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corazondebeskar-reads · 24 days

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of rage and ruin - chapter one

of rage and ruin series

chapter one

series masterlist | next chapter

werewolf!alpha!Joel Miller x f!omega!reader

word count: 3.1k

summary: Joel Miller made it twelve years into the apocalypse without getting bit. He turns into a much different kind of monster than he expected, though.

chapter warnings: dark, dead dove do not eat, a/b/o, alpha/omega dynamics, omegaverse, captivity, torture, canon-typical violence, genre-typical violence, horror themes, graphic violence, suicidal ideation, gore, abuse by captors (not by either joel or reader), death, murder of innocent people, typical raider/hunter behavior, mention of cordyceps, angst, no y/n, reader is able-bodied and afab with no specific descriptions, viewer discretion is advised

also on ao3

dividers by @saradika-graphics

This is a werewolf omegaverse fic that uses traditional and non-traditional elements of the genres. It largely ignores TLOU canon.

DISCLAIMER: A plotline of this story involves unethical medical care and human experimentation re: vaccines. It may give anti-vax vibes. This is NOT an anti-vax story and I do not want any related discourse please and thank you. This is about FEDRA being the absolute worst, not about the real world in any way.

In a rare moment of lucidity, he thinks he used to be human, once.

He’s partially transformed more often than not. Almost never fully, unless he’s under the sway of the moon. His real keeper.

These raiders may think they own him, but he knows the truth.

But lucidity is rare, and most of the time, Joel Miller is more beast than man.

Most of the time, he doesn’t even know he’s Joel Miller.

No matter what, though, he’s a nearly uncontrollable force of nature.

That’s why they keep a shock collar around his neck and tasers at their waists. That’s why they never turn their backs or leave him unrestrained. He fought like hell for a long time until he broke.

No shame in it, he knows. Everyone breaks eventually.

As the years have gone on, though, he’s been getting restless and snippy, less cooperative. And the pain doesn’t really matter anymore.

Nothin’ really does when you’ve given up.

On the last new moon, when the wolf was quiet and the man was loud, he’d tried to refuse. He sat, buck-ass naked, on the gritty wood floor of the house they were raiding.

He did not sniff out treasure like some fucking metal detector. He did not tear the humans limb from limb. He did not feast.

He paid for that night and had the receipts to prove it, laid into his back from the silver-tipped whip.

He should have tried harder to die at the start.

He hadn’t understood right away, when they took him. It, frankly, didn’t even cross his mind that they’d know. Laura, the woman in the woods, had been so sure it was secret.

He got it when they shot him in the leg with a BB gun, though, and the silver shrapnel burned. They were prepared. Silver-coated chains and cuffs, silver-tipped batons and whips and knives. Cattle prods and electric collars.

They’d been hunting him.

They tried to break him easy, first. They were looking for a wolf; didn’t know they’d find Joel Miller. They left him chained in an abandoned suburb, giving him just the minimum food and water to keep him alive.

It worked to weaken him, but they didn’t want him weak forever. Not a very good guard dog or weapon if he can’t lift his head. So when that didn’t work, when he didn’t beg and plead or bend the knee, they gave up and bulked him back up slowly.

So they tried pain next.

He came to know the healing as a curse. They avoided the silver, at least at first, since it’d leave damage. But when they found out they could break his bones over and over and over?

That’s when he started to wish he was dead. What was the point, anyway? He couldn’t go back to Boston. Couldn’t risk himself around Tommy and Tess.

Couldn’t kill himself if he tried, but they could, with their arsenal.

Didn’t matter what he wanted in the end; his brain wouldn’t give in. It overrode his silent pleas, and it fought and fought and fought.

So they took him on a raid. Starving, chained under the full moon, and they waited. He couldn’t go far, but he didn’t have to.

They brought the food to him.

“You’ve no control over it, huh?” Cheryl said after, leering into his “room.” They send her to play nice, but he knows she’s the worst of them all. They just think he’ll smell pussy and roll over. “We didn’t need you to kill them. You just need to scare them and help us find what we’re lookin’ for.”

They had him. He knows, he knows, he knows. He’d have done anything to stop it from happening again. From devouring tied-up families who dared to say “no” to Jim and his crew. From throwing up blood and bones and bows.

He can’t kill himself. They won’t kill him. He had no choice.

He broke.

This new moon, they don’t take him out to scavenge. No, instead, they drag him outside and spray him down with the hose. This, in itself, is not unusual. But when they force the muzzle over his snapping teeth to scrub at his skin with precious lye soap and a rag, he starts to get concerned.

His suspicions are confirmed when they take him back inside.

The only time he’s left unbound is here, in his room. Well. It meets the vague requirements for a room, but it’s also reinforced with silver-plated steel and concrete. Cheaply so, but enough to mute his senses and hopes.

Usually, they wait until the grate is shut to unclip the lead. They wait until he kneels and offers his hands to unlock the shackles. When he’s been good, of course.

But not today. Today, they chain him tight to the wall at the far end of the room.

They’ve had this theory that he hates to admit is not without merit. Looking for another way to control him, they’ve tried to find him an omega.

The first few times, they just forced him on them out wherever they’ve raided. Usually, he’s too out of control, and they don’t survive the encounter.

The most recent time, they dumped one in his cell. But the poor thing still smelled of his alpha, having only lost them hours earlier.

Joel didn’t react well.

They’re trying something new, now.

That he’s here while they clean his room is deliberate. He knows this. They’re purging all his scent from it, and they want him to watch, want him unsettled.

He growls when they remove his mattress completely. It’s a pathetically small, thin, hole-ridden thing, but it’s his.

Before they drag in a new one, a flat pack of grated metal is tossed in the corner. Two of his captors go to work on assembling the contraption, and another leaves for a while, only to return with a sawed-off portion of his mattress.

It fits neatly inside the cage. For that’s what they’ve constructed. It’s silver-coated, of course, but pathetically weak otherwise. If he truly desired, he could snap the bars as easily as bone.

He’s not keen on having burnt hands, though.

Just inside the front of the cage, they clip up a bit of cloth. He doesn’t need to be told what it is, knowing immediately after it’s extracted from the airtight glass Tupperware.

They tell him anyway. “Got a new toy for you to try, if you’re good. For now, this is all you get.”

The heady scent of omega soaked into the panties permeates his room.

He’s salivating a little by the time they finally release him, but he waits until the heavy footfalls echo from down the hall to give in.

They smell divine. He can’t resist tasting, lapping at the tiniest hint of musk and omega under his elongated tongue.

“Told ya he would have shredded her,” Jim says to Cheryl when they come in the morning with his breakfast. Joel’s in his mind enough to feel a little shame, back of his neck burning, when they see the tattered fabric.

It’s clear they anticipated it because, along with his tray, he’s given a new pair.

They’re not so appealing this time. The sweet scent is cut by acidic fear like vinegar through molasses. He ignores them in favor of his meal.

He eats better here than he ever did out there. He’s worth more rations to the raiders than to FEDRA. Robust meals full of meat and eggs and potatoes.

They need him strong, after all.

It’s not until a few hours later that he’s drawn back in by the underwear. It’s not so acrid anymore. Or maybe it is, and he’s just in the mood. Either way, he buries his face in them while he strokes his cock and uses them to catch his cum when he finishes.

There. That’s better. The mix of him with… whoever you are.

When they bring him lunch, they make him put the panties on his old tray before pushing it out to them. He doesn’t burn with shame this time; no, he almost feels proud. Like a peacock fluffing out its feathers. They know now. They must.

Whoever you are, you’re his.

The next day, they bring back the same pair. He wolfs out a little at the fresh layer of you over his cum. It’s all fear and tears and disgust, but it doesn’t matter, doesn’t matter at all, not to him, not to the wolf.

All that matters is how his head fills with static when he licks across the gusset and howls.

Cheryl’s looking pretty smug on the other side of the door, but for all that she’s pleased with the results; they still threaten to turn on the collar if he doesn’t eat quickly.

He’s nearly fully wolf, gobbling down the food and returning to his treasure. He snarls as he strokes his cock, the head angry and purple as he tugs. He doesn’t spill onto the panties this time, not wanting to cover up the perfect combination of your scents. In the end, they’re shredded anyway, as his fingers stretch and break into claws.

In his full glory, his senses are even sharper. Sharp enough that he can hear a faint sobbing across the building and Cheryl’s sharp laughter.

“I don’t know,” she’s drawling when he tunes in. “He sounds pretty excited to meet you.”

The soft sobbing turns raw and cracked. He can smell the salt and phlegm, can practically taste it in the air. He’s aware of Cheryl, but nothing is louder than the way your heart is tripping over itself.

When Cheryl’s words sink in, when he realizes he might actually get to have whatever delicious creature they’ve gotten him, he howls again, a long, aching sound that creeps down your bones like frost.

Later, when he’s a little more present, he realizes they didn’t shock him either time he howled. It’s usually a guarantee.

Whatever game they’re playing, it doesn’t bode well for you.

Joel Miller made it twelve years into the apocalypse without getting bit. He wasn’t even worried when it happened. They’d been heading back to the QZ, him and Tommy and Tess, when a wild dog attacked them.

Or, well. A wolf.

Tommy had gotten a bullet in its head, but it had Joel’s arm in its jaw at the time. Its teeth had rent through his jacket like a spoon in a banana split.

FEDRA would shoot him without a second thought, so they doubled back to the little cabin and hunkered down. Figured they’d lay low long enough for it to be hideable before sneaking back in.

Tommy went out at daybreak for the carcass—it’d be leagues better than what they had in their bags. When he came back, he was faint and empty-handed.

“...don’t make any sense,” he kept muttering, pacing the tiny kitchenette.

Joel and Tess exchanged a glance.

“Probably a bear took it,” she suggested.

Tommy ran his hand through his hair, shook his head, and did it again. When he looked up at them, it was through wild, unpredictable eyes. “Wasn’t a wolf. It was a man.”

“What’re you talkin’ about?” Joel said.

“C’mon.”

They followed him through the thicket, and sure as shit, in the same place the wolf’s corpse had lain was a man with a bullet through his skull. He was completely nude.

“Gotta be a coincidence,” Joel muttered.

Tommy turned to him, eyes wide and hands shaking. “What kind of fucking coincidence is this?”

There was a rustle, and they all turned, guns raised, as a woman peeked from behind a tree.

She put her hands up and waited. Tess jerked her head to one side, and they lowered but did not stow their weapons.

The woman was in a ratty cotton dress with no shoes; autumn leaves crunching underfoot.

“That’s, um. That’s my husband,” she said softly.

“Apologies, ma’am,” Tommy said, his face soft and sad. “But—I think he attacked us.”

Her green eyes grew wide, pupils dilating and breath catching in her chest. “Did you get bit?”

Tommy and Tess instinctually looked at Joel.

“What’s it to ya?” he said.

“Did you get bit?” she repeated.

“Was he Infected?”

“Not with cordyceps, no,” she says. She avoids looking at the body but flinches when she brushes a foot against a blood-soaked leaf.

“What does that mean?” Tommy said.

“I think it’s best we go someplace and talk.”

Against better judgment, they follow her through the words to her home. She claims to have two kids alone there, four years and six months.

It turns out to be true. She gets them both down for a nap and serves hot stew. They try to refuse, but she insists.

Tommy feels a little sick eating the food of a man he killed. They all listen, rapt, as she begins to speak.

“It happened a year ago. But it wasn’t an accident.”

When the full moon is two days away, Joel is nearing the furthest from himself. Same shit, different month, but his reactions to your scent are getting, well, feral.

They’re bringing him strips of cloth, now. He gets a new one with each meal. He doesn’t destroy them anymore. Oh, no. When he’s clearer, he wishes he did.

But no. He smells and licks and then jerks off with them. If only that were the worst of it. He’ll come to be mortified during the waning, but he starts to add them to the cage. It’s fairly saturated with the smell of him from his old mattress, but it pleases the beast within to line it with the sweet mixture soaked into the torn sheets.

You’ll understand, then, the wolf thinks. You’ll know it’s safe for you. Somewhere he’s made, a den all your own where he can keep you.

But you won’t know, because what you know is very little.

When FEDRA started asking for volunteers to test vaccines, you didn’t hesitate. You knew the risks. And the rewards—room and rations for the length of the observation period, anywhere up to a year in length. You knew there would be a catch—probably many, but given that you rarely had a room or rations, it wasn’t a hard choice.

But this was the end of the world, and “informed consent” was not something that survived the outbreak.

They worked in batches. A truckload of live bodies at a time. Sterilizing showers with the barest trace of privacy, dressed in stiff starchy scrubs, and led into little cubicles where nurses with needles sat in wait.

A quick jab to the upper arm, and then you were off. The hospital was an old correctional facility, but again, for someone who hadn’t had a bed on a reliable basis, you felt only relief.

Until the deaths started.

They didn’t even try to hide it. Within 24 hours of arrival, a fourth of your group was gone. Carted out in black bags marked with β and nothing more said. You watched through your window like everyone else.

Someone came around the next day and drew blood from every remaining subject, and the tagging began after that. You could see the symbols on other’s doors, but not your own. α or Ω. What they meant, you couldn’t begin to guess.

It started not long after.

The changes.

At first it was so subtle, you may not have noticed, but a nurse came by each day to ask you a series of increasingly embarrassing questions.

What do you smell? What do I smell like? What does your sweat smell like? How sensitive are your breasts? Describe your vaginal discharge. How aroused are you on a scale of 1-10?

They began weekly tests. Blood draws once a week and daily urine samples, of course, but also hearing and vision. They made you run on a treadmill hooked up to wires.

And then, one day, after six months of intensive observation, they moved you.

Or. They tried to.

You were exhibiting a specific set of side effects, they said. You were to be transferred to another facility for subjects with the same side effects for further observation.

Raiders took out the truck halfway through the ten-hour journey. It was… it was a bloodbath, actually. For the FEDRA officers, anyway.

When they had you all lined up, grippy socks soaking in the ankle-deep mud, well, that was when you all learned which symbol was on your door. They couldn’t keep the word out of their mouths. Omega.

Not that it fucking explained anything.

One by one, a short blonde with a bob went down the line of you and shoved something up to each omega’s face. That’s it. It seemed to have no greater purpose.

But for some reason, when she pressed the cloth against your nose and mouth, she smiled. And they separated you.

Whatever that was had a deep, oaky musk, like the illicit brewery operating out of the warehouse you often slept in before the trials.

They tell you nothing.

They make you sleep on strips of cloth, so you roll around in the pile as you toss and turn, rubbing your sweat and slick and pheromones all over.

They don’t bring you anything of his, but you catch faint whiffs of him (him, always him, they never call him by a name), of those aged, liquor-soaked barrels, but all it does is make you nauseous. You don’t understand how you know it’s him; you still don’t understand any of it.

You learn very quickly not to ask questions.

They take him out on the night the moon is full and bloated, hanging over him like a searchlight. See, it whispers, I can find you anywhere. Anywhere. It doesn’t matter. If it didn’t, the wolf would find it anyway.

He is not himself.

He is his truest self.

He is two or one; neither yet both. A monster movie mashup of fur and teeth and roughshod science experiments conducted by a doctor who wasn’t a doctor at all. He’s the monster’s victim. He’s the monsters’ monster.

He’s the wolf and the wolf is him.

He’s The Wolf and he’s swallowed Joel down.

He’s the man, the weak link, buried so deep he can’t see the light of his celestial mistress

He’s Joel Miller. Sometimes, sometimes.

Tonight, he is gone. There is only the Wolf.

And the Wolf knows. As soon as they cross the threshold, he knows.

Dawn is rising, the hunt is over, but he’ll be the wolf for a while longer. And he knows that fuckin’ smell.

It’s the saccharine sour mix of you. Heavy on your sweet apple undertones, and oh, he knows.

You’re in the cage.

next chapter

*title from "Bad Moon Rising" by Creedence Clearwater Revival.

😬 I've been working on this baby for a long, long time, so I will be drinking your likes and comments desperately. thank you for reading and i love you.

#joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller x f!reader #alpha!joel miller x omega!reader #alpha!joel miller #werewolf joel miller #the last of us fic #joel miller fic #dark fic #dead dove fic #a/b/o verse #fic: of rage and ruin #a/b/o au

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jobean12-blog · 3 months

Text

Nestled

Pairing: Joel Miller x female reader (A/B/O AU)

Word Count: 1,245

Summary: Joel's been away taking care of things and when he returns it's impossible to hide how much you've missed him.

Author's Note: This is my first ever A/B/O fic and it's for my lovely friend Suz's @targaryenvampireslayer Blind Date Writing Challenge! The trope I got was A/B/O and my dialogue prompt is bolded in the story! I want to give special thanks to my sweet friend Eva @biteofcherry for looking this over for me and helping me navigate this universe. She has the most amazing A/B/O AU with Ari that you can read HERE! Thank you all so much for reading and much love always! ❤️❤️❤️Divider by the awesome @firefly-in-darkness thank you Daisy🥰

Warnings: lots of soft sweet fluffiness, alpha!Joel has a dominant edge but he's soft and sexy for his omgea, finger-ing, ora-l (f rec)

Pedro Pascal Character Masterlist

The softness of his shirt feels perfect against your sensitive skin and as you cuddle the fabric you fall deeper into the cocoon of his scent, surrounded by the warmth of your blankets and pillows.

The dainty string of fairy lights glows softly against the backdrop of darkness that filters in through the large windows but even with their light the stars in the sky shine more brightly, twinkling like diamonds.

You sigh and fight the heavy feel of your eyelids as they press closed. He should be home soon and you want to be awake. Want to see him. Want to feel him. You need him.

With the last lingering thoughts of his touch your breathing starts to even out but just before you succumb to sleep your body starts to thrum with awareness and you know he’s back.

You sit up and stretch just as he appears in the doorway, filling the space with his broad shoulders.

“Joel,” you whisper.

He walks toward you with even and purposeful steps, stopping just outside your nesting space. He smiles with admiration and love at what you’ve created and when his eyes meet yours you see it there and it fills your heart up.

“Darlin’,” he coos before he bends down and climbs in next to you, taking note of his shirt draped over your otherwise bare skin with a pleased hum.

You curl into his embrace and purr as he nuzzles your neck and inhales your scent. He rubs his nose along your jaw, following with butterfly kisses until he finds your lips and seals them with his.

