with you. Matt scootches you up the bed, wrapping the silk tie skillfully around your wrists and knotting it through the bedrail. You squirm and nod, more than ready for what's to come.

"I know how much of a fucking tease she can be. So go ahead, get her back." Matt instructs, and now that Frank's in this situation with the memory of what happened in the restaurant he doesn't think twice, crawling onto the bed, curling his huge hands around your thighs to spread your legs apart.

Rough fingertips trace your soft skin and it makes you shiver, feeling the touch of someone who's not Matt is a definite thrill. You bite down on your lip, chest heaving as your body yearns for him to touch and taste, to play with and penetrate you. All while your Kingpin is happy to sit on the sidelines and conduct the proceedings.

You both moan long and loud as Frank finally dives forward, pulling your hips towards his mouth, his tongue licking you from hole to clit in one strong committed swipe. He holds you firmly and you purr, writhing and bucking your hips as he alternates such soft swirling teasing with fucking his tongue deep in and out of your aching cunt, over and over again. You're so responsive and he feels you strain and pull at your husband's tie holding you captive as he laps at your clit until you can't do anything but beg for his cock.

"Is he that good, baby?" Matt softly questions, "Not better than me surely?"

You can only mewl in answer as Frank rises to that challenge, ending you in a moaning, panting mess as he makes you come on his lips. When he surfaces his mouth and chin is shining, covered with your arousal. Matt sidles up to him, his hand sliding around the back of Frank's thick neck pulling him close as he unashamedly licks the taste of you from his swollen lips. Frank can't think or respond as Matt's dexterous fingers start to unbutton his shirt, so drunk on you. You watch hungrily as he easily flips him onto his back and removes his shoes and pants while he's so distracted. His pupils are blown full and black as Matt's slender fingers trail teasingly down the deep cut lines of his muscles and Frank grunts, jolting as Matt's hand continues down to palm his thick cock through his shorts.

"What the fuck Murdock?"

Matt flashes his teeth in a devilish grin as he gives him a squeeze. "Just curious. Come on big boy, don't keep her waiting."

You're laughing breathlessly at their interactions but the anticipation of what will happen next has you feeling a little nervous too as Frank grunts and turns back around, all of his focus on you.

"Let her loose." He growls, gaze burning right through you.

"Alright, but don't say I didn't warn you." You tut at Matt, stealing several hot, wet kisses from him as he untethers you. Then you're free, launching yourself at Frank, taking him by surprise and pinning his massive bulk to the bed. His hands run lightly up your sides, as your own scratch with your nails over his broad pectorals, your mouth quickly following their path, tasting his scarred skin. He hisses as you work your way down his hard body reaching the waistband of his underwear, yanking them down and releasing his heavy cock, the hunger in your eyes unmistakable as they land on it.

You tease with light kisses up his thick length to the tip where you flick out your tongue to taste, and the salty musk of him has your clenching around nothing as he leaks onto your tongue with a rough gasp.

"Yeah, she'll do that to ya." Matt muses as he observes.

You've been slick and ready since the restaurant, to hell with waiting any longer you think, crawling up his muscular form, straddling his hips and grinding your wet pussy along his length so he knows how much you want him and besides, Matty said you could have him after all. When you move back you tilt your pelvis, catching his tip at your entrance and lowering yourself down to force the fat head of his cock inside.

Frank groans and you cry out as you try to keep sinking down on him.

"Fuck baby, take it easy, okay?"

You're so fucking tight and hot and he's barely inside you.

Matt chuckles from his comfortable seat near the bed. "That what you wanted, Princess? Another cock to stuff you full?"

Frank's thumbs circle on your skin as he holds onto your hips, guiding you as you take another inch, you're whimpering as he's splitting you open. You're a fucking dream and his cock throbs as you keep going, you're squeezing him so tightly he has to think about something else, anything else or he's never gonna last.

"Doesn't she feel just sublime, Castle?"

You grab onto his wrist, moving his hand to the juncture of your thighs and encouraging him to pay attention to the already swollen bundle of nerves there, praying that the feeling will relax your body so you can take him all.

