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aurorawritestoescape · 5 months ago

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WALLET PHOTO || DBF!Joel Miller x f!reader

Summary: Joel and you are in a secret relationship but one day Joel notices that you’re not very careful at keeping the secret.

Tw: 18+ mdni, smut, fluff, age gap (how big is up to you), soft!Joel, taking nudes, praise kink, f!oral, unprotected piv (wrap it up), squirting, creampie. Reader wears a skirt. Pics are only for the mood, reader has no physical description.

Word count: 4,3k

A/n: written for @justagalwhowrites ‘s Joel Miller Birthday celebration! I chose dbf Joel and secret relationship. Thank you for a wonderful challenge, Kit 💕and Happy Birthday to tloml, Joel Miller!❤️ Kisses to @milla-frenchy for beta-ing😘 I’ve never written dbf and I hope y’all like it! Love you! Dividers by @/saradika-graphics

MASTERLIST || more soft Joel - Good Girl || Sweet Cherry

After an afternoon movie date with Joel you’re sitting on your bed in your room with a shoe box on your lap. Joel’s leaning against the door frame, watching you with a soft smile. Your noisy roommate is not in so you two are enjoying each other’s company in the quiet apartment.

Joel knows about your big collection of movie tickets and doesn’t ask any questions when you take today's trophy out of your wallet with a content smile and place it in the box. You’re telling him how much you hate the introduction of electronic tickets when Joel interrupts you.

"Hey! Show me that.”

With his expression serious all of a sudden he steps up towards you, his arm stretched and waiting.

“What?"

"Your wallet. Give me.”

“Ehm... no.”

You're hurriedly trying to shove it back into your tiny handbag but Joel’s too fast. He bends down, yanks the wallet out of your fingers and opens it. You sigh deeply when he looks down at you with a heavy scowl that speaks volumes.

You don’t say anything and after a few moments of heavy silence he breaks it.

“Baby”.

You probably should feel concerned but the thunder in his voice sends shivers of excitement down your spine, your heartbeat increases and you gush into your panties.

"What?"

"Why do you have my photo in your wallet?"

You pout your lips and reply with defiance,

"To look at you."

He puts his hands on his hips, his usual stance when you behave like a brat, your wallet still clenched between his thick fingers, and his usually warm but now fiery eyes under the furrowed brows are boring into you.

“What if your dad sees it?”

"He won't."

"How can you be so sure? I’ve noticed it. He might as well."

"Well..,” you start and pause, looking everywhere but his piercing eyes.

"Well what?"

“I don't know, Joel! Stop grilling me!” you exclaim, finally breaking under pressure. Then you look up at the man with your best puppy eyes and explain, “I love this photo. I love looking at it when I miss you.”

Joel sighs and his arms fall in defeat. His softness washes away the displeasure off his handsome face as soon as he notices that you’re upset.

His voice is warm and comforting again when he argues,

"But you have a bunch of my photos on your phone.”

"Yeah, but… This is different. I love having it here. I open my wallet and BAM! You’re staring at me. So handsome and mine.” Your eyes downcast, you add, “My heart feels warm and shit when I see it.”

"Warm and shit. Jesus. You'll be the death of me, missy."

With a deep sigh he hands you the wallet back and when you are about to grab it, he clasps your wrist and gently pulls you off the bed and into his embrace. You press your nose to his warm chest, hidden behind the softest flannel, and take a deep breath of his scent. His big heart is beating steadily under your palms, his arms, muscular and strong, shield you from the outside world that is unfortunately not receptive to your relationship.

You feel a kiss planted on the top of your head and look up at Joel. Your eyes lock as you talk without speaking, confess the things that both of you have no guts to verbalize yet. Instead you connect by sharing the warmth of your bodies, letting your heartbeats harmonize with each other.

As always when you’re with Joel, the warmth quickly morphs into scorching fire and your body starts demanding him just as much as your heart. Your core ignites, sending flames of wet desire to your aching pussy and you lick your lower lip, inviting your secret lover to get a taste.

“My beautiful girl”, Joel whispers, as his pupils dilate, eyes slide over the curve of your mouth and he leans down. The kiss, gentle, slow and wet, soon overwhelms you, makes your whole body tremble with need and you cuddle into his arms as close as you can.

Joel seems impatient to have you too and when he slightly bucks his hips, you feel him stiff against your lower belly. You breathe out his name and take a step back, pulling him by the hand towards your bed. He sits down on the foot of it and you swiftly straddle his thighs.

“Damn, baby,” Joel growls as you plant a soft kiss on his cheek and your hips start rolling gently against his hard bulge. He throws your open wallet on the bed and you turn to look down at the photo.

Joel follows the direction of your eyes and says with a soft smile, “I remember that day.”

“Yeah, it was my birthday. You looked so hot in that blue shirt.”

“Really?” Joel beams at you like a cat sitting in the sun and his dark eyes are darting between yours while his hands are gripping your hips tighter.

“Yeah. We weren't together yet but I was already… I already liked you.”

“Oh,” Joel mumbles and then tilts his head, brows furrowed. “Didn’t ya have a boyfriend back then? I remember some guy being there with you.”

“Yeah, I did,” you smirk and then nuzzle his scruffy cheek, purring against it, “but the entire party I was wet because of my dad’s buddy.”

Joel growls and squeezes the softness of your hips as you sit straight and admit, locking eyes with him,

“ ‘s why I took that photo. Wanted to have something of you.”

Joel’s looking up at you as if you’re an angel fallen

from heaven. Not used to expressing his feelings, he pulls you closer, kisses your cheek and hugs you tightly.

“I… never thought I’d feel all this again. Never thought you’d be mine. ‘m lucky to have you.”

You hold your breath and freeze in his arms, scared to ruin this beautiful moment.

Joel pulls away from you and searches for your eyes.

"I want your photo too, sweetheart. Wanna feel warm and shit when I open my wallet," he quotes you with a wink and adds, "Your dad be damned."

You giggle, the sound ringing with excitement, and swiftly get off him.

“Let’s take it now!”

You hurry to your desk, open the first drawer and look for your Polaroid camera. Then you return to Joel, handing it to him.

“Where should I sit?”

You look about your bedroom, chewing on your lip, searching for the best place to pose at.

“Not the bed, baby. I should have at least the benefit of the doubt if someone sees it.”

You laugh and then take a seat in your chair at the desk, thighs pressed together, covered partially by your short skirt, hands clasped in your lap.

Joel gets up, and when you give him your most innocent smile, he pushes the button.

The picture slides out immediately and Joel pulls it out and starts shaking it, stepping up to you, waiting for it to develop.

“If I look bad, we’ll take another one, k?” you ask, your big eyes directed at Joel.

“You couldn’t look bad even if you tried, baby.”

Warmth fills your chest as he cups your cheek and you nuzzle his warm palm. Then you impatiently take the photo from his hand and look at it.

“It’ll do,” you comment with a happy grin.

You show it to Joel and he bends over and squints looking at it.

“Do you need your glasses?” You ask with a naughty smile and Joel throws you the look.

“I don’t,” he straightens up and takes the photo from you to inspect it closely.

“Huh. You look like such a good girl.”

You fake gasp, plant your hands on your knees and bat your lashes at him with exaggeration.

“Ain’t I a good girl, Joel?”

The man puts the photo on your desk and steps up so close that his jeans brush your naked knees. You squirm when he pinches your chin and tilts your head up to face him.

“We both know how bad this good girl can get.”

