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fushitoru · 6 months ago

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so i know who i'm looking at! a sukuna ryomen oneshot

pairing ⸺ ghostface!sukuna x reader

summary ⸺ on halloween night, you get a strange phone call from a man with a distorted voice right as you're chilling while babysitting yuuji. you get an ultimatum: perform for him, or risk your and yuuji's lives.

warnings ⸺ smut, fluff (at the end), pre established consent but dub con just in case, cream pie, lots of degradation and praise, “good girl,” oral sex (m!recieving), recording and pictures, suggested infidelity (but it’s not actually infidelity), exhibitionism, reader gives him a show in exchange for her life, rough sex, semi-public sex, established relationship, mdni, pls help me find artist for credit :(

next. week two

kinktober masterlist | general masterlist

you stretch, yawning as you adjust the blanket you had on you to cover you and give you warmth on the chilly october evening. gazing forlornly at the balcony window outside, you see kids and college students alike in their halloween costumes visiting homes for treats and bars for booze, respectively. tonight was a night you were supposed to get dicked down by your boyfriend in the bathroom of a frat, but you’re stuck instead with a last minute call to babysit yuji because he’s sick.

you love the kid too much, like he’s your own baby. which is why you couldn’t refuse playing babysitter, even if that meant forgoing pictures for your instagram with the slutty angel costume you had bought a month who in anticipation of halloweekend. instead, you’re tucked in and cozy, watching scream for the nth time just to fangirl over how hot ghostface is.

so you’re in your tank top and boy shorts, relaxing and chilling (that is, as much as you can while locked in on your movie). and, as if on cue, the moment the phone rings in the movie, the itadori household’s phone number gets a call.

you jump at the noise, a bit on edge because of the movie and definitely regretting the idea of setting the living room pitch back in spirit of mood lighting. groaning (albeit a bit freaked out), you get up to answer the call, as yuji babysitting protocol required that you answer any call in case it may be an emergency.

picking up—but a bit on edge—you drone, “itadori household, how can i help you?”

there’s heavy breathing on the other end and you hate your scaredy cat tendencies because your heart is picking up at the distorted and low pants. “h—hello?”

“hey.” the voice is low, just like the breathing, and for a moment, you hate your brain for immediately recalling the nsfw audios you watch to masturbate because the guy on the phone sounds exactly like them. it’s a little freaky that you’re getting such a weird fuckin call at this time, but regardless you persist, in case this was relevant. you kind of need this job.

feigning cheerfulness, you ask, "what can i get ya?" as your fingers absently toy with the thin strap of your tank top. the cool air from the nearby vent sends a shiver across your skin, but the silence on the other end of the line is more unnerving. you're met with nothing but heavy breathing, and each exhale seems to scrape against your eardrums.

shifting uncomfortably, you feel the sweat beading at the nape of your neck as impatience builds. your fingers tighten around the receiver. "are you gonna talk or should i hang up?" you finally snap, agitation bleeding into your voice.

but before you can slam the phone down, he speaks.

“what’s your favorite scary movie?”

a groan escapes you, the kind that rises from deep in your chest, exasperation overtaking any lingering nervousness. "look, buddy, this is soooo corny. like, i was literally just watching scream, so you’re not doing shit. if you wanna prank call a girl, try somewhere else because—"

“you got a boyfriend?”

“i do,” you quip back quickly, a hand on your hip as you stand straighter, eyes flicking to the doorway of the kitchen. shadows dance in the dim light, your heartbeat subtly picking up pace. you move to hang up the phone, more irritated than frightened now. “so you better not try anything funny and waste more of your time, you fu—”

“but he’s not sleeping upstairs with the kid?”

the world freezes. you pause, the phone hovering mid-air. what did he just say? your pulse quickens, each thud louder than the last as dread claws at your chest. "what?"

a laugh, deep and guttural, slithers through the receiver. it’s the kind of laugh that makes your stomach drop and your legs feel weak. his voice is smooth, velvety even, and it curls around your ear like smoke. despite the creeping fear, something primal makes your thighs clench involuntarily. “okay, now that i’ve finally got your attention, let’s try this again. what’s your name, baby?”

that word—baby—the way he drags it out, rich and slow, makes your heart stutter, even as fear wraps tighter around your ribs. you grip the edge of the counter, nails digging into the cool surface. “why do you wanna know?”

“so i know who i’m looking at.”

the room spins. your breath falters, shallow, barely there. it’s like the walls are closing in, and your throat feels thick with fear. you lick your dry lips, throat tightening painfully. “wha—what do you mean?”

a soft coo hums through the phone, mockingly sweet. “no need to be afraid, pretty baby. you don’t want the kid upstairs to die, do you?”

your blood turns to ice. the words don’t make sense at first, but when they do, it feels like the floor’s been yanked out from beneath you. your mind races, every nerve in your body screaming. “what the fuck? is this some kind of prank call? this isn’t funny.”

but the man just continues, as if he didn’t just say something so horrifying that your stomach churns. his voice remains steady, eerily calm. “the kid, how old is he? five, six? he’s dozin’ off in those stupid iron man pj’s of his.” you swear you can hear his smile through the phone, a wicked curl of satisfaction. “and i love those shorts on you. parading your ass around like the slut you are. how’d your boyfriend leave you alone tonight?”

the walls feel like they’re closing in. a cold sweat breaks out across your skin, and suddenly the room feels too small. your eyes dart toward the darkened stairs. every creak of the house becomes louder, sharper. the hairs on the back of your neck stand on end as you swallow, mouth dry as cotton. it feels like someone is watching—someone who shouldn’t be there.

for a second, you digest the information he’d bestowed upon you—information about yourself. not-so-subtly freaking out, you get out a “please, please don’t do this.”

“then gimme a show. follow what i say.”

“o—okay. what do you want me to do?” you’re trembling, your realize, in your fear. or was it arousal?

“come closer to the window,” the voice purrs. you tentatively walk up to the balcony window facing the itadori garden, awaiting instructions as you stand shivering with the chill of the air.