"Damn, so fuckin' tight…"

He keeps moving slowly, carefully, smoothing his free hand up your body, caressing you as he's finally buried in you to the hilt.

"Yeah, attagirl, there you go…" Frank soothes, watching your mouth drop open as he pumps his hips up a couple of times. He can't believe his luck.

Tears sting the corners of your eyes as you feel so full already, and when you feel the mattress dip as Matt positions himself behind you and between Frank's legs, you just about lose your mind.

"Are you ready for me now, sweetheart?"

You sob with desperation at Matt's question, whimpering yet again as he teases around the only other place he can go, very gently circling and pushing his already lubricated finger past the tight ring of your ass.

"C'mon, you wanted this. Didn't you baby?" He purrs at you with an edge of sarcasm, and as soon as he feels you relax he adds another digit, loosening you up so you can take the girth of his dick. One hand slides around your neck and the other braces around your waist as he lines himself up and slowly sinks inside you. It burns but he's right, it's everything you want.

"Mm- y-yes Matt!" You cry out at the overwhelming combination of them both, dancing on the threshold of pain and pleasure.

"Yeah, there's my greedy girl. Look at her Frank, cockdrunk already."

You're at the mercy of two men who want nothing more than to satisfy you, stuffed beyond comprehension.

"Move." Matt growls at Frank over your shoulder, clipped moans tumbling from your lips as they both start to fuck you in perfect syncrony. Frank's hands get a firm hold of your hips, your breasts bouncing as he pistons hard up into you. You whine, you plead, you beg, and you don't even know why because they're already giving you everything.

It doesn't take long until Frank can feel your pussy begin to flutter, you're about to come undone, and his balls draw up tight, dripping with your slick as he stuffs himself inside your perfect cunt over and over.

"Goddamn… I'm close sweetheart, real fucking close. W-where d'you want me to-"

"Fill her right up Frank," Matt growls low, "fuck it right into her like the spoiled little cumslut wants." He reaches around and squeezes your nipples hard between his fingers.

You cry pathetically at Matt's filthy words, but he knows that it makes you weak, gets you off.

"Oh sorry, was that too much kitten?" He smirks as he keeps pounding against your ass, his fingers digging into your flesh reminding you that you're his. He's not going to last long either with the way you're taking them.

"Mm! Ohh!"

"Good girl, fuck, yeah, just like that, just-like-that…" Frank suddenly roars as he spills first, thrusting deep in you with a grunt as you squeeze and clench around them, Matt following and groaning loud soon after as you're coming so hard you can't see and your head's completely empty of any thought other than how much you want them both.

As you come back down to earth Matt's breathy voice reaches your ears. "Honey, sweetie, darling, you okay?" you feel the light soothing touch of his hands running over your skin and slowly open your eyes.

"Mmm." You hum, looking up at both men as they're gently cleaning you up.

Matt smiles at you, kisses your forehead and turns to Frank. "You did real good, Castle. Don't think I've ever seen her this wrecked before. I'm thinking maybe you should stick around, help keep my angel satisfied when things get hectic around here."

At your insistence Frank leans down and you kiss him slow, lingering as you drag his bottom lip between your teeth.

"Think you'd want that job Frankie?" You ask him hopefully. "Because it sounds like a vacancy has just opened up."

After what just happened Frank finds it extremely difficult to say no.

[wewontbesleeping]

can't believe i'm sitting here, frustrated beyond belief, at the exact same math i used to easily do when i was 14 years old

[strang3lov3]

Scrub Daddy

QZ Joel visits you for a bath and a little extra (4.7k)

Tags - smut, dom!joel, mean!joel if you squint and I mean really squint because he does in fact fuck you with a certain kindness in his heart. dirty talking you through it. Ah, fuck it. Who am I kidding. pervy!joel too. dubcon, coercion, unprotected PIV, hand job, nyasty QZ joel eats it from the back, ass play and a tasteful amount of ass eating, nipple play, come shot, sex work, takes place in a brothel, JOEL SOUP (bathing that old man), Joel Miller hog reveal (it’s gargantuan, ludicrously capacious if you will), Joel Miller enjoys the finer things in life ie. pussy, Joel Miller tummy. Joel Miller's broad shoulders come with their own warning. Fic help - @beefrobeefcal @noxturnalnymph @endlessthxxghts Thank you all for your brains and eyeballs! A/N - MONTHS AND MONTHS LATE BUUUUT this is for my sweetheart @merz-8 who so generously streams herself playing TLOU and red dead for me 🩷 this fic is inspired by the many times she bathes Arthur. Mercy I love you!!!!!