The way he says it, voice low and gruff, eyes blown out and full of fire, sends shivers down your spine and you feel a new surge of wetness spill into your already soaked panties.

“Yeah,” you agree and bite your lip when an idea lights up in your mind. “We can take one more photo. Of your bad girl.”

Joel’s chest expands, and he shifts his jaw while his hungry gaze is sliding down your body.

“You’ll let me?”

You nod, melting under his scorching look.

His expression is serious, almost dark, when he takes the camera off the desk. You try to contain your excitement, calm down the fire burning deep in your core, before you take a deep breath. Joel steps back and sits down on the bed, thighs spread, holding the camera in his big hands but not lifting it to his eyes.

“Show me what you wanna do, baby.”

“Ohh.” You raise your eyebrows playfully at the man. “You can be unhappy with my pose?”

“What if my bad girl gets too shy to come out?” He smiles and you bite your lower lip, giddy with the challenge presented to you.

After a few moments of contemplation you start by taking your top off. You give Joel a little show, sliding the clothing off your body slowly, gliding your hands over your exposed skin. Soon you’re left sitting in your lacy bra and a skirt and Joel seems to love it. He throws his thighs wider and adjusts his prominent bulge.

Wishing to show him your assets in the best way, you lean against the chair and arch your back, pushing your tits out. Your nipples are hard under the thin lace and Joel definitely sees them.

“You’re beautiful, baby,” Joel praises you in a soft tone but then tilts his head to the side, a smirk twisting his lips. “Wish you showed me more.”

You narrow your eyes at the man.

“I hope you’re ready for what’s coming,” you say and seductively pull down your skirt. Joel’s eyes immediately dart to your lacy thong. Now you’re sitting only in your underwear in front of Joel, who’s still fully clothed. When you glide your palms over your body to entice the man, your arousal spikes and you desperately wish for it to be Joel’s big hands.

“Wanna take a pic now?” You know that Joel’s on the verge of getting up and ripping the last of the clothes off you but he surprises you with his reply, as he places the camera on the bed next to him.

“Not yet, sweetheart. You can do better.”

Your jaw drops at his audacity and you wriggle in the seat, trying to alleviate the ache between your legs, probably leaving a wet stain on the chair.

‘He wants to play? Let’s play,’ you think and purr,

“Careful what you wish for, Mr Miller.”

Joel’s nostrils flare and a low growl rises up from his chest when he hears what you called him.

Your mischievous smile indicates that you know exactly what you’re doing and you don’t plan on stopping. Joel is always gentle with you but sometimes it’s fun to wake the other side of him, a passionate man driven by desire, ready to grab, manhandle and fuck you like you’ve never been fucked before.

So with a half sigh-half moan you hook your thumbs under the straps of your bra and slide them off your shoulders while Joel’s dark eyes are following your every move. His gaze glosses over when you pull your bra cups down and expose your breasts to his hungry eyes.

“Ohh, that’s my girl,” he croaks, moving closer to the edge of the bed, as if he’s ready to pounce on you any second.

“Still a good girl, Joel?” you purr, kneading the soft plush of your tits, and spreading your thighs a little wider.

Joel seems to be lost for words as you take the bra off and languidly move your hips back and forth, riding the chair, desperately wishing it to be Joel’s hips. Your sexy taunting backfires as the friction on your aching pussy spikes your need and you plead,

“Can you already take the pic?”

Not tearing his eyes off your body, Joel grabs the camera off the bed but still doesn’t direct it at you.

Your heart beats faster when you realize what he’s waiting for.

You’ve started dating Joel recently so every time you show him THAT part of you, your pussy, your whole body still trembles with nerves and excitement. Joel never pushes you, never asks for more that you wish to give him but you can’t help but feel a little anxious.

Before you step over the edge, you take a deep breath and spread your thighs wider. You trace your seam under the panties with your middle finger and your skin erupts with chills at the light caress. You tilt your hips up to show him more and Joel leans slightly forward and wets his lips when his eyes land on the wet spot on the fabric.

“Shall I take my panties off, Mr Miller?” Your voice is shaky with lust, as you press your finger to your hardened clit over the soaked panties. A needy moan flies out of your parted lips and Joel echoes it with a groan.

“Yeah, sweetheart. Please, show me.”

His self control is crumbling, judging by the strain in his voice. You don’t make him wait for long. You lift your hips and in a second your panties fall on the floor.

“Ohh, baby.”

Joel’s soft moan at the sight of your naked pussy gives you the needed courage, drowns your shyness in a deep pit of desire, and you slowly lift and plant your feet on the edge of the chair, one and then the other.

Your pussy opens up, weeping hole clenching, calling for your lover, and your chest and belly heave when you caress your mound and then slide your middle finger between your wet folds.

“Joel,” you whimper and his will breaks.

He gets up, brings the camera to his eyes but then lowers it to ask,

“Can I take a few photos of you?”

You smile and whisper a sultry ‘ yeah’ and Joel pushes the button, taking a photo of you sitting on the chair, your nipples perked up, legs bent and spread, hand resting between your thighs as you look up at him with your gaze lustful and needy.

He’s inching towards you and every few seconds takes another photo. Click-click-click.

“Damn, I — you’re— fuck, so hot.”

You giggle and, wanting to give him more, run your hands over your naked body so he could capture your fingers pushing your breasts together, twitching your nipples, gliding through your puffy folds. The pictures are falling on the floor, one by one, blank yet, creating a path as he’s slowly walking towards you.

Your pussy is crying, clear desire trickling from your hole and onto the chair, and you whimper when he kneels in front of you and glances up, waiting for your approval. Your cheeks burn but you nod with a smile, letting him capture the most sacred part of you.

Joel’s breathing heavily as he brings the camera to his eyes and directs it at your glistening cunt.

When the photo appears, he doesn’t look at it. Instead he’s focused on your expression, pained and needy, and your desperate ‘Joel’ falling off your lips drives him crazy. He puts the camera on the floor and clasps his big hands around your ankles.

“Are you achin’, sweetie? Do you want me to kiss your sweet pussy?”

“Yes, Joel, please, ye—”, he doesn’t let you finish, his warm lips immediately press to your cold wet folds.

A string of your loud moans fill the room after he grabs your hips, throws your thighs on his shoulders and begins eating you out. He starts with open mouth kisses to your inner thighs, slowly moves to your sopping center and licks a path from your hole to your pulsating clit. He gently sucks it into his mouth and you clench your fist in his curly graying hair, your pussy gushing onto his chin. Joel feels your wetness on his skin and lowers his mouth to drink everything you're offering him, like it’s nectar of the gods itself.

“Sweet—sweet little pussy—mine—ya mine, baby,” he mumbles and his words vibrate against your cunt, making you writhe and whimper, as he’s bringing you higher to the peak.

“Oh my god, Joel,” you whine as his tongue begins a lascivious dance over your clit, his wet hot muscle swirling around it, rubbing it tirelessly and it’s not long until you cry out into your palm and shake, twitch, jerk against the chair, against Joel’s unyielding lips, still caressing you through the hard climax.

You sigh happily when your body relaxes, and completely drunk on endorphins, with half-lidded eyes, see Joel’s face looking up at you from between your thighs. His gaze is lustful, chin glistening with your slick, and you sit up to kiss the man who has just rocked your world.

Joel reaches up to you and you meet him halfway, wrapping your arms around his neck. The kiss lets you taste the tang of your juices on his tongue, and you hum at the delicious mixture of him and you.