When he pulls away your eyes are still closed and your lips are curved into a satisfied smile.

“Look at me darlin’.”

Your eyelids slowly flutter open and meet his gaze.

“Have you been takin’ care of yourself while I was gone?”

You nod. “Mm hm. Just like you told me.”

He gives you an approving smile and cradles your cheek in one large hand, brushing his thumb gently across your skin.

“That’s my good girl.”

You preen under his praise, your skin heating and tingles running down your spine.

He cradles you against his chest as his hands slide over your curves and his fingers slip under the hem of his shirt.

You burrow to him, kissing his neck and loving the feel of the scruffy hair lining his skin and humming as his scent envelopes you in a feeling of safety and love. With your head resting against his shoulder you look up into the night sky and follow the path of a shooting star.

“They’re so beautiful,” you whisper.

“Hm?” he murmurs and you turn your face to his. He’s staring. At you.

“The stars…they’re beautiful.”

His eyes never move from your face.

“Not as beautiful as you,” he says quietly.

“I missed you Joel.”

His fingertips graze the soft skin of your stomach before sliding lower and teasing your thigh.

Your arousal spikes the air and he growls low and deep.

“I know,” he groans as your sweet scent wafts up to his nose.

He pushes you down until you’re spread out beneath him and with gentle hands he lifts his shirt up and off your body.

“I can’t wait to devour you my sweet omega. It’s all I could think about.”

His dark eyes fall to your knees and he wedges his hand between them to spread you open. The heat of his skin matches yours as he skims his calloused fingers down the curve of your leg and his warm breath caresses your cheek.

“Mm…,” he hums. “Smell so good darlin.’ Sweet as sugar.”

Those long fingers move lower and brush through the slickness between your thighs. You shiver and squirm even at the lightest touch, clutching his thick wrist and urging him closer. When his lips ghost along the shell of your ear you whimper his name and arch your back, letting your legs fall open wider.

“You seem more sensitive than usual,” he murmurs, relishing the way you come alive beneath him.

“Missed you so much alpha. Need you. Please.”

His scent fills the space, strong and musky like the woods after a rain and you feel it everywhere. You thread your fingers through his dark curls as he rubs your noses together.

Your hands fumble to find the buttons of his shirt as you slide them along his chest but when his eyes meet yours you stop and heed the silent warning they hold.

“I’m going to give you what you need darlin.’ Everythin’ you need.”

Soft lips press to your neck, following the delicate curve before sweeping across your shoulder and leaving goosebumps all along your kissed skin.

His touch between your legs is still soft and teasing, making you shake with want.

“Please,” you beg.

A satisfied hum rumbles through his chest as he slips a single thick finger inside you, pumping it slowly in and out. Every stroke brings you closer to the edge and when your lips part and you plead for more he adds a second finger, stretching you just right.

“You’re dripping for me darlin’,” he growls. “I need to taste you.”

He moves lower and splays his free hand on your lower belly, pinning you down. The first sweep of his tongue is all it takes to have you choking on the scream in your throat.

Every lick and suck is deliberately torturous, sweet and languid, drawing out your bliss.

You chant his name and his silky hair slips through your fingers, gasping as the sensations become too much and you shatter apart.

He waits for your breathing to calm with tender kisses and soft licks then his hands move higher, his lips following until he’s cradling you protectively in his arms and whispering sweet praises in your ear.

You tilt your head back, stretching your throat out for the delicate nip of his teeth. He holds you down beneath him, your fingernails dancing over his taut skin as his muscles flex with his barely controlled restraint.

His nose skims along your skin then his lips soothe the spot on your neck where he previously nibbled before he does it all over again.

“Please alpha,” you whine, feeling a new wave of slickness coat your thighs.

He sinks his teeth into your throat and you let out a cry of pleasure, clinging to his shoulders and wrapping your legs around his waist.

His tongue slides over the bite and he rolls his hips, still fully clothed, and the friction between your thighs makes you purr in pleasure.

“You’re wearing too many clothes Joel.”

Your soft reprimand has him kissing you breathless and when he releases you for air he sits up and starts to unbutton his shirt.

With a gentle touch you stop the action. “Let me. Please?” you ask sweetly.

He relents and shifts so you can work your hands along the closed buttons, slowly revealing more of his warm skin.

“I love you,” he says just as your fingertips brush the fabric from his shoulders. “My omega. Mine. All mine.”

Your lips press to the spot over this heart, its beat steady and strong under your kiss. He wraps his hand around your wrist and lifts your fingers to his lips, pressing a kiss to the tip of each before guiding you to the button of his jeans.

“I love you too,” you whisper. “And I’m yours. All yours.”

@blackwidownat2814 @lorilane33 @hiddles-rose @littleseasiren @lizette50 @kmc1989

#joel miller x reader #joel miller #pedro pascal #joel miller x you #alpha!joel miller x omega!reader #joel miller x female reader #joel miller x y/n #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller imagine #alpha!joel miller #pedro pascal x reader #a/b/o au #suzsblinddatechallenge

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absurdthirst · 11 months

Text

Claimed {Alpha!Joel Miller x Omega!F!Reader}

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 11.1k

Warnings: A/B/O dynamics, mentions of bonding/claiming, heats, suppressants, threats of death, cannon violence, fingering, begging, vaginal sex, unprotected sex, knotting, pregnancy, biting, oral sex (female receiving)

Comments: Saved by an alpha and his young charge in Kansas City, you are worried about the basic needs of your body when your suppressants run out. Leaving you to need an alpha, your alpha to claim you.

*** When reblogging or talking about Omegaverse, please remember that ‘a/b/o’ without the slash punctuation marks (/) is considered a slur for the Aboriginal people in Australia.

Co-written with @storiesofthefandomlovers

**Follow @absurdthirst-writes and turn on notifications to stay up to date on all new fics.

|| MasterList || Joel Miller MasterList ||

Click Keep Reading only if you have read the Rating and Warnings and understand the warnings may not be complete to avoid listing spoilers. As AO3 says 'creator chooses not to use warnings'. You also agree that you're the right age to be consuming anything here.

You’re shaking when the flashlight shines in your face. Your hiding place is now discovered by people you can’t even see due to the bright light. “Please. Please don’t hurt me.” You plead, you haven’t eaten for a few days, too scared to move since you came down into the tunnels. Since Katherine wanted you dead for your part in her brother’s death, you have been on the run. It’s been terrifying. Being alone since you separated from Sam and Henry. You had turned in Katherine’s brother to get the meds you so desperately need but that backfired since KC fell to the rebellion.

You smell them, sensing an alpha, two betas and a scent you’ve never smelled before, making your brow furrow. You’re terrified of the alpha hurting you, maybe the betas will harm you until you hear your name. “Henry?” You gasp, recognizing your friend's voice.

“It’s me. Me and Sam.” He tells you and the light is moved so you can see the group, and you struggle as you stumble to your feet.

Joel grips the gun even tighter, shaking his head half a motion before he catches himself. There’s something about your scent, or distinct lack thereof, that’s making him hesitate pulling the trigger. “Stay still.” He growls at you, watching in disbelief as Henry and Sam rush towards you as if you aren’t a threat. Why are you down here? Are you infected, are you hiding?”

“I- Sam! Henry! You’re okay!” You are relieved as you wrap your arms around your friend. “Thank God.” You sigh and stroke Sam’s cheek, glad he’s safe. You sign to him that you missed him, glad Henry had taught you some signs.

Sam beams and Joel growls, “are you fuckin’ infected?” He asks and you shake your head.

“No. No. I’m not infected. I was hiding here from Katherine. Henry and I- she wants us dead. I got separated from them so I came down here, knowing it was Henry’s plan to come to the tunnels.” You explain, still shaking from exhaustion. You haven’t slept, too scared that you’d be found by Katherine’s men.

“Fuck, lighten up old man.” Ellie rolls her eyes at the alpha who is in charge of her protection. She moves forward to greet the new woman that has appeared in front of her, it’s been awhile since she’s been able to talk to another woman. “I’m Ellie.” She greets you, jerking her head back towards Joel. “He’s Joel, he’s okay. He’s an alpha but he’s not one of those alphas.” She wants you to feel comfortable, given the uneasy expression on your face.

You’re confused by her scent, a mixture of alpha, beta and omega. Like nothing you’ve ever smelled before. “I-” You swallow harshly, throat dry, before you introduce yourself. Glancing over her shoulder to see Joel lower his weapon, his dark eyes on yours. You lick your lips, “I’m - I’m an omega but I’m on meds. Well, until they run out.” You confess, knowing it’s risky to introduce yourself like this but you need him to understand you, especially if you are to get out of Kansas City alive.

“Shit.” Joel hisses, looking away from you in exasperation because he knows you being an omega is a complication he doesn’t need. It’s risky, traveling with an unbonded omega, when you run out of meds, any alpha for miles will smell you in heat.

“She comes with us.” Henry immediately demands, making him roll his eyes and sigh after a long moment.

“Are you hungry?” Joel asks you begrudgingly. He might not like it, but he won't starve you.

“Starving. I- I ran out of food a few days ago.” You admit and he sighs, reaching into his pack to toss the jerky he has left over to you. You moan when you bite into it, uncaring of chewiness when it’s something to eat.

“She’s coming with us.” Henry repeats when he sees the look in Joel’s eyes.

It takes him a moment, but he nods once, “let’s get moving.” He says and you lift your backpack onto your shoulder, following the group through the tunnel you collapsed down in when the exhaustion becomes too much.

Stumbling upon the abandoned, underground housing seems like a godsend and Joel agrees to stop until nightfall. You look exhausted and you probably need some water. It irritates him that he’s even thinking along those lines but the alpha instinct to protect and care for an omega is strong with you for some reason. He grunts as you collapse into a chair, having polished off the jerky and shoves a water bottle into your hand. “You don’t need to fall behind later on.” He warns you. “I will leave you.”

You nod, knowing how harsh alphas have become in this new world. You know it's dog eat dog and your omega nature makes it harder to survive. A lot of your peers are under the thumb of an alpha, unable to survive alone. You are trying to be different and look how it's worked out so far. You gulp down some water and your eyes are struggling to stay open. "Sleep." Joel orders and you shift to stand, gathering the bean bags to create a safe area for you to sleep, surrounded and you feel safe with the alpha watching over you.

“She’s good.” Henri leans forward in his chair and promises Joel. “She’s a good person, a good omega.” He pauses for a second. “She doesn’t need to be treated badly, there was enough of that under FEDRA here.” He looks over at you, already asleep and then over at where Ellie and Sam are giggling together. “It’s been a long time since I’ve heard that sound.” He tells Joel, making the alpha glance over at the kids with a sense of melancholy.

Glancing back over at you before looking down at his hands, Joel sighs. There was a time when being around omegas was easier, when he was less abrasive, but that died the day he failed to protect his baby girl. The little girl who had just presented as an omega right before the world had gone to shit. “Once we get out of the city, what you do is up to you.” He tells Henry, frowning slightly at his own words. The smell of comfort and peace drifts from your little nest of beanbags and he wonders when the last time you exuded that scent was.

Henry sighs, telling Joel about Katherine's brother. "Sam had leukemia and I- I had to get him the medicine he needed. FEDRA wanted more. So I gave them Katherine's brother. He was a good man, a great man. She - she needed her meds to suppress her scent and she backed up my story. Katherine wants us both dead. Still think I'm the good guy?" Henry scoffs, crossing his arms.

Joel can’t answer that. Not realistically. Not when he knows he would have done anything to keep Sarah safe and healthy. Has already killed to protect Ellie. His eyes slide away from Henry’s guiltily and he taps his finger on the table. “We should go.” He huffs after a moment, watching as you continue to sleep. “We now have to sneak an omega out of the city too.”

You whimper when someone shakes you gently to wake you up. You look up to see Ellie standing there, her eyes soft and comforting enough that you aren't scared. "We are leaving." She says and you nod, sitting up. You feel rested despite the short amount of time you've been asleep. "Let's go." You say as you swing your pack over your shoulder. Joel swings the door open, walking ahead and you follow, trying to keep quiet.

Joel’s hackles are raised, eyes cautious for any sense of danger. Overly protective now that an omega is in the group. He huffs to himself, keeping himself closer to you and Ellie, naturally puffing up slightly. “How many pills do you have left?” Joel asks, knowing that his own rut is long overdue and if you are close to running out, he needs to get away from you as soon as possible.

You bite your lip as you stay close to him, instinct driving you to be with him. “About three months. I managed to ration them, cut them in half so my scent isn’t completely concealed but it keeps my heat at bay.” You reveal and Joel nods, knowing that it won’t last forever and eventually, you’ll have every damn alpha in the Midwest after you. You eventually come to the end of the tunnel and Henry is cocky as he says his plan worked…until the bullets start to fly.

“Get down!” Joel grabs you and Ellie, pulling you towards the abandoned cars for cover. Henry starts to freak out, taking Sam and trying to run away. “What are you doing? Get down!” Joel shouts, pulling his gun out and looking over the hood of the car. Bullets spray around Henry's feet and they run back towards you and the safety of the car.

Your heart pounds in your ears as Joel tells Ellie the guy has shit aim and he’s gonna go take him out. You are shaking, knife in hand that you grabbed from your boot, and you watch Joel ask Ellie if she trusts him. The girl nods and you know you trust him too. You swallow harshly, terrified as the bullets keep flying…until they stop. When you hear the cars, you barely hear Joel shouting “run! Run!” and you sprint with Ellie’s hand in yours, Sam and Henry not too far behind you.

Joel keeps his eyes focused on you and Ellie as the group with Kathleen pulls up. Chambering another round and keeping it ready as she makes her way out of the truck and implores you and Henry to come out. The truck he had killed the driver in is on fire, making him aware that his options for getting Ellie out of this situation are slowly starting to dwindle. He growls, narrowing his eyes as he focuses on Kathleen’s head. He’ll kill her. Then they will scatter.

You huddle behind the car with Ellie and Sam, Henry standing up and you can’t let him sacrifice himself. “Wait!” You stand up, holding your hands up. “You can’t kill Henry. He has Sam. He can’t - he has family. If you’re going to kill someone, kill me.” You order and Kathleen’s finger hovers over the trigger. You brace yourself for the bullet, knowing that you have fared well for an omega in this world. Kathleen turns around when she hears the truck disappear into the ground and your eyes widen when the stalkers start to rush out. “Shit!” You shriek, running to grab Ellie and keep her safe.

Joel’s heart is pounding in his chest, firing shot after shot, afraid that he might not be quick enough. The group of soldiers that are with Kathleen quickly turn their weapons on the rushing horde, but there are too many of them. All manner of infected leaping out of that pit as Joel keeps Ellie and you in his sights and takes out the dangers around you.

“Shit. Shit. Shit.” You curse when you see Ellie trapped in the car. You are trying to open the door while trying to fend off any stalkers that come at you and when you hear the growls, you spin and see them taken out by a bullet from above. “Ellie! Quick, take my hand.” You order when you manage to get the door open and you’re running only to see Henry and Sam under the car. You drag the stalker off of Henry, stabbing it quickly and you push the body aside, trying to get to Sam. “Quick. Quick. Run!” You order when Ellie manages to kill the stalker and the four of you run towards the bridge.

Joel meets up with the four of you, checking to make sure that Ellie is okay before he turns towards you and the Betas. “Are you okay?” He demands, making you nod quickly. He ignores the need to reassure you, hating that he feels that way and looks back towards the flickering light of the fires. “We need to get farther away.” He tucks the rifle up on his shoulder and starts to move quickly, knowing its best to put distance between you and the horde of infected in case some came this way instead of going into the city. Kansas City is about to fall.

“Stop!” Kathleen approaches and you move to step in front Ellie. Joel’s fingers twitch and you try to be brave. Ellie and Joel don’t deserve to pay for your mistakes. She doesn’t get a chance to continue when she’s jumped on and torn apart. “This way now! Move!” Joel shouts and your heart pounds as you run away from the massacre.

****

You lean against the wall, exhaustion seeping into your bones while you listen to Ellie and Sam read the comic book together. Joel looks exhausted and Henry breaks the tension by asking “you think they’ll be okay?”

Joel nods, “yeah, I think. It’s easier when you’re a kid anyway.” Joel looks over at you, swallowing harshly before he looks back at Henry, “you don’t have anybody else relying on you. That’s the hard part.”

Henry nods, “well, I guess we’re doing a good job then.”

Joel nods, glancing back at you, “what’s that comic book say? Endure and survive?” He asks and Henry confirms it.

“That shit’s redundant.” You snort and Joel nods, “yeah, it’s not great.”

The quiet huffing of amusement passes and Joel sighs, “look, I don’t know how I’m getting to Wyoming, I’m probably walkin’ but, you know, if you want to.”

Henry nods, “yeah. Yeah. I think it’d be nice for Sam to have a friend.”

You bite your lip, “what about me?”

Joel frowns as he stares at you for a moment. His jaw tightening when he smells the wave of apprehension and fear pouring out of you. He knows what an unbonded omega can expect out here. You would be abused, mistreated by any alpha that came across you. You are capable, he’s seen that, but you need an alpha to protect you. He sighs softly after a moment. “All three of you.” He tells you. “I won’t touch you. Don’t worry. I don’t- you’ll be safe with me, with us.” He snorts. “Or as safe as you can fucking get nowadays.”

You can’t deny that you’re relieved and you nod, offering him a soft smile, “thank you, alpha.” You address him formally, wanting him to know how much you appreciate it.

“Get some sleep.” Joel says, his stomach twisting at hearing you call him ‘alpha’ and he watches as you lay down to curl up around yourself.

****

You wake up to Ellie screaming, fumbling to sit up just as she comes running out of the bedroom with Sam trying to bite her. “No!” You cry, hating that Sam was infected and you see the look on Henry’s face. He fought so hard to protect his brother, he did what he had to do, and in the end, it’s all been for nothing.

“Joel!” Ellie screams and Joel holds his hands up when Henry grabs the gun. Shooting the floor when Joel tries to help Ellie.

“Henry! Please!” You beg, knowing what needs to be done. Henry shoots Sam seconds later and you choke on the sob, holding your hands up when Henry aims the gun at you and then at Joel, switching between you.

