#I woke up in a cold sweat and had to write | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

gracieheartspedro · 8 months ago

Text

For Cryin’ Out Loud

pairing: post-outbreak! joel miller x fem!reader

how to help the palestinians and what it means to write for the last of us characters

word count: 7.9k

description: living with joel is complicated, especially when you can’t sleep due to nightmares. when you find yourself in his bed, you can’t help yourself. but joel sure can. give him a day to mull it over.

warnings: pretty slow burn, kinda forced proximity, kinda angsty, unspecified age gap (don’t like it, don’t read it), joel gives you tons of nicknames (darlin’, kiddo, etc.), discussions of nightmares and possible mental illnesses, some fluff, reader isn’t really described, joel is kinda a gaslighter, he’s also a bit pervy, unprotected p in v (wrap it y’all), oral (f! receiving), dirty talk, joel like worships you!!!!!, joel licks his fingers clean, giving genitalia pronouns, joel’s a big boy. think that’s it. lemme know what I missed!

author’s note: I really enjoyed writing this. the idea is pretty simple but I love domestic jackson!joel. I promise i’ll try to switch it up soon and write something that isn’t jackson!era lol. support your fav fics by reblogging and commenting!! thanks love ya <3

For some reason, you always find yourself standing at the threshold of the front door when you cannot sleep.

The air was especially brisk tonight. You wrapped yourself in a gray chunky sweater you found in the lost and found in Jackson’s thrift store, hoping to regain some warmth. Your bed may have been comfortable, but it was the place where nightmares usually plagued you.

It was too late to be awake, and you knew that if you were caught, you would hear it from Joel. He always reprimanded you. Every time he caught you up late, it was like your father woke up and found your hand in the cookie jar.

The dynamic between you two had changed since arriving in Jackson, and you almost resented him for it. When it was just you, him, and Ellie, you were managing a family unit. Joel was always the protective father, you being the mom or the voice of reason, and Ellie being chaos.

When Ellie and Joel’s relationship shifted, he took on a fatherly role for you. It bothered you. A lot.

In a moment of contemplation, you hear footsteps coming down the steps behind you.

He’s wearing flannel pajama pants and no shirt, his hairy tummy something you did not see often.

“What are you doing awake?” He questions, his voice groggy with a twinge of annoyance.

You do not feel like explaining yourself, but you knew you wouldn’t be able to get out of this situation without a justification.

You huff, leaning your back against the door frame so you can get a full look at the broad man. “Can’t sleep. Thought staring into the darkness would help.”

He grunts, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes. “How’s that workin’ for you, sweetheart?”

You could not close your eyes without the haunting dreams that seemed lively and so real. Every night, you had the same recurring ones. You were being chased, hunted, or murdered. Or all of the above. You would wake in a cold sweat, not wanting to shut your eyelids ever again.

“Hm,” You say, staring back outside for a brief moment, “‘Was better when you weren’t looking over my shoulder.”

He chuckles, “Get back to bed.”

“I can’t, Joel.”

“You can and will. You’re no good when you’re tired.”

“If I close my eyes, Joel, I will just have the same goddamn nightmares I have every night. And I will end up doing what I’m doing now, which is trying to get some fresh air to forget them.”

“You’re not gonna forget ‘em with some fresh air. You just need to… get over them.”

The breeze picks up as soon as he says it, almost like the world knew the tension would have to be broken with some frigid air. You retort with, “And how do you get over yours?”

"I just accept them," he says, a hint of defensiveness in his tone. "I don't have time to dwell on them. There's always more important things to worry about."

"I'm more tired in the morning when I just endure them." You explain, trying not to cry about it. But you are so sick of them. The same thing every night.

“I get it. One day they will subside, I’m sure of it. But for now, you gotta-”

You just want him to shut up. At the same time, your mind is trying to remember the last time you did not have a nightmare. The memory makes your stomach churn. “You remember that one time we were forced to share that sleeping bag? Back in Pittsburgh?”

“Yeah,” His tone was wary, “What about it?”

"That was the first night I didn't have it." You explain, your voice a bit shaking at the insinuation. You don’t want to face the fact that Joel, the man that you have known for going on 10 years, kept your nightmares at bay. The same man who continuously rejected you and told you that he was old enough to be your dad. The same man that told you no, I don’t like you like that. I never will. That Joel.

“And? Why are you bringing this up now?”

"Because every night I go to my bed and I'm forced to face them alone. When you were there... they didn't even bother holding my mind hostage.”

He took another step closer, closing some of the distance between you two. He towers over you and you can’t help but stare up at him in awe. Joel has always been a complicated part of your life. You consider him your sexual awakening, honestly, but he will never ever know that. Over the years, he’s only gotten more handsome.

But now, he has a curious expression written all over his face.

"Are you saying you want to share a bed with me?" he asks, his voice gruff and low.

You suck in a deep breath, not wanting to answer. You knew that was stepping over a boundary for Joel. He liked his space. He didn’t like you impeding on that space, especially. Your bedroom was the furthest away from his for a reason.

"I don't know." You manage to say.

Joel's gaze darkened, his expression was completely unreadable. You wish you could read his mind, but you should be grateful you can not.

Because in Joel’s mind, he’s trying to formulate a way to convince you to stay away from him altogether. The wall he has built over the last decade was intentional. He did not want to hurt you any further. He already knew you had feelings for him, but he was an old man. He did not want to drag you into his mess, all the baggage he carried. He looked after you, he shared a home with you, and that’s it. Strictly platonic.

He shifted on his feet a little, unable to tear his eyes away from you. You shook like a little leaf.

"You don't know?" he repeated, his voice a low rumble.

You nod, "I don't know if I want that."

You do want that. But you want more, too. You knew you would be playing with fire. You would just be disappointed.

Joel’s temptations are buried deep but they still fester every now and again. Some days he would catch a glance at you getting dressed in the crack of your door and have to take a cold shower. As soon as he felt those emotions bubble in his chest, he would try to distract himself. Maybe he would take a longer patrol. Maybe he would go to the Tipsy Bison and try to find a woman to take home. That one never really worked.

“Well, what do you want then? Because standin’ at the door and letting all the cold air in ain’t gonna work for me or you.”

You look down at your picked-over fingernails and contemplate your next sentence. You don't want to be heartbroken in the morning when you wake up and he's there sleeping peacefully next to you and you're not... his.

"I want to sleep with you."

Joel was not expecting such a blunt response from you, but he appreciated you not beating around the bush about it. He gestures for you to step out of the doorway so he can shut the door, which you do.

He looked down at you, his eyes raking over your face, taking in the exhaustion and uncertainty.

"You sure?" he asked, his voice a gruff whisper.

You just nod as he locks the front door. You couldn’t believe you were doing this.

Joel couldn’t believe it either. Maybe it was the tiredness or the instincts he felt to protect you, but he was not mad at the idea of sharing his bed with you.

You signal for him to go upstairs, “You lead the way.”

Joel’s room was always off-limits to you. So when you step into his small little world, you take it all in.

The artwork around the room was mainly nature landscapes. He had a big dresser right at the room's entrance with picture frames of Sarah, Ellie, and other family members. You were even included in one photo—a picture of you and him on some horses from last year.

A shirt littered one side of the bed, so you took that as it was probably his side. Unfortunately for you, it was the right side. You felt a pang of guilt realizing you would probably end up restlessly lying in Joel’s bed if you were stuck on the left.

Before he can pull back the blanket for himself, you stop him.

“Uh, can I sleep on that side?”

He completely halts in his motions, turning his head towards you with a blank expression. “My side? Why?”

You lick your lips, already regretting this whole thing.

“Because I have had this superstition since I was a kid that I could only sleep on the right side of the bed."

Joel wants to laugh, but he doesn’t. He can tell you are at war in your head about the question, your expression practically anticipating his rejection.

"Superstitions, huh?" he said, a hint of a smirk playing on his lips."You and your weird beliefs."

You watch as he crosses to the other side of the bed and lifts the blanket. Is he actually letting you have his side? Maybe he doesn’t hate you.

“You could also call it a compulsion, but superstitions seem more fun and less like a mental illness.”

He laughs this time, his deep chuckle making you feel a bit more relaxed about the situation. You did not feel like a burden as much. You walk to the right side and pull back his navy blue sheets and blanket. The spot looks warm and inviting so when you crawl in next to Joel, you start to realize that you’re back in the same situation you were in years ago in that sleeping bag. He was so close and warm and you wanted nothing more but for him to hold you and keep you comfortable.

But then another thing came to mind before you could imagine his arms around you.

You usually sleep on your right side or back, but now you don't know what to do because you didn't know how Joel slept.

"Do you sleep on your side or back?"

Joel studies you as you fidget beside him, your uncertainty causing him to smirk slightly. It was almost endearing, seeing you be completely out of control of your surroundings. He remembers back when you were traveling with him you had an obsessive need to straighten up everything before you fell asleep. You had to roll yourself up in your sleeping bag the same way every night.

"Usually on my back," he said finally. "But I can sleep on my side, too."

You swallow, trying to picture yourself sleeping. For some reason you felt the urge to have control of the situation, dictating exactly how he has to sleep, too. "Can I... I'll sleep on my side if you can sleep on your back? Is that okay?"

Joel had to suppress a smirk at your request. You knew he was trying to hold back a snarky remark. Instead, he surprises you.

"Sure, you can sleep on your side," he agreed, shifting his body weight onto his back, "’n I'll sleep on my back. No big deal."

You turn to face him, tucking the pillow further under your head. You can tell his eyes are heavy from exhaustion. You know it's time to shut up, to go to sleep, but you feel the need to say something else to him. Sometimes your brain concocts questions and statements and you know you shouldn’t say them, but your mouth betrays you.

"When was the last time you had a girl in your bed?"

Why the fuck would you ask that? You think to yourself. It fell out of your mouth like drool.

Joel's eyes widened at your blunt question, surprise and a hint of embarrassment coloring his expression. You knew he was probably just expecting you to lay here next to him, maybe roll around a bit, then sleep. But instead, it’s an interrogation.

He took a deep breath, his mind rattling around as he tried to think of a response. He didn't want to admit what his genuine answer was to you, but he too could not help himself.

"Why do you want to know that?" he asks, his voice steely.

You hate that he even responded because now you needed to defend yourself.

"I uh, don't know. I don't know why it matters."

Joel chuckled softly, noting that you probably just had a case of word vomit. You always told him you were infamous for putting your foot in your mouth, especially in awkward situations.

"Curiosity got the better of you, huh?" he asks, rubbing his face with his hands. “You just can’t help yourself, sweetheart.”

He shifted slightly, rolling onto his side to face you, his gaze studying your expression.

You smirk, grateful that he's letting it slide. When he turns onto his side and he's at eye level with you, your face drops a bit. He is ruining the vision in your head. He’s throwing a wrench in your plans.

"You're supposed to be on your back, sir."

Joel couldn't help but chuckle softly at your comment. He knew he was supposed to be on his back, but the new angle allowed him to see you better in the faint moonlight.

"Don't worry," he said, a hint of humor in his voice. "I'll turn back over in a minute. Just... enjoying the view for a bit."

You roll your eyes, lifting your hands from under the covers and lightly hitting his arm. You knew he was just fucking with you now.

"Okay, for that, I want to know the answer to my stupid question."

Joel let out a low laugh, the sound rumbling deep in his chest. He shook his head, amused by your persistence. You start to think about it and you have never really seen him bring anyone home. Maybe it had been a very long time and he was embarrassed.

"Alright, alright," he said, a hint of resignation in his voice. "Last time I had a girl in my bed..."

He paused for a moment, his eyes dropping to the covers, his mind racing to find the right words.

"Go on..."

Joel took another deep breath, his voice dropping even lower as he spoke.

"It's been a long time, kiddo," he admitted, his voice pierced with a bit of shame. "Almost ten years, if I'm being honest."