“Need you, baby— need you now,” Joel murmurs against your lips. Eager as well you get up and lead him to the bed.

With impatient hands he starts unbuttoning his shirt, but you stop him.

“Let me, Joel, please,” you ask, your eyes pleading, and he grants your wish. You take his flannel off and then his undershirt. You know that he’s desperate to be inside you yet you can’t help but to glide your palms over the expense of his hairy chest and shoulders, marveling at the strength of his body, so big and broad and all yours. You unbuckle his belt and pull his jeans down together with his boxers.

Joel’s chest is heaving as you both look down at his hard cock, standing proudly at attention.

You bite your lip and your eyes gloss over. It’s gorgeous. You wish you could kiss it all over, take it in your mouth, let him spill his hot cum on your waiting tongue. No, he needs your warm wet pussy.

You wrap your hand around his stiffness and Joel moans, hurriedly trying to hide the sound with a fake cough.

“No, please,” you whisper, placing your palm on his chest. “I love hearing how good you feel.”

Joel slithers his arm around you and cups your butt, pulling you closer to him, and his wet tip pokes your lower belly.

“YOU make me feel good. I can never get enough of you,” he whispers in your ear and you melt under the heat of his naked body against yours, his lips leaving kisses along your neck.

“Wanna ride you,” your murmur tells him.

Joel lies down on your bed and you straddle his thighs and take his cock in your hand before lifting your hips and hovering over it. He’s still training your pussy to take him and his big cock is still a challenge for you. You brace your hand on his chest, guide his tip to your entrance, take a deep breath before starting to sink on his member, inch by inch.

Joel shuts his eyes and tilts his head back, dipping it into the mattress.

“Oh—ohhhh—fuckin’—,” a string of pleasured sounds is leaving his open mouth and you follow him, reveling in the sensation of him pushing your walls apart, filling you nicely like no one has ever had.

Finally you’re fully sitting on his cock and he opens his eyes to look down at the place you’re joined, his length completely sheathed inside your cunt.

“Will never get used to it—warm and wet— and so fuckin’ tight. Sorry, baby,” he apologizes for cursing and you reassure him with a hazy smile,

“ ‘s ok. You’re so big inside me, Joel. It’s like I can feel you here.” You put your hand on your chest and he chuckles,

“I ain’t that big, sweetheart. But thank you for the compliment.”

You giggle but the smiles are quickly wiped off your faces when you finally move on his cock. You start riding him, rolling your hips back and forth, smearing your slick over his crotch, and then bounce up and down, alternating your movements.

Joel's hands are gripping your thighs but you need him so much that you take them and hold them up, feeling your connection brighter. Joel’s looking up at you with adoration and piety, taking in your ecstatic expression, your bouncing breasts, your skin, dewy with sweat, your glistening folds, spread around his girthy cock.

“Fuckin’ angel,” he mumbles and shuts his eyes.

“Joel, look at me. Please,” you murmur.

“Can’t, baby— can’t— I’ll come too soon—you’re too sexy.”

“I don’t care. Come. I want your eyes on me.”

He doesn’t deny you and soon he’s drinking the sight of you fucking him with full gulps.

You don’t give him any respite when you place his hands on your breasts and he begins kneading them, twitching your perky nipples. Yours meanwhile travel back, as you turn slightly and find his balls under your moving pussy. You caress them in your palm, one and then the other, then gently tug on the sack.

“Jesus, baby, want me to burst? Oh, yeah—“

You both are moaning, chasing your climaxes with increasing intensity. You tilt your hips a little to press your pulsating clit against the fluff of his pubic hair and grind, grind, grind your pussy over his lower belly. Joel’s cock moving deep inside you, your clit twitching in his coarse hair, all the sensations combined light up your body and when Joel lifts his torso on his elbow and unhinges his jaw to take as much of your breast into his hot mouth as he can, you explode with a loud cry.

He’s sucking and licking your tit as you bury your nose in his soft hair and your pussy starts clamping around his cock. A surge of wetness floods your core and you moan his name desperately, soaking his stiffness.

“I’m here, baby. I gotchu.”

Joel lies back down, plants his feet on the bed and starts thrusting his hips up, plunging his cock deeper into your squirting pussy.

“Take it—take it—,” he grunts through gritted teeth, fingers digging into your soft thighs as he’s fucking you, your walls squeezing him hard, until he roars and begins spurting his cum inside you, adding to the ocean of ecstasy already filling your core. The squelching of his and your cum mixes with your moans, the music of your unity.

As soon as he stops twitching inside you, you fall on his chest and you both relax, catching your breaths, his cock slowly softening inside you.

The sweat on your skin soon cools down and you shiver.

“Oh, sweetheart,” Joel coos and, still staying under you, covers your back with a bedspread.

You get warm and almost fall asleep, lulled by his steady breathing, but Joel squeezes you and whispers against your temple,

“Got something for ya.”

He moves you off him, and you shift on the bed, after feeling a wet spot under you. It’s not the first time you squirted with Joel but it still fascinates you what he can do to your body.

Meanwhile Joel gets off the bed, picks up his jeans off the floor and shoves his hand into a pocket.

He retrieves something and sits back down next to you.

You sit up, not bothering to cover your naked breasts, and crane your neck to see what he’s got in his hands. It turns out to be a long velvet box.

“Wanted to give it to you next week. For one month anniversary. But you said that you’d wanted to have something of me. So —ehm—here.”

You see a soft blush bloom on his cheeks as he speaks and butterflies dance in your belly at how cute and sweet he is. He opens the box and with two thick fingers pulls out a gold necklace. He holds the ends of it and you see a pendant hanging on it- a little heart.

You gasp at the surprise and then squeal, throwing your arms around his neck. Joel chuckles and asks you to turn around so he could put it on.

You look down at the beautiful gift, lift the heart and press it to your lips.

“Thank you, Joel,” you whisper and then hurry off the bed.

You grab your Polaroid camera where Joel has left it and direct it at yourself. You return to Joel with another photo in your hand - a close up of your neck and Joel’s present, resting on the top of your chest.

“Here. Your wallet photo,” you smile, handing it to your lover. “Only you know it’s me. We can keep our secret.”

“Thank you, sweetheart,” he croaks with his eyes sparkling and pulls you in for a kiss.

Thank you for reading! Comments and reblogs are greatly appreciated!

MASTERLIST || more soft Joel - Good Girl || Sweet Cherry

General tag list: @milla-frenchy @harriedandharassed @iamasaddie @nervousmumbling @bbyanarchist @stevie75 @puduvallee @auteurdelabre @mountainsandmayhem @senoratess @flamingochick55 @theoraekenslover @schnarfer @mermaidgirl30 @staywildflowahchild @yesjazzywazzylove-blog @evolnoomym @keylimebeag @joelmillerisapunk @pascaltesfaye

#pedro pascal #joel miller smut #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller fic #joel miller #joel miller tlou #joel miller x reader #pedro pascal characters #joel miller x you #the last of us #dbf!joel #Joel miller birthday celebration #soft joel miller #joel the last of us #joel miller fluff

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komelliko · 3 months ago

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manipulative!boss!sunday x timid!secretary!reader

summary: You accept the dinner invite, but can't shake the feeling that Sunday had alternative motivations. Well—you can't seem to get yourself to ignore it as well as you usually do, at least. wc: 1.3k

part 1 / part 2 / part 3 (nsfw)

---

To say you’re surprised that Sunday knows something almost feels on its way to an insult. Ever since meeting him, you’ve felt the notion that Sunday fills every room he’s in with a sort of omnipresence—a watchfulness that extends beyond his direct gaze, an invisible cloud of eminence curling in the corners of space like steam. Sure, you collect information for him in your manila folders and papers and electronic mails… but you often wonder if it’s merely to organize, not to present. That he is already aware of all things, and only wishes for it to be in proper order.