His heart pounding, Joel hates that he can’t do anything. Helpless as Henry sways slightly holding the gun, eyes frantic. “Henry, give me the gun.” He urges quietly, edging towards him. He’s seen that look too many times. “Give me the gun Henry. Just give it to me.” His hands are still up and he’s trying to keep his voice calm, betas don’t respond to commands like an omega would.

“What have I done?” Henry asks, looking at you desperately, and Joel swallows.

“Give me the gun.” Henry shakes his head and lifts the gun up. “Henry no!” Joel cries right as Henry pulls the trigger and Ellie cries out again, making Joel close his eyes in defeat, failing again at protecting people.

You feel sick, losing your close friends in a matter of seconds has you rushing across the room to throw up, hands shaking and you know Joel and Ellie are affected. "Oh my God. Oh my God." You keep muttering, in shock as you stand up and you watch Joel make sure Ellie is okay before he's crossing the room to grab your shoulders.

"Are you okay? Are you hurt?" He asks and you shake your head, "I- I'm okay." You tell the alpha, his scent soothing you and you wrap your arms around him, pulling him close so you can breathe him in.

Joel stiffens but he doesn’t pull away from you, knowing you need the comfort of his classification for the moment. Ellie is too shocked to smirk when he awkwardly puts his arm around you so he can rub your back. He feels guilty, wishing he had demanded that everyone be searched after the attacks, just in case. He could have talked Henry through the acceptance of losing Sam rather than the abrupt loss. “I’m sorry.” He manages, knowing they were your friends. “I- I’m going to bury them.” He promises, feeling the brothers deserve that at least.

You want to stay in his arms, feel that comfort that only an alpha can give you but he’s not your alpha, he’s stiff and awkward when you pull back. “Sorry.” You murmur and he clears his throat, turning towards Ellie to guide her out of the hotel room and away from the bodies.

****

You sniff when you see Ellie place Sam’s board down on his grave with the word ‘sorry’ written on it. You glance back to see Joel waiting for you and you wipe your eyes, adjusting your backpack as you make your way across the country to Wyoming.

Joel walks silently for a long time, everyone lost in their own thoughts as the miles from the motel increase. He has questions, plenty of them, but he doesn’t voice them. Knowing that right now isn’t the time. Instead he glances around, looking for signs of game. There’s another mouth to feed and he wants to make sure that you have enough since it’s been a few days since you’ve had anything more than the jerky he had tossed you.

The walk is long and you try to keep up with your meds, rationing them to stretch them as long as possible but as the days turn into weeks, you’re starting to panic. The fall turns to winter and the snow is heavy this year, making you shiver under the coat Joel had given you. He found another coat but you love this one, how it smells like him, giving you comfort during the arduous journey. The relationship between you and Joel is tense, both of you fighting your instincts and trying to keep your composure for Ellie’s sake. It would be easy to give in but it would only lead to complications. The alpha is tough, emotionally stunted, and stubborn, but you see how he is with Ellie. The softness in his eyes for the girl. You can understand it, having grown affectionate for her. She is a wonder. Not alpha, not omega, not beta. She’s a perfect combination of all three. Her scent is muted and she bears the best of each status, like fire and ice. A juxtaposition in one little girl who plans on being the solution to all your problems. A cure to your status. A world where every person is equal regardless of their composition. It’s beautiful and you hope she’s right, that she could be their cure to a never ending biological battle.

“We need to find somewhere to shelter.” Joel grunts out, feeling the temperature dropping. There is a storm coming, he can feel the heavy ache in his knitted together knuckles at the joints that remind him how fucking old he is. Too old to be your alpha, as much as he craves it. Every day it’s getting harder to resist the lure of your scent, to stay away from you. You are kind and gentle, although there is a stiffness to your spine that he admires. You ensure and bear the hardship of this journey without complaint, and he hasn’t missed you slipping Ellie some of your own meal when there’s not enough to completely fill the girl’s stomach. He watches you, while you’re sleeping, hearing your whimpers and it makes him want to crawl into the sleeping bag he had given you. The pride of you curling into his scent and being comforted by it makes his need to care for you roar to life. “We need a fire. Snow’s coming in.”

You nod, glancing up at the sky. It’s been a long day, the wind has been brutal, hitting you in the face, and Joel is quick to find a cave near the river for you to settle in. You pull the coat closer around you, watching Joel start the fire, and you remember you need to take your meds. Pulling the last packet out, you curse, fumbling with the packet to find one last pill. “Shit. Shit.” You hiss and Ellie looks over at you, “fuck. I- I’ve run out.” You want to cry, certain that you had another week if you rationed and you know you’re screwed. In the middle of nowhere, without your meds, and you know you’re going to go into heat soon. “Shit.” You sob, knowing this is going to a hellish time.

Joel closes his eyes, knowing he needs to find better shelter for you than this cave. If you are out of meds, you will have a hellacious heat the first time. It would beckon any alpha for miles. An open cave is not where he wants you. “Heat up some snow for water.” He orders Ellie, picking up the gun again. You will need plenty of nutrients for the heat and he needs to see if there is anywhere around that would be better. “I’ll be back.” He raises his eyebrows at Ellie. “Get your gun out. Anyone but me comes, you shoot them.” He orders.

You cry, hating that you have run out of meds. You feel vulnerable and you know you’ll be surviving this heat alone. “I’m sorry.” Ellie says, holding her gun as she keeps watch while Joel heads out.

“I- it’s okay. It’s just- I - I hate being an omega. I hate being this weak. I wish I could be stronger.” You feel sorry for yourself, knowing that you’ll need Joel’s sleeping bag and coat for his scent and you breathe it in from your coat, feeling a little calmer.

“What?” Ellie makes a face at you. “You aren’t weak. You are so strong.” She insists, turning towards you and cocking her head. “You have walked hundreds of miles with a strange alpha and even from the beginning, you trusted him. You take less food than you need when you think I’ll be hungry and you are not even a little irritated with me when I talk and talk and talk.” She rolls her eyes and grins at you. “Unlike him. But you are strong. You can’t help your heats, no more than alphas can help their ruts.”

Her words make your heart swell and you smile, “thank you, El.” You feel better from her words and you stand up, wanting to help by heating up the snow so you can have some water to drink. You pull Ellie in for a quick hug, “thank you, sweetheart.” You inhale her neutral scent and step back to get to work. “For the record, I think Joel likes your puns.” You tell her, making her smile and you are both quiet until Joel returns.

Joel has a pair of rabbits in his hand, holding them by the ears but there is something much more important. “Grab your packs.” He orders, immediately moving over to the fire to put it out. “I found a cabin. It’s- the roof is solid and the walls are thick.” He looks over at you with a knowing expression. “It has a bed and plenty of blankets.”

You want to kiss him in appreciation but you scramble to get your pack, Ellie following so you can make your way to the cabin. You can feel the tightness starting in your stomach and your clothes feel too tight, your brow starting to sweat as your heat starts to creep in, too long with too little medication has made it burn through your system. “We gotta go.” You rasp, needing to strip down and start nesting. “Now.” You tell Joel, knowing he can smell the change in you.

“Shit.” Joel hisses, nodding and picking up his pace through the snow as he treks back to the cabin he had found. He had already started a fire when he had checked it out, knowing it was perfect. The fireplace was in the middle of the cabin so it would keep the room you holed up for your heat warm. Now he just needs to get some food into you before you need to nest and he has to keep himself sane and try not to touch you. “Come on. It’s not far.”

You are feeling the ache, making it harder to walk, but you push yourself, knowing that you can’t just collapse in the damn snow. Joel’s back is rigid and you sigh in relief when you arrive at the cabin, entering and exhaling when the warmth of the fire immediately hits you. “I need to-” You shrug off his coat, working on stripping down to your t-shirt and leggings that you have on under your jeans. It’s still too many clothes but you can’t just strip off in front of Joel and Ellie.

“Ellie, go help her.” Joel urges, closing the door and barring it so he can get the food over the flames. You need to eat before it gets too bad. He knows he will have to go out to hunt often. For you, since you will require more food while you are nesting, and to keep from smelling your intoxicating pheromones all the time. “Get her ready. Take my sleeping bag too.”

Ellie is unsure of what to do but you are frantically pulling at your clothes until you’re in your underwear. Ellie grabs Joel’s sleeping bag and puts it down for you alongside your own on the bed. You grab the pillows, working fast to create a nest, grabbing Joel’s coat to put it in the nest. “I’ll be okay, El.” You promise, getting yourself comfortable.

“O-okay. I’m gonna- I’m gonna go out to Joel.” The younger girl is backing out of the room, unable to do anything more and she is wildly uncomfortable with the entire idea of a heat. Regular periods already suck, but she feels sorry for the pain you are going to go through. “I’ll get you water, too.”

As soon as the door is shut, you strip out of your underwear, your hand sliding between your folds to find you soaking wet and you can’t stop the moan of relief that escapes your lips when you rub your clit. Joel’s scent is surrounding you and while it’s not him, it’s enough for now. “Fuck.” You pant, rubbing your clit a little faster, wishing it was Joel, imagining his calloused fingers and his gruff voice telling you how good you are for him.

Ellie comes out of the bedroom, shutting the door behind her. “She’s about to get bad.” She tells Joel, making him grunt as he turns the rabbits over the flames. He can smell the arousal and need pouring off of you, making his cock harden even as he tries to ignore the way that your scent is calling to him. He had promised you that he wouldn’t touch you and he meant it. Even if he had to go jerk off every hour, he wouldn’t touch you.

You bite your lip to smother your moan when you cum from rubbing your clit. The relief only soothes you for a few moments before the need flares to life again. You hear the knock on the door and you cover yourself up so Ellie can bring in the food. “Thank you. I- I need you to go into the room furthest away from this one. I don’t want you to hear me. I- I won’t be myself.” You tell her and she nods, setting the container of water down. As soon as she’s gone, you force yourself to eat, your hands shaking and your cunt dripping as the urge to touch yourself is almost overwhelming. The rabbit bones are pushed aside and you wipe your hands before your fingers push back into your pussy, a loud moan escaping your lips as you fuck yourself with your fingers, your skin is gleaming with sweat and you swear your heat has never been this intense.

Joel clenches his jaw and closes his eyes, hearing the needy moan coming from the room and his fists curl in on themselves. Blowing out a sigh, he takes a deep breath, pulling the air in from his mouth so he doesn’t smell your pheromones as strongly. You are already filling the cabin with your mouth watering scent. “Shit.” He hisses, feeling his cock twitch again, already straining at his jeans. “Fuck, I’ll be back.” He growls, standing and grabbing the rifle as he flees the cabin so he can find some relief.

Ellie decides to take her leave in one of the back rooms away from yours, not wanting to invade your privacy. You pant, curling your fingers but it’s not enough. It’s never enough. You need an alpha. You need Joel. You whine, reminding yourself that it won’t happen but your mind runs wild, imagining him coming into your room, stripping off and sliding his cock inside of you, knotting you. “Oh fuck. Joel.” You choke as you cum around your fingers, unaware that he’s jerking off outside in the freezing cold, having hoped the cold would get rid of his erection but he is still hard even as his cum spills onto the snow. “Oh God.” You whine, rubbing your clit while your fingers are buried deep, using two hands in hopes of satiating the heat curling in your belly.

Joel growls as he tucks his still hard cock back into his pants. It hasn't helped much but he doesn’t feel like he’s about to crawl out of his skin. Huffing from the cold, his breath shows in the air. He should hunt, but his instinct is to keep close to you so he stomps back into the cabin to shut the door and feed more logs onto the fire.

You’ve lost track of time. It could have been hours, maybe days. Ellie has brought you food and water, and cool rags to wipe yourself with, but the sweat still pools on your skin. You’re almost delirious with need, your hands aching and you can’t bring yourself to make yourself cum again. You need an alpha. You can’t deny it anymore. “Joel.” You call out, voice cracking. “Joel. Please. I need you.” You beg, needing to feel something, anything.

His chest puffing up in pleasure, Joel tries to deny that he had been anticipating this. He had melted more snow to bathe with, cleaning up for the omega in heat. Unknowingly preparing himself but still he shakes his head and closes his eyes. “You- you don’t mean that. It’s just the heat, omega. Be calm.” He orders you softly through the door, his fingers nearly digging into the wood as he stands there.

His words, his voice, soothe you for a moment until the ache flares. “No. No. Don’t go. Please. I- I need you. I need you so much Joel. Alpha, please. Please. I need you. My alpha.” You plead, thrashing in the nest you made as his scent lingers in the fabric.

Joel shudders, his entire body flooded with pleasure at being called your alpha. His control slips slightly and his hand moves down to the knob. “I- you don’t - you’re not thinking clearly.” He pants out, his heart pounding in his chest and his own pheromones flooding into the air. “I- I can’t- it’s been so long since I’ve had an omega.” He confesses, knowing he would never be able to pull out of you. He wants to knot you too badly, to fill your aching cunt with his seed.

“I know I need you. I need you now. Please alpha, it hurts. I can’t - nothing is working. My hands hurt.” You sob, growing more desperate for him by the second as you push your fingers back inside of you but your wrist aches, making it hurt. You know that Tess was an alpha, both of them taking their needs out on each other without the emotional danger. “Please Joel. Alpha. I need you.” You beg, smelling his pheromones and another wave of slick coats your hand as you try to make yourself cum.

His cock throbs in his jeans and his head hits the door with a thud. The sound of you whining is gorgeous, making him start to turn the handle but he stops. Turning around and making sure the cabin door is locked and barred takes precious few minutes but his entire body is primed, listening to the sounds of your fingers plunging into your cunt and your moans of his name. He grabs the water bottle and bursts through the door of your room.

When he enters the room, your entire body cries for him, aching and you keep pushing your fingers into your cunt as his scent floods the room. He slams the door behind him and tosses the water bottle down, striding over to the bed and he pulls your fingers out of your cunt, making you whine. When he replaces them with his own, you moan loud in relief, tossing your head back as you cry out, “yes! Alpha!”

Joel groans when he feels how wet you are, his fingers immediately soaked with you and squelch as he pumps them deep into your needy cunt. “I’m here, this what you need, omega? You need an alpha to take care of you? To fuck you until you scream?”

“Yes. Yes. I need you. I need you alpha. I can’t - it’s not enough. Never enough.” You whine, delirious as his fingers already make you feel better than you did before he came in the room. “Fuck. Oh fuck.” You whine, hips rolling up to meet his fingers as he pumps them faster. “I’m gonna - oh. Oh.” You gasp, eyes rolling into the back of your head as he makes you cum for the first time.

Joel hisses as your walls clamp down on his fingers. You’re so fucking tight, imagining that you’re going to feel even better when his cock is inside you. When his knot is inside you. “Give me another.” He demands, pulling his fingers almost completely out so he can add a third finger. “Give me one more and I’ll fuck you.” Joel promises, wanting to make sure you are nice and prepared for his cock, “be my good omega.” He coos, watching you whine and preen when he calls you his.

It’s too much and yet not enough, making you pant as his fingers stretch you out like you’ve desperately needed. “Alpha. Oh fuck.” You whine, reaching up to squeeze your own breasts when he presses his thumb to your clit, those thick digits twisting inside of you. “Yes!” You cry, almost sobbing as you clamp down on his fingers again, soaking his wrist with your slick.

“Good girl.” Joel growls, curling his fingers one last time before he pulls them out of your warm, wet cunt. “Can I enter your nest, omega?” He’s aware that you are calling for him, but this is your space, your comfort is priority. Most alpha snow didn’t observe the customs of pre-outbreak but he wanted you to control this. “Will you let me take care of you, sweet girl?”

You reach for him, hands shaking a little with the need still overwhelming you. Yes, he’s made you cum twice but it’s not enough. You need to feel him surrounding you, inside of you. “Please, alpha. I need you. Come here.” You beg, patting the pillows and blankets you have gathered around yourself, most of it with his scent but it’s nothing like the real thing. He strips off and you eagerly watch, his shirt coming off then his jeans and finally his threadbare boxers. You are all wearing worn clothing now, but when he’s naked, your mouth waters. “So - so beautiful.” You gasp in awe of the strong alpha Joel is. He’s a paradox. A strong man, capable, and yet he asked to enter your nest when most alphas would’ve already been pushing inside of you. He’s soft and caring yet fierce and unforgiving.

Joel climbs into the nest of blankets and pillows you’ve created, groaning at how you are already spreading your legs and inviting him inside you. “I cleaned up, omega.” He promises, knowing that some might not have taken the time, but he didn’t want to risk your health. Hovering over you with his cock hanging between you, he leans down and presses his lips to yours.

You moan into the kiss, tangling your fingers in his hair to try and pull him closer. His cock is pressed against your thigh and it’s not close enough. His tongue slides against yours and you reach between you to wrap your fingers around his cock, pumping him.

“Stop.” He commands, his tone rough. He knows he will cum if you touch him too much. It’s been so long since he has filled someone, even longer since he had had an omega. He doesn’t want to disappoint you. “Let me take care of you, omega. You just lay back and let me make you feel good.”

You nod, letting go of his cock and he shuffles to kneel between your legs, gripping his cock to guide himself to your entrance. He slowly pushes into you, making you moan at the stretch, the connection is instantaneous but you don’t mention it, knowing he will withdraw from you, physically and emotionally. “Alpha.” You sigh in relief when he is fully inside of you.

Joel groans, closing his eyes and feeling the shift in your pheromones. You change from desperate and needy to pleased, the sweet scent of it filling your nest. “I’ve got you.” He promises. “I’ll take care of you.” He grinds his hips deeper before he starts to slowly withdraw. He knows you need to cum again, your heat demanding it. His hand slides down your thigh and he pulls it up onto his hip. “Such a good omega for me. Letting me take care of you.”

You cling to him, nails digging into his shoulders as he starts to move inside of you. "Oh fuck, alpha. Joel." You pant, feeling the fire that threatened to consume you dampen a bit. The slow way he moves inside of you is tearing you apart, piece by piece, and you tilt your head so you can kiss along his jaw and down his neck, wanting him to feel the same way.