“now,” the voice instructs, “take your top off. gimme a show, alright? better see that fucking back arch when you’re talking it off like filthy stripper slut you are.”

you whimper in humiliation but follow his instructions anyways, slowly becoming more and more of a slave to your arousal, caused by his assured and suave voice. when you take your tank top off, back arched just like he asked, the man groans and you hear distant squelches on the other side of the line.

“good girl. now when you take that bra off, pull up your cups, but don’t take it off, leave it bunched. those tits better bounce for me.” pulling up the cups of your bra, your tits recoil and bounce and the squelching gets even louder as you feel eyes rove over your tits. “fuck, i love those tits. get on your knees and bounce em for me like you’re riding cock.”

you clench so hard as you move to do as he says. part of you is soooo aroused to be forced around like this, so you’re easily giving him the show that he wants, getting on your knees and moving your chest so that they start rhythmically bouncing, synced up with the squelches you hear in the other side of the phone.

“stick your tongue out. drool on your tits.” you moan, your tongue lolling out as a glob of spit starts trailing down your body.

“fuck!” he exclaims, aroused by the sight. “you like being bossed around this baby? like my little bitch?”

“no!” you sob, tears springing out at the utter humiliation you were experiencing. “please let me go, please don’t do anything to yuji!”

the voice chuckles. “really? i think you’re lying, baby. i know that pussy is wet while you’re giving me a show. matter of fact, why don’t you show me? make sure i get a really good look at that cunt, okay?”

slipping your shorts off, you turn so that your backside is facing the lawn and uncover your traitorous pussy—glistening wet—to him. taking a few steps back, you breathe heavily—like the person on the other side of the phone—as you press your pussy against the glass, the heat and humidity originating from your inner walls fogging the area on the glass. you hear a snap! on the other side, indicated that he had taken a photo. eyes widening in panic, you ask, “what are you doing? please, i’m doing whatever you wa—”

“i can’t let everyone think you’re some innocent virgin, can i? parading your ass and pussy for me, when anyone in the neighborhood can see? matter of fact,” and you start panicking at his next words, “i’ll post this online if you don’t grind that ass back for me.”

you swallow and start to do as he says. the glass is cool as you rub your folds along it, your slick dirtying the glass as you move your folds on the glass door. of course, the glide isn’t smooth—your clit keeps catching on the glass, but the fact that you’re bare to the world, any stray eyes being able to see you on display arouses you to no extent. you’re ashamed of being aroused at having to perform for a stranger, but you continue regardless and clutch the phone in your hand as he speaks to you again.

“the fuck you so wet for?” the voice mocks you. “you get off on this shit?”

“fuck you,” you moan, continuing to rub yourself. “i hate you.”

the man laughs meanly. “for someone you hate, you’re getting pretty wet for me, baby.” the sounds of him stroking his dick are even louder as you grind against the door at the same tempo that he moves his hand at, grunting as you continue moaning into the mic. “look at how you’re clenching—good girl. want me to come in and make you cum?”

“real fucking cocky,” you hiss into the phone, “really fuckin cocky of you to think you can make me cum. with the way you had to threaten me, i just know you have a micro.”

as soon as you say that, the call hangs up and you look at your screen in confusion. that is, until you feel hands on your bare hips, knees–covered in black fabric—pressing against the junction between your thighs. “say that again,” the voice whispers.

you turn, eyes wide and heart speeding up as you turn to see the very figure that showed up in your movie. reminiscent of the killer, a tall man in a mask is hunched over you, now moving his hands to grip at your hands. “let’s take this to the bed, shall we?”

“oh shit,” ghostface curses, continuously snapping photos of your lips, the flash going off in the dark room. “look at this,” and he brings the camera closer and closer to your pussy, using his other hand to spread your lips as you helplessly lie on the bed, forced to spread your legs for him. “this pussy clenches everytime the flash goes off!” and he’s laughing, mocking you as slick leaves your hole in drops as the utter way you’re being humiliated. he grabs your cheeks roughly with the hand that was spreading your nether regions, squeezing them together and focusing the camera on your face. “this is the slut i’m going to fuck. gonna suck my cock, right?”

“mhm,” you whimper, resigned to your fate. making quick work of his robe, he takes them off completely, still leaving his mask in place. as he uncovers his pelvis, your eyes immediately rove over the hardened muscles on his abdomen. there’s a pink happy trail leading down to his dick, which is furiously red and standing. he grabs it, pumping the length as he moves closer and closer to your face until his precum is smearing against your face.

“fuck,” he curses, as he takes in the sight of your teary eyes looking up at him dumbly, lips puckered as he slaps his cock against your cheeks until your cheeks are turning red. you’re giving kitten licks to his tip every time he alternates between slapping your two cheeks, not knowing what do to with yourself except focus on your oral fixation telling you instinctively to suck his cock. he then uses his fingers to pull your mouth open and slowly feeds his cock inside, eyes rolling back as soon as he feels your warm breath and hot tongue encompass him.

you’re sucking at his tip and alternating between licking the rest of his dick, and he’s lost in the tight, wet heat of your mouth hollowing around him. you then prop yourself on your knees, using your hands to grab and play with his balls, stimulating him even more and causing him to rip out of your mouth and growls, “on your hands and knees. now.”

he doesn’t give you sufficient time to turn around and fully adjust in your position as he’s slamming into your roughly, the wet plush of your pussy too enticing. because you didn’t see it coming, your face is smushed against the pillow, and he grabs at your hands, using his free hand to hold them together at the small of your back.

“you like my cock, baby?” he pants, sweat beginning to run down his torso. when you don’t respond, he lets go of your hands to smack you consecutive times on your ass. “answer me.”

“i love it sooo much,” you babble, too lost in the pleasure to form more coherent thoughts as you ramble. “it’s splitting me—oh my god.” your eyes roll back—in pain or pleasure, you can’t decide—as his cock kisses your cervix. the masked man keeps thrusting in you, the sounds of his hips smacking into yours echoing throughout your room in a series of plap plap plap’s.