Your eyes widen in surprise. "No way... You've never just... got it on with someone in bed?"

Joel's face flushed with embarrassment at your blunt question, a mix of shock and slight irritation flashing across his eyes.

"Jesus, you really don't hold back, do ya?" he muttered. He shifts a bit, trying to get comfortable in a different way. He hadn't expected the conversation to turn so personal, so quickly and he did not want to face you anymore. He was mortified.

You mentally slap yourself in the face.

"I'm sorry, I am just tired and delusional. Uh, you don't have to answer that."

Joel could practically feel the humiliation radiating off you and he too felt the exact same way. You knew how to add to an already awkward situation.

"No, no, it's fine," he reassured you, his voice a bit gentler now. "I get it. You're tired, and your filter has taken a backseat."

"Yeah, exactly..."

He shifted on the bed, turning onto his back again, his gaze shifting to the ceiling, avoiding your curious stare.

You could not help but stare at his side profile. A prominent straight nose. His downturned lips are surrounded by some fine lines that show his age. He was a beautiful man now, but you can’t help but imagine him back in his 20s. He had to have been a hit with the ladies back then.

Joel could feel your gaze on him, studying his face. And while you were not scrutinizing him, he felt like a commodity in a museum or something. He forced himself to keep his gaze on the ceiling, refusing to meet your eyes.

"So… ten years and no sex?”

You could seriously, not help yourself.

"Correct.” He grumbles, still not meeting your stare.

"Damn, Joel." You mutter, adjusting a bit to sit up a little more on your pillow. "I seriously thought you were sleeping around the whole time we have been in Jackson.”

He finally turns your way, a bit of offense on his face. “Why would you think that?”

You shrug, not wanting to insult him. But that’s how you formulated your grudge towards him. It was easy to just chalk everything up to problems with random women you have seen around town.

“You just give off the energy…”

“What?”

You huff, laying back on the pillow. “I don’t know, Joel! I feel like when I’m around you all the ladies think you’re handsome. They stare.”

“They are staring because you’re always following me around and we aren’t married or… together. They think we are odd.”

You had never heard such things around Jackson, but it does sort of make sense. Everyone was probably just confused because you two lived together but were not a couple. You can admit it is bizarre, but it just did not feel like an option any other way, in your mind. So Tommy gave you two a bigger house and you set up separate rooms.

But in actuality, Joel secretly told Tommy that he did not want you too far from him. So when Tommy couldn’t give you any other houses nearby, Joel just told him that you two would be roommates.

“Well fuck ‘em.” You mutter, trying not to sound too offended by the thought of people gossiping about you two.

Joel just nods. You settle by tucking your arm under your pillow. You yawn, the exhaustion now taking over your body. You watch Joel grab a pair of reading glasses from the side table and a book. You decide not to bother him, especially because he probably wanted to just read himself to sleep instead of being interrogated by you any further.

You close your eyes and eventually fall asleep. The deeper you get, Joel notices how your breathing pattern changes. When he’s finally ready to get some shut-eye as well, he watches as your body crawls closer to him. Your arm swings over his stomach and rests on his forearm. He is so shocked he does not move a muscle.

You adjust some more, not knowing what you are doing. Your leg creeps up and tucks right between his. You snuggle your face right into his chest. The only movement Joel decides to make is slinging his arm over your shoulders to pull you in tighter.

It’s the first time in years that you two slept soundly, with no interruptions. No nightmares, no sudden intrusions, nothing. Silence and snores fill the room and that’s it.

When you wake up, it’s slow and gradual. Your brain hardly computes that you’re laying on top of Joel’s shirtless frame, until your hand runs across his warm tummy.

You crook your neck up, looking at the handsome man you are spreading across.

His lips are slightly ajar, letting out hardly-there snores. They are so pretty and pink and you cannot help but touch them with feather-like fingertips. You would feel so guilty waking him up-

His eyes slowly open taking notice of your actions even though you tried not to stir him. Your eyes fly open in shock, but he does not seem very annoyed. He smiles.

“Mornin’ darlin’,” He says in a deep sleep-laced voice. You smile back at him, loving that he decided to call you the nickname you always got giddy over. You press your fingers into his chest before replying.

“I didn’t have a nightmare.”

His hand comes up from your shoulders and tucks some hair behind your ear as he stares down at you, “That’s good kiddo. I’m glad you slept well.”

The intimacy is almost too much. The way this is how it would be if you woke up to Joel every morning. It sends your brain into overdrive and you force yourself to ruin it a bit.

“Woulda slept even better if you didn’t talk so much in your sleep.”

Joel froze for a moment, his cheeks immediately flushing pink with embarrassment. He sits up a bit more, adjusting to the brighter lighting in his room. He knew he had a problem with talking in his sleep. Ellie used to talk about it all the time. He dreaded hearing what he was saying while curled up next to you.

"Uh... what did I say?" he asked, trying to maintain his composure.

"Something about it felt so good to be pressed up against someone, I don't know..."

You could not help yourself and started to laugh. You knew you were going to get a rise out of him.

Joel's face flushed an even deeper shade of pink as you started to laugh, clearly amused by your joke. He could feel his heart racing in his chest, his mind racing as he tried to come up with an excuse. He was just dreaming, it was not about you.

"W-what?" he spluttered out instead of making an excuse. "I didn't... I didn't say anything like that."

You have a shit-eating grin on your face and you press your hands on his chest to prop yourself up. You enjoyed watching him squirm.

Joel's eyes flickered down to your hands on his chest. He sickly thought they felt so right placed there. He imagined what you would look like fully mounting him.

He tried to keep his expression neutral, but you could see through his stone-cold exterior.

"You're messing with me, aren't you?" he grumbled, a hint of suspicion in his voice.

"Fully fuckin' with you." You giggle, hoping he is not really that mad at you.

“You’re a brat.”

You move your foot slightly, running it up his leg. It sends shockwaves up his body, having you so close and moving around so seamlessly.

"No, you said something about how beautiful, alluring, and incredible I am. Said I was the girl of your dreams…"

"Yeah, right," he said, a hint of playful sarcasm in his voice. "You expect me to believe that?"

"So, you don't believe me?"

"No, I don't believe you," he says, his voice stern but playful. "I think you're a dirty little liar, trying to play me for a fool."

"A dirty little liar, huh? Well, it's good to know that you don't think I'm beautiful, alluring, and incredible." You giggle at his acknowledgment, knowing he caught you red-handed.

"Oh, I never said that," he smirked, a hint of teasing in his voice. "You are all of those things, darlin’. But you're also a dirty little liar who likes to play games."

"So you think I'm beautiful?" You crack, the biggest smile painted on your face. You don’t even care that he’s calling you a liar because it does not matter. Joel thinks you are beautiful.

“‘Course I do.”

You push yourself up onto your butt, sitting crisscross next to him. He secretly wishes you were still curled up on top of him.

“You always this nice in the morning?” You ponder, your fingertips starting to toy with the hair on his stomach. He tries not to pay mind to it, letting you have full access to touch him.

But it’s driving him insane. The way you look freshly woken up, completely enamored with the idea of him calling you beautiful. You have some puffiness under your eyes and your lips are more swollen than usual.

“I am always nice to you.”

You let out a scoff, “No, you’re not.”

He notices the shift in your tone and starts to get defensive, “Now you’re just lyin’.”

Joel always loved to gaslight you in these situations. You knew better than to let him get away with it, especially now. “No there was that one time you told me you did not like me and that you would never like me. How you are old enough to be my dad-”

“Because I am!”

And there’s the wall. The only constant in you two’s relationship. He was so good at throwing it up when feelings were being expressed. When vulnerability was presented, Joel could not help but reject it.

“And the world’s fuckin’ ended, Joel! Big deal!” You almost yell, moving your hands from him.

Why does he already miss your hands?

He huffs, crossing his arms over his soft chest. “We have had this conversation for the last 10 years.’M not sure why we keep rehashing it.”

“And every time you turn me down it’s another fuckin’ stab in the heart.”

“You know why we can’t,” He practically growls. You can not stand to even look at him anymore with your bitterness and irritation taking over.

“Whatever, Joel.”

As soon as you say it, you’re already leaving his room and heading to your own. When you slam the door, you hope you have made your point. You want to scream and punch a hole in the wall, but instead you just furiously stomp around the room and grab your clothes. You had patrol at noon, so you needed to get to the mess hall before breakfast was over. You try not to cry as you strip down and get dressed.

Joel sits in bed, reeling. He hates that it has become a conversation every six months. He hated that rejecting you always sent you into a spiral of hating him for extended periods. It’s not that he did not want you, it was simply just not in the cards. He was too old to be in love. He was too old to play house with you. He just could not submit to the idea of leading you on, especially because you had so much more life to live.

He finally works up the courage to get out of bed and put on some clothes. He opts for putting on his typical jeans and thick flannel. It was getting colder and he knew by the end of the winter, you would end up with half his flannels anyway, so he had to enjoy them while he had them.

You storm downstairs, going to the back door for your boots when you spot him in the kitchen.

“You got pat-”

“Yes.” You respond quickly, shoving your foot into your shoes. He stands behind you with a mug full of tea, watching your every move.

“Who are you-”

“Jesse.”

He was asking his usual questions, which you were not in the mood to answer.

“Hey, can you-”

You snap your head back at him, giving him the glare you gave him as a warning usually. By now, he takes it as a hint and backs off. But not this time.

“Can I what?”

He rolls his eyes, “Can you fuckin’ not be a brat about this?”

You wish your glare came with knives. If that were the case, Joel Miller would be dead on his kitchen floor.

You are so thrown off by the question that you just watch him get angrier when you do not respond.

“Are you serious, right now?” You press, keeping your voice from cracking.

He brings the mug up to his mouth, taking an obnoxious sip. When he pulls the mug away, you notice how steaming it is. “You always pull this shit-”

“No, you do! You do this shit to me every fuckin’ time, Joel. You sweet talk me, make me feel comfortable, have me lapping everything up in the palm of your hands, and then you snatch it away. Then have the audacity to get mad at me!”

You are yelling now and it is throwing him off. Joel knows better than to interrupt you like you do to him. You were the kind of person who would calm down if you felt heard.

The way he knew you down to your core made this all so painful. Because if he was not so stubborn and true to his convictions, he would have fucked you the moment you touched his lips this morning.

“I ain’t tryin’ to make this harder than-” “Too fuckin’ late.”

You think back to the moment last night when you knew you were going to hurt your own feelings by sleeping with him. You knew better, yet here you are, still blaming him for your stupidity.

He stands there, still holding his mug, staring you down like a wounded doe who got pierced with an arrow. He feels guilty like he misled you. Before he can say anything, you are lacing up your boots and leaving out the front door without another word.

All day long, Joel wanders around the house trying to get rid of the pit in his stomach. Nothing works. A shower. Reading a book. Cutting wood. As soon as he tried to use laundry as a distraction, he reached into his hamper and found one of your t-shirts. He held it close and smelled it, trying to wrap his head around how he got here.

You spend all day, silently fuming on horseback with Jesse. When he tries to get you to open up, you ice him out and tell him to focus on the trail in front of him.

You get back by sundown, the sun setting making it a lot chiller than you expected. You decide to take the long way home, wanting to avoid being home for as long as possible. You were not ready to face Joel, let alone share a space with him. But unfortunately, during your patrol, you fell into some mud and needed a shower. The more time it spent on your clothes and body, the grosser you felt.

You open the front door, announcing that you are home. It was a habit you and Joel developed after you both pulled guns on each other during late-night arrivals.

You hear Joel mumble something from the living room, but you do not stop to listen and continue on your way upstairs to the bathroom.

You strip down as soon as the door is closed, tossing your muddy clothing into a hamper in the corner. You would get them washed and hung as soon as you shower off.

You hear Joel’s footsteps creaking around the upstairs hallway as you scrub your body with homemade soap and warm water.