He knows that it’s been a long time since you’ve had a heat, since you’ve had sex, so he keeps the pace slow. Knowing that he could easily hurt you and he doesn’t want to do that. Too often omegas get caught up in the desperation and the alphas are uncaring and they injure the omegas they are supposed to be comforting. He had never understood that mentality, while he was harsh in many ways, he would never abuse an omega like that. “Good girl.” He coos in your ear, voice slipping into something smoother, lower pitched. “You’re going to take my knot and then feel so full, aren’t you? That what you want?”

His voice makes you shiver and you wrap your legs around him, trying to push him deeper. “Fuck. Yes alpha. That’s what I- I want. I need it. I need you to knot me.” Your voice is whiny, displaying the need you have for him. “I need it over and over again.” You pant, his hips pushing against yours when he buries himself deep on each thrust. Your stomach twists as he pushes you higher, slow grinds making you pant, and you eventually fall over the edge with a soft cry of his name, clamping down on his cock.

“Shit.” He hisses, leaning down and pressing his nose against your scent gland, inhaling the scent of your pleasure as he rocks into you. Working you through the first of many times you will fall apart on his cock before you are done with your heat. Often days are spent in the nest when a heat is on, the alpha caring for the omega and making sure that they are not neglecting themselves. It’s been a long time since he has wanted to do that. Since his ex wife. He hadn’t bonded with her because they were so young and she had left him for another alpha shortly after Sarah had been born. He had never gotten attached to another omega since then. Until you.

You moan at how good it feels, the ache abading for a moment so you can properly breathe. "Fuck baby." You murmur, caressing his back, "alpha. Taking - taking such good care of me already." You sigh, burying your face in his neck to breathe him in. The smell of smoke and whiskey combined with the strength of Joel has you clenching around him, the need returning within a few moments of your orgasm. You won't be fully satisfied until he knots you.

“I’ve got you, I’ve got you, sweet girl.” He moans, his tongue tracing your gland as he rolls his hips. Shifting onto his side so he can slide one hand between you. Finding your clit with the rough pads of his fingers to rub tight circles on the sensitive nub. “You’re doing so good. So good for me. Taking me perfectly. Gonna knot you, make you feel even better.” He rambles.

“Shit, I - I - fuck. Alpha.” You whine softly when he rubs your clit, making you clench around him, and you pant as he starts to rock into you once more, the new angle making him hit even deeper inside of you. “Oh God.” You moan, heels digging into his ass as you try to push him deeper with each rock of his hips, his hand trapped between you.

Turning his head, Joel kisses you. Absorbing your whines and mewls as his tongue slides into your mouth, loving how you are responding to him. A part of him had feared that he had changed too much, given up too much of his soul to be a good alpha for an omega. You are wonderfully pliant under him, giving him so much of yourself as he works his cock deeper and deeper, feeling the base of his cock starting to swell as he gets closer to knotting you.

You are getting close again, feeling his knot starting to catch inside of you, and you desperately want him to fill you up. Neither of you are thinking about the consequences of him fucking you raw like this but you can’t bring yourself to care, just needing him to fill you up. “Baby. Oh Alpha, I - I’m gonna -” You choke when he hits just right and makes you cum again, soaking him and making you throw your head back to expose your neck to him.

The urge to mark you, to bond you to him is nearly overwhelming. Making Joel growl as he picks up his pace. Instead of grinding into you, he starts thrusting harder, driving his cock deeper in an effort to push his expanding knot into your narrow passage and lock you together for the next hour.

“Oh fuck. Oh fuck. Oh fuck.” You pant, pushed through your orgasm as Joel starts to fuck you, making your eyes roll into the back of your head. “Yes! Yes baby. Oh God. Alpha. Cum for me. Please, need you to fill me up.” You beg, closing your eyes as you are pushed over the edge again.

He knows the basic biology of this, knowing that in order to make your heat as comfortable as possible, your body demands his seed. Nothing but that would truly make you feel good. There are a million reasons why he shouldn’t fill you up, but he can’t pull out of you. Pushing harshly when the knot starts to swell, feeling it slip inside you with a groan of your name.

You feel the relief when his cum starts to paint your walls, knot catching to keep him inside of you as his cock pulses, a groan of your name and “omega” leaving his lips. “Fuck. Joel, alpha.” You murmur, pulling him close and you throw your head back again as you cum once more, triggered by his orgasm.

He cums forever, his cock pulsing and pumping you full of his seed. Knowing that his knot will be keeping you full and he will cum several more times before it goes down. “Good girl, oh take it.” He grunts, feeling better than he has in a long time. He kisses along your throat as you squeeze him tight again, shaking underneath him.

You want him to bite you, to claim you as his to every other alpha out there but you know it’s not possible. You pant, turning your head so you can kiss him again, sliding your tongue into his mouth as his cock finishes twitching and you relax beneath him, legs lowering from his hips to cradle him on top of you.

Joel makes sure that he keeps his weight braces so he’s not too heavy on you, stroking your side and kissing along your shoulder. He feels a connection, one that should terrify him, but he just closes his eyes. Breathing you in with a soft sigh. “How are you feeling, omega?” He asks softly, opening his eyes as he pulls back to watch you.

“I’m feeling good, alpha.” You smile lazily, running your fingers through his hair. The need has been satiated for now and you are enjoying the feel of him surrounding you, his scent is comforting. It’s like nothing you’ve ever experienced before.

“Good.” He hums, kissing your lips again before he slides his arms under you so he can roll you over on top of him. He can bear your weight better than you can his. Letting you sprawl out on top of him while he strokes your back. His knot is still firmly embedded inside you, so you aren’t going anywhere. “You can sleep, sweet girl. I know you are tired.”

You hum, closing your eyes as he caresses your back. You feel safe and satiated for the first time since you can’t even remember when. “Love you.” You murmur, falling asleep within moments of your soft confession.

****

“Fuck. Joel!” You squeal as he pounds into you from behind. He grips your hips and your body aches from the days of fucking but you are still needy for more. You need him to fill you up. “Fuck. Oh shit! Alpha!” You squeal, knowing that later on, you’ll cringe about the fact that Ellie is somewhere in the cabin, having to hear you, but you can’t stop yourself. He growls, jaw clenched and you look over your shoulder at the alpha pounding into you. “Yes. Yes. Yes!” You cry, falling forward onto your elbows.

“That’s it.” Joel hisses, feeling like he’s going to cum, but he needs you to cum first. You’re still so needy for him, and he’s doing his best to make sure you are looked after. Only leaving your nest a few times over the past few days to hunt and make sure Ellie is okay.

“Fuck. Oh fuck.” You whine, clamping down on his cock as you cum, soaking him and your cheek presses into the blankets beneath you, the material permeated with your combined scents and it makes you shiver as his hands squeeze your flesh.

Every time he fucks you, he comes closer and closer to binding you to him, biting your gland and claiming you as his for everyone to know. Growling as he imagines it; he pushes his hips forward again, feeling his knot popping into your cunt as he starts to cum.

You whine when he starts to fill you up and you arch your back, loving the way his knot stretches you and his cum paints your walls. You moan his name followed by ‘alpha’ and you rest your cheek on the blankets, closing your eyes as you enjoy the feel of him filling you up. You’re not stupid, you know he’s likely gotten you pregnant during your heat with the amount of times he’s cum inside of you but you can’t bring yourself to care.

Panting, Joel collapses against your back, closing his eyes as he tries to catch his breath. Soon the three of you will need to move. To continue on to look for Tommy. “My good omega.” He murmurs softly, caressing your hip. He knows he needs to find a safe place for you. Somewhere that you can thrive, somewhere where omegas are treated with respect.

****

When the dog sniffs Ellie, your heart pounds in your chest, and you are glancing at Joel’s back, knowing he must be freaking out. Helpless to do anything when the alphas surround you. You close your eyes, not wanting to hear Ellie torn apart. She’s not an omega or alpha or beta like the dog is trained to identify, wanting to weed out the alphas who threaten most of mankind. When the world fell because of the virus, you knew that alphas had taken advantage, some feeling it was their right to take the world as their own, to bring society back to the old ways where omegas were second class citizens. When Ellie giggles, you relax a little and you sense the relief in Joel, connected after your heat. You’ve never spoken about your confession of love, just continuing your journey to find Tommy.

Joel feels lightheaded, heart pounding and he doesn’t know how you don’t smell the fear and desperation on him. Terrified that he can’t protect you, or Ellie from this group. He’s relieved when two horses are brought for the three of you to ride and he insists that you sit ahead of him, wanting you close.

You breathe Joel in as you enter the compound, wanting the comfort only he can bring and soon the horse is coming to a stop as he shouts his brother’s name. “Tommy!” He yells and you glance at Ellie, shocked to have found Joel’s brother.

After introductions are made, you are escorted to the cafeteria where the three of you dig into your meal like you haven’t eaten for weeks which is half true. It’s been too long since you had a proper meal and you are moaning when you shove the food into your mouth, feeling Tommy’s eyes on you.

Joel hisses at Ellie for being so crass, but he can’t reprimand you for eating vigorously. He knows you need the nutrients after your heat. You haven’t been able to properly have more than almost half of a rabbit or bird, Joel giving up most of his portions between you and Ellie. He’s stunned when he hears Tommy is bonded to the alpha at the table, Marie. His brother was never really cut out for the alpha designation and he frowns slightly at the two of them.

You want to comfort Joel, knowing it must be hard to know that the brother he has nearly died while trying to find is alive and well, thriving in a beautiful community. You want to reach for his hand but you aren’t bonded and you don’t want to overstep. Maria is quick to ask you and Ellie if you want to shower and you look at Joel for guidance, he nods and you all leave the cafeteria while Maria gives you a tour of the town. “Like communists?” Joel asks and you smother you giggle when his brother seems shocked by the phrase.

“Joel. Can we talk?” Tommy asks and Maria says “I can take them to clean up.”

You look at Joel who nods, “go on, omega.” You are anxious but you follow Maria to the house, glancing over your shoulder to see Joel one last time.

They have a bar. An honest to god fucking bar. Joel rubs the shiny, slick wood and shakes his head in disbelief as Tommy ambles behind the bar to pour him a drink. “Been a long time since we’ve done this.” He reminisces, unable to believe that he’s about to have a drink in comfort with his brother. Almost as if nothing has ever happened and the world wasn’t destroyed around this little community. “Surprising to see you bonded to an alpha.” He begins.

“Surprising to see you with an omega. Doesn’t look like you’ve bonded with her yet.” He says and Joel looks down at the bar while his brother pours a glass of whiskey with ice.

“It’s complicated.” Joel murmurs and Tommy sets the glass down in front of him.

“When isn’t it complicated?”

“She was with a couple of Betas in Kansas City. They- uh, when they were gone, I couldn’t leave her out there by herself.” Joel rationalizes. “You know what would have happened to her.”

Tommy nods, knowing how hard this world is for omegas. He barely manages as a beta and Maria saved him from the wilderness. “I can’t just leave.” Tommy says when Joel mentions going to Colorado, “I- I’m going to be a dad.” He reveals and Joel’s heart sinks, reminded of Sarah and how he failed her.

“I guess we’ll see.” Joel grunts after Tommy expressed that he’s thinking he’ll be a good father and that pisses his brother off. “We’ll see? I’m sorry about Sarah but-“ Joel’s heart clenches and he can’t even hear the rest of Tommy’s comment before he pushes away from the bar and storms out. Worried because he’s already failed once and there’s no way he didn’t get you pregnant when he worked you through your heat nearly two months ago.

****

You stare at the test in your hand, waiting for the result. When you walked into the bedroom to find the menstrual cup, you are reminded that you haven’t had your period for two months. Time tends to blur when you’re in the wilderness and you lost track, but you know it’s been about two months since you and Joel fucked. “Shit.” You groan when the test shows positive. You’d asked Maria for a test and her eyebrows had raised but she’d quickly located one for you and now it’s positive. You have to tell Joel.

Walking around has nearly ripped his heart out. Having a panic attack and Tommy finding him after he had seen a woman who from behind made him think of Sarah had been soul crushing. His fear of failure pulls tears out of the alpha and he feels like his designation had been wrong, he’s not an alpha. He can’t protect anyone. Tommy had talked some sense into him during his breakdown and he shoves his hands in his pockets as he walks to the house that he had been told that you and Ellie are in. Drawn back to you, and wondering how you are finding this little commune.

You look up when you see Joel walking into the room, your face stained with tears and you hold the test in your hand. His eyes flick down to it and he immediately knows. “I- I’m so sorry, Joel. This is all my fault.” You choke, knowing he won’t be happy about it. You’ve ruined everything. He has made it obvious that he doesn’t want connections and you just created the biggest connection of all.

Joel closes his eyes, reaching for you blindly to pull you into his arms. “It’s okay omega.” He growls softly, aware that you were always going to end up pregnant after that week in your nest. Even if he hadn’t touched you since, he had filled you with his seed more times than he could count. “We knew it would happen.” He tells you softly, knowing you thought about it too, even if you hadn’t talked about it.

You bury your face in his chest, breathing him in, and you let his scent comfort you. "I know but I - alpha. I know you didn't want connections." You murmur, pulling back to look into his eyes. "I'm so sorry baby." You choke, feeling guilty for making him fuck you during your heat when he tried so hard to leave you alone.

“I-“ Joel stops, thinking for a moment before he shakes his head. “I’m not.” He swallows harshly and reaches up, pulling your shirt down over your gland and rubbing his thumb over the skin. “Do you know how many times I wanted to mark you in your nest? Make you mine?” He asks softly. “You were desperate, needy for me, begging me to take care of you but I didn’t want to claim you when you were so desperate.”

Despite Joel being such a hard man, rough in so many ways, he’s soft underneath. His dark eyes meet yours and you cup his cheek, “I want you to make me yours. I’m not in my heat. If you want me, I’m yours, alpha.” You tell him, rubbing his jaw with your thumb.

His chest puffs up in pride, pleased with your answer even as he searches your eyes with a need to make sure you really want this. “I want you, omega.” He growls. “I want you to carry my mark, for everyone to know who planted their seed in your belly.” He inhales deeply. “Take me to the bedroom you claimed as yours.” He keeps the command out of his voice, giving you the choice to lead him to your room.

There isn’t a choice to make, you’ve been in love with him since before he marked you. You take his hand and guide him to the room you claimed as yours, down the hall from Ellie. He swallows harshly when you open the door and you turn towards him, wanting to be a good omega as you work on the buttons of his shirt, working on undressing him.

Joel lets you undress him, aware of what you are doing for him. What you are trying to show him. Watching you as every article of clothing falls to the floor, until you reach for your own shirt. Then he stops you. Wanting to undress you himself, he slowly lifts your shirt over your head and tosses it aside. “My beautiful omega.” He groans, kneeling down and kissing your stomach before he starts to unbutton your jeans. “Took my seed and gave me hope.”

You look down as he kneels in front of you, pulling your jeans down, and you run your fingers through his hair, loving how he’s kissing your stomach. “My alpha. So strong. So brave.” You murmur, caressing his cheek and you step out of the jeans as he pulls them all the way down. “I love you, alpha.”

He leans into your touch, knowing that you won’t think him weak for taking comfort from you. Some alphas think that finding comfort in their omega beyond just physical is weak but he doesn’t. “I- I love you, omega.” He murmurs before he whispers your name. Peeling your panties down and he licks his lips. “Put your leg on my shoulder, omega.”

You follow his order, body shaking slightly from the overwhelming emotion surging through you, and you stumble slightly as you lift your leg onto his shoulder. His nose trails along your thigh, pressing kisses on the flesh and you sigh, pulling on his hair to get him to move faster. When his tongue slides through your folds, you throw your head back with a moan of his name.

The entire time he had been in your nest, there hadn’t been time for oral. You had been too needy for his cock, tongue and fingers unable to do the job that his knot did. Now, he groans at the tangy taste of your cunt, enjoying the fact that you’ve showered and are ready for him. His nose presses deep into your curls as his tongue pushes into your soaked walls.

You whimper, looking down at him, and his eyes are closed as his nose presses against your clit. “Oh fuck, Joel.” You pant, moaning as his tongue pushes deep. You love the way he groans into your flesh and your heart pounds in your chest. “Oh shit. I- I need you inside of me. Please.” You beg, wanting to feel him.

Joel can’t deny you, not when he desperately wants to be buried inside you again. Taking one last, long lick of your cunt, he pulls away reluctantly. “Go lay down on your bed, baby.” He grunts, smirking up at you. “I want to mark you in a bed, be inside you when I claim you as mine.”

You nod, shifting to lay down on the bed. Settled against the pillows, you look up at him as he stands at the foot of the bed. “Do you want me on my hands and knees?” You ask, wondering if he wants you in the traditional claiming position.

His cock twitches, imagining taking you from behind as he bites into your scent gland, permanently bonding you to him. But he shakes his head, wanting to look at your face when you cum, watch your face as you realize that you are bound to him. “I want to take you on your back.” He tells you quietly, waiting for your reaction.

You nod, keeping your eyes on him as you spread your legs to show him your dripping folds, wet with your arousal and his saliva. “Take me, alpha. I’m yours. In every way.” You promise, caressing your stomach.

“I am yours too.” He promises, knowing that even if he claims you, you hold a claim on him too. He doesn’t want to just possess you, he wants to be possessed by you. He crawls onto the bed and drops another kiss onto your stomach, and he looks up at you. “You are mine and I am yours.” It’s the closest that he would get to marriage now, the institution didn’t exactly exist anymore but he knows he will try to find you a ring to wear. Something beyond his marks.

You smile, tears stinging in your eyes as you watch the man you love crawl up your body until his cock is sliding through your folds. “I love you.” You sigh and he starts to push into you, making you whimper and you caress his neck, pulling him close so you can press your lips to his.

You smile against his lips when he kisses you, wrapping your legs around his hips to pull him closer, and you love how he pushes deeper inside of you. You feel safe, his scent making you feel protected and loved. “Oh God, Joel.” You moan when he shifts onto his elbows, adjusting the position so he’s pressing against your back wall.

He feels the way that you yield to him. The scent of your happiness unfurling around him as he starts to rock into you. He keeps the pace slow, aware that you are more sensitive now that you are carrying. He doesn’t want to hurt you or the baby for his own needs. “My beautiful omega. My love.” He moans, kissing along your neck, straying away from the scent gland.

His words make you preen and you slide your leg along his, wanting to feel closer as he rocks into you. Your hands caress his back and you whine when he pushes deep, “baby. Oh baby.” You pant when the hairs at the base of his cock brush your clit.