Joel turns the tap on his shower and with his eyebrows raised, waits quietly to hear the sound of water rushing through the pipes in the wall. Nothing. “God bless it,” he mutters. The water’s been shut off for the past month or so in his apartment complex. He pays extra to have it but alas, nothing fucking works in the QZ. Everything’s broken down, falling apart, or will fall apart - it’s just a matter of time. 

Joel’s got limited options. He could visit the showers downtown, get hosed down like a dog with cold water that feels like knives in his skin, although the showers don’t open until 5AM tomorrow morning. He could wait it out, though he’s pretty fucking rank; he needs a shower yesterday. He could also rinse off at the sink with a damp rag. 

He thinks to himself, hands on his hips and biting his cheeks, weighing his options. Damp rag it is. Joel opens his linen closet and takes his ratty, stringy old rag with him to the kitchen. He wets it with the water from the five gallon jug allotted for drinking, then reaches for the FEDRA issued bar soap that’s meant to be used for everything - hand washing, dishes, laundry, et cetera, et cetera. Joel takes off his shirt and then lathers the bar soap in the rag, the clean and flowery smell permeating the air. He loves this scent - he doesn’t always get this specific one when he picks up his hygiene supplies once a month. God, when did he smell this last? Feels like deja vu. It’s so familiar, it couldn't have been too long ago…

Then the memory hits him: the whorehouse over at the old hotel. That’s where he smelled this soap last. It’s in the men’s rooms but more pertinent to Joel at this moment, it’s the soap used in the bathing rooms - different from the men’s rooms. Joel scoffs and puts the soap and rag on the kitchen counter. Yeah, he smirks to himself, that’s where he’ll catch a bath tonight. He puts his denim shirt back on, stuffs some clean clothes into his leather backpack and heads off into the night for the hotel. 

Joel’s strategic in how he gets there. Curfew’s at six, and it’s eight right now. FEDRA’s not too kind to those out after hours. He moves stealthily through alleyways, avoiding the harsh, white light of the soldier’s flashlights shining from above. Once at the old hotel, Joel knocks in a particular pattern on the side door. On the other side, a man peers through the peephole and verifies Joel’s identity, then opens the door just enough for Joel to slide on through, his belly rubbing against the edge of the doorframe.

It’s dingy on the inside, dark and lit sparingly only by some candles. Joel makes his way to the front room where a different man sits at a table. Joel reaches into his back pocket and pulls out his ration cards, flipping through the notes with a practiced flick of his thumb. “M’in need of a shower,” he says, laying the cards down on the table. He scans the room, recognizes a few familiar faces. 

The man covers the notes with his hand and slides them toward himself, then counts the cards through and nods. “Fourth floor, third door on the right.” 

Wordlessly, Joel heads up the staircase, knees cracking on about every other step. God, he’s getting old. Once at the fourth floor, Joel heads for that third door on the right and pushes it open with one hand, unbuttoning his denim shirt with ease using the other. 

This room is different from the others at this brothel. It has no bed, no carpeting, no soft surfaces of any kind that would be typical for activities performed in a place such as this. This room has just one large bath tub in the middle with a small table next to it, and in the corner is a small lamp, covering the room with a low golden glow. Once-green peeling paint covers the walls instead of torn floral wallpaper and cracks cover every tile on the floor below. Joel peels his clothes off and wraps a faded pink towel around his waist, his tummy bulging over the edge. He waits patiently next to the tub for a knock at the door. 