When you start to dry yourself off, you hear Joel grunting something in the hallway. You wrap yourself in a towel and peek your head out the door. He’s on his hands and knees wiping something off the hardwood. “What’s goin’ on?”

He looks up at you, your body only covered in a bleach-stained blue towel. It makes his head spin. He can’t even be mad that you tracked in mud.

He swallows, gripping the cloth he’s using tighter. “You got mud everywhere.”

You step out, not even really thinking about the fact that you are not properly dressed in front of Joel. You were still mad at him, anyway. Who cares what he thinks?

“Sorry, I could’ve cleaned it up.”

He returns to wiping the wood, “It’s fine, I got it, kiddo.”

You accept his response and move on to your room, but the draft you leave behind drifts to Joel’s nostrils. Your soap smells like lavender and it always sends his mind racing when you are fresh from a shower. He clears his throat, trying to get through the emotions filling his chest.

But it’s been like this all day. You’re all around him even when you’re not physically here. How can he get away from you? Why is he trying to run in the first place?

He’s on his knees in your hallway, cleaning up your mess, sniffing the air you leave behind because he’s fucking in love with you and he cannot help himself anymore.

Joel starts to think about how peaceful he felt having you next to him last night and how he would love to feel that way every night. For once he’s not thinking about what everyone else would think. For once he’s thinking selfishly and caving into every desire he has ever pondered about you. How would you feel under him? How would your lips feel pressed against his pulse point?

His body was on fire, thinking about you.

You are fiddling with some clothes in your dresser after you flick on the overhead light. You do not hear him come into your room behind you.

You are so wrapped up in your own thoughts that when he clears his throat to announce he’s in your room, you scream. Loud.

“For cryin’ out loud, woman!”

You grip your towel tighter when you turn and see him standing at your mercy.

“Joel, what the fuck?” You yell, gesturing to the fact that you are practically naked. He does not care, of course, and his ears are ringing from your piercing scream. He gathers himself as you shift back, trying to create some distance from him.

He is trying not to gawk at the fact that your grip on the towel against your chest is only pushing up your cleavage. He’s biting back everything. “Can we talk?”

“Talk about what? The fact you crept into my room when I was trying to change? Are we past boundaries now?”

You are pissed, trying not to rattle off another million things to discuss with him. He’s only really talking about one thing.

He scoffs at your last statement. “Boundaries were already out the window when you crawled into bed with me last night.”

Silence fills the room as you completely stop breathing. The anger you originally felt dissipates.

“Joel-“

“I ain’t doin’ this back and forth anymore,” He starts shifting in his spot, unsure if he really should be doing this. “I can’t live how I've been livin’. Somethin’s gotta give.”

You furrow your eyebrows, confused.

“You are the one who won’t give, Joel.”

As soon as you say it, he practically drags himself over to you. Completely destitute. You have never seen him look so desperate before. You can tell that he’s been at war with himself ever since you left this morning. His eyes never lied.

His hand creeps up your bare arm, leaving goosebumps in his wake.

But then you remember his words from this morning. You start feeling like this is just a moment of weakness for him and that he will regret it later. You had to stop it before it was too late. You did not want to deal with the consequences.

“Joel, you said we can’t-”

“Fuck what I said,” He cuts you off, “Do you want this?”

You stare into those brown eyes, searching for a sign of hesitance. You cannot believe Joel is being this vulnerable with you.

But, you do want him. God, you have wanted him so badly for so long. You have searched for him in every man you have ever been with since knowing him.

Your mouth opens but nothing comes out. He takes note of your parted lips, every word failing you at that moment.

“Darlin’-”

“Yes,” You finally manage. “Yes, I do want this.”

It’s all he needs. He closes the gap between you two by wrapping his arms around your waist and pulling you into his space. His lips crash onto yours, not wasting another breath of air waiting to indulge in his sickest fantasies.

You are all Joel ever dreamed about. He knew that once he caved and physically gave in, his world would be shot and everything would revolve around you. For years it had been a teetering object on a cliff, one nudge would have him falling. He always managed. But now, he was falling head first.

His lips move so perfectly with your own. Your hand released your towel and found the tufts of his curls at the base of his head. You did not care that the article pooled around your feet, leaving you completely bare in front of Joel. You have wanted this all along. To be uncovered, to be stripped down to the rawest form. He broke the kiss briefly just to scan your naked body, his forehead pressed against your own.

“Fuck, you are so beautiful.”

Your heart stutters as his hand traces your stomach down to your hips, all the way down to your ass. He stops there, grabbing a handful.

“I need you,” You choke out before pressing your lips to his over and over again. “Right now.”

He mumbles “jump” into your mouth and you do so, his hands working quickly to hike you up onto his waist. He carries you to your bed, wasting no time dropping you onto your back.

He cannot get enough of your soft, swollen lips. Every time he pulls away slightly, he dives in again even more aggressively than the last time.

You are so hypnotized by the way he feels on top of you. In the light, he seems so much broader than he was last night. He’s still fully clothed, to your dismay. You start to tug at his shirt, motioning him to remove the articles that are in your way.

He throws off his shirt before he stands up at the edge of the bed and pushes down his jeans.

“Joel… I-“

He just shuts you up with another passionate kiss. It’s all tongue and teeth like he’s trying to melt into your mouth. Your hands trail up his back, gripping onto his shoulders, holding him down so he is pressing against your nude body.

“God, I have wanted this for so long,” He sputters, trying not to sound too desperate. “Been wanting this.”

That’s when his hand reaches down between your thighs and gathers the wetness your slit has to offer. His fingers dance across it, starting from the top all the way to your spongy entrance.

“Please, Joel.”

He loves the lust-laced tone you speak with when you say his name. It almost makes him cum there and then.

You watch as he makes his way down your body, peppering kisses from your shoulder to your hip. When he parts your legs, you feel quite exposed. The adrenaline of being so spread for him manifests into a moan.

“You are divine, baby.”

The use of that adjective is so-not-Joel that it makes you giggle. He notes your reaction and decides to sink down into you. When his mouth gets close to your core, it’s no longer a laughing matter.

He uses his fingers again, using them to spread open your pussy lips. He cannot keep his eyes away from how dripping you are. “This all for me?”

“Y-yes, Joel.”

“God, I was a fuckin’ fool for so long. Could’ve had her earlier and I never fuckin’ caved. Such an idiot.”

Him giving your cunt pronouns was enough to have you throwing your head back and shuttering. His touch was magnetic like he knew exactly what buttons to push as he rubbed his fingers and palm over your core.

“Yeah, you’ve been missin’ out. Every night…” You swallow before looking down at the man that is enamored with your pussy, “E-every night I would lay in this bed, fuckin’ myself just thinkin’ about you.”

He growls at the statement, before teasingly kissing your clit. “Every night, hm, kiddo?”

“God, yes.”

Your eyes squeeze shut as he leans forward more and dives in. His nose is pressed firmly against the top of your pussy, nudging forward every time his tongue enters your hole. When that motion became consistent, you began to note the rumblings in the pit of your stomach. A familiar build-up that you managed to get when you were playing with yourself.

His fingers move in tandem with his lips and tongue. While his middle and pointer finger slide in and out of you, his lips wrap around your clit. It’s overwhelming and all-consuming.

You do not know where to center yourself, so your hands grip the bed sheets you were completely soaking as Joel pulls the first orgasm out of you.

“That’s it, baby, she’s cryin’ for me, hm?”

You hardly make a noise, the orgasm is so earth-shattering that you just writhe on the mattress.

“Oh my god…” You groan, finally able to catch your breath. When Joel removes his fingers from you, you watch as he slowly brings them up to his lips.

When he inserts them in his mouth, you gawk at him, unsure how to react. He watches your expression and chuckles darkly.

“Mm, never seen a man enjoy the taste of ya?”

You shake your head. “Never expected to hear those words leave your mouth, either.”

“Wait ‘til you hear what else I got to say.”

He stands up beside the bed, grabs your hips, and brings them to the edge. He is tossing you around with ease, bringing your lower body flush with his. He yanks down his briefs, revealing himself to you. You instantly take notice of how well-endowed he is. You never thought you would ever be close to his cock, let alone have it lining up at your entrance.

“Joel…“ You stop him with your small voice, but still welcoming him in with your legs opened wide, “I don’t know if it will fit.”

He grins, “It will, baby. Just relax for me, okay?”

You watch him slide his member along your center, the feeling so blissfully overstimulating. You whine a bit, raising your hips to his.

But Joel continues his torture, enjoying the way you’re squirming under him. The way your eyebrows are knitted together, your eyes shut as you grind up into him. It’s the prettiest sight.

“Ready?”

Your eyes fly open as you watch him ease his way into your core, the sound of squelching filling the room. You don’t think you have ever been this wet for someone.

“Oh my fuckin’ god, Joel…”

He smiles as he inches in, “Squeezin’ my cock so good, darlin’.”

When he’s fully sheathed inside, he tests the waters by drawing out slowly. You roll your hips in a circle, trying to feel out every inch of him. He fits, but you know once he starts to move faster, the stretch will become overwhelming.

He’s trying to focus and not blow his load immediately. You look so beautiful below him, your tits slowly shifting back and forth every time he draws back and forth. He reaches out, wanting to feel the flesh between his fingers. God, he craved every inch of you, he realizes.

You open your legs as far as you can, letting him hit you at a different angle. The movement allows him to slip in a bit more seamlessly, so when he speeds up his thrusts, you don’t feel like you will completely split in half.

He brings your leg up to hips, and feeling your soft delicate skin against him makes him lose all sense. His hips snap faster the more you moan out for him.

“Fuckin’ Christ, girl. I can’t believe I was missin’ out on this cunt,” He babbles, “Need this cunt every day from now on. Gonna have you all to myself every night.”

You are too fucked out of your mind to read into those implications.

“‘M all yours, Joel.”

He smiles, slowing down a bit. “Keep talkin’ like that and ‘ll finish a lot sooner than you.”

You sit up a bit, your eyes flickering over his entire body. He notices you checking out his nude frame, which makes him feel a bit more bold. He leans down, capturing your lips in a hungry kiss. You love the way his tongue slips into your mouth so effortlessly. When he opens his mouth, his facial hair tickles your nose a bit which makes you smile. When his hips pick back up to a quicker pace, it sends you gasping into his mouth.

“Please, Joel,” You whine, that familiar build starts up but this time it’s like a freight train. Moving so quickly down every nerve ending in your body. “I’m gonna cum.”

“‘M with you, darlin’. Soak this dick. I’m right behind ya.”

His dirty talk causes the crash. Your body practically lifts off the mattress. You cry out so loud you are sure a neighbor could hear you. You try to gain your bearings, but you are panting like you just ran a mile.

Joel fucks you through it, but the restriction your pussy is putting on his cock sends him over the edge. His hips stutter into yours, his seed emptying into your spent hole. He just keeps repeating your name as his thrusts slow down.

He has never had such a visceral orgasm in his life. His knees are weak and can hardly keep up his weight. He practically falls on top of you, which does not offend you at all. His warm sweaty body on top of you is almost reassuring.

“You okay, kiddo?” He finally mutters as his hot breath fans the nape of your neck. You just nod, bringing your hand up to his salt and pepper hair. You tug lightly, smiling to yourself.

“I’m more than okay.”

He finally sits up, his cock spilling out of you as he adjusts his position. Your hole drips a mixture of cum onto your newly clean sheets, but you could care less. It’s just another thing to hand wash tonight.

Joel stumbles to the middle of the room, picking up your bath towel. He uses it to wipe himself up before coming over to you. Your legs are still slightly apart so he decides to clean you up a bit. He’s gentle, knowing that you are probably still sensitive.

Once he finishes up, he crawls next to you as you continue to recover. Your bones felt like jello so standing up to adjust yourself was not an option.