“Hmm.” Joel smirks against your skin, happy he can make you breathless. “You like that don’t you? Like the way I take care of you?” His tongue presses against your gland and he licks the clean skin and groans at the way you taste. The burst of pleasure flooding from your pores. “Always gonna take care of you.”

You whimper, loving his words, the comfort coming from his scent, and you love his accent seeping through as he gets lost in the pleasure. "Fuck. I- I love you." You moan, so close to your orgasm. The pregnancy has made you sensitive. "Fuck, I - I'm gonna - Joel." You moan as you clamp down around him, your cry going silent from the pleasure coursing through you.

Joel groans, closing his eyes and shuddering as you clamp down around him. “Perfect.” He hisses. “My perfect omega.” His hips rock forward more eagerly, chasing his own orgasm as he lets his teeth scrap over your gland.

"Do it." You beg breathlessly, "make me yours. I'm yours alpha. Show the world who I belong to." You want him to sink his teeth into your gland, to claim you as his forever because you already belong to him in every other way.

Joel growls, pulling his lips back and with a sharp snap of his hips, he buries his cock deep inside you. Sinking his teeth into your gland and breaking the skin to mark you as his. Filling you with his seed as he groans and the coppery taste of your blood hits his teeth.Joel growls, pulling his lips back and with a sharp snap of his hips, he buries his cock deep inside you. Sinking his teeth into your gland and breaking the skin to mark you as his. Filling you with his seed as he groans and the coppery taste of your blood hits his teeth.

You cum again at the feel of his teeth in your neck, claiming you as his. You whimper, clinging to him as his cock pulses inside of you, filling you up, and you know this is where you've always belonged. In his arms. Tears sting in your eyes and you feel safe, protected, and loved. Something you never imagined before you met Joel.

#pedro pascal #joel miller #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller smut #joel miller imagine #joel miller fanfiction #a/b/o #a/b/o au #alpha!Joel Miller #alpha!joel miller x omega!f!reader #joel miller tlou #joel tlou

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emisprocrastinatingbywriting · 2 months

Text

Alone and Forsaken

Summary:

Alone and forsaken, Joel Miller hides himself away at the end of the world. After losing Sarah he was a shell of a man, trying to drown her memory in the blood of any soul that dared to cross his path. No matter what he did, Sarah haunted him. Then came Ellie, the girl he had been through hell with. Joel felt his chest crack open for her and from then on he decided that wherever Ellie went, he would be there. The Fireflies had other ideas. Joel had fought hard, he had torn through that hospital slaughtering anyone that he came across but he was too late. After practically burning down all of Salt Lake City, Joel banishes himself to a cabin in the middle of the woods. Resigned to his fate, his self imposed exile is soon interrupted when he finds you. Broken, starving, and on the brink of freezing to death, Joel has no choice but to let you into his life. With the winter winds in Montana being particularly piercing this season, he is forced to wait until the spring thaws the ground so that he can dump you on Tommy’s doorstep in Wyoming. Can he keep you at arm’s length until then?

Warnings: Postoutbreak!Joel, mentions of child loss, mentions of religious trauma, brief mentions of Tommy and Maria, mentions of Tess, grieving Joel, Slow burn, eventual smut, eventual soft!Joel, A/B/O dynamics, unspecified age reader age (reader is in her mid-20s and Joel is 56), mentions of violence, Joel really needs a hug in this

A/N: This is my first fic so let me know what you guys think! I'm going to continue to put chapter warnings, both you and Joel are traumatized in this. This is going to be a bit of a slow-burn so strap in folks!

Chapter 1/20 - More to come!

Chapter 1: Withered and Gone

The thundering of his heart pounded in his ears, almost deafening him to the sound of each bullet that ripped into anyone in his way. Joel barely registered their death, if asked today he wouldn’t even be able to tell you how many people he slaughtered. Forty? Sixty? One hundred? He had no idea. Filled with a primal fear that pumped battery acid through his veins, he pressed on until he made it to the door.

That door. Joel hated that fucking door. He knew what he would find on the other side, he had seen it every other night for the last four years. Knowing didn’t change anything, it never did. Whether it was him cradling Sarah in his arms while screaming for Tommy and feeling her tiny body turn cold, or being confronted with Ellie’s skull cracked open while a stranger sliced through her brain, knowing didn’t make it better.

Joel woke, as he did every night, with his heart slamming against his ribs and bile rising in his throat. His eyes were wild as he searched desperately for someone he would never have again, two someones that were gone forever. Nostrils flared, Joel huffed the stale air around him, searching haphazardly for the smell of strawberries and vanilla or cinnamon and ginger. For Sarah and Ellie, his pups.

Joel was greeted with nothing but his own musk, the scent gone sour from the memories haunting his dreams. Running shaky hands over his flushed face, he cursed under his breath before getting up for the day. Knees popping and back twinging in protest, he forced himself into the tiny bathroom connected to his bedroom. Ignoring the weathered face in the mirror, Joel hauled himself into the shower and let the warm water soothe his tense muscles.

After Salt Lake City, Joel had resigned himself to living in the first dilapidated hunting cabin he could find in Montana. It was what he deserved after failing her. Again. He was a bad Alpha, an even worse father, he had let not one but TWO pups die under his care. Living out the rest of his days in some shithole was the least he could do.

Having stumbled back to Wyoming, Joel reached Jackson and collapsed at the front gate. He remembers Tommy above him, trying and failing to shake him out of the daze he was in. He remembers the unfamiliar smells of the clinic, Tommy and Maria coming to see him. He remembers a beta doctor coming in to explain the lows he would experience in the coming months, being an alpha who had lost their pup.

As if he didn’t already know.

Joel couldn’t stay there. He couldn’t stand the softness of the sheets, how Tommy looked at him with sorrow and Maria with guarded pity, how his innocent nephew looked up at him with Tommy’s eyes - the eyes that were the same as his, the same eyes he passed on to Sarah. It only got worse when he left the clinic. Walking through the streets of Jackson reminded him of Ellie. He had to restrain himself from burning the place to the ground. After turning quite a few heads in town with his bitter scent and chilling presence, Joel left quietly in the middle of the night. He left a note for Tommy with the patrol hanging around the front gate and departed for his exile.

Sleepwalking through Wyoming, he finally made his way into Montana where he found the cabin. It must have been the treasure of some reclusive hunter, as it sat smack dead in the middle of the forest without a single road in sight for miles. The building was one story, with a slightly rotting front porch that was overhung by the tin roof. Black solar panels were clamped on the green tin roof, light reflecting against the glass and burning his eyes.

Joel approached it cautiously, pricking up his ears for any potential danger. Who would leave this oasis out here? Hearing nothing, he approached the log building and climbed the slightly softening stairs. Pushing open the door, he was greeted with nothing but dusty air. Taking one step into the room, he could tell nobody had been in this cabin for years. Dust covered the coffee table and moth eaten couch in the living room. Yellowing books lined the shelves and a taxidermied deer leered at him from the wall.

Pushing forward, Joel found a puke green kitchen with a plethora of expired canned food and knitted dishcloths in a variety of bright colors. Next to that, a hallway that led him to a bathroom with a kitschy painting of a monkey in a wig brushing his teeth. Joel stared at it for a second, wondering who the hell would have bought something like that. Was he that type of person before the world went to shit? He couldn't remember.

His tour of the house continued and he found two bedrooms. The first was a master suite with a large bed and a dust soaked brown comforter. He ignored the pictures that lined the walls and shifted through the dressers for anything useful. He found some pants and flannels around his size, as well as some smaller clothes that clearly belonged to a woman. Maybe the owner had a wife? Joel tsked at himself, he needed to remain focused on the task at hand.

Joel dropped his bag, keeping his rifle notched against his shoulder as he approached the last door to the cabin. Surely if a clicker was going to jump out of him it would have already, but humans don’t typically alert their prey before pouncing in his experience. Joel didn’t smell anything as he approached the door but he remained tense. He didn’t trust his senses anymore. Hell, he hadn’t even smelled the Fireflies that approached him as he did compressions on Ellie after the tunnel. Years before that, he hadn’t noticed the soldier's scent sour after getting the orders that would kill Sarah.

“Stupid, so fucking stupid, bad alpha, bad provider…”, he growled before shaking his head, trying to clear his mind of the poison that seeped into his soul with every waking moment of his miserable life.

Half expecting (and half hoping) to be shot dead the second he enters the final room, Joel was greeted with a sight that punched him in the gut. He stumbled back a few steps before a wave of dizziness lurched him forward again. Ears ringing, he fell to his knees and let out a pained cry.

The room was simple, with flowers painted lovingly on the walls and comic books stuffed into the tiny book shelf on the wall. Tears began to stream down his face as he shakily crawled forward. Joel grasped the only picture that sat on the peachy nightstand. Practically choking on his own cries, he dusted off the frame and looked at the picture.

Two girls sat on the front porch. The girl on the left was tomboyish and silly, holding a fishing rod in one hand and throwing up the peace sign with the other. The other girl was softer, hands covered in paint and smiling wide while holding a painting of what looks to be a Disney princess. In another life, that could have been them; his pups, Ellie and Sarah.

“It’s not them, it’s not them, it’s n-not them,” he mumbled to himself, trying to ignore the similarities while his heart rate soared.

He could feel rage building up in his chest as he looked at the girls, his vision going blurry and his jaw popping with how hard he ground his teeth.

“IT’S NOT FUCKING THEM!,” he yelled, launching the picture at the wall and shattering the frame.

Joel stayed on the floor for hours before he collected himself, giving one last look to the room before closing it for good. This place would do fine, he decided. It was secluded enough to keep him in his solitary confinement. The cabin sat near a river with clean flowing water and had seeds and canned food in the cabinets. It even had a tomb for his dead girls to serve as a constant reminder of his failure. Scratch that, his failures. This would be where he spent the rest of his life. Alone, as it should be.

For four years, Joel secluded himself in his cabin. The place had a few adjustments since then. The dust was shaken out of the blankets and the windows opened to wash out the dankness of the place. He had planted seeds and started a garden, put up traps around the area for meat, and even fixed the porch after he had almost fallen through it one morning.

Tommy found him a couple months after his arrival and he managed swindle his brother into helping him get the solar panels working so that he could have power. The younger Miller had lingered, trying to convince his brother to follow him back to a life in Jackson but Joel had just growled at the beta until he backed off. The only concession Joel agreed two was a meet up two times a year, once before winter hit in November and once again at the break of Spring in May. He knew Tommy just wanted to check in on him and as annoyed as he was, he also knew that it was the only way he could avoid the beta dragging him back to Jackson.

Jackson didn’t need the measly produce and game that Joel provided, Joel knew that. His brother needed proof that Joel was still breathing, and this was the only way Tommy knew he could get it.

Joel’s head pounded at the thought of his idiot brother as he tried to rinse off the memories that plagued him. He stood under the scalding spray for a few more moments, willing himself to relax. He wondered briefly if it was his rut that was coming but he quickly brushed that off. He hadn’t had one of those since Tess was still alive. Whether it was stress or that he was aging way too fast, they had just stopped one day. Not that he minded, he hadn’t cared much for the monthly desperation and now he didn't think he deserved the pleasure a release would bring him.

Turning the valve, Joel stepped out of the shower and toweled off. His body was practically on auto pilot as he went through his routine of getting dressed. He crammed whatever food he could find into his mouth before putting on his boots and heading out to check the traps.

The air was chilly as Joel stepped out. He quickly zipped his jacket while cursing the wind that bit into his wide frame. Joel stopped to look at the sky briefly and wondered if it would snow soon. A week into November and the temperatures had dropped drastically. He wondered if this winter would be as brutal as the last. One day he had not even been able to get out the front door with how much snow had come. After 24 hours, he had to literally dig himself out.

Sighing, he headed into the trees surrounding the cabin. Every trap he crossed was empty, save for the last one near the river. That was usually the case, with animals that sought water easily getting snared in the wire. The trap held a good sized rabbit. He grinned as he thought about the stew that he would make with the gamey meat.

“You’ll do just fine darling,” he drawled, releasing the snare from its neck before he shoved it in his pack.

Joel turned, deciding to return to the cabin so that he could properly skin his new found treasure but something stopped him in his tracks. His spine straightened. Is that? No, it can't be. His nose lifted in the air, searching for something that could not possibly be true. That’s when he heard it.

It was quiet. The noise barely carried over the wind and the river nearby but his ears zoned into it immediately. His instincts were trained for this. Joel waited a second. He was sure that he had finally lost it, but then he heard it again.

A whine.

Not just any whine, no, this whine was high pitched and light. It floated on the cold air over to him and smacked him in the face. The scent of lavender and peppermint dizzied him and his heightened senses picked up another strangled whine. This whine had sweat forming on his brow and a need to protect tensing all the muscles in his legs. He was sure of it now. This was the whine of an omega.

For a second Joel just stood there dumbfounded. What the fuck was an omega doing all the way out here? Were they alone? Did they need help? Were they hurt? If they are hurt then they need his help. He has to help, need to be good, need to protect, need to…

“Jesus fucking Christ,” Joel gritted out, rubbing his eyes as his headache worsened with every second he stood there.

Another gust of cold wind brushed against his face and the sweet scent surrounded him again. He smelled the sharp note of panic in the aroma and his legs moved forward before his brain could process the action, his instincts taking over for him. Bounding through the trees, he ran towards the riverbank. His eyes wheeled around his surroundings, a gasp leaving his mouth as he spied a small lump near the rushing waters. Heart pounding in his ears, Joel raced towards it.

-You-

How long had you been lost? Weeks? A month? You didn’t even know anymore. You had been a part of a group of people, being the only survivors from a larger place that had been overrun by infected. After dodging infected and raiders for nearly a year, your luck had to ran out.

Your group had ran out of gas on some godforsaken backroad and were utterly stranded there. Hoping to find something in the small town - could you even call it a town? - your group had trudged into the small strip of dilapidated stores with one sorry looking gas station in the center.

Everything had happened so fast. One moment you were outside the gas station watching a squirrel skitter up a tree near you, the next there were gunshots and screaming. Infected tore apart the face of your friend, an older omega named Miriam who had taken you under her wing, right in front of you. You remember screaming and immediately twenty dead faces turning in your direction. Miriam’s alpha, a soft yet stern woman named Rachel, had stepped in front of you cocking her gun. You whined and whimpered, legs shaking and scent downright acidic with terror as you cowered behind her.

“Go Y/N,” Rachel yelled at you, squaring up as the runners and clickers darted towards her.

You couldn't leave her. What would you do? Where would you go? Rarely had you ever been allowed to be alone and you never really wanted to be. Being an unclaimed omega in a lawless world meant that you had to stick to groups with those that would protect you, lest you become a raiding group's plaything.

Rachel pushed you back and started firing. Whining behind her, you tried to pull her towards the guard rail. You needed her, how would you survive alone?

“GET OUT OF HERE OMEGA!,” Rachel boomed.

That flipped a switch in you. It was a biological kick in the ass that had you turning and sprinting across the road. Jumping over the guardrail, you looked back over your shoulder and saw Rachel slicing through the advancing dead. With her emptied gun somewhere on the ground behind her, you watched as a clicker launched itself at her and tore into her flesh.

With Rachel’s last instructions to you bouncing off the walls of your now empty brain, you turned and sprinted into the forest. Passing nothing but trees, you ran until you were gagged and retched. Your chest was practically on the verge of exploding by the time you stopped and your legs gave out. Collapsing on to the cold ground, you laid beneath the foliage and drifted.

That had been weeks ago, or months, you weren’t sure at this point. It’s not like keeping a calendar was on your mind. Plus, your heats had stopped from the starvation your group had faced for the past year. You tried counting how many days you had been lost by the nights but soon, with only a bag of granola in your pack and bottle of water depleted, the days and nights had blurred together.

This was how you were going to die. You felt like laughing and crying at the same time. You had been young when the virus hit, maybe 5 years old, and had watched it pick off every member of your family until it was just you and your mother. Your mother had been kind once, you think, but aren’t entirely sure if that was true or wishful thinking.

A fairytale made up by a lonely child in a dying world perhaps?

You shook your head. No, she had sung songs to you at one point but that was before. After the infection, after your father died, she had kept you safe while bouncing around QZs in search of some sort of safe haven. That was until she met Josiah, a preacher that took you both into his group and quickly became your stepfather.

You had tried to like him. He seemed sweet at first, giving candies to you and the other children at camp, offering to teach you how to tend to the garden, bringing you a pair of pink shoes that you were so excited to have that your mother pinched your arm just to get you to stop squealing. However, things shifted after your mother and you got more comfortable in town. It became clear that worshipping was the only way that Josiah would let you stay.

Your mother followed along, biting her cheeks and dragging you with her to bible studies and all night prayer services that bruised your knees. But you could tell that she hated every second of it. You could feel it in the way she wrenched you forward everytime you protested going to the services that you hated. You had been to religious services briefly before the outbreak, your mom taking you to Catholic mass once for Christmas eve and your father taking you to celebrate Purim at the local synagogue, but you were way too young to really understand the meaning of any of it. By the time Josiah came around, those memories were barely a whisper in your brain.

Things got worse from there. Josiah became the centerpiece for the group and everyone bowed to his every decree. The alphas were at the top of the pecking order, never to be questioned especially by an omega. Omegas were to be demure, quiet, dutiful, and were meant to be completely under the coverture of their alpha. Betas were given slightly more leeway than omegas, but would never be in a leadership position at camp and would only be allowed to mate with other betas. Anyone breaking the strict biological guidelines were brutally punished. The methods were downright inhumane depending on Josiah’s mood or the level of perceived “heresy.”

You prayed for years under Josiah’s tyranny that you would present as a beta. Sure, you would never lead like an alpha but that never appealed to you anyways. You were caring and you wanted to help people. Plus, maybe if you were a beta they would let you become a doctor. The majority of the group were also betas and many were your age. Being a beta would mean that when the time came, you would have more than enough people to choose from for mating.

Much to your dismay, you presented as an omega and everything got worse. You didn’t have many friends, mainly Jake and the ladies that lived next door; Miriam and Rachel, but now you were stuck inside the house. Josiah wanted to keep you from sin, so he locked you away “for your own good.” You were forced to dress more conservatively, to eat less to maintain your figure, to pray more, to upkeep the house, to never look an alpha in the eye, etc. All the while, inside the house, you tiptoed around the rage of your dulled mother and the leers that your stepfather gave your developing figure.