-

Your hands are wobbling in the dressing room. There’s really not much to dress yourself with, no makeup or anything like that. One of the girls suggested melting a colored pencil with some hot water or a lighter and then using that to paint your lips and cheeks, but she wouldn’t share her own with you. In the mirror, you fix your hair and straighten your borrowed dress, breathing deeply to try and calm your nerves. It’s your first night working here at the brothel, and you’re really not sure what to expect. 

Your boss, Jim, knocks on the dressing room door as a courtesy, but doesn’t wait to make sure everyone is decent. He just waltzes right in and announces to you all that there’s a client in room three waiting for bath assistance.

“Do you know who it is?” one of the girls asks Jim. 

“Yeah,” Jim answers. “Joel Miller. Who’s taking him?”  

The girl who gave you the tip on the colored pencils turns to her friends and whispers, then turns back to you. “You should take him,” she tells you. “You’ll love Joel, he’s nice. Very gentle with his girls. A real lover.” 

Her smile feels disingenuous, and it doesn’t help that her friends are laughing. “Are you serious?”

“Of course,” she lies. “And here–” She pulls out her lighter and a bubblegum pink colored pencil that’s stained black from repeated burning, and lights the end of the pencil on fire so that it melts a bit. She drips it onto her fingertips, then harshly smudges it onto your lips, biting down on a facetious smile. “Yeah. Joel will love you.” 

She doesn’t let you check your appearance in the mirror before ushering you to the bathing room, her hands on your lower back as she pushes you to the door. She slaps your ass, then heads back to the dressing room with the other girls, barely concealing a giggle in her wake. 

You inhale and exhale deeply, then knock on the door. The man - Joel - opens it for you and guides you inside, then locks the door behind you. Clad in nothing but a towel, he crosses his arms as he looks you up and down with a slow scan of his eyes, which makes you feel a bit uncomfortable. His brow is pinched together, he’s biting his inner cheek. His expression turns from studious to curious. 

The first thing you notice  is how handsome he is, you can’t even help yourself. His crossed arms strain his big, thick biceps. He has a full head of curly, graying hair, and a full set of teeth. Tall. He’s towering over you with a hulking form. His top lip sports a big, thick mustache, and his face is covered in a perfectly patchy beard. Sharp. He’s got a sharp nose, sharp jaw, and a sharp look in his inky dark brown eyes. You don’t know what you expected, but it certainly wasn’t him. 

“Name’s Joel,” he says. “Your turn.” 

You tell him your name, and Joel reaches for your hand and brings it to his lips. “S’that your real name?” he asks, pressing a kiss to your knuckles. 

Fuck. “N-no,” you lie. 

Joel chuckles. “So you’re the new girl, huh?” 

“Mhm.” 

Joel laughs again. 

You squeeze past him to get to the tub, then twist the knobs of the bathtub, twisting them quicker when the water doesn’t come out. Joel watches you struggle for a minute, then comes up behind you and puts his strong hand on your lower back, fingers pressing against your ass. “Y’got it all wrong. Do it like this,” he instructs quietly, pulling up on the knobs, causing the water to come pouring out of the spout. He twists the handles himself, holding his hand under the running water to test the temperature. “See?”

“Mhm,” you nod. 

“Learn somethin’ new everyday, don’tcha?” 

Joel rounds the tub, then pulls out the tucked in end of the towel on his waist. You quickly turn your head in the opposite direction, garnering another chuckle from him. Every time he laughs at you, you feel worse. “No point in lookin’ away,” he tells you. “You’re gonna see it whether you wanna or not. Jus’ the nature of these things.” 

Joel hands you his towel, then steps into the long tub. From here, you get a good look at his naked form. He’s muscled beneath his softness, no doubt stronger than an ox. He’s broad, with vast shoulders and a relatively slim waist in comparison. His member is substantially sized, even soft, as it is now. His balls are even bigger, heavier. 

The bathwater moves as Joel’s weight sinks in, rocking back and forth in the tub. He sits down and stretches his legs out, the water running over his feet. You keep your distance as you fold Joel’s towel while waiting for the tub to fill the rest of the way, familiarizing yourself with the toiletries nearby. Washrag, shampoo, bar soap, plastic cup, a tub of petroleum jelly, a glass, and a bottle of whiskey. When the tub is filled, you shut off the water. 