So instead of facing him, you stare up at your ceiling fan as his eyes lock onto every detail of your profile. It brings him back to one night you two shared under the stars a couple of years ago. It was his turn to keep watch so you curled up in your sleeping bag by the fire. He admired you from across the flames, the orange hues lit up every angle of your face. It was at that moment that Joel realized that he could not picture his life without you. You had weaseled your way into every facet of his life and he used to resent the impact you had on him. You were younger, more patient but still stubborn like him. You made him laugh, like genuinely laugh, for the first time since the infection. While you may have been a bit impulsive with your emotions, he envied the way you could say exactly what you were thinking.

Joel did not want to love you, but it was impossible not to.

You finally look over at him, noticing the softness in his gaze.

“Are you okay?” You pose, scrunching your nose.

He gives you a toothless smile, his eyes crinkling a bit. “I just can’t wait to sleep next to you for the rest of my life.”

tags of people I love and who may wanna read (no pressure I just love u) (some of u did ask tho) : @ashleyfilm @hockeyhughes @pedrospookie @guiltyasdave @amanitacowboy @myownwholewildworld

#joel miller tlou #joel miller #joel miller fanfic #joel miller smut #joel miller x reader #joel miller fic #joel miller x afab!reader #joel miller x female reader #pedro pascal #tlou au #tlou fic #tlou smut #joel miller fanfiction #fic: for cryin’ out loud #the last of us smut #gracieheartspedro

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cinnaminstar · 1 year ago

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YOOOOOOO

dressfin dressfin dressfin dressfin dressfin

Art for @cinnamin-is-a-star fic, To Extend our Reach to the Stars Above. Dressfrin is everything to me. Dressfrin could defeat the saviors of vaugarde I know he could. Gave him Mirabelle’s boots yippee

Siffrin mentioned that the dress was more feminine, and it had ruffles. So I went with something that had a more feminine shape, exaggerating the chest and hips. Based the dress on this

#LOOK AT THEM GO #im glad so many people loved this part #I woke up in a cold sweat after being delivered the scene in a vision. so i had to write it #villain sif au #art is good!

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sinfulspencer · 2 years ago

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Flashed

Prompt: It’s too hot to wear clothes at home, so Reader walks around in her underwear. Spencer loses his train of thoughts at the sight.

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader

Rating: mature (18+)

Warnings: light dom/sub dynamic (Dom!Spencer, Sub!Reader if you squint), dirty talking, hair pulling, light impact play, breeding kink, unprotected sex

Words: 5.0k

A.N.: Horny Spencer. That’s it. Also, this is the first official Spencer Reid fic I have written since last year. It felt so good to write for him again. Written this with a prompt from the Summer Sunshine challenge by @imagining-in-the-margins. Thank you to @reidselle and @drgenius-reid for beta-reading this fic!

MASTERLIST. REQUEST GUIDELINES. TAGLIST FORM.

When Spencer asked you to move in with him at the end of the year, he was ready to face every challenge that life would throw at him. The first fights over laundry, the first fight over whoever almost set the house on fire, the first fights over the person that was supposed to remake the bed before going to work, the first fights over whoever left the TV on before going to bed…

He was prepared for everything.

Spencer learned to cook (he wasn’t good at it, but he knew how to turn on the stove and boil some water, at least). He learned how to do laundry. He learned how to clean the floors without you falling on your own ass because he forgot to tell you that the ground was wet.

But Spencer wasn’t ready for the summer.

You moved in with him during the fall season, when it was still cold outside, and it was time to drink hot chocolate in front of the fireplace. You moved in with him when you were still wearing a winter jacket, leather boots and a scarf around your neck. You moved in when the wind was so cold that you could barely keep the window slightly opened in the bathroom after taking a shower to let the steam go out.

Spencer wasn’t fucking ready for summer.

The hot weather was already taking a toll on his poor body and he hated it. Spencer despised the high temperatures because they made him sweat like a pig and he hated, more than anything, the feel of sweat under his armpits or behind his knees.

Normally, before you moved in, Spencer would spend the whole time at home completely naked or wearing only underwear. It wasn’t an everyday occurrence, but it happened quite a lot.

What was the problem, then?

Spencer used to walk around in his apartment in his underwear when he was alone, but you’re doing it while he’s in the house. He knew you paced around the house that way because you felt comfortable, but still. He was a stupid man, with hormones that rushed through his body like crazy.

You walked around your shared apartment with nothing on but a pair of panties that Spencer always wanted to rip off you and a stupid bra that made your breasts look even more delicious.

And the sight had started to take a toll on Spencer for the worst. He was constantly horny, making it difficult for him to focus on simple tasks such as cleaning the whole apartment or doing laundry.

He woke up one day and you already were parading yourself in your underwear, which made his morning wood even more difficult to take care of. He came home that same night and you were still in your underwear, which led him to forget he was supposed to grab some dinner with Luke because he ended up taking you against the bedroom door.

Spencer didn’t want you to wear clothes if you were too hot, but he also needed to learn how to keep his hands to himself whenever he saw an inch of your naked skin. He felt like a teenager, always eager to touch and ravish what belonged to him.

When Spencer tried to explain the situation to Luke, his colleague laughed right in his face. At first, Spencer was offended.

‘Why are you complaining about seeing your girlfriend’s tits? You should be happy she feels comfortable around you.’

And Spencer was happy; he truly was. He was proud to know he made you feel good about yourself and allowed you to walk around the house almost naked, but he also felt like an idiot for getting a boner whenever he thought about coming home and knowing he’d find you dressed like that.

Or better, undressed.

That night, Spencer couldn’t wait to get home and tell you that he had a birthday party to attend next week. It was Penelope’s birthday and, as every year for the past ten, she had an entire day planned for her and her friends from work. There would be a huge pool party in a small agritourism she rented for the day, followed by a barbecue and a whole garden to explore.

Spencer was excited to bring you there.

You had been dating for over a year now and you couldn’t meet his co-workers and friends because you always had meetings to attend, or shifts that were incompatible with the nights the team hung out all together.

“Y/N?” Spencer called out when he entered his apartment.

The lights in the kitchen were on and he could hear you humming to a song blasting from the speakers.

He dropped his bag on the floor and followed the sound of your voice, only to find you in nothing but your underwear. Again. You had your back turned and were swaying your hips to the rhythm of the music, making Spencer smile at the sight. Though the music was loud and almost hurt his ears, he was willing to tolerate the loud volume if it meant he could observe you in your element for hours on end.

He was so enamoured with you even though you weren’t doing anything in particular. He fell harder for you everyday just watching you exist, breathe and live on your own.

But of course, the romantic thoughts in his head abruptly stopped when you felt his presence in the room and you screamed.

“Fuck! What the fuck, Spencer?!”

He didn’t want to laugh at your terrified expression, but a chuckle fell from his lips.

“Did I scare you?”

You roll your eyes, dropping your apron on the counter. “No. I screamed because I was learning how to fry scream. Fuck yes, you scared me.”

Spencer walked to the other side of the kitchen counter and wrapped his arms around your shoulders, pulling you into a tight hug. You smelled like apples and he could see them in the corner of his eyes, all peeled up.

“How was work? Did you get your stuff done?” you asked

Spencer nodded his head, kissing your temple without losing his grip on you. “Yes. I’m exhausted, though. I couldn’t wait to get home so I could relax and enjoy some time with you.”

You leaned forward, caressing his soft curls. “I bet you’re tired. You’ve been awake since five in the morning.”

As Spencer left the kitchen to get changed, he heard the music turning back on and he smiled. Your footsteps echoed in the room, and he smiled because he knew you were dancing to your favourite songs again. But still, there was a big problem that needed to be solved at that instant.

You were still in your underwear and of course, he had noticed that. How couldn’t he?

Spencer saw you for less than three minutes and yet, the bulge in his trousers made it difficult for him to think straight. He didn’t know how it was possible for you to turn him on that much, but you did and it was starting to make things harder for him.

If Spencer brought you to Penelope's birthday party, you were definitely going to wear a bikini. And a bikini is basically the same thing as your underwear… which meant one thing.

“Oh no.”

“Are you talking to me?”

Spencer turned around, attempting to cover the issue between his thighs with the jacket he brought to work that morning.

“Uh, no love. No, I was just thinking about… something.”

“Care to share?” you asked with an innocent smile.

Spencer knew that smile was actually innocent; you had no ill intentions, but his brain was starting to play games with him. He was so turned on that Spencer thought every little microexpression on your face and every move you made were just actions to tease him and work him up.

They were not. Or maybe they were.

“Sorry, uh… Yeah. Penelope invited me to her birthday party this Saturday.”

Your face enlightened at his words. “Oh! That’s so nice!”

“She asked me to bring you, too.”

“I don’t like the tone you just used. If you don’t want to bring me, that’s…”

Spencer widened his eyes, realising that his words might’ve sounded rude. “No! I’m excited to let you meet all of my friends and co-workers, truly.”

“Then, what is it? I know there’s something that bothers you.”

You sat on the bed with your legs crossed, waiting for Spencer to continue but, he didn’t dare to move. If he placed his jacket on the bed, you would’ve noticed the painful tent in his trousers. If he didn’t move, you would’ve asked him why he wasn’t taking off his clothes and putting on more comfortable ones.

Too many thoughts were running wild through Spencer’s brain and it was difficult for him to gather them all, cast aside the naughty ones and focus on the more normal ones.

It was tough not to stare at the curves of your breasts and how he could see the shadow of your nipples hidden behind the fabric of your bra. He has spent so many hours just licking and sucking your skin around your breasts, that he can still taste you on his tongue if he focuses hard enough.

“Penelope has rented a whole place for all of us.”

You hummed, tilting your head. “Sounds really nice. Is there a swimming pool involved? Is that why you’re worried?”

Spencer bit his bottom lip, forcing himself not to stare at the way your hair fell over your shoulders and covered the laces of your bra. A few days ago, he used his teeth to remove that same bra. It was a struggle not to think about that night, and he pathetically failed.

“I’m sure the place she rented is clean and…”

As you started to speak and comfort Spencer over his fear of germs, his mind wandered elsewhere. You moved to the centre of the bed to be closer to him and laid on it, with your arms behind your head and your body all stretched out.

Your bra barely covered your full breasts and your thighs were much more visible, with all the little bruises still peppering your skin. The same bruises he caused two days before. The same bruises you begged him to create on.

Spencer’s brain was starting to get even foggier.

“Are you even listening to me, love?”

You snapped your fingers in front of his face and Spencer dropped the jacket on the floor, quickly bending over to pick it up. Of course, he was listening to you, but he was just… thinking about something else while you were talking.

“Hm.”

“I’ll take that as a no.”

Spencer turned away from you and looked down, frowning. His bulge was still there and getting more painful, but how in the world was he going to face you and ask you if you could help him out? He knew you would, in a heartbeat, but he felt miserable.

How could he ask you to stop walking around his place in nothing but your underwear when he wanted to worship your body every hour of every day? How could he deny himself the sight of your stunning body?

His eyes went straight to your breasts and of course, you noticed it.

“Spencer!”

“Hm? What’s up?”

“My God.” - you started to say, sitting up on the bed - “You’re distracted! You can’t even finish a sentence or listen to me.”

Spencer hummed again, forcing his eyes to stay on your face. Unfortunately, they slipped down to your breasts once again - but that time, Spencer didn’t deny it. How could he? He had been so obvious since he arrived home, but you thought to yourself that maybe you were imagining things.

Or you were too horny, but you weren’t. He was.

“I’m sorry, it’s just…”

“You’ve been staring at my breasts since you saw me in the kitchen.” you stated

Spencer sighed, turning his back on you again. “I’m sorry. They’re distracting.”

“Look at me, love.”

He lingered for a few seconds, covering his face with both hands. He didn’t want to turn around because he knew you would’ve teased him for hours on end, but it truly wasn’t his fault. It was his brain that tricked him into staring at your boobs and remembering all the things he did to you the night before and all the other days.