By the time the infected had overwhelmed the dinky gate that protected your community, you had already been planning on escaping for months. Leaping into a car with Miriam, Rachel, Jake, and a few others, calmness washed over you amidst the destruction. You knew that your mother was probably dead, and you had seen your stepfather get his head ripped clean off of shoulders by a massive clicker, but you didn’t feel anything but relief.

The year after you left, although it was hard with the constant running and fighting, was actually the best year of your life. Nobody expected you to be anything, nobody pinched you, nobody made you pray, nobody smacked you if you made eye contact. You were just you.

“And now look at you,” you chuckled, “stumbling through the woods with no fucking idea where you are going.”

If you didn't find shelter soon, you knew that you would die. You needed to eat, to rest. There was no way you would last another night in the forest.

Your stomach growled violently, practically shaking your frame with the force. You lifted your nose in the air, searching for a whiff of anything. At this point, you were open to eating a squirrel. You shambled through the trees for hours, vision blacking out around the edges as you tried to find any trace of sustenance. Then you heard it: the loud roar of flowing water nearby.

A new sense of urgency pierced through the delirium and you staggered through the vegetation. The urgency made you clumsy and you faceplanted on the rocky bank. A small whine escaped your mouth as you hauled yourself up onto your hands and knees. Your palms smeared blood across the rocks as you crawled towards the water. Dizziness scrambled your thoughts but you pushed through with your heart leaping in your chest and eyes bleary. Faltering as a wave of nausea and dizziness rocked into you, you lost your balance and crumpled just a few inches from the water.

You whined again, louder this time. Frustration welled up in your chest with your goal so close, yet so far away. As you laid there, contemplating whether or not it would be easier just to give in and die, a breeze came from the trees and carried over the most delicious scent that has ever graced your nostrils.

The smell of sandalwood and bergamot glided over the air and wrapped itself around your senses. You felt your body immediately sag along the shore, your eyelids drooping as a feeling of peace overwhelmed you. You weren't sure what was happening, having never felt this calm in your entire life but you didn't question it and gave in to the peace.

You didn't even flinch when you felt a pair of strong arms turn you over and lift you into the air. The comforting aroma coated the back of your throat and warmed the tips of your fingers, making you snuggle into the warmth pressed against you. You rubbed your face into the source as you felt yourself being whisked away.

A soft hum came from your carrier and you heard a deep comforting voice say, “It’s okay omega, I’ve got you. Not gonna let anything happen to ya darling.”

You had never fallen asleep so quickly in your entire life.

#joel miller #joel miller x fem!reader #joel miller fanfiction #alpha!joel miller #omegaverse #omega reader #joel miller x female reader #joel miller x you #joel miller x reader #angst #comfort #eventual smut #eventual happy ending #joel x reader

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rosepascal · 3 months

Note

💌 Alpha!Joel Miller x Omega!Reader - Reader accidentally buys heat-inducing valentines cookies

Thank you 😇🥰

omg i've been dying to write an a/b/o fic and finally I have an excuse hehe. Fully honesty i have never written one before and don't fully know the rules so i apologize if something doesn't make sense.

warnings: NSFW, 18+ ONLY, MINORS DNI, A/B/O dynamics, could maybe be considered dub con bc of the cookie, idk i'll tag it in case, alpha!Joel, fem!reader, rough sex, fingering, heats, knotting, mentions of breeding, dirty talk, degradation, praise, soft joel at the end

Send a Valentine <3

"Alpha.." You whimper helplessly into the phone. You feel so stupid. To be fair when you bought cute valentines day cookies you didn't think that "eat them for a good time" meant that kind of a good time.

You're sprawled out on your bed. The sheets have been torn off in favor of Joel's shirts. You bury your face in his pillow as you feel your skin growing hot and the need for your husband to come home and fuck you stupid.

"What's wrong baby," Joel's voice makes you whine as he sounds so commanding without realizing it.

"Need you...Please." Joel groans at the desperation in your voice. It was the middle of the day but he was the boss and his mate needs him.

"Hang on, I'll be there soon." Without much of an explanation he leaves Tommy in charge and heads home. The moment he opens the front door he's met with the delicious scent of his desperate mate. Without thinking he sheds his clothes as he hurries towards the bedroom.

"My poor omega," Joel growls as he slams the door open. All rational thought is gone at the sight of your naked body lying on the bed. Begging to be fucked and bred like the good girl you are.

"Alpha please! Hurts.." You cry as Joel practically pounces onto you. His fingers run up and down your cunt, teasing you with his touch.

"So fucking wet," You press your face into his neck, breathing in deeply to take in his scent. His fingers slide in your cunt so easily.

Wetness drips down to the bed as he slowly fucks his fingers in and out. His cock brushes against your thigh and you huff impatiently. As good as his fingers feel, you want the real fucking thing. You wiggle your hips Joel hums and pulls his fingers out.

"Don't be bad." He commands and you instantly stop squirming.

"Good girl, now get on your stomach." You roll over and prop your hips up. Joel covers his cock in your wetness and stroking it roughly as he gets on his knees. He leans down and kisses your back. A moment of softness before he lets himself stop thinking.

You sigh happily as Joel slams his cock into you. It fits so perfectly. The burning pain disappears as Joel fills you up. One hand on the bed and the other pushing your shoulders deep into the mattress. Joel's mind fogs over as he draws his hips back slowly, watching your eyes shut and your hands claw at he sheets. He slams his cock as far as it can go, making you cry out in pleasure.

He pounds into you as fast as he can. Pulling gasps and moans from your lips as you lay helplessly under him. You're so sensitive. Just the feeling of Joel, his dominating presence, his fat cock deep inside, you can't take it anymore. You clench hard around him as you come with a cry.

"Always such a tight cunt. My sweet omega," Joel's hands move to grip your hips as he pulls you back on his cock. You still aren't satisfied. You need more. He's so big, so thick, he's right where he belongs but you need him to claim you again and again.

"You're just a hole for your alpha, only exists to take my knot. Isn't that right?" You nod your head deviously.

"Yes yes Alpha! Need your knot please please." All you can think of his taking his knot. Joel leans down and rubs his nose along the mark on your neck.

"Fuck." Joel hisses as he empties himself deep inside.

His knot swelling You sigh contently as he's locked in place. Joel gently moves the two of you so you're resting on your side. He peppers kisses where he can, rubbing your shoulders and whispering sweet praises in your ear.

"What happened?"

"Ate some cookies.." You mumble tiredly. Joel looks over to the beside table to see bright pink heart shaped cookies.

"Silly girl," He presses a kiss to your forehead as you start to drift to sleep, safe in your Alphas arms.

#joel miller #joel miller x reader #joel miller smut #joel miller x you #alpha!joel miller

107 notes · View notes

netherfeildren · 3 months

Text

Honey, Stomach, Mine ; 3. I Was a Child Once, I'm Not Any Longer

Series Masterlist ; Part 1. ; Part 2.

Pairing: Joel Miller x F!Reader

Rating: Explicit 18+

Content Warnings: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics; Dystopian Society; Outbreak not Cordyceps AU; Slow Burn; Soft!Dom Joel; Sexual Inexperience; Small booby worship; FLUIDS — like lot’s of fluids forreal omg; Tummy Bulge; Heat Sex; Knotting; Biting; Mating; Blood Mention; Loss of Virginity; Squirting; Pussy Slapping; Breeding Kink; Size Difference; Size Kink; Power Dynamics; Creampie; Emotional Hurt/Comfort; Older and Experienced Alpha; Young and Needy Omega; Possessive Behavior; Age Gap

A/N: It's raining here right now and feels really like a perfect morning to post this, I hope you like it.

Word Count: 12.4K

Read on AO3

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3. I Was a Child Once, I'm Not Any Longer

When you make your way into the kitchen a while later – he’d left you with clear instructions of bathroom and teeth, thinking to give you some privacy to adjust to yourself once again after what you’d done together this morning – you’re nothing more than a little omegan mess. Hair a birds nest, his too big t-shirt sliding over one naked shoulder, and worst of all, almost bringing him to his goddamn knees, in the bright morning light shining in through the big bay windows, he can see the glossy mess of your slick smeared all down and along your pretty thighs, almost reaching your knees.

Jesus fuck, but he’s in trouble. His teeth hurt, his gut aches, his cock – a mind of its own. It’s all starting, and he’s afraid and unprepared and too desperate to put into words. He wants it all now, he realizes, despite his fear, he can’t help himself but want it all.

You step into the room primly, nose turning up in the air to sniff curiously at the smell of what he’s making you for breakfast, and when your eyes swing around the room to him, shy. Shy as if you’re remembering your modesty only after you’d let him finger your cunt and slicked his cock. The look makes him want to be gentle, a thing he often is not. And when his eyes move further down, something goes soft and shy within him as well: two of his too big socks, mismatched and sagging around your ankles.

There’s something about you that’s impeccably vulnerable and honest, something he needs to guard fiercely.

He blinks away, looking back at the cooking sausages he’s got sizzling in the pan. No one had ever cared for you before, not in any real and true way, and he’d received you here with nothing but promises of more uncaring gestures, threats to send you packing. The wrong foot indeed. He’s such an asshole. And he’d not seen to his responsibility properly last night, hadn’t made sure you’d had a rich and filling dinner, left you in bed alone and cold and without him, entirely unequipped for this little life that had suddenly been placed in his hands. But you’d also scared him last night, out on the cliff, more scared than he’d been at the simple notion of you, that of losing you, like with the letter, the bidding pool and the threat of you being given away, there was something wrongly terrifying about it all, the sudden possibility of you not being with him. Scared into want, into wakefulness, perhaps.

Out of the corner of his eye he watches you tip toe into the living room, making your slow exploration around, to the big window where you pause to watch the outside world for a long moment, palm splayed against the glass as if you could reach out and touch it all, pluck the world into the cup of your hand. Then to the fireplace, bending in half to peer into the hearth and watch the flames pop, the sofa next, where he’d brought out another stack of blankets. You’d start nesting soon, and he needs to make sure you have the things you’ll want.

He watches as you bring the corner of one of the quilts to your nose, smelling the scent of him that lingers there, rubbing it against your face, and then moving to the stack of his sweaters he’d left beside, you bend to bury your face in the soft, worn wool. His heart thumps and thumps and thumps within him. You pull one blanket first, laying it before the warm hearth in the spot of rug he’d cleared for just this. And then another and another, some pillows on either side, sweaters tucked and stuffed between, starting to build your nest. He’s hard, knot tight and hot and ready, and he has to take a few steadying breaths, force himself to look away and pull the biscuits he’d made from the oven, flipping the gas on the stove off and pulling the eggs and sausages from the heat, grabbing the bowl of oatmeal he’d readied for you as he moves towards the bar.

“I made you some oatmeal, c’mere,” he calls, voice graveled with strangling want, but he appreciates the look of bright curiosity you swing his way. He’s coming to realize he finds everything about you, everything you do, devastatingly arousing, even just a simple look, the shift of your jaw. He pulses beneath his jeans as you approach, remembering the leak of your cunt against the throb of his cock from earlier and wanting more of it already.

He hoists you onto the bar stool when you reach him, he’d draped a folded throw over the hard curve so you’d have something soft to sit your sore little cunt on, and turning you to face him, he slots you between his spread thighs on his own stool, close as he can get you. You stretch towards the spread of food, and give a little sniff, scrunching your nose at him in distaste.

“Don’t gimme that face. Look, whatever you want–” He shows you the eggs and sausages and the oatmeal. He’d wanted to give you options. “I put honey and milk and cinnamon in it. Berries–” He pulls the bowl of blackberries closer. “You’re gonna be a good girl and eat all of it, and I’m gonna sit here and watch you do just that. C’mon, sweet thing, do as I say.” You look at him suspiciously, but with those words, as if your obedience were a foregone conclusion when he asks the right way, you start to eat. Slow little kitten licks and sips from the spoon of honey milked oats, and he has to force himself to turn and not burn you with the intensity of his gaze, piling his own plate high with biscuits and gravy and eggs and sausages, gut roiling with hunger not for food, he forces himself to eat, one palm still gripped at the back of your stool right up against your ass. He needs to feel you, to keep you close, it’s all starting now.

“Do you eat meat?” He asks, taking a bite of the savory and fatty sausage. You scrunch your nose again, nothing but wide eyes and a bout of sweet timidity now that your greedy cunt had gotten what it needed. “No? You wanna try?” You shake your head no, shrug that bare and tempting shoulder, end on a nod, leaning forward to take a small nibble of the meat from his own fork. Plush blossom mouth opening to slick itself against the metal where his own mouth had just been – his cock leaks. You chew slowly, thinking, come back for more. He pulls you even closer, tugging the stool loudly against the hardwood floor, feeding you from his own plate and hand, watching the shift of your jaw, the bright of your eyes as you enjoy all the food he’s made just for you, until his plate is clear, and he’s so fucking hard he feels faint – all the blood that’s supposed to be in his brain pooling at his groin.

He could feed you forever. He will.

Picking at the blackberries now, carefully choosing the fattest and shiniest one first, he presents it to you, watching your eyes shift from the berry to his eyes back and forth until you finally decide to humor him, plucking at his wrist with two tiny fingers, only a quarter of him in your grasp to pull him towards you, and opening your mouth so that he can place it on the dip of your tongue. Your mouth purses around it, they're sweet and tangy this time of year, and your nose scrunches again at the sour zing, and you’re so– he can’t help himself. Joel feels like a fucking animal, wholly himself. He yanks you towards him, up into his lap, head wrenched back and fucking eats at you, licking into you, tasting the fruit on your tongue, swallowing it down his own throat along with your spit. It’s disgusting only because it’s not enough, only because he wants more. And you– you respond to him immediately, little warbling song of a different sort of hunger in your throat, hitching higher in his lap, pressing closer, tugging and clawing at him.

He feels insane. He feels insane.

It’s a difficult thing to want so much, to be so confronted by the depth of your desire, your nature, to hold it within the palm of your hand as he is now.

You climb over him, moving to straddle his lap, to rub that needy cunt over his lap, ravenous huffs as you push and pull him this way and that, kissing his face, his ears, his neck, smelling his hair. He has to plant his bare feet wide, steadying himself to hold the two of you upright as you lose control a little bit. It’s almost time, it’s so near.

He lets you do as you need, grinding against him, marking him with your scent; your inexperience obvious in your desperation. For the life of him, he can’t fathom what his excuse is.

His hands slide over your knees, “Look’t what you’ve done,” he tuts, passing a ghosting thumb over the skinned little cap, adventure wound from last night, up your thighs, beneath the hem of the t-shrit, no fucking panties, fuck, his fingers slip against your slick covered thighs to grip the meat of your ass, slippery, pulling your ass cheeks apart to feel all that glorious wet sliding everywhere. He needs to calm down, but he pulls you tight against the pulse of his cock, grinds and grinds and pants up into your own open mouth.

You’re staring down at him now, wide eyed, and your frantic movements slow, hands on either side of his face, fingers clutching at the curls that wrap around his ears. He slides one hand lower to cup your sex, the smooth and bare little palm-full of it, the other sliding up your back, over your shoulder and down your arm to grip and squeeze your wrist tight, your eyes flash, and then he moves to cup your little tit, pinching and twisting the soft puffiness of your nipple, smiling up at your little gasp, and tucks the tip of his index finger inside of you, just a crook of the first knuckle, just to feel you tremble around him. You gasp, oh, and he wants to tie you up in strings and play with you, make you whatever he wants at that moment. Yeah? Just like that? He whispers up at you, and he wants you to give him so many things and everything, and suddenly, the possibilities of him are endless, so much potential to be born from you. He wants to fuck you full and breed you and keep you forever, and he feels insane and finally soothed.

It’s the rut starting, he knows, and it should be considered a cruelty to want something so much, but you only feel like a gift.

You sigh a shaky little exhale that makes his stomach clench with how sweet it sounds, lashes fluttering shut at the feel of him breaching you just this little bit. He bends his head to bite at your nipple over the worn cotton of his shirt, keeping his eyes on yours, on the shocked look you’re wearing. He gives one sharp tug with his mouth, and then shoots back up to press one more swift, hard kiss to your open mouth. When he pulls his finger from your leaking hole, he gives your pussy a gentle pat, right on the clit.

“We gotta calm down,” he says slow, can hear the sticky splash of your cunt against his patting fingers. You nod your head, but shift your hips side to side, trying to find friction. “Told you we gotta time it right – take our time. Didn’t I?” But his hand provokes you still, looking up at you with all the wonder of a man coming across something he’d searched for all his life and yet, at the final moment of discovery, is still shocked.

“You need to eat too,” you say shyly, fingers still twined around his ears, one single tip laid flat against his right gland, applying soft pressure, pulling away, tapping twice, applying pressure again. Your shared want in a clicking language.

You slide off his lap, back to your own stool, but keep your knees hooked over one of his own thighs, two little feet pressed against the other, fingers still shifting in his hair, petting him while he piles his plate again and digs in. You touch him everywhere you can reach, tugging on his ears, hand smoothing over the muscles in his arms, poking the soft of his belly, gripping his jaw on either side to count his chews, and then palm cupping his throat to feel his swallows.

He feels suddenly, desperately impatient for the heat to start in full, to spread you wide on the ground and fuck into your slicked, open cunt, to pump it full of his semen and tie you to him with his knot. To own you in a way that only the thing you are and the thing he is would allow.

You stare at him intently, focused concentration, like you’re reading his mind, brows furrowed and chin tipped.

“Can I help you?” He crooks a brow at you.

You shake your head, staring him down, chin to sternum. “No– You eat so much.”

“M’hungry,” he mumbles around a forkful of eggs, desperate to fill that hollow concaved feeling in his gut he knows is ravenous for something other than just food. But you nod solemnly, as if it were a thing of the utmost importance.

“I understand,” you say very seriously, still nodding.