“yea? fuck, i’m so close. you wanna live baby?” he grabs your hair and pulls, giving you a sloppy wet kiss on your cheek. “let me come inside. you’ll let me dump my cum in you, right?”

you only clenched tighter at his words. “please,” you sobbed. “please come inside. please paint my walls. i want your cum so bad.”

you were so close, staving off your orgasm until he filled you up. at your words, the intruder laughed mockingly and kept thrusting into you, but the telltale sloppiness of his hips indicated that he was close. “god, what a slut—” he was interrupted by his own climax, and as soon as the thick ropes of cum filled you, you came with a squeal, your back arching impossibly further as your thrashed on his dick because of the intensity of your orgasm. both of you rid it together, panting as you came down.

he pulls out of you, and before you can catch your breath, the man flops his entire weight on top of you, making you laugh as you let out a startled exclamation, “ryo!”

you squirm beneath him, trying to push him off, but it’s futile. he’s far too big and heavy, and he knows it. with a low, lazy chuckle, your boyfriend, sukuna ryomen, removes his mask—tossing it carelessly onto the floor—before nuzzling his face into the crook of your neck. his breath is warm against your skin, and you can feel the heat radiating off him as his chest rises and falls in rhythm with your own.

“did you enjoy that stupid thing you wanted, brat?” he mumbles, slightly panting in exhaustion.

his words are snarky, but you can hear the affection laced beneath them. your heart swells with a sudden rush of warmth, the fondness you feel for him almost overwhelming. it’s moments like this—where he does something ridiculous just because you asked, despite all his grumbling—that remind you why you love him so much.

you wrap your arms around his broad back, fingers trailing lazily up and down his spine as you press a soft kiss to the top of his head. “you didn’t have to go all out, you know,” you whisper, smiling into his hair. “but i really appreciate it. you’re kind of the best, even when you pretend you’re not.”

ryomen grunts, but there’s no bite to it. he tightens his hold around you, his large frame practically cocooning you in warmth. you feel his lips brush softly against the skin of your neck, a tender gesture that contrasts with his usual roughness.

“yeah, well... you’re lucky i love you, freak,” he murmurs, voice low and husky. despite his usual bravado, there’s something undeniably soft in the way he says it, as if the words are meant just for you.

you hum contentedly, feeling the weight of his body press you into the mattress. it’s comforting, like being wrapped in a warm blanket. you trace circles on his back with your fingertips, savoring the quiet intimacy of the moment, where it’s just you and him—no roleplay, no teasing—just the quiet aftermath of love.

“lucky, huh?” you tease back softly. “i’d say we’re both pretty lucky.”

ryomen huffs a quiet laugh against your skin before lifting his head slightly to look at you, his dark eyes soft in the dim light. then, he gets up and makes a move to walk out the door. at first, you thought he was heading towards the bathroom door to give you a towel to clean you up, but he’s heading towards the door—soft cock swinging, butt naked—and you’re only left in confusion as to what he’s doing.

“ryo, where are you going?”

“fixin myself a sandwich, i’m hungry,” he grumbles over his shoulder, leaving you dumbfounded. you’re left sitting on the bed as he continues the trek down the stairs to satiate his post sex hungries.

“hey!” you shriek, “your balls are out! what if yuji sees?”

later, when yuji walks deliriously into the kitchen to see his uncle’s cock and balls, he almost wishes he could fully succumb to his fever.

next. week two

kinktober masterlist | general masterlist

a/n hehe i love fluffy sukuna. consider joining my kinktober taglist if you'd like!

taglist:

@sugoroo @ryutotsukai0824 @sharkubi @lisvanrouge @mxlktae

@samisfunky @achbbys000 @xd3pr3ss3dx @jottositto

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the-knife-consumer · 3 months ago

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Had a dream last night about a gravity falls game where you play as young Stanley having to sneak around and lie to stay out of trouble with Filbrick. It wasn't really a horror game but it had a lot of horror game-like mechanics and there was a general sense of discomfort the entire time.

The only quest I can remember is one where Stanley gets a bad report card while Stanford gets a good one. Filbrick is out doing business until tomorrow so you have until the morning to try and make it look like you got good grades. There's an option to use white out on Stanford's card while he sleeps and write your name instead.

You could also get future readings from mom, who would give hints on what will happen to you next so you can start setting up lies and stealing in advance instead of scrambling to cover yourself last minute. (If you could figure out what the readings were hinting at. They got progressively more vague as the game went on, going from "I hear" and "I see", to "I feel")

You didn't get to see what happened when Filbrick caught him, it just cut to a game over screen. You could be caught and sent to your room three times before this happens (which ends the quest you're on. Because you failed to lie well enough). There is no way to win. The game would just keep going with scenarios until you lost or gave up

There was a vending machine on the board walk that had warped reflections in the glass that corrected itself when you looked at it head-on

#knife's art #digital art #gravity falls #stanley pines #stanford pines #filbrick pines #child abuse #<jic. since the entire dream centered around him lying so he wouldnt get beaten.#all my dreams are either extremely boring or better than stuff that i come up with when awake with no inbetween.#and since i HAAATE when people dont do this: the code on the last image says #lets check in with your future #caryn pines

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desertdragon · 1 year ago

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So srs I think one of the only modern game Eng (and I specify english because other languages tend to not be as bad) localizations that's WORSE than this one is T/e/k/k/e/n and 8 is by far the worst bandai have ever done it for that game, but playing devil's advocate you can argue it's not as important there bc of the tone meanwhile XIV takes its tone very seriously so it's worse thematically and from a quality perspective to drop the ball in a serious story

#me every morning: i hope koji goes to hell today 🙇‍♀️#people love making excuses for the English language in general when it comes to interpreting Japanese they act like JP is just #so foreign and exotic and complex for English to handle- mf your orientalism is making you look stupid next to your other western peers #who can translate from JP just fine w/o being fucking weird about it and also doing shitty work 8/10 times #i think the problem is also ppl are bad at writing when they interpret something into English bc they have no prose even in Eng but 🤫#not all of them but from a LOT of eng localizers specifically U.S. ones i get the sense they mystify & glorify their job as well #in hopes of covering up their own fuck ups rather than accepting responsibility- it's a layered issue that boils down to stupidity & pride #be it on behalf of the company they work for the localizer themselves or both parties #speaking of bandai they did great work on Jojo ASB idk what it is that they can never get it right enough with their original flagship ip #srsly though 8 local even got the English subtitles for English speaking characters wrong like...HOW- voice script & txt are nothing alike

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harrysfolklore · 6 months ago

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max verstappen being the perfect boyfriend: a compilation

summary: max verstappen can’t help but talk about his girlfriend whenever he cans, fans make compilation videos about it

folkie radio: HAPPY BIRTHDAY MAXIEEE, it's been a minute since the last time i did a compilation blurb and this felt like the perfect occasion to bring them back, i hope you like this!