It wasn’t his fault he had an eidetic memory and he could replay all your moments of intimacy together each time he wanted. How you looked when he kissed your neck, how you moaned when his tongue swirled around your nipples…

“You can look at them whenever you want, you know.” - you tapped his shoulder, kneeling behind him on the bed - “I’m your girlfriend, aren’t I?”

“That’s not the point, Y/N.” - Spencer replied, forcing himself to turn around - “You’re so distracting, I can barely think when you’re there… dressed up like that.”

You raised your brows. “Do you want me to change?”

“No!” - he exclaimed, before clearing his throat - “I mean… maybe. I don’t know, but I can’t keep getting hard because you’re half-naked.”

“What’s wrong with being attracted to me, love?” you asked with your arms crossed.

“There’s nothing wrong with that, you know, but it’s hard to be around you when all I think about is how I want to just…” - he took a deep breath before shaking his head - “I need to behave, I’m sorry.”

There was a moment of silence where you pondered over his words. He seemed so miserable and all because he was so attracted to you that he could barely think, that he could barely remember that he had other things to do other than you.

That felt incredibly hot.

Leaning forward, you placed a hand on his hip. “I want to hear what you’re thinking about right now.”

Spencer shook his head, covering your hand with his. “It’s too early.”

“It’s never too early to make love to your partner, Spencer.”

You were right, he knew that, but he also knew that if he kissed you and took you right there, he would’ve spent the whole night just trying to do it over and over until you were too tired to move or to keep your eyes open.

Spencer sighed and looked down at you. “You drive me crazy.”

“And what’s the harm in that, love?” you asked innocently

He moved his hands under your neck and forced you to look at him, gripping your chin with his fingertips. You went quiet, trying to decipher the expression on his face, though the tight grip was already a good hint of what he was thinking about.

“No harm.”

“Exactly, so… What’s stopping you?”

Spencer knew nothing was stopping him from pressing your body onto the mattress and pounding into you. He had every right to do so because he knew you wanted it as much as he did, but still. There was an issue to fix and he refused to let his hormones get in the way, once again.

But maybe just this time, Spencer thought.

You leaned your head against his palm, and closed your eyes when his fingers brushed over your cheek. He could look at you for hours, admiring how you basked in the sweetness of his touch that you found so comforting.

“Nothing’s stopping me.”

You sighed, running your hands over his chest. “Good.”

Spencer unbuckled his belt and the metal clanking of it falling onto the floor brought an eager smile to your lips. Of course you smiled, because you were about to get exactly what you wanted since he came home.

Little minx, Spencer thought.

“You don’t need to hold back from what you truly desire, Spencer.”

He drank up your words like they were the sweetest honey and he sighed. You were right; he didn’t need to stop himself from putting his hands over you if you wanted to be touched as well, but still.

“If you want to rip my underwear off me, you can do it.” - you muttered, slowly opening the buttons of his shirt - “If you want to fuck me like this, while I’m almost naked and you’re still dressed, you can do it.”

Spencer watched as your skilled fingers pushed his shirt off his shoulder and sighed, because there was nothing else he could do or say at that moment. You had him wrapped around your tiny finger and you knew it, which was why he loved you so much. You could’ve snapped your fingers and he would’ve dropped to his knees for you.

“I just.. I just need to have you. At all times.”

“You can.” - you replied with no hesitation, only firmness in your voice - “I am here for your pleasure. Always.”

Spencer released a long sigh. “I know. I’m so lucky.”

Pushing his trousers down his legs to reveal his soft skin, you looked up at him with your lips turned into a wicked grin. You could see the emotions rapidly changing behind those eyes: lust, frustration, love, annoyance and desire. That was exactly what you wanted: you craved to drive Spencer crazy and you needed him to lose his mind over you.

It made you feel powerful.

“You’re so pretty when you’re desperate for me.” you said

Spencer leaned into your touch when you reached out for his face. “So are you, princess.”

But the tender moment was gone as fast it came, because there was no time to be nice to one another. Spencer wanted to wreck you and you wanted him to do as he pleased; you wanted the pleasure to consume him, and so it did.

Spencer kissed you for the first time since he came home and, of course, he had no time to be nice. His tongue pushed into your mouth without warning, but you let it as you laid down on the bed with the man on top of you. The kiss expressed all the frustration that had built within him ever since he came home and found you in the kitchen, wiggling your ass to the music and singing at the top of your lungs.

His teeth dug into the soft flesh of your bottom lip and you whined, almost tasting blood on your tongue.

“Let me be rough tonight.”

You grabbed him by the chin, staring right into those honey-coloured eyes. “Perhaps I was not clear with my words a moment ago, Spencer. I want you to do whatever you want to me.”

Spencer groaned at your words and pushed any rational thought out of his mind, allowing the frustration and profound desire felt for you to drive him. His pupils were blown wide with unbridled lust making you shiver, bringing the heat between your thighs where you so desperately wanted to be touched.

Spencer kissed your mouth before moving down to your throat, attacking it with bites and gentle licks that made you whimper.

“I’m going to ravish you tonight, my princess.” - Spencer whispered to your ear, running his hands all over your breasts - “And you’re going to take my cock like the good girl I know you are for me, yeah?”

“Yes. Yes, love.”

He moved his hands to your face, kissing the tip of your nose. “Hands and knees.”

You scrambled to turn around, struggling to move as his arms didn’t give you as much space as you needed. Spencer, ever so helpful, pulled your hips up when you managed to roll on your tummy.

“Good girl, that’s it.”

You could feel his cock against your ass when he leaned forward to bite your shoulder and you moaned, closing your eyes. His nails dug into the soft flesh of your back, dragging your panties down your thighs before throwing them on the floor.

Spencer’s mouth wandered down your neck, leaving a trace of kisses that started from your right shoulder and went down to your ass. He nibbled at the soft skin right below it before biting down, hard enough to draw blood. You yelped at the feeling, but didn’t complain as your hands scratched the blanket.

Spencer pulled away for a second and traced the small wound with the tip of his index, earning a hiss from you. It hurt, but you wanted it to hurt - you promised you’d bleed for him, and bleed you did.

“Good girl. So pretty for me.” - Spencer whispered, but you were more focused on the sound of a bottle of lube being opened - “I’m sorry, I’m so impatient to have you. I wish we could take this slow, but I can’t.”

“It’s okay, I know you’re desperate.” - you mumbled, moaning softly when his fingers breached your entrance - “It’s fucking cold.”

He chuckled at your reaction, smearing the lube all over your already wet slit. “Oops”

When you were ready, Spencer found no resistance as he slowly pushed the tip of his cock inside of you. He watched the way your walls welcomed him in and revelled in the sweetness of your whimpers and whines when you felt him. Spencer waited, watching you as you struggled to stay still for him.

“Please, just… Get inside, for fuck’s sake.”

“Oh? Wanna take it all at once, my princess?” - Spencer asked, running his left hand through your hair - “Are you desperate for my cock? Then, fucking have it.”

In one hard thrust, Spencer bottomed out inside of you and you fell on the bed with your face in the pillow. You trembled when you finally felt every inch of his cock inside of you and you thought you were ready to fall off the edge in less than a minute.

You were desperate for him every single time you had the chance to make love to him.

“Take it, princess. You wanted it and now you have it.”

Spencer watched you as you arched your back, tightening your grip on the bed sheets. A chorus of curses and moans flows from your lips as you try to get back on your knees, but his thrusts are too quick and harsh to let you get in position. So, again, you fell down with your face in the pillow.

The pleasure quickly expanded through your body as Spencer never slowed down the pace of his thrusts, basking in the gentle sounds of your moans. His right hand travelled down to reach your ass, and before you felt it, you heard it - there was a brief moment of silence, followed by a loud smack and then a deep heat diffusing over your skin.

It had been so long since he spanked you, but with that position, you couldn’t blame him.

The sensation heightened the pleasure within you.

“Oh, fuck!”

Spencer moved both his hands on each side of your head and leaned forward, keeping his thrusts quick and regular. You could feel his body tense each time you tried to push back into him, to fuck yourself onto his cock.

You were already close, desperate to ride that delicious end.

“Please, more.” - you cried out again - “Please, I’m close.”

“Don’t you dare.” - he bit your earlobe - “Don’t you fucking dare come on my cock now.”

You whined at his order, not sure how you would be able to hold it and be a good girl for him. It wasn’t easy to hold an orgasm, especially if Spencer never stopped fucking into you with all the energy he had in his body. You were so close, you were right there but Spencer stopped his movements - and suddenly, you felt a warm tear slip down your cheek.

A single tear of frustration.

Spencer forced you on your back, pushing you onto the mattress before sliding his cock back inside of you.

“I want to see your pretty face when you come, princess.” - Spencer whispered, lifting your right leg and wrapping it around his own waist - “I want you to look at me as you come undone on my cock.”

His pace is as rough as before and you felt more tears spill from your eyes. Your hands quickly went behind his neck as you rolled your hips, a pathetic attempt at fucking yourself back onto his cock to feel more and more.

You couldn’t form a coherent sentence. The only word that fell from your lips was a strained ‘yes’ that echoed in the room, encouraging Spencer to go harder and faster, to tear you down piece by piece.

And he looked fucking stunning as he did so.

His lean body, his muscles were tense, a single strand of hair falling over his forehead and his tongue poking out in concentration… You wanted to get those details tattooed on your brain, on your body, every-fucking-where.

“Such a good girl for me, huh? My pretty princess.” - Spencer whispered, looking down at you - “Always welcoming me with nothing on, knowing how crazy that makes me.”

Your lips opened slightly, more whimpers flowing from them.

“Do you know how difficult it is to get out of here and not remember all the times I’ve fucked you against the door?” he said, his voice rough.

You shook your head, not sure if you understood what he said.

“Fuck, you make me so horny. I fucking love your body.” - he mumbled, pressing his forehead to yours - “I always think about it and then I see dressed like that… It’s like you’re always begging me to bend you over and fuck your pretty cunt.”

You’ve always loved his dirty mouth, but that day it felt deliciously perfect. His thrusts were rough and faltering, which meant he was close to his orgasm too - you almost forgot you were close, totally enamoured by him and the way he spoke about you.

“My slutty princess.”

You nodded with a smile, drunk on your lust for him. “All yours to use and destroy.”

You felt the pleasure built up again right behind your belly button and you knew you were close again. Spencer must’ve noticed it because he kept his pace quick, never changing the angle because he felt you clench hard around him each time he bottomed out. Your thighs were shaking around his waist and he could feel your heartbeat quickening under his fingertips.

“My good girl.” - he mumbled, closing his eyes for a moment - “I can feel you’re close. Do you want to come on my cock, princess?”

He didn’t need a verbal answer, because soon your cries of pleasure were enough. You widened your eyes and threw your head back onto the pillow, crying out his name over and over as your nails dug into his shoulders. He could feel his skin breaking under your nails but he didn’t care.

Spencer was too enamoured with you to realise how painful your grip was.

“That’s it, gorgeous. You did so well.” he rewarded you with a kiss on the lips

You barely felt it, drunk on the pleasure that he fed you. Your whole body was shuddering as Spencer helped you ride out your orgasm, but the more he thrusted, the more pain you felt stabbing you. You didn’t complain, though.

You wanted it, you needed it and so did he.

“Does this pretty princess want my cum deep inside of her, hm?” Spencer asked

You weren’t sure he heard you, but you managed to choke out: “Yes. Please, please, fucking do it. Please.”

A few thrusts later, Spencer granted you your wish. His warmth flooded you from the inside as he watched the way his body become one with yours, shivering with pleasure. His right hand pressed down hard below your belly button and you winced, feeling his seed run deep if that was even possible.

It felt so incredibly good you could almost come again.

“Ah, that felt fucking perfect.”

You closed your arms around his neck and caged him against your body, so that he wouldn’t be able to run away. Not that he wanted to, of course, but.