All this to say: The dress fitting you perfectly is entirely logical. Sure, maybe it’s a bit too perfect, but to show concern feels almost sacrilegious.

Of course Sunday knows. It’s normal for an employer to know such things, isn’t it?

Regardless, you find yourself out of place in this Blue Hour restaurant. Your only companions seem to be the objects in your old clutch: Your phone, and a metal tin of your favorite mints. Bringing along a wallet or even a few credit bills was out of the question, Sunday had assured you. Even at your protest, he insisted it would be taken care of.

You press a mint against the roof of your mouth with your tongue. You had been too anxious to remember the name of the restaurant, only hearing the erratic pace of the jazz music echoing from the band’s main stage. Only seeing the satin of the tablecloth. Only feeling the gnawing pit in your stomach.

“About today’s report, sir—“

Sunday would only keep his clasped fists against the table, maybe his forearms, but never his elbows. He was a man with remarkable, old-fashioned etiquette.

“Please,” he corrects you. “Call me Sunday.” “Mister Sunday,” you reiterate. But something tells you to stop talking anyways.

Your eyes glance around the room, wondering from what other angles he seems to be watching you, ridiculous as it may sound. You curse yourself at how easy it is to ‘pay it no mind’, ‘give it no thought’ in any other occasion. During work, at meetings, or when his presence is invisible to you. The sentiment feels like the most logical thing in the world then, but now? It’s a ridiculous notion.

But you can at least pretend to pay it no mind, and you find that to be enough for the time being. The band plays on, a saxophone wailing out its melody over double bass and the hiss of the drum kit.

"Jazz as a term for Penaconian music is a fairly recent construction," he begins to speak, at first seemingly to nobody but himself. "Popularized by my dear sister, naturally. Do you know what the term comes from?"

You shake your head.

"'Jats', more commonly phrased as 'the jats', also known as spirit, moxie, joie de vivre—Now, it's been corrupted to mean something closer to restlessness," he sighs. "But in its inception, to have 'the jats' was to be blessed by Xipe with a certain euphoria, and the style of music that many associated with such a feeling was said to be played by 'Jats bands'." Sunday takes the smallest sip of his drink before adding "But Jazz rolls off the tongue better, doesn't it?”

You laugh, a rictus showing on your face. “Indeed it does, Mr. Sunday.”

He smiles no wider than he would at any other person. Your certain vulnerability seems to almost leak onto the floor, rivulets flowing down the legs of your chair—Sunday relishes in the image, watery anxiety beading off the skin of your back and running down the curve of your spine. Underneath his gloves, his knuckles pale as he laces his fingers together tightly. The vision before him is everything he’d ever hoped for—what he’d been picturing when he selected the venue, the dress, the time. A plan perfectly orchestrated.

“I worry sometimes that you have the wrong idea of me, [Y/N],” he posits, glibly. “You seem tense.”

You stop yourself from placing another mint in your mouth to look him in the eye. “Oh, it’s nothing, Mr. Sunday,” you lie, “It’s just been a while since we’ve been seated, and we’ve only been given drinks.”

“I have an inclination that our food will be out shortly.” “…But sir,” you question, “We haven’t ordered.” “Our reservation asked for orders at the time of scheduling,” Sunday smiles. “As I said before, everything is being taken care of for you.”

Your eyes drift to the other patrons: A patchwork mass of Halovians here, Pepeshi there, many of which are discussing unknowable things over their large menus. You tell yourself it’s nothing to worry about. Logically, Sunday must know something you don’t. Sunday must know a lot of things that you don’t.

Sunday watches the slight movements of your jaw as your tongue curls around the next mint in your mouth. The first mint in your mouth had lasted two minutes, the next forty seconds, and the final only twenty-five. Perhaps there was something you were trying to purify within yourself—the unease he found so tantalizing at this moment, a symptom of your delicious eagerness to please—that you hoped to extract from each mint, your cheeks sucking in a nearly imperceptible degree as you drained each one dry. Sunday could imagine himself reaching over across the table to open your mouth with his thumb, saliva pooling in your mouth from the way you were siphoning the little white tablets greedily, the delicate muscles in your face spasming and twitching as you shudder beneath his velvet touch.

If he was a lesser man...

"Don't spoil your appetite on those mints, darling," Sunday jokes. He can immediately see you tense up from the name, swallowing the tablet in your mouth. "My apologies, Mister Sunday."

...Boss or not...why the hell were you apologizing to him?

"I told you, Sunday is fine," he smiles. "...Do I frighten you?" "Excuse me?" Sunday tilts his head to the side the slightest bit, his cranial wings drooping. Still, even as he expresses his supposed concern, his smile doesn't fade.

"You seem frightened, dear," he coos. "If I'd known you would hate dinner with me so much, I wouldn't have asked you." Initially, you feel yourself overcome with guilt. He was spending all this money on you just for you to be so skittish... But that was never the point of the dinner meeting, right? You bite your lower lip, mulling over the possibility of getting the topic of tonight's dinner back to that of your work. You look askance, to the lack of plate right before you, and then to him. "It's just a concern I had regarding budgeting for the venue," you lie, "Some of the cost estimates you'd previously requested have changed since—" You stop when you feel something touch your ankle. Sunday has leaned in closer to you to place his shoe between your feet. You look down to where his shoe must be under the table—hidden by the long tablecloth—then to him, with that static smile still on his face. Not a hint wider than he would smile at anyone else. "Isn't it peculiar?" he asks. Sunday hasn't been listening to you whatsoever. "Look around the room. Each and every table here is surrounded by strangers. These figures around us are unknown to us, and likewise we are unknown to them." Even when it's not the point of what he's saying, you can still feel that sense of malice hidden behind Sunday's teeth when he refers to the folk of Penacony. Avaricious, calloused, snobbish and cruel. Corrupt is often the term he uses, with a bite that seems to imply he finds himself distinct from it. Like a single healthy cell surrounded by cancerous tumor. The outer side of his shoe draws a line up your calf, and he continues.

"Don't you find it fascinating that all these people may glance at us—pay us no more mind than what we pay to them—and have no idea what we are to each other? Most don't even know I have a secretary," he grins. "Perhaps I enjoy keeping you as my little secret." What he says is enough to keep you silent until your food arrives.

--- a/n: thanks so much for all the notes on the last installment, everyone! hopefully a bit of worldbuilding isn't a turn-off to any of you, i'm obsessed with penacony's jazz age inspirations just as much as i am with sunday xD just for the sake of keeping things cut up right, we'll end things off here lolol tag list: @j1yu425 @crepezinhos

#this guy is a freak. this guy is insane.#anyway part 3 is probably going to be when the smut begins lololol #hsr sunday #sunday x you #sunday x reader #sunday x y/n #honkai star rail #hsr x reader #hsr x you #manipulative yandere #boss x reader #honkai sr #hsr #sunday's secretary

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atlasscrumpit · 9 months ago

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Will/Hannibal!Platonic reader

You were Will's daughter, never Hannibal's

Hannibal and Will never wanted you to get involved in their 'work' but when a whole squad of police came to raid their home they locked you away to keep you safe.