He swallows, tipping his head to look at you. And he realizes you’re right, in the obvious way of all such designated things, that you do understand him, and perhaps, for reasons other than just that mere designation. And on the tail end of that realization, another: he feels suddenly, starkly, like a victim. A victim in the same way you were, are, would have been, would no longer be. That same white box, that same perilous ledge, both of you trapped between precarious truth and free will. Both of you the same, and sitting here, side by side, now free, as well. Even despite your ties to each other. Of course you understand each other, you’re the same.

“How ‘bout we go down to the beach?” And your eyes go bright as that glowing comet, immediately throwing your arms around his neck and taking a bite at his ear, excited as a puppy.

Oh, please, please, please, yes. Yes, let’s go, you squeal and strangle him, almost rip his hair out of his head, but it feels good. It makes him feel real.

He’d dressed you in too many stupid, stifling layers, buttoned to the chin. Long thermals beneath your jeans, a sweater, a large puffer jacket, two pairs of socks, ridiculous, scarf wrapped around your throat you’re sure he’d use as a leash to stop you from galloping so far ahead of him across the wet sand if you gave him the chance.

You want to run naked and reckless and free down the cold, battered shoreline.

Everything is gray, everything is dark and cold and wet and so very unlike you. But you feel like it all allowed you to shed that blanket of shyness you’d donned at breakfast, after the kiss. All this: vast and endless and huge in a way you’ll never be. It makes you feel, for some reason, very steadfast in your smallness. Like, look how large the world is, look how unending, look how the sea crashes and prepares to strangle anything that would fall into it. What does it matter, my size in the world, my significance, when faced with all this? I might as well just be.

You turn back to look at where he meanders slowly in the imprinted path of your bootprints, laughter in your throat you can’t help, holding the pail he’d brought down for you to collect treasures out of the sand. The sky is angry, and from this distance, lashed by the wind as he is, he looks as small as you feel. This is comforting; the two of you are the same.

You are the same.

Standing still, you wait patiently for him to reach you, rolling the laugh like a stone over the surface of your tongue, enjoying the hurt of the saltspray, the biting wind that penetrates all the layers he’d insisted on. Soon there’ll be no part of you left unpierced.

And when he finally reaches you, he pauses but two steps away, and God, he has eyes like mirrors, staring down at you from his great height, and silently puts the pail out for you to drop the new additions for your hoard, a sparkling shard of blue green sea glass, a two halved clamshell, the inside: a star hued lavender, cream and silver glow. Surely what the flesh of a dream must look like were it to come alive.

Your thoughts turn suddenly, you spit the laugh out into the world and watch as it jars him, remembering how you’d read once, in all the many things you’d read in your many years of not life, that when a chest is split open during a traumatic emergency, that the procedure of splitting both halves of the sternum and ribs is called a clamshell thoracotomy. The process allows for access to both sides of the thoracic cavity – full exposure.

And you can’t, for the life of you, explain why the thought comes into your mind now, staring at that little purple dream as you watch it fall from your sand wet fingertips into the pail he holds poised for you, but you’re sure that whatever the connection might be, it lies only with the idea that you’re prepared for him to do the same to you, that you’re ready for anything when it comes to him. A splitting, a keeping – what more could be done to a creature used to only half measures? Half life, not life, half omega – not mated, full omega – mated. The intricacies of it all no longer matter, only the yes or no.

“Will you still send me away?” He’d said he’d changed his mind, but you still ask anyways, voice sliding over the screaming of the sea, throwing him off kilter. You want to hear the words. It’ll storm soon, the waves tell of this by the way they throw themselves against the sea stacks. Poor things, you think, nothing but beaten.

But you’re not like that. Let him say what he will, you feel buoyant and helpless and completely uncaring.

And he’s very silent for a long moment, chewing on the possible rejection that you’ll spit right back at him if need be. But then: “Don’t you want your own life?” He asks, and his tone makes you pause, the look in his eyes makes you pause for the fear in it all, for the trepidation it’s made up of. You tilt your head at him this way and that, inspecting him very closely, reading him for all he’s worth. You wonder if he realizes how transparent he’s suddenly become to you. All his hurts, faults, strengths, nature, revealed to you with one question.

Choice.

He’s asking you what you want.

“Can’t I make a life here with you?” You counter.

“Wouldn’t you like to see the world as only yourself?”

Further clarity – the marrow of all he is: afraid.

You go very soft on the inside, all you are in light of all he is. “I already am myself, Joel.” The sea lashes and howls, his name off your tongue does the same. “Can’t you understand that? This is me, this is what I am.”

He frowns so darkly at that, “I do understand, but I–”

And you step to him, reaching up to cradle his face in your hands, size dwarfing you, fear not: “No. You don’t. But it’s okay, I’m going to show you,” and you turn to continue your path along the water, secure in your certainty now that he’ll follow regardless of anything else.

Joel wants you to have choices. You’d failed to realize this before, you’d seen only his withholding.

He moves alongside you after a while, after you’ve allowed him a moment of consideration, idling patiently while you dig through the sand, crouching down to hunt for shells and rocks and glass, fingers wriggling deep beneath the freezing cold sand to feel the burn of it. And after a distance longer, and with much bravery, you clasp two of his too big fingers in your sand crusted fist and hold his hand as you walk together, gently leading him down the path you choose, and he’s so grumpy, and you can’t help but be endeared.

“I think that's the end of the world out there,” you say, pointing to that stopping point where your eyes won’t go any further.

He looks out at the sea, eyes stopping as far as the world allows, swings back to your face. And you clutch at his arm, pressing your cheek against his bicep, taking in his scent which has deepened and swelled and grown a body within the last hours – the musked cardamom of him – staring out at all that immensity, personification of all you feel for him, this want that is violent and grown teeth, that exists as nature exists. This want that, yes, perhaps you did not choose, but is still what you want, is still what’s right.

“The sea is so beautiful, and I’m so happy to be here.” No, you don’t want to go out and find another life. You want to find life here.

You already have.

When you turn your face up to his again, he’s staring down at you with that strange look from before, but changed now too. Devouring. No one has ever looked at you like this, and you don’t think anyone else besides him ever will. It’s only him, you see, with eyes like mirrors that reflect back your shared sameness.

“Is that what you came out here for? To find the end of the world? To hide?” You don’t care if you shouldn't ask, you don’t care about any of the things you shouldn’t do, only about what you want in this moment here and now.

Selfish, selfish, selfish. Yes.

“What does it matter?”

“I don’t know,” you say. “But it does.” It means everything.

He doesn’t respond, only more of that unfathomable look. You don’t care about this either, let him have his silence like a weapon or a punishment.

“How old are you?” You ask now, realizing that no one had ever told you, that you’d never even cared to ask – bad of you. But not that it would have mattered or made a difference.

“Too old. Old enough to be your father.” And this makes you angry, sparking angry. Your father – you’d had a father. A stranger father, but still yours. Joel is not that. So, this is anger like Leo’s. Anger at his offhandedness, anger at your own want, despite his words that sit like rust over your skin, anger at the violence of your own want.

You fight to swallow it, roll your eyes at him. Insist: “How old?”

“Forty eight.” And he says it like an admission of guilt, which you snort at blithely.

You flash two held up fingers at him twice, mouthing the words, twenty two.

His gaze is sad again, and you rub his arm gently, soothing. “I know.”

And yes, you think, he surely knows so much, but not everything. “I’m not anything else but what I am, you know? What I want to be.”

“Too young–”

You ignore him, voice insistent, “And neither are you.” You turn to face him full on now, taking two steps away so you’re not forced to crane your neck up at him, he cants towards you as if he can’t bear the distance. Nature: he surges toward it hungrily, and just as quickly, surges away. The wind buffets his scent against you, washes you in it. “You can’t make me any of these things you’d thought I’d be. I’m only what I am, and you’re only what you are. Whatever the rest of it is you want to force, or the world wants to force, or the white box says I should be– I don't give a fig for any of that.” You swipe your hand in a cutting gesture through the salted air, and he looks like he might smile first, lands on a flinch instead. “I am not ornamental, Joel.”

And he flinches again, jarred by his name, but then seems to remember himself, to be reminded of himself by the sound of it, and musters his strength, tightens his seams and says, “‘Nd I’m not here for you to impose yourself on. I’m going to make my own choices.”

“So will I,” you say slowly, and you suddenly want to cry. “So do I. This,” you, “Is my choice because I’m also an omega.” You suck in a tremulous breath. That truth, like a sea between the two of you. You’d thought he’d seen, understood, that he wouldn't have touched you as he had this morning, as no one else ever had, if he didn’t understand the gravity of that. “And if I’m not scared of that, you shouldn't be either.”

He swallows once, twice, devastated mask in place. He looks so forlorn, bearing a weight beyond his years on his shoulders. He turns out to face the water and asks it, “But what about what I want?” Not what he needs.

You close the two steps of distance, pressing against his side, circling his thick wrist in both of your hands, feeling the weight and strength of the bone beneath fevered skin. His sweater is thick, cable knit, soft and worn, a tiny fray at the edge of the sleeve, and a deep navy color, layered over a blue green flannel. No jacket again, he’d donned the colors of the sea instead, but you know now that he isn’t cold. It’s almost time.

You’d felt so shy after this morning, as you’d walked out to face him in the light of day, sat in his lap and kissed him, newly made, newly minted. Now, you feel as if you know everything you could ever need to know about everything there is to know about you and him.

“What about what you want? What do you want? Tell me,” you beg. “Say it out loud so we can both hear the truth of it no matter what it costs you.”

“Sweetheart, please,” he begs for mercy, looking down at you again, standing within the confines of your shackle, something further than devastation on his face now. Something like shedding years against your will, going back in time, stepping within a vehicle that would take you to the worst of it all, that point at the end of the world which he already stands on.

The two of you feel, very much, like two unexploded bombs, existing with great care beside each other.

The highs of his cheekbones and the tip of his nose are cold reddened, wind lashed, curls damp from the spray of the waves, burning with that dogged nature he fights and fights and fights. And he’s such a part of the world, standing here like this, tall and broad and vital. You want to be like that too, you think, large in a changing way. And he’s strong, strong in a way other creatures aren’t, strong in a way you aren’t.

But weak in others.

You release his wrist, forgo the shackle, remain in place. There’s a desperate plea coming from either of you, which though, you’re not entirely sure.

And then suddenly, and you can’t even be sure from where it comes from because really, if you’re the most honest you can be, you know nothing of this thing. “Have you ever been in love?”

He goes so still that the sea seems to grow more violent in comparison, an offset to his freeze. “Yes. I have.”

“Will you–” swallow your fear, be the brave girl, “Will you ever love me?” You must ask. There’s no other recourse for you in this, you want all of it or nothing.

He bends to you suddenly, getting right in your face, cold nose to cold nose, teeth bared, animal. “I am selfish and jealous and cruel. And I will keep you in a strangle. Do you understand that? Can you even understand what it’ll mean to belong to me? To belong to a thing like this? Yes, I will love you.” So then there’s nothing else to care about. He spins away from you, paces, paces, “I’ve– I… fuck–” fights the dog fight – you wonder how long he’s waged it for, maybe his whole life – turns back to face you, and there’s the look of a boy now too, like Leo, lost and angry and faced with what he is in an insurmountable, unwinnable way. We are what we are, truth impossible to ignore.

And then finally, fight lost, his face does a funny thing, a strange fracture and decision happening across the canvas of it, all at once. “I used to be a father. I used to have a daughter,” he tells you.

Entirely unexpected. Entirely terrifying. “Used to?” You take an urgent step toward him, use an urgent tone, the memory of your aunt and of would-be parents flashes in your mind. You don’t want him to say what you know he’s about to say. “Where is she?” You aren’t so naive.

“Sarah,” and he says her name with so much love. “She died.”

You shake your head no, tears swept away with the wind, freezing salted on your lashes. “No,” you say again, louder.

“When the outbreak happened – in the confusion. We were attacked ‘cause of what I was,” and he shakes his head once, hard and fast as if trying to jostle the confusion out of his mind, or perhaps knock it back into coherence, “Am,” voice limp at the end.

And then he’s the one coming to you, taking you up into his hold, cradling you more gently than the world could ever imagine a thing like him capable of. He finally understands what you are, you can feel it in the way he holds you. “Oh, no, Joel,” you cry into his neck, hugging him to yourself, pulling his head down to rest on your shoulder. “Oh, no. Oh, no.” Your poor alpha. Your poor alpha, he’d been so alone, so hurt and so afraid, and you realize now that you’ll have to be strong for the both of you, that you need to help him in ways only you can, that you need to be strong when he can't. And there’s only sameness here, of the most important sort. Both of you together, equal. When one could not, the other would.

It’s obvious the way all truths are.

“If I care for another thing…”

“I understand,” you tell him. It’s obvious the way all truths are: he’s afraid.

You kiss his face, cup his ears to warm them, bring one of his too big, rough hands to your mouth, pressing your lips to his knuckles, letting him know you’re here now to protect him in the ways he’d never been and had always needed and would never want for again.

He pulls you against himself in a hurt lock, tight enough he lifts you straight off your feet, face buried in your hair, teeth at your neck, biting hard enough you let out a bay of hurt. He can’t explain it, but there is so much care in the words you choose to wield against him, so much wisdom despite the innocent naivety, a clarity about the way you see him and all the rest of the world that sends him into such existential vertigo, makes him want to take a bite out of you so that he might swallow some of that innocence, some of that wisdom down for himself. An honesty about you that gives him no choice but to choose that which he knows he’s always wanted but has never let himself need.

“I understand,” you’re whispering, letting him savage your throat as he needs. “But everything is going to be okay now–” a moan of pain, “–that we have each other, don’t you see that? We’ll take care of each other.”

He digs his teeth deeper at the fine tendon in your neck, and then slides his tongue up and over your gland, tasting the leak of pheromones there. It’s time now, he can feel it pulse and beat, glowing bright within you. He had been stupid and carelessly blind. He’d been a liar. “I see now – I see. It’s alright, sweetheart. Don’t cry. I’m alright now.” But you wrap your arms around his head, comfort and cradle him, and he has to have you with a desperation that brandishes teeth and boils.

He shoves you back by your hips, keeping his grip on you steady, and turns to push you back down the beach the way in which you’d come. “Home. Now.” But you push back against him, rubbing your ass against the heft of his cock, presenting him with that cunt that belongs to him.

“No. Here.” It’s a demand, you have an instinct for this.

“Absolutely not,” but he’s gripping your hips hard enough to bruise anyways, grinding against you, tension vibrating his too big body, as if he were actually considering it, taking you here and now.

Please.

“You’d let me knot you right here on the beach with the whole ocean and God watchin’?”

“Yes. Yes, I don’t care.” You try and turn in his arms, head craning back, hungry mouth seeking his own lips.

The insanity of the fever. Now, omega, he rumbles, and there’s no mistake in the burr of his tone, his nature on display, loud and clear – an alpha ordering his omega back to her nest so that he might have her there. He shoves you forward gently, setting you on your way, and picks up your pail full of treasures to stalk after his own. He takes in the sparkle of seaspray like gems in your hair as he follows, the shiver of your frame beneath the too many ridiculous layers he’d forced you into, the stumbling of your feet as you turn back to spy him hunting after you. There’s wet on your face, and he doesn’t know if it’s the salt of your tears or the salt of the sea, and he wonders if when he drags his tongue across it he’ll be able to tell the difference. He’s sure he will.

Your scent like a leash leads him, stronger and fuller and warm enough to burn. His gut is tight and aching, cock so hard he feels he can barely stand up straight. He’s sure he can smell the pouring of your slick from your finally readied cunt, the bloom of it obvious in the air around you, juniper berries everywhere – something warmer, spiced vanilla, earth. It’s so good he wants to swallow it down like liquid, drink from your well.

He follows and follows, and if you weren’t already at the end of the world, he’d follow you there too. Up the stone steps etched into the cliffside, the steep incline sending you to huff and puff in strain. He’d feed you more, make you strong, feed you his cock and fill your belly with his come like honey. His breaths are bullish, bursting out in white clouds of steam, his neck hot and damp, skin boiling beneath his clothes.

You keep turning back nervously, your left hand stretching back as if to reach for him, and then speeding up again in agitation, going as fast as your much shorter legs can take you compared to his. But he measures himself, lets you get there in your own moment, and eventually, he’s pushing open the cabin’s front door and shoving you inside, forgetting to measure his strength, lost in his delirium as he is, so that you’re stumbling, being snapped back like a rubber band with his fist wrapped in the back of your jacket.

He rips it down your arms, uncoils the scarf, pulls the sweater over your head, hair a mess, all disoriented and malleable, and yanks you back and into his chest, heaving you up into his arms so that he can clamp his teeth at your throat again, laving his tongue over your gland, slicking you in his spit, sucking hard at the patch of skin, the burst of flavor on his tongue now, bubbling, carbonated almost, so strong his knees buckle and his cock is surely leaking a stream of precum down his leg. So fucking sweet, he’s growling, murmuring like a madman, grinding his erection into the lush of your ass, fingers sneaking under your shirt to squeeze hard and tight at your little tits. Your belly is a ball of embering fire, like you’d swallowed a comet, and he presses down on it gently, hand low on your pelvis over where your little womb is, this place he’s about to fuck full of his spend.

“The way you smell – your scent – I’ll go fucking crazy, I swear I will.” His voice sounds not his – coming from some source outside of his body, ringing hollowly in his head empty of everything else except you.

It’s started, it’s started, it’s started.

You’re full of glorious heat, and he soothes at the soft swell of your belly with gentle circles, hand sliding down to cup the little palm-full of your cunt, rubbing back and forth over your jeans, and then goes to his knees behind you, pawing at the button, ripping them down your legs along with the leggings he’d forced you into beneath them, panties and all; the popping of seams – his or the clothes he can’t be sure. He traps you in the tangle, leaving them around your ankles, boots still on and takes a too sharp, too aggressive bite of your ass cheek, leaving teeth marks, leaving Joel marks, enjoys the sound of your baying that ends on a shocked little squeak, a little ah, ah, ah. He grips your asscheeks too tightly and spreads them wide, watching the delicious little wink of your holes provoking him, and licks the broad flat of his tongue from cunt to asshole, finally, fucking finally tasting you.

He’s entirely lost to his madness from that moment forward.