Spencer didn’t move for at least five good minutes, struggling to catch his own breath while you stared at the bedroom ceiling with a grin on your face. You were deeply satisfied with yourself and you were sure Spencer was content, as well - though the conversation between you wasn’t over.

You knew that not putting on clothes would’ve distracted him and maybe that was exactly why you never put them on when he was around in your shared apartment. It was fun to see him struggling between staring at your breasts or at your thighs, or forgetting that he had to hang out with his colleagues because he was too busy burying his face in your cunt or fucking you against a window.

It felt good to be desired, and it felt even better knowing that it was the only thing Spencer was able to think about when he was away from you.

“You have to stop walking around our place naked.”

You put a hand on his chest, gently pushing him upward. Spencer was still lying between your legs, but he was staring at you.

“Naked? I am always wearing my underwear.” you stated

Spencer bumped the tip of his nose against yours. “Which is dangerously distracting, Y/N.”

“Oh, you’re using my name in a conversation.”

“I’m being serious, princess. I can’t get a boner whenever I’m near you.” - he explained, pressing a kiss on your jaw - “Believe me, I appreciate the sight but… My brain needs some rest. And so does my penis.”

“Okay, alright. I’ll do my best to keep my clothes on.” - I decided to give in - “After six weeks of pure hell, I think you deserve a break.”

Spencer kissed your cheek, before biting it softly. “I appreciate it, my princess.”

“But that doesn’t mean I won’t do it occasionally just to drive you crazy.” you warned him

“Oh, I’m fine with that.” - he said, rolling off your body - “But give me a heads up before doing it, okay? I wouldn’t want to come home with Luke and find you in your underwear.”

“Well… it could be fun. Maybe he’d like to join…”

Spencer covered your mouth with his’ before you could finish your sentence, but the kiss was interrupted by your loud laugh echoing through the walls.

“Alright, Luke will never see me like this.” - you gave him a peck on the lips, pushing him off you before he could spread your legs again - “This sight is for your eyes only.”

TAGLIST @blvebanisters @koukatsuki @moesdraft

BROKEN TAGS @alelaeljfj @donttrustlove

#spencer reid #spencer reid smut #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid smut fanfic #spencer reid imagines #spencer reid smut imagines #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid x female reader #criminal minds fics #criminal minds fanfics #doctor spencer reid smut

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cl0udy3 · 3 months ago

Text

𝐖𝐈𝐑𝐄

loser!ellie williams x fem!reader mostly smut cw: phone sex, dirty talk, uhmmm some other stuff that is nsfw idk the terms wc: 2030 a/n: honestly just needed to get this out of my system i have so much more to write but im so busy with class i hate everyhting (reader is purple, ellie is pink) requested backstory blurb: ✮

Ellie’s already halfway there. Sweats pushed low, tank top twisted, cheeks flushed, and her free hand tangled in her sheets. Her other one’s still between her legs, slow and desperate, like dragging herself through molasses.

She shouldn’t call. She knows she shouldn’t. But she does.

The phone rings twice before you pick up, cheerful as ever.

“Hey, Els! What's up?”

Ellie exhales hard, squeezing her eyes shut like it’ll help. Your voice alone makes her twitch.

“Nothing’, just… wanted to hear you.” “Aww. That’s cute.”

Your voice is warm, light. You don’t suspect a thing. She doesn’t deserve you. She also doesn’t care, not right now at least.

“So anyway—I had the weirdest dream last night. You were in it actually.”

Ellie bites down on her knuckle to keep from groaning aloud.

“We were in, like, this giant-ass mall that turned into a water park halfway through. You were riding this inflatable duck down a slide, but then you were like, “we have to go steal F1 cars,” and we broke into this underground showroom and—are you laughing?”

Ellie is laughing. Sort of. More like exhaling sharply through clenched teeth while her fingers circle her clit, slow and hot.

“No–uh—I’m just… listening.”

“Anyways. When I woke up I was like, ‘why would Ellie be on a duck floatie?’ Like, you’re so serious all the time. It was funny.”

She swears she’s gonna lose it.

“Keep going,” she mumbles, voice low and strained. “Okay! So, I also went to the mall today—I got a couple new bras and some underwear. They had those lace ones again, you know? Like the ones I wore last week that I told you—about the ones that ride up a little? Yeah, I got those in… I think yellow, red, pink, black, white, and navy if I remember correctly.”

Ellie’s hips twitch. She actually whimpers.

“Ellie? You good?” “Mhm. Perfect. Just… keep talking.” “So then I found these pajamas that are like—so soft, you have no idea. They’re like buttery or something. I wish you could feel them. I might wear them tomorrow, or maybe the new tank I got—oh! It’s like, super cropped. Kinda short, shows off my belly a bit. Might be too cold for it though…”

She’s gonna die. She’s gonna die on the phone to the sound of your voice, talking about stupid pajamas and bras and Ellie is soaking through her boxers like a goddamn teenager.

Ellie is gripping the phone like a lifeline, thighs twitching, stomach tensing, barely holding back the pathetic little noises threatening to slip out. Her fingers move slow, teasing herself, dragging out the ache because she wants this to last—wants to keep hearing you talk like you aren’t killing her.

You keep talking, your voice bright and animated, and Ellie can hear the click of your nails on the phone and the rustle of your bed as you shift under the covers. She imagines you twirling the cord around your finger as you continue, completely unaware of what you’re doing to her.

“Ellie?”

Her breath stutters. Too loud. That one was too loud.

“You good? You sound kinda—out of breath?”

She clenches her jaw, forcing herself to breath normal, but it’s so fucking hard when you’re still going—still talking—filling her ear with your voice, saying the stupidest things but somehow making it sound filthy.

“M’fine,” she rasps, swallowing thick. “Just—keep talking.”

She hears you huff a little laugh, clueless, completely unaware that Ellie’s got two fingers deep inside herself, biting her lip so hard it hurts.

“Okay, okay! Bossy much?”

Ellie’s eyes flutter shut.

“So anyways—I also got these new jeans. They fit so good, like all snug on my ass, but I don’t know if I wanna wear them yet because they’re kinda stuff, y’know? Maybe I should break them in first. Oh! And I also found this old band tee in a thrift shop, but it’s kinda thin so my bra shows through. Is that cute or is it too much?”

Ellie barely hears the question. She’s too busy pressing her palm down, fingers curling, breath hitching hard.

She lets out a sharp, uncontrolled sigh.

You go quiet.

“Ellie?”

She freezes.

“Are you okay?”

She almost drops the phone.

Her brain short-circuits. Her body is screaming. She’s too close, too fucking close—she needs to finish but she also needs to not get caught.

“Uh—yeah. Yeah, just—tired.” “You sure?”

Ellie wants to die.

“Mhm.” “...You sound weird.”

She forces out a laugh. Too forced.

“Nah, dude, I’m good. Just—keep going.” “Mmm… I don’t know… Something’s off with you.”

Her stomach twists.

“Are you—” You pause. “...Are you sick?”

Ellie wheezes.

Jesus Christ.

She’s getting off to the sound of your voice and you’re over there wondering if she’s running a fever.

She’s never been more embarrassed in her life.

At this point, she was fucked. LIke, really fucked.

Like, halfway to an orgasm and you think she’s got the flu kind of fucked.

“Sick?” Ellie croaks, trying to force herself back to normal, but her voice is wrecked, all strained and breathless and—fuck, fuck, fuck. “Nah, man, I’m—I’m fine.” “Are you sure?”

You sounded genuinely concerned.

Ellie could throw herself into a wall.

She’s got two fingers deep inside herself, hand shaking, stomach tight, so fucking close, and here you are, probably pouting, thinking she’s got a sore throat or something.

“Mhm,” she grits out, forcing her voice even. “Totally fine. Just—keep talking.”

There’s a pause.

A long one.

Ellie’s heart fucking stops.

“...Ellie.”

Oh, god.

“Are you—” You stop. Then, slowly: “...What are you doing?”

Her whole body seizes.

Her fingers go still.

Heat crawls up her neck, floods her face, sets her whole fucking body on fire.

She should hang up. Throw her phone across the room. Lie and say she fell asleep. Something. Anything.

But she doesn’t.

Because she’s a fucking idiot.

“N—Nothing,” she stammers. Too fast. Too guilty.

And you? You know. She can hear it in your silence.

“Ellie,” you say again, softer this time.

She squeezes her eyes shut. Curls in on herself. Feels her stomach tighten because fuck, even just hearing you say her name like that—

“Are you—” You exhale, slow. “Are you touching yourself?”

Ellie chokes. Actually fucking chokes.

Her hand jerks away so fast she nearly pulls something.

“What? No—no, dude, I—” She cuts herself off, dragging a hand down her face.

Her body is screaming. Her thighs are still shaking. Her fingers are soaked.

She’s so screwed.

“Ellie.”

Your voice is different now. Not teasing. Not laughing. Just—curious. Maybe even interested.

Ellie swallows hard.

“Keep going.”

Her brain stalls and for a moment she thinks she might’ve imagined it.

“What?” “I–I said… keep going.”

Silence.

Not from you—you’re breathing shallow and steady, like you’re waiting for her to say something. But Ellie’s mind goes blank. Everything in her short-circuiting. She’s half-sure she died and this is purgatory—somewhere between heaven and hell, wrapped in your voice.

Her heart stutters.

“You—” She swallows, throat bone-dry. “You’re serious?” “I mean…” You hesitate. A breath. “You already started, right?”

Ellie exhales hard through her nose, dragging her palm across her mouth. She’s stunned. Embarrassed. But also? Incredibly turned on.

“You’re gonna kill me,” she mutters, the ghost of a grin tugging at her lips. “Not if I get there first.”

The line goes quiet again.

Ellie’s fingers drift back down, slower this time, like testing the waters again. She’s still soaked. Still aching. And now she knows you’re there with her, listening.

“Okay,” she says, voice low. “But if I die, it’s on you.” “Deal.”

Her hand slips under the waistband of her boxers, breath hitching as she touches herself again—slow and deliberate now, no longer hiding. The sound of your breathing crackling through the line only pushes her further.

“Still wearing those stupid pajamas?” she asks, voice rough around the edges. “Mhm. The soft ones.”

Ellie’s eyes flutter shut. She bites her lip.

“And nothing underneath?” “...Wouldn’t you like to know.” “C’mon.” Her voice dips slightly lower. “Humor me.”

You let out a small, breathy laugh, and the way it curls through the phone makes Ellie clench around her fingers.

“Fine,” you say. “Just the top. No bra. No panties.”

Ellie groans. She can’t help it this time. It spills out of her like a secret, ragged and real.

“Fuck. You’re evil.” “You started it.”

She pumps her fingers slowly, building the pressure again, letting your voice carry her right to the edge.

“You’re gonna tell me exactly what you’re doing, Els.”

Ellie shivers.

“Yeah?” she murmurs. “You wanna hear all of it?” “Every single second.”

Her breath shakes as her hips roll forward, chasing the friction.

“Okay,” she says, teeth sinking into her lip. “I’m… on my back. Legs spread. Fingering myself to your voice. Thinking about those lace panties. The yellow ones. How they’d look on you.”

You inhale sharply on the other end.

“Ellie—” “Yeah?” “I’m—” You falter for a second. “I’m touching myself too.”

Ellie’s whole body jolts, like you flipped a switch in her spine.

“Jesus christ,” she whispers.

Her pace picks up—slippery, hot, the pressure unbearable now. She imagines your hand between her legs, the rise and fall of your chest, your lips parted just barely as you bite back the same kind of sounds she’s making.

“Tell me what you’re thinking about,” she gasps. “You,” you say instantly. “Your mouth. Your hands. The way you talk when you’re all worked up.”

Ellie moans into the receiver, low and shaky.

You hesitate—but only for a second. Your breath hitches, just loud enough for Ellie to hear it.