You held your hands over your ears as you heard screams and gunshots, curled up in a small closet.

Your father told you to stay here and cover your ears no matter what.

After a long wait the closest doors swung open and you screamed before your father knelt down and hugged you, covered in blood.

"It's okay, baby! It's me!" Will shouted as you cried and hugged him tightly.

"It's alright, I'm here." He whispered, holding you as tight as possible.

"Where's papa?" You whispered, pulling away to let him wipe away your tears.

"He's okay, he's just handling something, okay? Are you hurt?" He asked as you shook your head.

"Are you hurt?" You whispered with worry in your voice.

"Just a little, I'll be okay, darling." He said, checking you over before helping you out of the closet.

You held onto his hand as he led you out.

"Go pack a bag and get ready to leave okay?" He said as you nodded, about to leave when you heard a noise.

You looked up to see Hannibal stumbling into the house, covered in blood.

You backed away in fear.

"Hannibal... You with me?" Will muttered, knowing full well that the killer and Hannibal were two seperate people.

"Are you hurt?" He asked slowly stand in front of Will and looking him over.

He saw a wound and notice a bullet had grazed him.

"I'll be okay." Will replied, Hannibal looked at him with a deadly glare.

"It needs stitches, sit down. Y/N, go get my first aid kit." He said dismissively as you ran off.

"This isn't her fault." Will whispered as Hannibal examiner the wound.

"She is reckless and she is going to get us caught." He grumbled in response, making Will glare at him.

"She's our daughter." He replied, wincing in pain.

"She's your daughter." Hannibal said begrudgingly before you rushed in with the first aid kit.

"Good girl." He muttered, digging through the first aid kit.

"Sweetheart, go pack a bag okay?" Will said as you nodded about to leave when Hannibal grabbed your wrist.

"Do not take any electronics what so ever, do you understand?" He growled as you looked at him in fear and nodded.

"Good, go." He demanded before you ran off.

"You need to stop being so hard on her, she's just a kid." Will grumbled before Hannibal dug the needle into his skin and began stitching up the wound.

After packing a bag, showering and discarding the bloodied clothes you climbed into the back of Hannibal's car.

Will covered you with a blanket before Hannibal began to drive.

"Take a nap if you need, love." Will said, looking back at you as you nodded.

"Love you, dad. Love you Papa." You muttered, cuddling into your pillow you has pressed against the window.

"Love you too." Will said with a smile before nudging Hannibal.

"Yes... Me too." He grumbled unwillingly as he continued to drive.

Will had fallen asleep as Hannibal continued to drive, he looked at Will and smiled a little.

"I'm sorry, Will... You'll understand one day." He muttered, pulling over to the side of the road.

Will was on heavy pain killers and he knew he wouldn't wake up.

But, you did.

You woke up when Hannibal opened your door and pulled you out.

"Papa? What's happening?" You asked, rubbing your eyes.

Hannibal grabbed your blanket and back pack.

"You'll be fine." He muttered handing you a wad of cash and wrapping the blanket around you.

"A bus will come soon. Get on it and get somewhere warm, get to a police station and do not tell them the truth. You will tell them you are homeless and you will never mention our names unless you want your father in prison or dead, do you understand?" He growled, kneeling down and holding your shoulders.

"What... No, I'm coming with you." You whispered gripping onto your small teddy.

"You're not safe, neither is your father. You'll be better without us." He growled before he quickly got back in the car and sped away.

You screamed and tried to run after him but the car was too fast.

"DADDY!" You screamed as tears ran down your face.

You sobbed as you curled up on the ground, wrapping the blanket around you further.

After crying for a while you stumbled over to the bus bench.

After an hour a bus pulled up and a short dark skinned woman stepped out and looked at you.

"Hey, sweetheart. What are you doing out here all alone?" She asked, kneeling down to see your face.

"Can you take me to a police station?" You whispered as she smiled kindly.

"Of course I can, dove. Come on, the bus is nice and warm." She said, grabbing your back pack and helping you off the bench and into the warmth of the bus.

You sat on a seat with your backpack, blanket and teddy as the woman started up the bus and began to drive as you cried softly.

"Where's your parents, sweet pea?" She asked as you looked up and wiped your eyes.

"They...they left." You whispered as she looked at you sadly.

"It's okay, dove. I'm from this town and I know some of the guys at the police station and they're nicer than anyone, alright? They'll help you." She said reassuringly as you nodded.

Will woke up when the sun rising shone in his eyes, he groaned and looked I to the back seat for a moment before panicking.

"Y/N? Hannibal! Where the fuck is Y/N!?" Will shouted as Hannibal didn't take his eyes off the road.

"She puts us in danger and we put her in danger... It'll be better this way." Hannibal grumbled as Will's eyes widened.

"You killed her..." He muttered making Hannibal slowly turn and look at him.

"No, I did not kill her. This isn't a life for a child, Will. She'll go somehwere nice, be raised by a good stable family." He replied, looking back at the road.

"Where the fuck is she, Hannibal? I don't give two shits if she puts us in danger or I put her in danger. She is my daughter and I will never let her go!" Will screamed before grabbing the steering wheel and forcing the car to veer off the side of the road into a tree.

Will groaned and held his bleeding nose as he looked over to see Hannibal unconscious.

"You piece of shit." He grumbled before getting out of the car.

He raked a hand through his messy hair and looked around, tears forming in his eyes.

"Fuck!" He shouted angrily, kicking the car.

He heard Hannibal groan and rushed to the driver's side door and ripped it open.

"We are going back for her, no let me rephrase that. I am going back for my daughter, either you can come with me and beg on your knees for forgiveness or you can fuck off out of my life." He growled as Hannibal groaned and slowly got out of the car, rubbing his sore head.

"I am just trying to protect you." Hannibal said before Will slapped him across the face.

"Do you have any idea how much that kid loves you? She shouldn't, she should fucking hate you, but she doesn't. She cares about you so much and you just fucking leave her?" Will said as Hannibal slowly looked at him.

"If you wish to go after your daughter then I cannot stop you. But, if you wish to have her then you will not have me as well." Hannibal said, causing Will to laugh dryly.

"Are you seriously asking me to choose you over my child? You must know nothing about me if you think I would fucking pick you over my daughter." Will growled before grabbing his backpack out of the car and began walking.

"You've made your choice then."

You had been in the police station for quite sometime.

Now, you sat across from a lady who was asking you questions.

"Did someone tell you to not tell us the truth, Y/N?" She asked as you clutched your teddy.

"No..." You whispered, not looking up at her.

"It's okay, I know it can be scary if someone tells you to keep a secret." She replied as tears welled in your eyes.

You heard a commotion outside and suddenly your eyes widened hearing your father's voice.

You ran out of the interrogation room and saw your father.

"Dad!" You screamed while he was trying to convince the police officers to let him inside.

You ran as fast as you could and jumped into his arms.

He knelt down and cradled you while he cried softly.

"It's okay, baby. I'm here, I'm here." He whispered as you sobbed and held onto him for dear life.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry." You cried as he rocked you back and forth gently.

"It's okay, sweetheart. It's not your fault, I've got you." He replied, holding you as tightly as he could.

"Sir, are you the guardian of this child?" An officer asked as Will stood up with you in his arms.

"Yes... Yeah, she's my kid." He muttered as you cried and closed your eyes, resting your head on your father's shoulder.