Joel pours himself a large bit of the whiskey into the glass, “Quiet one, ain’tcha?” Joel says to you, then downs his drink. He pours another, then sips it. 

You shrug, unsure of how to respond to the man. You’re not really sure if you’re supposed to talk and if so, what you should say. You move to the end of the bathtub where Joel rests his head, then reach for the cup and fill it with Joel’s bathwater, then wet his graying curls. Little ringlets still form around his neck. 

Shampoo comes next, so you take the small bottle from the table. With wet hands you twist the cap, but it doesn’t come off. Joel waits patiently as you dry your hands on your dress and try again. 

“What’s goin’ on back there?” 

“The uh, the shampoo,” you say. “I can’t get the cap off.” 

Joel reaches behind himself, “I’ll give ya a hand,” he says, and you put the bottle into his palm. He unscrews it with ease, then hands it back to you as he tells you that you seem nervous. “Wait a second,” he says, “C’mere,”  and taps the edge of the tub with his right hand. 

“There?”

“Yeah, sit down.” 

Bottle in hand, you sit at the edge of the tub. “Closer.” Joel tugs you by the arm. “Ain’t gonna bite ya.” 

You pour a bit of shampoo into your palm, then Joel takes the bottle and sets it on the little table. You reach forward and scrub the soap into his hair, quickly working it into a lather. Joel watches your face closely, how you avoid looking him in the eye. He dips his hand into his bathwater then reaches for your face, his steaming hand on your jaw as he uses his wet thumb to wipe away the colored pencil that was hastily rubbed on your lips. You’re stunned, and Joel watches you with dark and hungry eyes, a little bloodshot too. “Pretty one, aren’t you? A girl like you shouldn’t be workin’ here.” 

You ignore him and continue washing his hair, tangling your fingers in the sudsy, thick curls. Joel holds your chin tighter and forces you to look him in the eyes. “You’re not givin’ me the silent treatment, honey, s’posed to talk to your clients. Make a man feel human. Answer me.” You’re intimidated immediately. If he is who the girls call nice, then…

“Wasn’t my first choice of a job,” you admit quietly. 

“How’d you end up here?”

“I needed money,” you whisper. “And the other girls said they wanted someone on bath duty. But that I wouldn’t have to-” 

Joel laughs loudly, cutting you off. “Oh, bless your fuckin’ heart. No, you’ll have to put out,” he says. “Job ain’t just washin’ dirty old men, sweetheart, that’s what a nursing home’s for. Those girls were fuckin’ with you. Sorry.” Joel gestures for you to continue. 

Your blood goes cold. You feel sick, even more nervous than before. Looking through the water, you see that Joel’s already hard for you as well.

“Go on. Speak.”

 You swallow thickly. “They also said you’re nice. Gentle.” 

Joel nods, then sips on his drink. “That’s some wishful fuckin’ thinkin’. Not me, darlin’. Think they’re hazin’ you. But-” Joel sets his drink back down, “-I’ll behave myself, be a gentleman for ya. Scout’s honor.” 

He says it so earnestly that you feel inclined to believe him. “You promise?” 

“Cross my heart,” he says. “I’ll break ya in real nice,” he adds under his breath. His little comment - or rather, what feels like a threat, has you flinching. “Relax, relax.” Joel holds his hand to your waist, keeping you close to him. “You’re fine. I treat all my girls nice. I told you I wouldn’t bite. You’re fine,” he repeats. Joel reaches for the plastic cup and fills it with his bathwater, then gives it to you to rinse his hair with. He closes his eyes, groaning softly. You’ll hear those same groans escaping his lips later when he fucks you, eats you alive. 

You admire his profile, that sharp slope of his aquiline nose, pouty lips and dark eyelashes. Water cascades down his thick neck and the broad planes of his freckled chest, landing into the pool of suds. After rinsing his hair, Joel takes the rag and the bar of soap and wets both, then hands them to you. You lather the soap on the rag, then Joel takes the soap back. You scoot closer to him and begin washing his neck and the muscles surrounding, scrubbing the rag into his skin. 