MASTERLIST | MY PATREON

Max Verstappen, three time world champion and the best driver of his generation is known for his incredible driving skills and relentless pursuit of victory on the track.

However, behind the wheel, Max has another passion that rivals his love for racing: his girlfriend.

In every interview, press conference, and social media post, Max can't help but gush about her, seamlessly sharing stories of their life together into conversations about lap times and race strategies.

Fans quickly began doing compilation videos about all the times he mentioned his girlfriend publicly, and those gathered millions of views across social media platforms.

The most popular one was called "Max Verstappen being the perfect boyfriend: a compilation," and it began with a video of Max arriving to the paddock for media day, Red Bull's social media team filming him while he answered some rapid fire questions.

"Waffles or Pancakes? You know I used to love pancakes but I think I've had too many because my girlfriend is obsessed with making them," he said as he signed some stuff, "So I would go for Waffles at the moment, but if my girlfriend is watching this I'd say I take her pancakes every day."

The next clip was from a post qualifying interview, and of course, Max earned the pole position, the interviewer had asked him what was expecting for the race the following day.

"To win of course, that's what I'm here for," he said with so hesitation, "But I'm also looking forward to it because my girlfriend will be here, it's the first race she attends this season and I can't wait to see her in the crowd while I take on the podium."

The video moved to show Max with his teammate Sergio Perez, they were playing a game of Green Flag or Red Flag, they were asked about people who film themselves at the gym and Max immediately waved the red flag.

"I actually don't go to the gym anymore," Max added, "I get annoyed by everyone else so I just exercise at home."

"So no topless selfies, not even at home," the interviewer said.

"I don't need to impress anyone, I've got my girlfriend, so," Max shrugged.

The next clip was taken from Max's own Youtube channel, he was showing some of his preparation routine for a race, that included some neck training, checking statistics, quick meetings with his team and engineers among other things.

And of course, his girlfriend made an appearance, standing in a corner watching everything unfold. He approached her, race suit on and helmet in hand, kissed her lips gently as she caressed his arm.

"Be safe out there okay?" her voice could be faintly heard.

"Always schatje, I love you."

In the next segment, Max had just earned his second world championship and was doing a casual interview for a sports channel.

"Do you have your girlfriend now call you 'Two time world champion Max Verstappen' or just Max,"

"Definitely not the first one," Max laughed, "She'd never do that, she says she likes to keep me humble."

"Your girlfriend has a pet name for you?" the guy asked again.

"We call each other a bit different but I prefer not to say that on camera," Max laughed again, "I don't want the internet to make fun of me for being cheesy."

The next clip was from Max's streamings, he was too immersed in a game that he didn't hear his girlfriend come into the room, noticing her presence when she leaned into him.

Out of habit of keeping their privacy, he covered the camera but forgot to turn his mic off.

"Schatje I'm streaming," he said, unaware that everyone could hear him.

"Oh I'm sorry, I was going to ask if you could feed the cats but I'll do it myself," his girlfriend spoke.

"No I'll do it, just let me get off the stream,"

"Baby, there's no need," she insisted.

"I was missing you anyways, just give me a minute."

His audience couldn't see anything but they clearly heard how Max kissed his girlfriend's lips, turning his attention back to the screen, he realized that he was broadcasting their conversation to everyone.

His viewers went wild in the chat, spamming heart emojis and comments about how sweet the couple was. Max ended the stream with a laugh, addressing his fans. "Alright, you heard the boss. I gotta go feed the cats. See you all next time."

On the same note, another clip from a video for RedBull with Checo was included, they had been asked to show the most recent picture in their phones.

"Oh it's from this morning, my girlfriend with the kids," Max said, showing the picture to the camera.

"The kids?" Checo asked with a laugh.

"The cats are our kids," Max shrugged, "Jimmy and Sassy Verstappen."

A particularly touching moment was from a press conference after a difficult race. Max had finished fifth, a rare position for him given his usual dominance. When asked how he dealt with setbacks, he gave a candid response.

"It can be tough, but my girlfriend always knows how to lift my spirits. She's my biggest supporter and always finds the right words to say. Just being with her makes everything better, no matter how bad the race went."

During a clip of Max giving a tour of the Red Bull factory, he stopped at a wall covered in race-winning memorabilia. Among the trophies and champagne bottles, there was a small, framed photograph.

"This is special to me," Max pointed it out, "It's from my first win with Red Bull. But look closer..."

The camera zoomed in to show a young woman in the background of the photo, cheering in the pit lane.

"That's my girlfriend," Max said softly. "She was there for my first win, and she's been there for every one since - even if she can't always be at the track. The team knew how much that meant to me, so they made sure she was in this photo when they framed it."

In the next segment, Max was asked about his favorite off-track activity.

"I love cooking," Max grinned, "Well, more like watching my girlfriend cook. She's amazing in the kitchen, and I'm just there to taste-test everything."

The compilation included a moment during a press conference, Max addressed a question about his girlfriend facing criticism online. The question arose after she received negative comments following a public appearance with him.

"Look, it's tough sometimes," Max began, his expression turning serious. "She didn't choose this life, but she supports me through everything. It's not fair for her to get hate just because of who she's dating. If you have a problem with me that's fine but don't go after my family or my girlfriend because that is just unacceptable."