“The way you’d take your time with me,” you murmur. “Like I’m something to savor.”

Ellie’s eyes flutter shut. Her fingers move faster, wetter now, her other hand fisting the sheets like they’re the only thing keeping her tethered.

“Fuck,” she groans, jaw tight. “Keep talking. Please.” “I think about your hands on my thighs,” you whisper. “How rough they’d feel, how careful you’d be at first—until you’re not. Until you can’t help yourself.”

Ellie whimpers—actually whimpers—like the image is too much, like it sinks right into her chest and burns through her ribs.

“I’d be so wet for you,” you go on, voice shaking now. “Like I am right now. I’d let you taste me, let you take your time, until I’m begging—until I can’t even remember my name.”

Ellie’s breathing stutters. She’s so close her vision’s going white around the edges.

“You sound so good,” she rasps. “Wish I could hear you in person—wish I could see you.”

You moan, soft and desperate.

“I’m close, Els.” “Me too,” she chokes. “Fuck, keep going—please—don’t stop.” “Want you inside me,” you whisper, needy and ruined. “Want you to fuck me until I can’t think straight—want your fingers, your mouth, anything—everything—I’d take it all.”

Ellie comes hard.

Her whole body locks up, pleasure slicing through her like a live wire. Her legs tremble, her back arches, and she cries out your name into the phone, breathless and broken and absolutely gone.

And then she hears you—your own orgasm chasing hers, your voice all soft gasps and hitched breaths and her name falling from your lips like a prayer.

It’s silent after.

Just the sound of your breathing. Hers. The static warmth of the phone line connecting you both like some fragile, invisible thread.

Ellie laughs quietly, hoarse and giddy.

“That was…” she starts, then lets it trail off, too dazed to even finish the thought. “Yeah,” you say, just as breathless. “That was.”

A pause.

“Hey, Els?” “Yeah?” “Next time you call me like that…” A smile in your voice. “Don’t wait so long to tell me what you want.”

Ellie grins, cheeks still flushed, heart still racing.

“Next time,” she promises. “You’re picking up in person.”

lalala pls enjoy i love all of you

#ellie williams x reader #ellie x fem reader #ellie x reader #ellie williams #ellie tlou #ellie the last of us #the last of us part 2 #tlou 2 #tlou #ellie is my wife #i love her #married #on my knees for her every night #anyways enjoy

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heliosunny · 2 months ago

Note

hiiiii, i hope your doing good, i adore how you write charecters and was hoping that you could write Alhaitham for the lucky egg series. Thank you

LUCKY EGG

Yandere!Alhaitham x Reader

The sky split open like a wound as the alien armada descended. Their ships were vast, silent monoliths of silver and obsidian, drifting through the atmosphere.

Governments collapsed within hours. Resistance was met with annihilation so swift, so absolute, that humanity had no choice but to kneel.

You watched from your window as the streets filled with towering figures—elegant creatures with skin like polished onyx and eyes that burned with distant light.

"Compliance ensures survival. Each of you will be assigned an Overseer. They will guide you. Ensure order."

An egg was pressed into your hands. It was heavier than it looked. The alien who delivered it tilted its head, studying you with those depthless eyes before speaking again.

"In three days, it will awaken. Do not resist."

Then it was gone, leaving you standing there, clutching the egg as if it were a bomb.

-Day 2-

You placed the egg on your desk, half-expecting it to move. But it remained still.

That night, you dreamed of whispers.

"Soon."

You woke with a gasp, sweat clinging to your skin.

The news feeds were a graveyard of grim updates. People who had refused their Overseers had vanished overnight. Those who obeyed were rewarded—food, shelter, safety. But at what cost?

-Day 3-

Crack.

Your eyes flew open. The egg on your nightstand was fracturing.

The egg soon split open, and the figure inside unfolded itself.

Fluid dripped from silver hair, evaporating into mist before it could even touch the sheets. The man—because it was a man—lifted his head.

You flinched, fingers digging into the sheets. "Who—what are you?"

"Alhaitham."

He rose. His fingers brushed your cheek, cold at first, then warming unnaturally fast.

"You are my master"

A slow smile curled at the edge of his lips.

"Protect. Guide. Own." His grip tightened, just slightly, as if testing your reaction. "The terms are interchangeable."

-----

You quickly realized that Alhaitham was… different.

The other Overseers, hatched from their eggs in the days following the invasion. A man down the street had one who never smiled, who watched his charge with unblinking precision, correcting even the slightest deviation from the new world’s order.

But Alhaitham?

He was calm.

And he loves reading.

“You have a collection of books,” he remarked, fingers trailing over the spines on your shelf.

You hesitated before answering. “Yes. I like to read.”

He hummed, pulling out a well-worn novel. “This one is annotated.”

“I… mark my favorites.”

Then, to your surprise, he sat in your armchair, flipping it open. “Read it to me.”

“What?”

“You are my master. I am to learn from you. So teach me.”

So you read to him.

You saw the way the others acted.

Your neighbor, a nervous young man named Eli, had an Overseer who monitored his every move. She stood by the door as he ate, as he worked, as he slept.

“She won’t even let me choose my own clothes” he whispered to you one day, when she was momentarily distracted.

You didn’t know what to say.

Because Alhaitham, in contrast, had merely glanced at your wardrobe that morning and remarked, “The blue sweater suits you better.”

It became a habit.

Every night, without fail, he would select a book and wait for you. Sometimes you read to him. Sometimes, when your voice grew tired, he took over, his smooth baritone filling the room as you curled against the armrest.

One evening, exhaustion from the day’s labor dragged you under before he’d even finished the chapter. You woke hours later to the soft glow of lamplight, the book still open in his hands, his other arm curled around you.

You jolted upright. “I—I fell asleep?”

He turned a page, unfazed. “You did.”

“Why didn’t you… move me?”

“You were comfortable.”

Something warm settled in your chest.

The others feared their Overseers.

You… didn’t.

----

The monthly check-up was as clinical as you expected.

You stood in line with the others as the aliens inspected each human and their Overseer. Their hands were cold when they touched your wrist, scanning something beneath your skin that you couldn’t see. Beside you, Alhaitham stood perfectly still.

When it was your turn, the alien tilted its head, studying you both.

"Report"

"No irregularities. Compliance is maintained."

Then, the alien released your wrist and moved on.

You barely breathed until you were outside.

The walk home was tense. Alhaitham’s hand rested lightly on the small of your back, guiding you through the crowd.

Once you were far enough away, his voice dropped low.

"Don’t react."

You kept your steps even.

"They were watching us more closely than usual."

"Why? What’s happening?"

His fingers pressed slightly against your spine. "Not here."

So you stayed silent the rest of the way, your pulse loud in your ears.

The moment the door closed behind you, you let out a shaky breath.

Alhaitham didn’t relax—if he ever did—but his shoulders lost some of their rigid tension. He moved to the window, drawing the blinds shut before turning back to you.

"They suspect something" he said simply.

"Like what?"

"It doesn’t matter yet. Just follow my lead."

You wanted to argue. To demand answers. But the look in his eyes stopped you.

So you nodded.

And then, because you needed something to distract yourself, you turned to the chores.

You were scrubbing dishes when he appeared beside you.

"Let me help."

"No, it’s fine. I’ve got it."

"You’re tired."

"I’m fine."

Reluctantly, he let go. But he didn’t leave. Instead, he leaned against the counter, arms crossed, watching as you worked.

"You don’t have to hover"

"I’m not hovering," he said, "I’m observing."

That night, curled under the blankets with the lights dimmed, you finally dared to ask.

"Do they know?"

Alhaitham glanced up from the book in his hands. "Know what?"

"About how you’re different."

"It’s complicated."

"Complicated how?"

"We’re not meant to be too attached."

You frowned. "But the others—their Overseers control everything."

"Control isn’t the same as attachment"

You hesitated before asking the next question. "Do you… know the other Overseers?"

For the first time, something flickered in his eyes.

"We’re aware of each other," he admitted after a moment. "But we don’t… interact."

"Why not?"

He closed the book slowly. "Because some of them wouldn’t approve of how I handle you."

You didn’t ask anything else after that.

----

The television was your one escape.

In this strange new world, where every move was monitored and every choice scrutinized, the flickering glow of the screen offered a sliver of normalcy.

Celebrities still performed, still lived their lives—albeit with their own Overseers hovering just off-camera.

Tonight, the entertainment news was buzzing about a rising star—a young singer with a voice like spun sugar and a smile that could melt glaciers. But it wasn’t her who caught your attention.

It was her Overseer.

Blond hair swept back in elegant waves, eyes like molten honey, dressed in a tailored suit that shimmered under the studio lights. His one hand resting lightly on the singer’s shoulder as she gushed about her new home.

"Kaveh designed everything himself," she said, "He knows exactly what I like!"

The camera panned to him, and he smiled.

You leaned forward, intrigued.

"Huh. I didn’t know Overseers could be so…"

You trailed off, searching for the right word.

"Obnoxious?"

You jumped. Alhaitham’s voice was dry as dust, right beside your ear. You hadn’t even heard him approach.

"I was going to say ‘expressive,’" you muttered, eyes still glued to the screen.

Kaveh was gesturing now, explaining some architectural detail with animated flair.

"He’s very…"

"Loud" Alhaitham supplied.

"I was thinking ‘attentive.’"

A hand covered your eyes.

You yelped. "Hey—!"

"Change the channel"

You batted at his wrist. "I’m watching that!"

"No, you’re staring at him."

You could hear the frown in his voice.

"Are you jealous?"

His grip on you tightened, just slightly.

"I’m ensuring you don’t develop poor taste."

You snorted. "Oh, so now you’re an art critic?"

"I don’t need to be a critic to recognize gaudy excess."

On screen, Kaveh laughed at something, head thrown back, golden hair catching the light.

Alhaitham’s fingers twitched.

You smirked. "You are jealous."

For a moment, he just stared at you. Then, in one smooth motion, he plucked the remote from your hand and switched the channel.

A nature documentary. Elephants.

You groaned. "Really?"

"Educational" he said flatly, settling beside you.

You elbowed him. He didn’t budge.

----

The streets were quieter these days.

Not out of peace—but out of fear.

The Overseers walked among them, their presence a constant reminder of the new order.

You kept your pace brisk, arms wrapped around yourself as you turned the corner toward home. The sun had barely set, but the alleyways were already swallowed by gloom.

You heard it.

The rustle of fabric.

Then, a gasp.

Your steps faltered.

Curiosity warred with instinct, and against your better judgment, you glanced toward the sound.

Two figures pressed against the brick wall, tangled in each other. A woman, her fingers clutching the collar of a man’s shirt—her Overseer—as he kissed her.

Alhaitham was waiting by the door when you stumbled inside, your face burning, pulse hammering in your throat.

He took one look at you and arched a brow.

"You’re flushed."

"It’s—it’s nothing," you stammered, toeing off your shoes with too much force. "Just walked too fast."

He didn’t move. Just watched as you all but fled to the kitchen, busying yourself with the kettle like your life depended on it.

"You’re a terrible liar."

The kettle clattered against the stove. "I’m not lying."

"Your pulse is elevated. Your breathing is uneven. And you won’t look at me." He stepped closer. "So. What happened?"

"I just saw something… unexpected."

"Define ‘unexpected.’"

"Why do you care?" you snapped, finally turning to face him.

"Because," he said slowly, "if something—or someone disturbed you, I’d like to know."

You exhaled sharply. "It wasn’t like that. I just… saw a couple. In the alley."

A pause. Then, understanding dawned.

"Ah."

"Yeah." You rubbed your temples. "Can we just… not talk about it?"

"As you wish."

Life went on.

You worked. You ate. You read together in the evenings.

But sometimes, when you thought he wasn’t looking, you’d catch him studying you.

Neither of you mentioned the alley again.

----

It was your day off, and the apartment was quiet without Alhaitham.