“Feel tense, don’t I?”

You’re not sure how to answer. “I guess, yeah,” you mumble.

“Yeah, you’ll fix that. Get me right.” 

Joel leans forward and tilts his head down, sighing as you scrub his broad shoulders, leaving little tracks of soap suds on his body. “Lil’ harder, sweetheart,” he groans. “Put some muscle into it.” 

You rub harder into his skin with the rag, massaging those tight muscles in his back and shoulders before lifting his heavy bicep to scrub his arm. Joel lifts his free arm and reaches for you, then tugs the front of your dress down, exposing your cleavage. “S’posed to show me a little skin, darlin’,” he murmurs, his hand lingering on your breast as he rubs his thumb left and right over your skin. “Gotta earn them tips somehow, right?” It makes your face heat up and your heart beat harder, faster. His fingers feel like electricity on your skin as he dips his hand lower, catching your nipple with his fingertips. He rubs the bud until it’s pebbled, then twists it between two fingers, causing you to gasp in pleasure. Joel smiles at that. 

Flustered by both his words and his actions, you pull his hand out of your dress, and Joel wears a crooked smirk. He outstretches that arm for you to wash, and you scrub his limb with the rag, speeding through the activity out of uneasiness and nerves. You drop his arms and quickly pat your hands off on your towel, then get up to leave. 

“Nuh-uh.” Joel grabs your arm and pulls you back down so that you’re sitting on the ledge of the bathtub again, the water splashing a bit when you land. “You ain’t finished yet. Legs need washin’, don’t they?”

“Umm…” 

“Think you’re forgettin’ somethin’ important too,” Joel mutters under his breath. He props his leg up next to you, and you can see his heavy balls and his thick cock standing at full mast beneath the water. With the rag, you scrub up to his knee. 

“Higher.” 

About halfway past his knee. 

“I said, higher.”

You scrub his upper thigh beneath the water’s surface now, washing right where his leg meets his hip. Impatient, Joel pulls the rag from your hand and holds your wrist, then guides your hand to that space between his thighs, wrapping your fingers around his shaft. “Right here,” he instructs you. “I’d reckon a man’s member certainly needs washin’ too, don’t it? ‘Less you like it dirty. Some of us do.”

You quickly stroke Joel’s shaft, just a quick slide of your hand up and down. Joel holds your hand under the water, “Keep goin’,” he mutters. You move your hand and down again, though your back aches from the angle and you have a difficult time reaching him. Joel notices your struggle. “Somethin’ wrong?”

“I can’t like- you’re too far-”

“Mm. I getcha,” Joel says, nodding in understanding. “Stand up for a minute.”

You stand up off of the ledge of the bathtub and Joel shifts in the tub, the water sloshing with his movements. He puts both of his dripping hands on your waist and then turns you where he wants you, then begins bunching up the fabric of your dress. “You do the rest,” he tells you. You pull the dress off of your body, feeling insecure under Joel’s watchful gaze as you fold the garment. “Panties too.”

You shimmy your panties down your legs and tuck them beneath your folded dress, which amuses Joel. So modest, so bashful. Those qualities of yours won’t last long here in the brothel.

After setting the clothes down near Joel’s belongings, you make your way back to him. He’s holding out his large, masculine hand for you to take. “C’mon in, there’s plenty ‘a room for us both. Watch your step,” he warns, using his strength to guide you into the tub. “Attagirl.”

You lower yourself into the bath, the hot water making your skin tingle. “Yeah, the water feels nice, don’t it?”

“It feels good,” you agree. You’ve always loved a hot bath, a rare luxury in the world you live in. 

“Now, where were we?”

Joel pulls you through the water so that you’re straddling his thick thighs, the head of his cock nudges against your pussy which sends a flutter through your stomach. You wrap one arm around Joel’s shoulders to stabilize yourself, your other hand staying below the water’s surface as you once again find his cock. This isn’t so terrible. 