The final clip that wrapped the video us was from the FIA Prize Giving ceremony, Max received his trophy for winning the 2023 championship.

In his acceptance speech, he thanked his team, his family, and, of course, his girlfriend.

"Winning races and championships is amazing, but having someone by your side who believes in you and supports you unconditionally is truly special. To my girlfriend, thank you for being my rock and my biggest cheerleader. I love you."

The screen faded to black, showing a text that read: Max Verstappen, three time world champion and the perfect boyfriend.

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dadsbongos · 4 months ago

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hi (⁠ ⁠◜⁠‿⁠◝⁠ ⁠)⁠♡ i was wondering if it's okay to be a little bit feral about viktor here.,..,., craving him. Carnally

let’s get feral about viktor… general thots here and then a stupid blurb below the cut

would definitely be into face-sitting: pleasing his partner while laying back. hands free to roam and grope and you get to control the pace. you could grind on his nose and throw your head back and he just gets to listen as you squeal.

also would look so so so good covered in hickies….. purplish love bites decorating his sharp collarbones.. he’d probably let you get away with sucking some up his neck since he’s locked in the lab all day anyway

hngnnnggg he’s gotta be PENT up too. he’s handsome and he knows it, but he went from a studying assistant to a full scientist behind hextech so he pretty much capped himself on sex. so when he gets into it he is. INTO it. so needy and whiny and overstimulates himself to keep fucking you just so he doesn’t have to stop

i want him lol… not laughing

~~ 530 words

his careful and thoughtful inflection, each word he says wrought so particularly that no matter how big the words he uses are -you understand each one perfectly with how he uses it.

which is why you take so much pleasure in finding him tongue-tied next to you. pale cheeks flushing and eyes, so ragged with knowledge, wide chock full of curiosity. you’re sure he hasn’t gotten much attention -- no amount of beauty or charming accent can save a scientist from his own devotion.

he got dragged out to an exhibition gala by jayce and he’s been slick against the wall since arriving. no drink or plate in hand, he simply leans there in a bored silence. which is when the last person he wants to see arrives: you, the new assistant.

you spare no time before saddling up beside him with two champagne flutes. one has a dewy smear of gloss along the rim while you extend the other.

“any commitments tomorrow? or can i finally see the famed hextech let loose?”

viktor eyes the bubbles, dragging his gaze up to your face and halting there for an excruciating second before leaning to grab the glass.

“i was just thinking of leaving,” he admits, “these public showings are not my idea.”

“go figure. i think everyone here’s gathered that.”

“jayce can handle any questions of the evening…” viktor sighs, frowning down at the champagne, “sad that you wasted your time getting me the glass.”

“you know, i do wonder how many girls out in town dream about jayce. he’s the face -a pretty face- for hextech,” viktor raises a brow at you prodding for explanation, “i just don’t understand how they can overlook the brains.”

viktor jumps, gaze startling down to his feet, a stiff response already spilling, “jayce is half the brain, and so am i.”

“then i guess i just need to tell you that i think you’re cute.”

a flurry of excuses storms behind his eyes before he catches his breath, shoulders drooping as he exhales and realizes: he doesn’t have to find an excuse. he doesn’t have to refuse you at all.

he’s not working tonight. you’re not working. he can’t remember the last time he got to act like a normal man with normal desires rather than fulfilling some vague purpose. an idyllic achievement.

he could just be a man tonight.

so he clinks his glass against yours with a soft smile, “then i’m assuming you’re not busy tomorrow, either?”

“i am not,” you beam, sliding closer toward him.

and good thing; both of you having the next day off means you can pull viktor into your apartment, and then your bed. he lets you guide the night, watching with uncharacteristic amazement as you strip -- he looks so mesmerized his hands clench, itching to scale up your bare sides.

you swing a leg over him when he’s sat against your headboard, “you okay, vik?” he tilts his head only for you to cup his cheeks and keep his head straight, “you’re all flushed.”

“your forwardness,” he blinks up at you, heart thrumming between his ribs, “it scares me.”

“oh?”

“i’ve never been more aroused.”

“oh…”

… in another world i will write a viktor fic with this same premise… it is so. Interesting to me.

#viktor smut #viktor x reader #viktor arcane x reader #arcane x reader

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strang3lov3 · 3 months ago

Text

Lie to Me

Joel catches you red handed (3.7k)

Tags- dark!joel, i think we should call him darkdaddy!joel all in favor say aye, one shot, smut, dubcon, just the tip, oral sex (f! receiving) fingering, come shot, comeplay, overstim, handjob, coercion, masturbation, daddy kink, innocence kink, inexperienced/virgin!reader, biiiig girthy yet unspecified (legal☝️) age gap, weird feelings and some good ol' fashioned shame, hitting, implied abuse, Joel is fatherly in a hot and disgusting way, calls himself 'your old man', gratuitous use of the nicknames kiddo and pumpkin, Depeche Mode references because you can’t stop me. Balanced mix of Joel being mean and tender.

A/N - been a while since we’ve seen this guy, huh? Everyone give him your warmest welcome <3 i wanted to warm up with him before getting started on this joel's whole story so, here it is. and I am FINALLY done with this semester, so for about a month you’re gonna get a heavy fucking dose of strang3lov3. Apologies in advance. @endlessthxxghts, you know what you did you sick fuck. thank youuuuuu ♡ and thank you @beefrobeefcal for your eyes!

The warm bath Joel gives you each night is your favorite part of the day. Always. Washing it all away, both the good and the bad. All that dirt swirling down the drain. The delicate soap, the tingling when the water is a little too hot. Bath time is quiet. Joel doesn’t talk much, and neither do you. And he’s gentle, gentle as he washes you. Tender hands rubbing your skin, mindful of the bruises and contusions and the scratches and scrapes he leaves you. He tells you he doesn’t like to hurt you, but that you leave him no choice when you disobey the way you do.

After helping you out of the tub, Joel thoroughly dries you off with a clean yellow towel. He’s a little rough as he does it, rubbing your skin too hard, tugging at your hair as he squeezes out the water. “Joel,” you whine.