"Do you have some identification for yourself and your daughter?"

Will knew it was risky telling the officers his name and yours after everything that had happened.

But, he didn't care.

He just needed you back and that was all that mattered.

He sat beside you on a bus, your head resting against him as he held you close.

"So, Papa isn't coming back?" You whispered as Will looked down at you sadly.

"No, sweetheart. He hurt you and he hurt me, I won't ever let him near you again." He reassured you as you nodded.

"I tried to make him like me..." You whispered, practically breaking your father's heart.

"I know, sweetheart. So did I..."

#hannibal lecter #Hannibal #will graham #Hannibal x will #Hannibal x reader #Platonic #Reader insert

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seancekitsch · 2 months ago

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A Boost: Viktor x Reader Oneshot

She makes housecalls, only for him. Alternatively: a Zaunite makes a risky point in taking care of Viktor while he uses shimmer.

warnings: drug use, smut, high smut, the tiniest amount of fluff, ambiguous relationship, feels kinda bittersweet

She comes at dusk, always under the cover of darkness. It’s easier that way for her to blend in, to not draw attention on the campus of the academy, to not raise any alarm bells. Why would a woman from the Undercity come sniffing around such prestigious minds? Viktor could only guess the whispers and insults that would be hurled her way. He wants to, in a way, shield her from them himself although he knows she can hold her own. Still, the desire stands. The electronic lock of his door code buzzing as she presses nails with probably week old chipped polish into the buttons, he can practically picture them always two tone and sloppy but somehow the look is attractive on her. He hears her before he sees her, a rustling of bags and a low hum of some song pressed between her lips as she shuffles around his dorm. Two heavy thuds as she kicks her heavy boots off against the little island of his kitchenette.

Her footsteps are unsubtle, she’s long since lost the need to sneak anywhere in Zaun. To Viktor, it’s something to envy. Something about Piltover makes him wish the uneven gait and the thunk of his crutch could be silent, and he envies the freedom of not having to worry about that subtlety when he’s trying to sneak around the Academy. Piltover is much more suited to these shadowed and secret deals, despite the way they’d like to wrongly cast judgement on Zaunites. At least Zaunites are honest when they fuck you, Viktor thinks, a silent chuckle on his chapped lips.

And honest, she is. Though they had never thought to name, or even speak of their arrangement, she made it known what it means to her, something special and private and just for the two of them. Pain relief for him, a sense of being wanted for her, and it never had to be anything more. Fondness grows in the simple honesty of their actions on nights like these. A balance struck and respected.

He hears her shrug off a jacket, perhaps the one she wears thats two sizes two big and green and fuzzy on the inside. He likes that one, and the way it felt when she had draped it over him a few weeks ago when the dorm heat had failed and she discovered him waiting and shivering. There’s a spring now in her step, in the last few steps it takes it get to the doorway of his modest bedroom. She makes herself known with a brush of her hand on the wooden door frame, and Viktor counts himself correct, her nails are a chipped silver and dark purple.

“Waiting long?” she chirps, her voice always like a salve for him when he knows what’s to come next.

“You never keep me,” he assures, patting the edge of the bed for her to come sit with her regular bag and kit, but she does not move from her spot.

That’s when he notices that her other hand is hidden behind her back.

“What is that?”

She shuffles uncomfortably for a moment, as if on the fence about showing him. Her eyes fall from his, looking around the room now as if it was something new to her. Eventually though, she reveals what she’s hiding without a word.

She thrusts the object into his hand unceremoniously, her head turned to the side to avoid even the temptation of his gaze. She feigns indifference poorly.

“For you,” she states through gritted teeth, “I made it.”

The it in question being a wedge shaped cushion, a deep purple, a decadently soft fabric covering it. Viktor gives it a good squeeze, whatever firm stuffing within holds its shape. He turns it over in his hands, and embroidered in silver thread on the bottom are three letters: ZBM. Not her initials, nor his. The colors of the cushion the same as her nails: an intention he cannot decipher.

“ZBM?” he reads out loud, and she turns her head the other way, still not looking.

“It’s to place under your hips, or under the bad leg at the knee to relieve a little pressure,” she shrugs as if the gesture is nothing, but the way she refuses to look at him says that it’s anything but, “I figured it will help.”

Viktor doesn’t press her further, as this already is too much vulnerability for her. Sure, injecting him with shimmer and then fucking his brains out feels safe, but a gift is too much. He gets it, though; and she is at the bottom of the list of people he would ever wish to harm. He knows where she comes from, and how dangerous misplaced displays of emotion can be. Viktor only wishes she would realize he was not going to use something like that against her.

“Thank you, Darling,” is all he responds with to not make a thing of it, placing the pillow gently on the far end of his bed, away from the space he had already set out for their night.

She sets down her usual bag now, routine back in place as she starts to pull out vials and sharps. She lays out her materials meticulously, then carelessly strips from her trousers and top. Bruising litters her back as she turns to ball up her clothes and throw them at a corner, as if she had been kicked in the ribs recently, but this too Viktor does not mention. If he knows, he’ll want to protect her. If he tries protect her, she will hate him.

“Ready?” she asks, her toothy smile wide and enthusiastic. He nods, and she climbs up onto the bed, taking a spot between Viktor’s knees and she grabs a syringe and one of the vials. She presses in, pulling the plunger back until the dose is correct. She’s been bringing stronger stuff, Viktor has noticed, another unspoken thing between them. But he cannot fault her, she’s doing what she thinks is right, and it gives him better mobility at least for a while. The last time, he was even able to go on a jog the next morning just to prove something to himself. Decidedly, even if that was a more common occurrence, Viktor is not a jogger. She gets everything ready carefully, and places everything on the bedside table before she reaches finally for Viktor.

She’s almost painfully gentle as her free hand massages over the muscle of Viktors thigh, her thumb pressing soothing circles as she moves his leg to the side to access the tender skin on the inner side. She looks up at him, and he nods, all the encouragement she needs. The needle goes into his skin easily, barely any pain compared to how his knee had felt earlier today, and the plunger gets pushed down.

And then the burning begins, the venom seeping through, infecting every vein and cell of him, the glow visible in his leg. Burning, burning, ecstasy on the other end.

Viktor floats, the shimmer haze flowing through him, a euphoric sigh falling from his lips as he feels the effects start to take hold.

He smiles through the burn, sweats through the pain, lets it give way to the feeling of power. This, now, he understands as his addictive habit with shimmer. A good hurt, that keeps the constant hurt away, at least temporarily. When the burning subsides, he will have more energy, more stamina, he will get more work done.

He sighs again, his smile lazy as his eyes finally reopen, his gaze falling upon where she still sits between his legs.

She smiles as she sees him back down in reality, and lifts herself up; first to kneel and then to place her knees on either side of his hips.

“No,” he protests, stopping her as the mattress dips under her knee, “Let me try something.”

And she complies, letting Viktor take the lead as he switches their positions, removing his boxers as he settles himself between her thighs.

“You sure, Vik?” she asks, but her hands don’t hesitate to reach up and trace lines down his chest. Her hands are still a little cold from outside, but it doesn’t make him shiver, in fact, he feels as if he could brave the cold for once.

“Yes, until I can tell I will regret it later,” he chuckles, and punctuates the sentences with a roll of his hips, half hard cock bumping up against her core already warm and wanting.