You pump Joel’s cock, memorizing every vein on his shaft with the palm of your hand. He tilts his head back in pleasure, brows knit together as he sighs deeply. 

“Am I doing okay?”

“Doin’ just fine, hon’,” Joel mumbles. “All the way up, all the way down. Jus’ like that.”

On the next pass, starting from the thick tip of Joel’s dick, you squeeze him on your way down, down, until you reach his balls. You give them the kindest of squeezes, earning a moan from Joel. “S’perfect. Fuckin’ A,” he hisses.

And all the way up again. You increase in speed, though to avoid splashing, you don’t work him too quickly. You can feel him pulsing under your touch, a sensation that has your core throbbing. He’s breathing heavier, surely getting close now. You squeeze him harder and incorporate a twist of your wrist into your movements, coaxing his release along. 

Just as you find your groove, Joel stops you. “Yeah, nice try, kid. I ain’t payin’ for a fuckin’ handjob. Could do that shit myself for free.”

Joel spins you in the direction opposite of himself, then nudges you forward. He puts the items sitting on the wooden end table on the cracked floral tile below, then pushes the table over to your end of the bath, the wood creaking and groaning. 

He lifts you up and leans you over the edge of the bathtub, having you rest on the table, the cool air on your wet skin causing goosebumps to erupt. From here, you can see all the cracks in the wood, the swelling from the water damage. “Spread them legs, sweetheart. Make room.” 

The water splashes behind you as Joel moves into position and you brace yourself for the inevitable pain of Joel’s cock splitting you open. 

Only, it doesn’t come. You feel Joel’s thumb sliding through your folds before he spreads you wide, exposing your asshole and your pussy to himself, a picture perfect view. 

“Such a pretty cunt,” he whispers. “A fuckin’ shame it’ll get ruined.”

Joel presses a kiss to your asshole, then kisses his way down to your warm center, before finally dipping his tongue into your warm entrance. He groans at your taste, how sweet on his tongue you are with his face between your cheeks. He kisses his way up, up again, then spits on your tight hole. He circles the muscle with his tongue, tracing round and round before forcing his tongue inside. It’s fucking filthy, what he’s doing to you. All salacious and obscene. But you love it, god do you fucking love it.

“Yeah, old Joel ain’t so bad, is he?” Joel murmurs tauntingly into your flesh. He kisses his way down again, all sloppy and messy. He loves the sweet little sigh of relief you breathe out when he reaches your clit, the area you need him most. He moves his lips slowly against you, loving how you grow slicker and slicker. How your soft cunt feels against his face. Joel breathes you in deeply, taking in the scent of your arousal. No chance in hell he’s washing his face after this. Your musk will live in his facial hair for days, acting as somewhat of a comfort to him. Or perhaps a trophy. 

With his tongue pointed, Joel traces along your folds before plunging into your slick hole once more. He could spend forever between your thighs, that soft, sweet, most private of places. The momentary reprieve could last eternally, if he were so lucky. 

Joel savors all of you. Your hot, wet cunt, how your hips twist and turn as you chase your own pleasure. When he sucks your clit, he can feel your thighs twitch around his skull. Perfect, you’re so fucking perfect. He has half a mind to take you back to his apartment when he’s done with you, keep you all to himself. Leave you lying naked in his bed, be his little slice of heaven in such a cruel, fucked up world. 

Joel circles your clit with his tongue, finding that perfect pleasure that has you moaning his name. Steadily, steadily, he keeps you like this until you’re coming for him, gushing all over his face as he fucks you through your release with his tongue. 

You’re left breathing heavily on the table, trying to collect yourself. Joel leans over you and wears a cocky grin. “What’d I tell you, huh?” he asks. “Told you I take good care of pussy. Shoot, look at ya, all fucked out.”

You can’t help but smile at him. Joel moves behind you once more, spreading your legs wide and slotting himself between them. 

“But,” he says, “Fair’s fair. My turn now, sweet girl.”

Joel tugs on his cock, as it’s softened a bit without any stimulation. God, he’s getting old. Once at full mast again, Joel drags the blunt head of his cock through your folds, all slick and slippery with your wetness. “Ready?” he says, notching himself inside you. It’s already a painful stretch. 