“I know, I know. M’tryin’ to be gentle,” he says. “You’re tender-headed. Makes my job difficult.”

“You always call me difficult.”

“‘Cause you are difficult, pumpkin. Challenging. Got my work cut out with you.”

You shiver when Joel hangs your towel back up. He unscrews the lid of a container of lotion, scooping out a generous amount. He rubs the cold cream into your skin, up and down your arms and legs. You’re not such a big fan of this part. “It’s cold, Daddy.”

“Sorry, kid. Nothin’ much I can do about that,” Joel replies.

“Could warm it in your hands.”

Joel eyes you, brow raised. You’re testing him. He knows to expect it, you pushing his buttons. “And you could grow some thicker skin.”

After moisturizing your skin, Joel reaches in the cabinet for a tube antibiotic cream and dabs a bit on each of your wounds, rubbing the ointment in. “Yeah…they’re healin’ up good,” he murmurs. “Be gone in no time. Alright now, sweetheart. Bedtime.”

Joel lightly swats your ass and sends you to your room, following closely behind you. His knees crack more frequently with his steps, fuck, he’s getting old.

You bounce on the bed as Joel opens a drawer of your dresser, pulling out different pajama sets. “Let’s see what we got here,” Joel says, more to himself than to you. He shows you both options, “Blue stripes or green plaid.”

“That’s not green,” you point out, “That’s teal.”

“Mm. Clever, smartass. Now pick.”

“Neither. I wanna wear one of your shirts.”

Trouble. You know exactly which strings to pull with Joel wrapped around your finger. He rolls his eyes, biting down on a smile as he puts both pajama sets in your dresser and leaves to fetch you one of his t-shirts. “Arms up,” he tells you as he returns. “You’re lucky you’re pretty.”

Joel pulls the shirt over your head, the fabric covering just enough of your body to keep you decent. You pull back the quilt on your bed and slip under it, and wrap a plush blanket around your shoulders.

“Scoot.” Joel sits right next to you, the springs of the bed groaning and creaking with his weight. “God dammit,” he hisses, adjusting for his sore back. Joel reaches into his shirt pocket and pulls out his slightly crooked reading glasses to put them on, annoyed at the way they never sit quite right on his face. He runs a hand through his graying curls, then turns on your lamp and reaches for the book he’s been reading you. He uses the dog-eared page to find his place in the book, something that makes you cringe. “I don’t like when you do that,” you tell him.

“Do what?”

“Fold the pages.”

“You sound like the librarian,” Joel jokes. “Why don’t I find you some paints or somethin’ and you make me a pretty bookmark then, deal?”

“Deal.”

“Whatcha gonna paint for me?” Joel waits for your response, peering down at you as he pushes a bit of hair out of your face. “Don’t know yet?”

“Mm-mm.”

“S’okay. You got time to decide.”

Joel begins reading to you, making sure you’re following along with him. You rest your head on his strong bicep, your hands wrapped around his forearm. You trace the veins there, counting the scars and marks on his skin. His hands are so weathered and large.

When Joel finishes the chapter, he closes the book, this time putting a penny between the pages to hold his place instead of folding the corners down. “We’ll read more tomorrow. Maybe watch a movie instead,” he offers. Joel puts his massive, warm hand against your cheek and pulls your head towards him, pressing a kiss to your forehead, then both of your cheeks, then the tip of your nose. “Get some sleep, pumpkin.”

Joel leaves then, shutting your door but not before turning on your nightlight. You miss his warmth immediately, the weight of him on the bed with you. He didn’t make you finish tonight, either. You’re sort of…itching for it, like you didn’t know how much you need it until now that it’s out of reach.

You’re not supposed to do it on your own. Joel says you don’t know what you’re doing, that only he can touch you there, be it his fingers or his tongue. But you’ve touched yourself there on your own before, and it felt good. Not as good when Joel does it, but almost the same.

You spread your legs wide, your hand going straight for your clit only for a moment, then bringing your fingers to your mouth to spit on them, just how Joel does. You reach for your pussy again, rubbing tight circles into your clit.

It feels okay. Fine. You close your eyes, focusing on the small amount of pleasure you feel. Picturing things you find erotic, like the romance books you read in without Joel’s knowledge or Uncle Tommy, Joel’s brother. It makes you feel a little guilty to fantasize about him like this, but it feels thrilling, too. A special, private secret only you know about.

You hold your breath as you work yourself, alternating between clockwise and counterclockwise circles in an attempt to determine which way feels better. Which direction does Joel do it? You spread your legs wider, testing out bigger and smaller circles. It’s been maybe five minutes maximum, and you’re feeling impatient. That’s another thing Joel tells you that you are, along with being difficult. Impatient. Stubborn, too.

Joel pushes his fingers inside you when he makes you come, so you try doing that to yourself. Nothing much happens when you do it, sort of like when you try to tickle yourself. Your fingers aren’t as thick, as long, as deft as Joel’s are. But you try all the same.

Whining, whimpering Joel’s name, the squeaking of the bed while you rock your hips into your own hand, Joel hears it all on the baby monitor hidden in your room. Broken moans in the crackling static.

He’s only curious, wanting to measure your self control, if you even have any. You know you’re not supposed to be doing this and yet, you’re doing it anyway. Defiant. He gives you an inch and you take a mile, every single time. Always touching what’s forbidden to you, be it the handle of a door left unlocked or your own cunt.

Maybe he’s gone soft. Maybe Joel’s too easy on you. He doesn’t like to punish you, but what else can he do when you leave him no choice?

In truth, Joel likes this about you. It’s the thrill of the hunt, the game. And when his fingers are inside you, despite all that whimpering and crying, what’s really there? Arousal pooled at your entrance, twitching thighs and moans you do your very best to swallow. You’re all bark, no bite. You like it this way. His way. You just need a little guidance.

Joel listens to you fuck yourself on your fingers for a little while longer, palm pressed against his bulge as your frustrated noises pour in through that tinny speaker. He understands, truly. Can’t sleep without orgasming - he can’t either, for fuck’s sake. He’ll be listening to you all night if he doesn’t make you come soon. And therein lies the problem - Joel gives in too much. He’s spoiled you rotten.