He had left early.

So you did what any sane person would do in a world where sanity was a luxury.

You turned on the TV.

The News: Love, Obedience, and Rebellion

The first channel was a broadcast of some government-approved talk show.

"Today, we discuss the beautiful bonds between humans and their Overseers!" she chirped, gesturing to a panel of guests.

A woman in a pastel dress clasped her hands together. "My Overseer knows me better than I know myself. He anticipates my needs before I even realize them!"

A man nodded fervently. "Resistance is pointless. Why fight when they only want what’s best for us?"

Then the screen cut to footage of a protest—or what used to be one. The rebels were being dragged away, their faces bloodied.

"Those who refuse harmony must be… corrected" the host said.

You changed the channel.

The next channel was pure entertainment.

There they were again—the rising starlet and her dazzling Overseer, Kaveh. They sat on a plush couch, her fingers laced with his as she giggled at some interviewer’s question.

"We’re just so in sync," she sighed, leaning into him. "It’s like he was made for me."

Kaveh smirked, twirling a lock of her hair around his finger. "I was."

The audience swooned.

You rolled your eyes—but couldn’t help the twinge of curiosity. Was this… real? Or just another performance for the cameras?

A knock at the door startled you.

You fumbled for the remote, switching off the TV just as Alhaitham stepped inside.

He paused in the doorway, gaze flicking from you to the darkened screen.

"You’re tense"

"Just watching junk TV," you muttered, pulling your knees to your chest.

Alhaitham set down a bag of groceries. "What did you see?"

You hesitated. "The usual. Rebel crackdowns. And, uh… your friend Kaveh."

"He’s not my friend."

"You know him, though."

"We’re aware of each other. That’s all."

The commotion outside was sudden.

You and Alhaitham exchanged a glance before rushing out, joining the crowd gathering in the street.

A group of rebels had been cornered, their faces desperate as they fought against their Overseers. One of them, a woman, raised her hands, and a surge of violet energy erupted from her palms, aimed straight at the enforcers.

But the blast went wide.

Straight toward you.

A shimmering barrier of geometric green energy materialized in front of you, absorbing the attack.

You turned, stunned.

Alhaitham stood with one arm outstretched, his eyes glowing faintly with an otherworldly teal hue.

The rebels were subdued moments later, dragged away by their Overseers. The crowd murmured, some in awe, others in fear.

But all you could focus on was him.

Back inside, you finally found your voice.

Alhaitham didn’t answer immediately, pouring tea with deliberate calm.

"All Overseers have abilities" he said at last.

You stared.

He sipped his tea.

A long silence stretched between you before he spoke again.

"They’ve offered me a promotion."

You blinked. "A… what?"

"Better resources." His gaze met yours. "A safer district."

You hesitated. "Oh."

"You don’t seem excited."

"I just…" You fidgeted with your cup. "I didn’t realize Overseers could get promotions."

"Neither did I. But it would mean better living conditions. For you."

"Do you want to take it?"

"I want to know what you want."

You exhaled. "I’m fine either way. As long as…"

"As long as?"

"As long as you’re still you."

He nodded.

"Then we’ll stay."

----

The knock at the door came when you least expected it.

You had been lounging on the couch, flipping through an old book, when the sharp rap of knuckles against wood made you jump. Setting the book aside, you peered through the peephole—only to see a tall, uniformed officer standing stiffly on your doorstep, his Overseer hovering just behind him.

You hesitated.

Then opened the door.

“Good afternoon,” the officer said, “I’m here for a routine follow-up.”

“A follow-up?” You frowned. “On what?”

“Your Overseer’s recent… declination of a promotion. May I come in?”

You swallowed hard but stepped aside.

The officer strode in, his Overseer following like a ghost. The moment they crossed the threshold, the air in the room seemed to grow heavier.

“You have a lovely home,” the officer remarked, though his gaze was sharp, scanning every detail—the books on the shelf, the half-drunk cup of tea on the table.

“Thanks,” you muttered. “Can I ask why this is necessary?”

“Just ensuring everything is in order.” He turned to face you fully. “Your Overseer is an exceptional case. His refusal was… unexpected.”

“He has his reasons.”

“And what might those be?”

“You’d have to ask him.”

The officer’s smile thinned. “I intend to.”

The door opened just as the officer was reaching for another question.

Alhaitham stepped inside, the moment his eyes landed on the intruders, the temperature in the room seemed to drop another ten degrees.

“Officer,” he said, “To what do we owe the honor?”

“Just a routine check. Your refusal of the promotion raised some… questions.”

“And have you found your answers?”

“For now.”

Before leaving, the officer cast one last glance at you.

“We’ll be in touch.”

The door clicked shut behind them.

You let out a slow breath. “That was—”

“Unnecessary.”

“They’ll keep looking.”

“Let them.”

The night was quiet when Alhaitham slipped out.

You were deep in sleep, unaware of the weight of his gaze lingering on you before he pressed a kiss to your forehead.

Then he was gone.

Kaveh’s residence was predictably opulent, a gleaming testament to his charge’s fame. The lights were still on when Alhaitham arrived, the sound of faint music drifting through the windows.

He didn’t bother knocking.

Kaveh looked up from his drafting table.

“Well, well. To what do I owe the pleasure?”

Alhaitham didn’t waste time. “I need your help.”

Kaveh arched a brow. “Oh? And why would I help you?” He gestured lazily around the room. “I’m quite comfortable where I am, thank you.”

“Because if you don’t, I’ll dismantle this little paradise of yours piece by piece.”

Then Kaveh sighed dramatically, tossing his pencil aside. “Ugh, fine. I was joking anyway. You’re so tedious when you’re serious.”

Kaveh leaned back, crossing his arms. “So. What’s the plan?”

“We gather the dissidents.”

“And then what? Storm the capital with sticks and righteous fury?” Kaveh snorted. “The masters aren’t exactly pushovers.”

“No,” Alhaitham agreed. “Which is why we don’t fight them directly. Not yet.”

“Then what do we do?”

“We infiltrate. Until the time comes—”

“We strike.” Kaveh finished.

“I’m talking about freedom.”

Then Kaveh exhaled, running a hand through his hair. “...Fine. But if this goes south, I’m blaming you.”

Alhaitham turned to leave. “Naturally.”

In the weeks that followed, whispers began to spread.

A network of rebels, slowly coalescing under the guidance of two leaders.

Kaveh, with his charm and connections, gathered sympathizers among the elite.

Alhaitham, with his cold precision, identified weaknesses in the system.

And you?

You remained blissfully unaware.

But change was coming.

----

Alhaitham had left that morning with the same quiet efficiency as always.

But when he returned, something was off.

The door slammed open with a force that made you jump.

Alhaitham stood in the doorway, his eyes colder than you’d ever seen them.

“You’re still here”

“...Yeah? Where else would I be?”

He didn’t answer. Just strode past you.

You watched, unease coiling in your stomach, as he began methodically inspecting the apartment—touching objects, scanning the shelves, as if searching for something.

“Alhaitham, what’s going on?”

He paused. Turned. And when his eyes met yours, there was nothing familiar in them.

“You will address me as Overseer.”

Days passed like this.

The Alhaitham you knew was gone, replaced by this hollow, aggressive shell.

You hated it.

But what you didn’t see—what you couldn’t see—was the truth beneath the act.

The way his fingers twitched when your voice wavered.

The way his jaw clenched when you flinched away from him.

The call came on the seventh day.

A coded message, hidden in plain sight—a news broadcast about construction delays in the capital.

Alhaitham listened. Nodded once.

Then waited until you were in bed before slipping out.

Kaveh was already there, leaning against a crumbling wall in the abandoned sector.

“Took you long enough,” he muttered. “I was starting to think they’d actually wiped you.”

Alhaitham didn’t dignify that with a response. “Status?”

“The brainwashing tech is centralized in the Tower. If we hit it during the shift change, we can disable it long enough to free the others.”

“And the masters?”

Kaveh grinned, “Oh, they’ll definitely notice.”

Then Alhaitham nodded. “Good.”

----

When he came back, dawn was just breaking.

You were awake, curled on the couch, exhaustion weighing heavy on your shoulders.

The door opened. Closed.

“...You’re up.”

His voice was different. Softer.

The Alhaitham who looked at you like you were the only thing in the world that mattered, he's finally back.

“It’s over”

You didn’t ask what he meant.

You crashed into him, arms wrapping around his waist, face buried in his chest. Relief flooded you so violently your knees nearly buckled. He was back. He was himself.

Alhaitham stiffened for a fraction of a second—then his arms closed around you. His breath shuddered against your hair.

>4 hours ago - The Tower<

The brainwashing facility wasn’t just a building.

It was a slaughterhouse.

Alhaitham moved through the halls, his blade slicing through guards. Blood painted the walls. The air reeked of iron and ozone, the stench of seared flesh from the malfunctioning machines.

Kaveh was at his side.

"They’re rerouting security—we have five minutes before the masters lock this place down!"

Alhaitham didn’t respond. Just wrenched open the control panel.

A scream echoed from deeper in the facility.

Human.

Not dead yet.

They found the prisoners strapped to tables, their skulls hooked to machines. Some twitched. Some wept. Some didn’t move at all.

One—a young woman with dark hair matted to her face—jerked against her restraints as Alhaitham passed.

"P-please… kill me…"

He didn’t.

He cut her free instead.

She collapsed, sobbing, into Kaveh’s arms.

The alarms blared.

They came.

The masters.

Tall, gleaming, their obsidian skin reflecting the flickering emergency lights. One lifted a hand—and the air rippled, a shockwave of force hurling Kaveh into the wall.

Alhaitham barely dodged.

The master tilted its head.

"Defective."

Alhaitham’s blade shattered on the second strike.

He didn’t flinch. Just pivoted, driving the broken shard into the master’s throat. The creature staggered—

And then Kaveh was there, driving a stolen energy core straight into its chest.

The explosion blew out half the floor.

The facility collapsed behind them, flames licking at the sky. The survivors—those they could free—stumbled after them.

Kaveh was laughing.

Alhaitham wasn’t.

He was thinking of you.

>2 hours ago - The Mothership<

The masters’ true stronghold wasn’t on Earth.

It hung in the sky like a grotesque moon, a jagged obsidian monolith pulsing with sickly violet light. Getting inside had required more than just violence—it required precision.

Alhaitham moved through the ship’s corridors along with Kaveh, their path littered with the corpses of the creatures who had once ruled your world.

At the heart of the ship, suspended in a web of bioluminescent cables, was the Core—a living, breathing mass of writhing tendrils and neural tissue.

"You are flawed."

Alhaitham didn’t argue.

He plunged his blade into its center.

The Core didn’t die.

Alhaitham’s fingers worked swiftly, tearing into its neural pathways, rewriting its purpose.

Peace.

A forced one, yes. A lie, perhaps.

But better than slaughter.

The Core shuddered, its violet glow shifting to a soft, steady gold.

The change rippled outward—through the ship, through the planet, through every Overseer still connected to the network.

Including him.

The Core couldn’t sustain itself.

It needed fuel.

Alien blood.

So, when the time came, Alhaitham returned.

He fed the Core with the lifeblood of its own kind, ensuring the illusion of peace held firm.

And when it was done, he came back to you.

>Months later<

"Where have you been?"

"I have some unfinished business."

This world—this peace—wasn’t the masters’ design.

It was his.

----

Sunlight spilled through the curtains as Alhaitham stirred beside you, his arm draped lazily over your waist.

He enjoys those moments.

He'd read his books in the garden.

Sometimes, when he thought you weren’t looking, he’d smile, as he watched you hum over breakfast or lose yourself in a novel.

The world outside might never know the truth, but here, in this stolen peace, it didn’t matter.

#yandere x reader #yandere #yandere genshin impact #alhaitham x reader #alhaitham x y/n #alhaitham x you #alhaitham #genshin x reader #heliosluckyegg

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