“And you’re not bullshitting this time? No repeats of that one time you tried to stand,” she huffs out with a roll of her eyes, but there’s a smile on her face as she chastises him. She’ll never let him live that down, he thinks, remembering the time he had indeed tried to lay her out on his living room table and he ended up collapsing. His hip will also never let him forget, as it has given him more trouble since that day.

“I promise, I will warn you,” he chuckles, reassuring her in a way that only makes her doubt him, and allows his hand to travel down the expanse of her body. He traces the dip of her collarbone, the swell of her chest, each indent of her bruised ribs, the soft skin of her stomach, down to her hip and below. They both collectively gasp as his hand reaches between her thighs, wetness collecting on his cold calloused fingers.

“Please, Vik,” she sighs, “Don’t worry about it.”

Foreplay was far and few in between for them, the most potent effects of the shimmer not lasting that long coupled with the desperation for a gentle touch spurring them to a clumsy frenzy.

He obeys, pulling his hand away from its destination, but not without a little indulgence. Viktor brings his fingers to his lips, and parts them to take them into his mouth, licking them with calculated pleasure as he stares into her eyes. She shudders beneath him, her chest heaving with the sigh that leaves her. She tastes divine, too sweet for her outer demeanor and too sweet for Zaun. She is like the extra sugar packet he mixes into his sweetmilk, but even the idea of that sours her.

He removes his fingers from his mouth, and plants his hand on the pillow next to her head. His other hand grabs the base of his shaft, bringing it to line up with her core, and pushes in slowly. This is how she likes it, he knows, letting her feel every inch of him as he fills her. And she’s hot, almost too hot, and tight and wet and everything she should be. If he were someone else, if she were someone else, if this were another universe, this moment would be perfect. Viktor moans against her skin, the feeling divine as he bottoms out within her, their hips meeting flush to seal them as one.

“Move, Vik, You gotta move,” she pleads, already writhing under him. How can Viktor deny her this?

His hips move slow at first, testing the waters, the way the movement puts strain on certain muscles in his legs. They do not hurt, and he takes that as a sign. He tests his theory again, this time his thrust is a bit sharper and quicker, which earns him an appreciative moan that drips from her smiling lips. This only drives him further, and Viktor is eager to set a pace, quick and hard but not harsh. Viktor kisses, fondles, jerks his hips, and her hands run down his back, pull him in. He even hooks her leg over one of his arms to pull her further apart. They feed each other with hushed praise, sweet nothings that encourage each movement and touch, each motion encouraged and thanked. She pulls him in closer, impossibly closer, and the lines where they meet blur until they seem inseparable, two in tandem feeling more like one being intent on pleasure from itself. They are both greedy, taking of the affection they each need, taking the way they each want.

The first time his thrust falters, her eyebrows knit together, but she says nothing and arches further into him. The second time it happens, her hands reach out to steady his shoulders. She does not need to speak as she reaches up to him, and her lips meet his as she gently starts to push. It’s a simple enough dance, one they’ve done plenty of times before. And like those plenty of other times, Viktor has once again broken his promise to her. He will never, so as long as this routine prevails, tell her when it begins to hurt. Call him selfish, he thinks as she flattens his back against the sheets now reversing their roles, but he will always try to take more than he should.

She sinks down onto him, pressing them flush again and completing the circuit as she brushes hair out of his face. A move, he notices, he has pulled on her before. She starts to move slowly, idly humping as she feels out the new angle. Viktor is so, so painfully hard and wanting, but he cannot find it in him to be anything but gentle to her. If it were anyone else, he would have already jutted his hips up into them, would have yanked on hair or torn skin with his teeth. But because of her his leg glows with the power of shimmer, because of her he will be able to make coffee and walk to Jayce’s flat before he will need to depend on his cane at all. Because of this, he lets her feel and move like molasses and work up to her pleasure. The thought crosses his mind again, that if they were different, maybe sex between them could be rough or even playful. But it is not and they are not, and despite this, it is his favorite routine in his life.

As if she could read his mind, her pace picks up. She relies on her knees more, picking up her hips and dropping herself back down on him, fucking herself with each thrust that starts to feel like more euphoria than the shimmer could ever give him. She pants, open mouthed against his own lips, little gasps and squeaks each time he bottoms out. Viktor’s hands are hard on her hips, and his own begin moving, another break of his earlier promise, as he begins to meet her movements in the middle.

“I feel you,” he tells her, his voice more strained than he imagined it, “You are squeezing me.”

She only whines in response, capturing the corner of his mouth in a desperate kiss. Viktor takes this as permission, guiding her to fuck herself onto him harder, one of his hands coming down to rub her clit, calculated and fast circles that earn him even more of the sweet noises.

She breaks quickly, squeezing him like a vice as she lets loose these high pitched cries that Viktor instantly commits to memory. She shakes above him, her entire body clamping down upon him as she finds her end. Viktor does not let up with his ministrations, continuing to rub her even as his thrusts upward begin to slow. He’s so close, so goddamn close, and she feels like heaven itself. Viktor has never been a religious man, but he does understand this.

As she comes back to reality, she kisses him languidly, lips smearing across him in ways he hopes leave marks. He’s already left one of his own on her, so it would only make them equal. She clutches him like she is holding on for dear life.

“Please,” she begs, her voice slow with exhaustion, “inside me.”

It’s risky, but Viktor cannot even think of that, not when she is so hot and tight around him. Not when she allows him, invites him even.

Viktor’s end finds him quickly after that, pistoning up into her as she holds on, kissing him and whispering praise into his ear as he comes with a shudder and a gasp. He kisses her, pushing stray tears from her face as he holds her cheeks. Neither of them make any move to untangle themselves, even as the fatigue of sleep sinks in, even as their movements get slower and he tosses a blanket over the both of them.

Hours later, she puts on her clothes gingerly, careful to avoid any spots made sore. Her fingers lithe and nimble as they roll her socks back up, the movement almost enough for Viktor to try to call her back to bed. It would be a first for them, but a line Viktor thinks might be okay to cross.

The chasm between them emerges again with each piece of clothing she replaces, the distance between them a drought drying the words Viktor would wish to say to her.

She runs her fingers through her hair once her top is back on, now looking looser and more ill fitting than it had before. She is nearly a stranger now, their uniforms of civility two paths divulging. She packs her kit just as quickly, everything safely back in their spots in her bag and she suddenly no longer has a reason to be here. She pauses though, and Viktor thinks that maybe he can beckon her once more, maybe stop time for a few moments longer.

As if compelled, she turns in the doorway back to him, pointing to the wedge shaped pillow she had given him earlier in their evening.

“Zaun’s best mind,” she tells him when he quirks an eyebrow in question, “You asked about ZBM? Its you.”

Her smile falters, and he knows he cannot ask her to come back but his voice finds him again.

“Thank you,” Viktor says, and he means it so deeply, “Thank you for your care, for being here.”

“I have to,” her smile returns, “You’re gonna save us all one day.”

Viktor lets her leave, the same thunking of boots and the wind whistling as his door opens as she returns to the night and to the city they were both born in. Viktor does not say goodbye, does not tell her to be safe, does not ask when she will be back.

It’ll be two weeks, like clockwork, like always.

A ‘Bi-Weekly Boost’, as she calls it.

Maybe next time he’ll ask her to stay.

#viktor x reader #viktor arcane x reader

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eufiemoon · 11 months ago

Text

How to Make: Electronic Wings for Cosplay

Hello Everyone! It's been a while since I last uploaded a written tutorial on here and since I just finished and wore my Dame Aylin cosplay this last weekend it seemed appropriate to jump back in with a tutorial on one of the costume pieces!