Joel gets up and out of bed, takes heavy steps toward your bedroom. He can practically see you behind that oak door even before opening it - legs spread beneath the quilt, brow pinched together as you huff and pant in both frustration and focus.

Joel twists your door knob slowly, and silently pushes the door in. He takes the quietest of steps toward your bed, standing above you with his arms crossed over his chest as he stares down at you. You look just as wrecked as he predicted.

“Psst.”

You freeze, eyelids flying open to see Joel glaring at you in the dark, his features harsh under the lack of light. You quickly move your hand-

“Nuh-uh, don’t you move,” Joel interrupts. “What’re you doin’ up so late? S’well fuckin’ past your bedtime, young lady.”

“I’m not-”

“Think it through. You really wanna lie to me? Even after what happened to ya the last time you pulled that shit?”

Your cheeks heat up, your hands shaking. “I’m…uh…” your voice wobbles, you swallow thickly.

“Spit it out.”

“I’m touching myself.”

“I see that,” is all Joel replies. A silence hangs as you wait for him to continue. The ticking clock sounds louder, the groaning wind against your window. “But you know you ain’t s’posed to be doin’ yourself, kiddo. We talked about this. S’the rules, right?”

“Right,” you whisper.

Joel nods, biting his inner cheek as he sits down on your bed, holding one of your feet through the quilt. “You’ve got quite the tendency of disobeying your daddy, you know. What’m I gonna do with you?”

You shrug and turn away from him to avoid his disappointed expression. “I’m sorry,” you whisper, “I just thought you forgot to make me come tonight, daddy, but I needed it. Please don’t be mad at me right now. I’m really sorry.”

Your apology tugs at Joel’s heartstrings. “Got me wrapped around your fuckin’ finger,” he groans, rubbing his large hand up and down your leg. “You win, kid. I’ll let it slide. But you promise me it won’t happen again, ‘cause I don’t like havin’ to punish you.”

“I promise.”

“Attagirl,” Joel whispers, smiling at you. He leans forward to press a kiss against your forehead, his wiry facial hair both scratches and tickles your skin. “Alright, now. Let’s see what you’re workin’ with,” he says, folding your quilt down your torso, and bunching it at the end of your bed. “Sounded like you were havin’ trouble, hm? S’that right?”

Joel doesn’t have to wait for your answer to know the truth. He pulls your hands away from your center, fingertips pruned and slick with your arousal. “Oh, pumpkin,” he tsks. “Look at the mess you made.”

He spreads your legs far apart and sits between them, then licks one of his thumbs and brings it to your core. He slides the digit up and down your folds, circling your clit here and there. “Joel,” you whine breathlessly.

“I know, I know, I know. Poor thing. You’re all outta sorts, huh?” he coos. “Gimme your hand. You don’t know what you’re doin’ at all.”

You hold your hand in front of yourself. Joel takes it, sucking on your fingers, growling at the taste of your wet before lowering it to your pussy. “Gotta give her a bit of finesse,” Joel instructs, dragging your fingers up and down your folds, just how he did with his own fingers. “Can’t dive right in. Gotta work up to it. See?”

“Yeah,” you whisper. “Am I doing it right? Like?”

“Yeah, jus’ like that. Give her a lil’ more, now. Rub that clit. Gentle, steady,” he directs, helping you to touch yourself. It fills him with a primal sort of power, being able to instruct you how to best touch yourself, knowing you’ll never be able to replicate his perfection. “Nice an’ slow, now. That’s it. Nope, slow it down,” he reminds you.

You whine his name, frustrated with how long this is taking. “It’s not - it’s not working.”

“Easy, sweetheart, I know you’re hurtin’. M’only tryin’ to help,” he says. “Gotta work on that attitude.”

You speed up your ministrations, frantically chasing a release that is painfully out of reach. Joel swats your bare thigh, a warning. “Gotta breathe,” Joel advises you. “Can’t force it. Let it come to ya.”

“I’m try-”

“I know you’re tryin’.”

Your tummy rises and falls with your uneven breaths, fingers slipping on your wet heat. You can’t seem to find the right pace to rock your hips at, and you’re biting your lips raw to conceal the words threatening to spill that Joel doesn’t let you speak.

“Alright, enough of that.” Joel pushes your hand away, and you cry in frustration. “You’re hurtin’ her. Daddy’s gonna take care of this now,” he whispers more to himself than to you, lowering his body. His hot breath fans over your slick cunt as he puts both of his wide, meaty hands on the backs of your thighs, opening you up wide for him. Poor fucking pussy, all swollen and throbbing and aching. Joel swallows hard and presses his lips against your folds, mumbling, “Gonna kiss her all better,” he says.

He begins with kisses, kissing your lips, nipping at your inner thighs. You’re dripping, leaving a puddle of arousal on the sheets. Joel can feel the heat radiating from your sex, how you vibrate with a need only Joel can satisfy. He squeezes the generous flesh of your thighs with his fingertips harshly, just shy of bruising you. Though he could, if he wanted to. But he is curious what your skin looks like unblemished by his violence.

With a flattened tongue, Joel licks a long stripe from the bottom of your slit right to the top, rounding your clit before repeating the action. The room is quiet, save for the way Joel breathes steadily in and out of his nose that’s pressed against you, teasing you. And your quiet moans, sweet little whimpering noises spilling from your lips with every exhale.

Joel circles your entrance all wet and sloppily, taking care to press a couple of more kisses against your folds before dipping his tongue inside you, tasting your arousal from the hole it drips from.

“Oh, fuck,” you whisper.

“Hey.” he swats your ass cheek. “Is that how good girls are s’posed to use their mouths? Hm?”

“No, daddy.”

“Uh-huh. ‘Cause those pretty lips of yours are for kissin’ daddy’s cock. Right?”

“R- yeah. M’sorry.”

After chastising you for swearing, Joel dives right back in. Your hands find Joel’s scalp so you can tug on his hair, twirling your fingers around those silvery curls. The action makes Joel smile. God, your innocence.