“Mhm,” you hum, uncertainty lacing your tone. 

With one hand guiding his cock inside, Joel has the other on your hip. He squeezes you comfortingly as he inches his way inside. He can see that you’re squeezing your eyes shut, wincing in pain. “Oh, I know, I know, I know,” he coos. “S’a tight fit, I know. Take a deep breath, breathe through it. You got it,” he says. “You are a professional after all, hm?” Joel teases. 

You inhale and exhale deeply, your walls stretching and aching as Joel’s thick cock pushes deeper and deeper inside you. 

“Halfway there,” he tells you. “S’easier f’ya let me rip the bandaid off.” He’s not asking your opinion, it’s a warning of what’s to come. A courtesy, perhaps. 

Joel pushes inside you all the way, the slide inside your body has him groaning and throwing his head back. The intrusion of his cock is so sharp it shatters you and scrambles every thought inside your head and you feel impossibly full, every other sensation disappearing as your mind focuses only on what you feel between your legs. 

Joel pulls out of you slowly, then pushes back in. He repeats the motion until your expression has softened, until you’re not biting your lips and your brows relax into a natural position. “There she is,” Joel praises you. “What a good girl. Knew you had it in ya. Good fuckin’ girl.”

He builds a steady pace, quickening it to his liking in time. His thrusts are fluid, deep, and intentional; he fucks you perfectly, with consideration for both you and himself. This, this was not what you were expecting. You feel both of his strong hands squeezing your middle, and Joel watches how your flesh bulges between his fingers. 

“Joel,” you whimper. “Oh my god.”

“Yeah, feels good. Goddamn, you feel good.”

The water sloshes as Joel slams his hips into yours, not that he gives a shit. He fucks you harder, faster, building that pleasure deep in his gut. Joel leans over you and finds your clit with his hand, pulling back the hood before rubbing tight little circles into the sensitive part. “Gimme another,” he breathes. “One for the road. M’gonna miss this pussy.”

Joel pounds into you, the tip of his cock hitting that special place inside you that feels so good, a primal sort of pleasure. All you can do is lay there and take it, let him guide your orgasm along with his measured thrusts and skilled fingers. It’s only a little longer of him drawing in and out of you, and then you’re coming all over again. It’s a hot and intense, all-consuming sort of pleasure. A sensation you’ve never known before now, before Joel. Fucking nothing compares. 

“Oh, fuck. Christ almighty,” Joel groans, feeling your cunt squeeze around his shaft in non-rhythm. He looks down at where his body meets yours, the creamy rings of arousal you’ve painted onto his cock. Joel quickens his pace even further, hips stuttering as he frenetically pounds into you. You groan at the loss of him pulling out of you, but your displeasure is swiftly soothed by the feeling of his hot spend painting your backside. Rope after rope of his come, all warm and sticky. 

It’s quiet, save for the splashing of water. Joel searches for the rag and the soap from before and lathers both, then scrubs his come off of your skin, which tickles you. “See?” he says. “What’d I tell ya. M’a gentleman. Somethin’ like it, at least.”

Joel steps out of the tub and dries his hair, turning it into a fluffy mess. He pats his body down next, and in your blissful, fucked-out state, you get a perfect view of his plump ass before he dresses himself. He combs his hair back with his fingers, then reaches into his pocket for some ration cards. 

“Let’s see here,” he murmurs, licking his thumb before flicking through the notes. He pulls out a generous amount, then slaps the cards down on the end table where you rest your head. “Think we’re square. You come and find me if I’m short, though, yeah?”

“Okay,” you whisper, barely lucid. 

Joel pushes some hair out of your face and bends down to kiss your cheek. “Until next time,” he says. “Keep outta trouble.”

-

IF YOU ENJOYED PLEAE TELL ME SO! I love talking to you guys, and I love how you make this blog feel like a community. Reblogs, comments, ASKS!!! Are all so appreciated. Mwah. Have a safe week, everyone 🩷

Extra kitty pics cuz I love ya.