Her wings were the star of the show this weekend and I know a lot of people were curious about how I made them! A huge source of knowledge and inspiration behind these wings was this video by Axceleration, I made a few changes to the frame shape and electrical circuitry for mine but her tutorial was a huge stepping stone to give me the confidence to tackle them myself!

Health and Safety:

When working with Sintraboard (as well as other thermoplastics) it is incredibly important you wear a respirator as well as goggles when heating, moulding and cutting it. The fumes this plastic will give off when heated up are no joke! Make sure you're in a well-ventilated space!

Basic tool safety knowledge is also really important! wearing gloves when using power tools can be more dangerous in most situations, so always be aware of where your hands are vs where the tools are. Always cut away from yourself and take things slowly, don't panic.

Electrical safety! You're working with live wires and circuitry! make sure your hands are dry, you aren't touching the bare wires at any point when they are connected to a power source, and if you choose to solder anything, make sure you're wearing heat-proof gloves and a mask in a ventilated space!

Tools

Wire stripper

Screwdriver and wrench

Dremel - I recommend the Dremel 3000 rotary tool personally! Some essential Dremel bits you'll need for this include, a sanding bit, drill bit (smaller or same size as your screws/bolts), and a small/narrow cutting bit. These will usually come with the Dremel!

Heat Gun (A hairdryer will not get hot enough to heat the Sintraboard!!)

Pipe cutter (alternatively you can use a hacksaw for this!)

Hacksaw

Ruler

Scissors (for cutting fabric straps)

Materials

Heat shrink Tubing

2 core electrical wire

switch (you want a three position, six pin switch, like this one, even better if it has the Screws on the pins! otherwise you'll need a soldering kits to solder the wires to the pins.

2x 8AA 12v Battery Holders

2x 12v Linear Actuators (Mine had a stroke length of 100mm)

21.5mm PVC Pipes (I got 2x 3m Lengths)

2x 21.5mm PVC Pipe straight couplers

6mm 8"x12" Sintraboard

Nuts/Bolts/Screws (I used M5 bolts for the base & Actuator connectors and M6 screws to attach the hinges to the pipes! You'll need Washers for every Nut & Bolt!)

Hinges (I used 2.5cm wide hinges that were skinny but long so they would just about fit along the PVC pipe! 3" gate hinges would work!)

50 metre Polythene Jiffy foam roll (in retrospect this was ALOT of foam, you could definitely get away with maybe a 20-30 metre roll! I now have a load leftover XD)

16 AA Batteries (I used 16 and had enough for the whole day with them on, I think They'd probably be enough for another half a day-full day too! but have spares just in case!)

Webbing strap ( I went for grey to match my base suit colour!)

Buckle - as wide as the webbing strap you use!

3 metres of white cotton fabric (or whatever colour wings youre going for!)

Optional

Zipties (for cleaning up the wires)

Lets Go!

Sintraboard is this wonderfully stable thermoplastic that is relatively easy to cut into (with the right tools) and when heated allows you to mould its shape! I started by using a mannequin and heating the Sintraboard with a heat gun for a few minutes to make it pliable, I recommend using gloves for this part as the materials gets VERY HOT! Press the board into the shape of the mannequin's back, taking note of the edges especially! you want this board to sit as comfortably to your body shape as possible as it makes a huge difference to how long you can wearing the wings for in this backplate is comfy!

Once shaped, I placed it against my back to make sure it was a good fit, heating again and making any alterations I needed (again don't place bright hot plastic to your bare skin! wear protective clothes and wait till its slightly cooler to do this, with the help of a friend!). I then took a hacksaw and rounded the corners, before sanding the edges with my Dremel! Try to avoid cutting off loads, just enough to make things less likely to snag.

3. I then cut in four holes, wide enough to feed my webbing strap through, two at the top and one on either side below where my arms would sit! I measured the webbing strap by firstly feeding them through the top holes and pinning them, and then bring the strap over my should to everything sits where it should and seeing where the strap hits the side hole and cutting the length there! you'll also want a strap that attaches across the chest, meeting in the centre with a buckle!

4. After sewing the straps closed I was able to move onto the PVC pipe structure! This may change slightly depending on the finished shape you want but I needed the PVC pipes to come out from inside a breastplate so had a particularly angle as well as character references to work with! I began by heating the pipe over my heat gun and flattening a portion of it under a heavy object so it would sit much more flush against the backboard and sit better underneath my breastplate before moving onto securing the first portion of the structure to the backplate. This mainly involved lots of try-ons and measuring to make sure the angles were correct and symmetrical and was quite fiddly but well-worth the effort! I'll include a diagram of the general shape I went with below:

5. I wanted my wings to be relatively modular for ease of travel so I needed to make sure certain portions of them could come away from other parts easily, so I popped a straight coupler on the top of the pipes that were attach to the breastplate, this also meant I could slot the breastplate over these shorter pipes and wear everything correctly! Then these second pipes slot on and at the other end they are attached via hinges to the longest portion of the pipe 'skeleton', Diagram below:

6. Now that the skeleton was put together, it's time for the electrical stuff! It's a good idea to figure out where your circuit is going to lay on the skeleton - consider if you want the battery packs mounted the the backplate or, like me, put them inside the actual wings in removeable pockets for easy access and removal for battery changes. all your wires will go through the switch so deciding where you want to place that is very important! Mine was placed just over my shoulder on the front side, mounted to the PVC pipe with a metal cover I drilled a hole into to slip the switch through and then drill through the pipe.

I've included another diagram below that explains all the electrical circuitry, including which wires go on which pins on the switch!

Important to note: The linear actuators need to be placed and bolted into the PVC pipes at *exactly* the same angle on each side, any slight deviation will lead to the wings going up wonkily! So take your time and make as many adjustments as necessary.

7. You can extend your wires by adding on the electrical wire, just match the colours, and put heat shrink tubing over the connections to hide the live wires! I ended up zip-tying the wires into organised bundles once the wings were done to help keep everything safe from snags.

8. Now its time for the Wings themselves! I drafted my base pattern by just draping the white cotton fabric I had over the wing when it was fully extended. I then pinned the wings to the shape I wanted them to be along the bottom before cutting along the pins. I ran the fabric through my sewing machine to close the bottom edge, leaving a gap wide enough by the wing base so I could slip the wing on and off, closing it with velcro. I also added little fabric pockets inside of these to hold my battery packs, which also connected via velcro for easy removal!

9. Now that I had a wing base I was able to begin making feathers! I cut out a total of 800 feathers out of polythene jiffy roll for these wings, in 6 different styles and using real life bird wings to dictate the shapes I used and where I placed them. I ended up hot gluing every individual feather onto the white fabric base, going row by row until every side was covered, the wing covers themselves are super light because of the foam feathers and they shine light through them in a really magical way!

Optional: I also ended up going over these feathers with my airbrush and some super light beige paint to help darken the shadows, this is entirely optional and may change depending on the wings you're looking to make!

When in neutral position and in extended position the wings looks like this:

Mine had a wingspan of about 7ft total when fully extended but when in neutral position they were fairly close to my own proportions! mainly staying behind me and weren't much of a problem in a packed con hall!

Photo by: Helloimfran (on Instagram and Twitter)

I hope this tutorial helped and if there are any questions about anything in specific don't hesitate to reach out at [email protected] or on my instagram or twitter (@eufiemoon)

Happy Crafting!

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