He licks at your slick folds, sucking one into your mouth and then the other, neglecting the little part of you that needs him the most. He savors you like this, the scent of your musk, your arousal like honey on his tongue. When you’ve soaked his face, when your thighs are twitching under his wide palms, only then does Joel circle your clit. You shake and shudder, muscles straining under Joel’s grip as he forces you to stay wide open to eat the most sensitive piece of you. You’re dripping wet, clit throbbing and pulsing under his tongue. “Focus right here, pumpkin,” he murmurs, reaching up to grab your chin and tilt your face down. “Daddy wants to see his favorite eyes.”

Once you nod, Joel lets his hand trail back down your body. Instead of using it to hold you open, he turns his head to the side and brings two calloused fingers to his mouth, soaking them in his saliva before pushing them into your entrance. He curls them against the spongy spot inside you, its location is committed to his memory. You dance on his tongue, squirming and whining and writhing as he works you with his fingers. Joel pulling your strings, watching how you move. You’ll do anything.

“Yeah, daddy’s fingers do it better, huh?” he taunts. “Poor girl.”

God, it’s hard for Joel to eat you in the way he knows he should. It’s meant to be an act of love and it certainly is in some ways, sure it is. But really, it’s all for Joel. It’s all selfish, voraciously consuming you like you’re the first meal he’s seen in days, biting at your flesh like he means to tear it off the bone. His tongue laves over your sex, wiry beard rubbing your inner thighs raw - he’ll put ointment on your skin there, too, to calm down the irritation.

He strokes that sweet spot inside of you with his fingers, pleasure building quickly. It blooms deep in your gut, roiling up your spine and down your legs. “Oh, Joel,” you moan, babbling incoherently. “Oh, f- oh…”

The wet, sticky noises as you’re kissed, licked, sucked, lapped at, teased, stroked. The quiet as release approaches - holding your breath, muscles tightening, a pressure building. And then oh, there it is, there you are. Coming on Joel’s tongue, gushing into his hand.

Joel licks his palm, then sits back up. He sets your feet back down on the bed, mindful of your achy thighs. Your moans have quieted, replaced with peaceful breaths as you lie with your eyes closed. “Nuh-uh, I ain’t finished with you quite yet,” Joel says, lightly smacking your cheek to wake you up. “You know the drill. You get yours and daddy gets his.”

Slotted between your legs, Joel kneels then, knees cracking as they press into the plush of your mattress. He pulls the string of his worn-out pajama pants and pushes the waistband down, and his hard cock lands against his tummy with a smack. “Gimme a hand, pumpkin,” he says, and you hold out your hand for him. He spits into your palm, then wraps your fingers around his thick shaft. “All the way up an’ all the down,” he reminds you. “Jus’ like I showed ya.”

Joel leans over you as you begin stroking him, gliding your palm up and down his length.

“Tighter,” he says, reaching between your bodies to squeeze your hand tight. He keeps his hand there as you work him, keeping the pressure to his liking. “Attagirl.”

He works a twist into the motion now, bucking his hips into your hand. You admire the look of his soft tummy, the gray and white hairs smattered around the base of his cock. Joel’s cock pulses under your touch, in time with his beating heart. Tip red and swollen, aching for more, more…

Joel presses his forehead against yours and drops lower, taking control of the moment. With your hand still under his and holding his stiff length, Joel guides the tip of himself to your slit. He groans when the head meets your pussy, the warmth and the wetness. He lowers himself, the end of his cock prodding right at your entrance. “I think you’re ready for it,” he tells you, notching the tip inside.

Your heart pounds, and you put a hand against Joel’s chest. “N-no, not yet, daddy.”

“Toughen up, kid,” he urges, pushing in a little bit further, then pulling it out again. “Gotta rip that bandaid off sometime. Gonna let me do it?” Joel taunts you with the threat of fully penetrating you, dragging the tip of his cock up and down your folds, fitting it inside your tight entrance before pulling it out again. “On three. One, two…”

You shake your head.

Joel sighs deeply. “You’re breakin’ your daddy’s heart, pumpkin. I hope you know that.”

But it doesn’t change your mind. Joel tsks, then goes right back to fucking the head of his cock on your vulva. He focuses less on getting himself off, but rather getting you off again. Rubbing the blunt head of his cock against your still-sensitive clit, tapping it momentarily before rubbing it in the opposite direction.

You breathe heavily and shakily, “T-too much,” you say.

“Y’wanted to come bad enough you broke the rules for it,” Joel replies in a calm voice. “You’re givin’ me another, jus’ like this, and you’re gonna say ‘thank you, daddy’ when it’s over.”

He pushes his pelvis forward and resumes teasing your clit, moving the head of his cock in circles around your clit, causing you to twitch at the sensation. A quick dip inside your cunt and then he’s doing it again, but rubbing left to right. Like the good girl you are, you rock your hips in time with his movements, moaning as the pleasure builds once more. Joel coaxes one last orgasm from you, leaving you a twitching, throbbing mess. “What do you say?”

“Thank you, daddy,” you whisper.

Joel kisses your forehead and allows you to relax on the pillows as he works himself, still using your hand. He breathes heavily, grunting and groaning as he quickens the way he pumps himself, thumb swiping over the head and the underside of his cock where he’s most sensitive. The pressure builds deep in his gut, just as it did yours, and his balls tighten. His brows knit together and he grits his teeth as he comes, growling as he paints his spend onto your sex. “Oh, Christ. Goddamn, fuck. Yeah,” he breathes, gathering his come onto the tip of his cock, then pushes it inside you before he softens. “You’re a good kid,” he tells you. “Good girl. Good girl, pumpkin.”

more dark daddy!joel here

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Kitty gifs instead of pics for you today I hope that’s allowed 🥹

#joel miller x reader #joel miller x reader smut #joel miller/reader #joel miller one shot #joel miller x you #joel miller smut #Joel miller #joel miller tlou #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller fanfic #joel miller fic #tlou smut #tlou fic #pedro pascal characters #dark!joel #dark!joel miller #dark!joel x reader

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