He licks your ass again, again, pushes you forward to deepen the arch of your spine to eat at you better, and you mewl, whine, Joel, I’ll fall, but he can’t find it in himself to care. “Fall,” he tells you, “I’ll catch you.” But he spins you in his hands, fast and stumbling, trapped as you are, to face him on his knees before you as he is, as he should be, and you’re so small, morsel sized, perfect for swallowing whole, and open mouthed, he inhales at the mound of your cunt, tongue swiping out to find your clit swollen already.

You smell like nothing he can describe, too delicious to allow him the choice of clear thought. He pulls you down to the ground, rips your boots and pants the rest of the way off, and right there on the floor by the front door, he spreads your legs wide and eats your cunt.

Eats it.

Nothing gentle or restrained about it as he probably should, this being your first time a man licks your pussy, small and innocent as it is, he fucks his tongue inside your shaky hole, sucks hard and sharp on yor clit, your first orgasm, sensitive as you are, trembling through you already. More, more, more, he wants more. He hunches over you like the beast he is, tiny thing, pulls you up, palm cupping your bottom, one knee knocking against his ear, the other leg splayed wide, sliding down his arm, so he can suck, suck, lick at your clit, a gentle kiss as a prize for taking it so well, and then his tongue is back into your cunt to taste the river of slick you’re spilling just for him. Your flavor, so musk heavy, sweet and thick like honey; he feels full and set to burst, no more hollow pit. And he wants more, to gorge and gorge like a glutton. You come again, a splash against his tongue, so wet you’re slipping and sliding in his grip. He can hear your high pitched cries and whines, your Joel, Joel, Joel’s he shushes, soothes with his tongue, little kiss to your little clit that pulses against his mouth.

“Y’taste so fuckin’ good, baby.” He lets you down, crawling over you, pushing your shirt up to get at your tits, sucking and biting hard enough to hurt. He wants you to feel it all for days after the heat’s over, to leave marks, to make sure he’s left in your skin forever. Forcing your jaw wide, he slicks his tongue along yours, feeds you the taste of your own cunt, salty, sweet, his, and you take it so well, half limp and yet still clinging to him weakly, two orgasms forced on your virgin pussy back to back.

He scoops you up, belly to belly, spider limbs around his neck and waist, grabby hands yanking at his hair like you’re angry he’s not put you on his knot yet. His knees pop, his back aches something fierce as he heaves the two of you up, muscles in his thighs bulging to support you – he’s fucking old – and walks you over to your nest, setting you down on your back, spreading your knees wide, cunt ripe and blooming, so red, a wound of all the world says you’re meant to be.

Slicking his thumb over the soaked curve of it there’s a sticky string of omega drool that leaves him connected to you when he pulls back. He presses again at your swollen clit, thinks he can almost see the pulse of your rushing blood beat here at your spread cunt, slides down to the tiny winking hole and circles his finger there, giving you the slightest pressure, pressing in a tiny bit, up again to tease your clit.

“I’m gonna fuck this soft little hole until it’s so full of my come I don’t fit inside no more. Would you like that, sweet baby?” He asks so gently, don’t spook the fawn, don’t spook the beast.

Your eyes are fevered, face covered in a shine of sweat, your belly glows with heat, and you nod slowly, little smile playing tricks with him whispering across your face. His hands slide up, circle your waist, squeeze and squeeze and squeeze as if he could watch you burst, witness all that heat explode like a comet, then further up to your chest, two big hands covering two little tits.

“You’re so pretty, little omega.” And you preen, you glow, suffused with such vulnerable, honest pleasure. Joel has to be so careful, he has to be so good for you. He will be. You circle one of his wrists, tender little hand, fingers of vapor, he has to be so good for you, he has to be so careful. Again, remember, remember. He bends to press a soft kiss to the pretty tip of each nipple.

“They’re too small,” you whisper in an even smaller voice.

“No. No, baby, no.” He presses another kiss, drags his teeth over a peak, sucks on the other, switching back and forth. “They’re fucking perfect, so pretty and so soft. I love them– I’m fuckin’ obsessed with you.” He opens his jaw wide and takes the whole soft mound of it into his mouth, sucking on the whole thing of it. He probably shouldn’t say such things, he doesn’t give a fuck. “Look–” he says around the little globe, “Whole thing fits in my mouth.” He bites some more, kisses some more, sucks on them until you’re whining and pushing him away, until they’re sore and stinging and still he doesn't stop. He shows you just how obsessed he is.

He kisses you all over, your belly, your waist, the soft spot beneath your ribs, your thighs, and the pulse between your collarbones. Slow, slow. He has to be slow and gentle and patient for as long as his looming rut allows, he needs to ease you into this. Taking an ankle first in one hand, he presses a kiss to the gland just there on the inside of it, suckles a little, then the other, and watches as your cunt becomes more and more needy and swollen, red as a bloom, until you’re so desperate for it you’re writhing around wantonly in the nest of blankets, almost entirely lost to your fevered delirium, but not just yet, not just yet.

“Will you– will you put your big thing inside me now?” You slur innocently.

And he laughs gently, a tenderness pinching his heart which if he was less lost to himself, he might cry for. “My big thing?”

Oh, please. “Please, I– I think– please, I think I really need it now.” You twist this way and that, pulling the blankets up to your face to hide yourself away.

“Almost, sweetheart. Almost.” But he feeds you two of his fingers then, playing in your slick, the sticky wound of softness, and crooks his fingers to wedge them just inside of you. “Like that– oh, isn’t that nice?” He croons, pressing a little further in, feeling the stretch of you around him. Your eyes go wide and shocked, your back arching in a taught curve, hips opening for him to sink deeper until he’s palm to cunt. He leans over you, watching the place where his hand disappears inside and hooks his fingers, petting at the textured little place at the front of you, so, so sensitive. You keen loudly, a warbled sound that’s all fucking his. His control is so close to snapping.

He pulls his fingers from your cunt suddenly, watches how it shudders while you screech at the loss, looking up to search for him with bleary eyes as he rips his shirt and sweater up over his head, and then he’s pressing his two fingers back inside, thrusting into you a little harder, the splash and slap of your cunt as he fucks in and out of your tight hole. “Perfect little thing that's all mine.” He has nothing but praise for you, his good girl, taking him so well.

He pets and pets at that soft spot, molten heat pouring from your cunt, and when he starts to shake his hand, a little jiggle to knock your next orgasm loose inside of you, you give it up so, so nicely. Pussy going tight as a fucking fist, strangling his fingers, and then spilling loose and soaked, flooding his hand. When the contractions of your little womb have abated he stuffs a third finger in, forgoes some of that gentleness, and pressing a hand low on your pelvis, he shakes his hand hard and fast inside of you. “Want’cha to fuckin’ soak me,” he grits through clenched teeth, head slightly dizzy, slightly faint with want. And with pressure both from the inside and out, you do. Gush of come following your high pitched moan, tears soaking your hairline as much as your pussy just soaked the lap of his jeans. He pulls his fingers from your gaping hole, bends to lick through all that glorious omega slick and swipes his fingers through it from side to side, tapping on your clit harshly, slapping it a little, sucking on it again, fast, fast his fingers from side to side, forcing you into just one more little climax before he lets you rest.

You’re all twisted in the blankets, face turned and buried in the pillows. He crawls up over you, contorted as you are, cunt splayed wide and pulsing, and unbuttons his jeans as he goes, finally, fucking finally letting his raging cock free. It hurts, it needs you so fucking badly, leaving a sloppy trail of drool slicked along the already wet curve of your belly as it drags heavily against you, bobbing obscenely from his open zipper. He buries his face in your neck, kissing and licking up the taste of you, sucking on your gland.

“Please, please now. Please, now,” you keep mumbling into the blankets where you’re hiding. Please, now. Begging for his cock and his knot, so ready to take your first fucking like the perfect omega you are.

“Not yet,” he soothes, petting your hair back from your steaming face, pressing a kiss to your sweaty hairline. Please, you whine high, and he lets his cock rest heavily against the curve of your red cunt, slicking it there, dragging it back and forth, giving you both the weight of what you’ll have so soon. You kick one leg out weakly. “Not yet, it’s okay. It’s okay, sweetheart,” he pitches his voice low, soothing, gathers you to himself. “Let’s rest a little. No, no – just for a little bit,” he says over your whines and cries. You cling to him weakly, hips rocking against him. “I know, baby. I know,” he hums, letting you rub your sticky, sore cunt against the wide head of his cock, nothing but a boneless little mass of omega, stuck to him with tears and slick and sweat.

He rolls over with you on top of him, the brand of your cunt enveloping his erection between swollen lips, and his knot is ready to pop, it fucking hurts, his rut is near too. But he can tell you just need a little more time – a few more hours to soften and ripen just that little bit more, to lose yourself a little bit more so that he might fit himself inside of you, his too big body in your too little one.

He gets up eventually, shucking his jeans, and getting a glass of water to force you to take, and leaves the large, cold glass near for when you’ll need it again with all the slick you’re producing. So much that it runs down your thighs, slides up your back and all over him and the blankets and everywhere; everything sticky and heady with your scent. This is, he thinks, right before he succumbs to sleep too, head and balls throbbing from not having come yet, the most singular way an omega claims ownership over an alpha. That scent like a shackle that would keep them together at all times, that scent that after long enough, is impossible to be without. He buries his face in your hair and breathes deep, letting your smell move through him like a tangible thing, a kaleidoscope through his mind until he finally falls asleep.

Your hips move in a slow rocking swing over his belly, slicking the curve of it, making the hair covering him here clump sticky and soaked in this stuff that will not stop coming out of you. There’s so much, and you feel so empty, your head, your head is full of nothing but heat and bubbles and a throb that glows, and you don’t know why, but– oh, finally, he’s waking up. Yes, yes, alpha, wake up now.

He shifts and rumbles deep in his chest, and you feel his big thing poke you in the butt; it’s so heavy and so thick and it smells so good. You’d sniffed it, and you’d tasted it a little too when you’d first woken up, but you need to make sure to remember to taste it more later again because it had been so yummy, and long too. You can’t understand how it’ll fit, but you’re sure you’ll make it somehow. And it has a funny soft bit of skin at the end, and thick veins that pulse under the warm, incredible softness that covers it.

His left arm stretches out and over his head, he’s thick here too, big muscles under his skin that’s so burning hot it hurts to touch and feels good all at the same time. He has a dark vein that runs from his shoulder over the bulging muscle, and you’d tasted that too, then pressed your face into his hairy armpit to sniff him there also; gone all drunk and light headed at the scent. You rock harder; the little nub at the front of your cunt – it belongs to him – it hurts and it’s swollen and when you press your fingers to it, it has a little tiny heartbeat that you’re sure beats to the sound of his name, Joel, alpha, Joel, alpha, and everything is so, so hot.

You whine that sound you know he likes, the one that you know provokes him, rubbing your slippery cunt all over his stomach, grinding and sliding against him, trying to make the throb go deep and hard again like he’d made you do with his mouth. And oh, he’s so– he makes you so upset, and you feel big and little all at once, and that stretched soreness of your cunt, it’s all his fault, and the bruising around your nipples too, and he needs to put it inside.

He stretches again, blinks open slowly, long lashes, dimple beside the corner of his mouth, and you dig your nails into the hard muscles of his chest, dragging your blunt edged fingernails down his skin as you slide lower, over his big cock – that’s what it’s called, and you love the sound of the word, think it sounds how you imagine it’ll feel, cock – and try to put it inside, shifting and rolling over it, trying to impale yourself on it. It’s so heavy, and you know the heaviness will make the hurt inside you, the bruised feeling inside you, go away, if only he’d just do it.

You huff at him, cry a little, whine a lot, try and make it go inside again, slipping and sliding in all the slick that won’t stop coming out of you all while he blinks slow and patient at you, a little smile on his face, and he’s so pretty he makes you so, so upset. You bend forward suddenly and bite his nipple hard, yank on the hairs on his chest and thighs. Hard enough to hurt. He grunts, but lets you, only twinning his fingers in your hair tightly, letting you chew on him until you’ve released his skin on your own.

“You upset with me ‘cause I haven’t fucked you yet? You gettin’ impatient with me?” You huff at him. “Think you’re ready, sweet thing?” Oh, please, please, please.

You know that you’ve never been more ready for anything in your entire life.

He rolls you over, spreading you wide to play with your cunt again, and you start crying for real. “It hurts, alpha, please. It hurts, and I glow.'' It's so hot everywhere.

“You’re full in your heat now, baby. Don’t worry – knot’s gonna make you feel all better. You’re gonna be so full.” And his voice is so soft and deep and hard too, all at once. It floats away and it comes back, and he sounds like all the things and all the sounds that can have ever existed in the whole world, and also, just right enough to let you remember, only for a second, very calmly and in a moment of bright clarity, that you’d always known he’d come to fix it all. This is only the last part of that at last.

“My brave girl,” and he pauses a beat above you, between your spread thighs, his cock hanging heavy, tip-slicked between his thighs, giving you a sticky kiss every time it bobs against your tummy. He drags the pad of his thumb at the hollow beneath your eye, catching fallen salt water there, only of desire, not the sad sort, you know the difference so very well by now. And his own eyes, they’re so dark, so full of all that heat that’s so chock full inside you too, but also different, something like cool and serene and full of knowing, full of patience. Eyes like mirrors. The two of you are the same.

He wraps his big hand around his ever bigger cock, and smears the tip against your swollen, needy sex, pressing hard at the aching nub, sliding down and pressing hard at the bruised little hole. You growl an impatient quipping noise at him, but he returns it in kind, deeper, scarier, full of an order to settle.

“We have to go slow,” he says, “It won’t fit just like that.”

But you rock your hips in hitching jerks anyways. “No, I’ll make it fit,” you promise, clawing at his chest to achor yourself, find the right angle, find relief.

He shakes his head, continues to smear and press against you, and then oh, oh, oh, he’s just there, first a big stretch like from the morning, and it hurts, it burns, but not as bad as being without, and you make a sound like you’ve never made before, feeling a feeling you’ve never felt before and had waited your whole life and a year for. Inside, please, please, inside, alpha. He feeds you himself, makes the heat brighter, fans the flames and soothes them all at once, and oh, it really does hurt and feel so good.

He’s panting like a bull above you, sweating and groaning, and the sounds he makes, the sounds he makes, rough and wounded, like you’re wounding him, like you have the power to wound a great thing like him. “Ain’t that so fucking good?” He coos and croons and pets at you, feeds you and feeds you and feeds you. It’s so big and it splits you, cleaves you wide and forces you into the place and thing you’d lived your whole life waiting to be. “Look at my girl,” he’s saying, “Look how well my little girl takes my big cock in her tiny cunt.”

He pushes a little more, touches a thing inside of you that is swollen and bruised and so sensitive, and, “Oh, you’re in my belly,” you gasp when he finally stops pushing in. You cup your hand over your tummy, pressing down. “I can feel you,” there are tears slipping form the corners of your eyes, and your cunt feels so full it’ll burst or swallow him whole or a little of both, “I can feel you from outside.” You press down harder, rub over the bulge of him inside you; a cock in your belly under your palm.

So good, just like that, he’s murmuring and you close your eyes to better listen to the dip and hum of his voice. “I am. I am – gonna fill your little womb. And we’re gonna do it just like this for now,” he starts to move, “Just half so you’ll let me in all the way.”

“There’s so much,” you hitch, breath quivering, chin trembling, tears leaking, cunt leaking even more.

I know, I know, he rubs your belly, soothes you so well, rocks and rocks and rocks, a cock rocking inside of you. He kisses your jaw and your shoulder and your breast, and then changes something, and you finally open your eyes. He touches something so raw inside of you, something that screams and sings and throbs, and there’s something going swollen inside. He’s so beautiful, silver streaked, creased, lines over his forehead, alongside his eyes, his whole life painted in roadmaps and metallic patterns across him. Other places slicked and wet, red and flushed and sun touched, and you make him look like this, and then he presses the swollen thing again, and it bursts. Your cunt flutters, goes so tight it hurts, forces more tears out of your eyes, you claw at him, your body feels not your own, only his. Oh, fuck yes. Good girl. Fucking come for me. For him, for him, for him.

You shiver and shiver, there’s only hot air and the rocking cock in your belly, the heartbeat inside of you everywhere, and when he finally presses once more, finds the end of the world inside you, he’s all the way in, making a sound that you’ll have to force out of him for the rest of forever; a perfect sound. He tugs you up onto his thighs, sits up, belly to belly and heart to heart and glow to glow, and he fucks you like he said he would. Hard. You finally understand what it means. His cock punches the bruised thing that lives inside, that has you keening a wounded sort of noise, clawing at him, mouth searching for his gland, sliding across his clavicle, up his neck until it’s there, swollen and throbbing and it tastes so, so good you can’t help it when you sink your teeth into the softness of it, the salted rust of his blood sliding over your tongue, down your throat and into your belly like a promise. He makes that glorious sound again, and he fucks you so rough it hurts in only the way fucking a man so much larger than you can hurt. He splits your cunt wide and ruts into you like a beast, and you take it because you want it, because you were made for it, because it’s so right. And you suck on the pierced gland, swallow the taste of him and when a pressure worse than what you could have ever imagined starts to swell within your battered and bruised opening, he pulses and pulses and spills inside of you, filling your womb like he’d said he was going to also.

Then there is his knot, finally, within you. “Again, baby. Come on my knot, sweetheart. You’ll feel so much better if you do.” And he’s right, as you shiver into it once more with only his command to prompt you, his knot swollen like a lock, connecting you together, it soothes the bruise and the heat from the inside out. He rips your teeth from his neck by your hair, swallows your protests, tasting his own blood on your tongue as he comes inside of you, fills you with a heat more potent than anything the glow had ever made you feel.

When you fall together like felled weeds, knot tugging gently, mewl falling from your lips, he soothes you so patiently while he continues to spill inside of you, all plugged up as you are, belly set to burst full of semen. He suckles at your nipples, bites and pinches and makes them hurt, and you can do nothing but let him do as he pleases. And you don’t sleep this time, for the throbbing is so strong inside of you, his soft groans sometimes turned to whimpers so wonderful you need to be awake to listen to them forever.

There’s nothing of the not life anymore, there’s only him here with you.

He does sleep though, after a while, or he goes very still and very quiet. His lashes quiver and his eyes move beneath their lids as if he were watching a dream, and his body steams and shudders, but eventually, the knot softens enough that you can shift and wiggle over him, and his eyes flash open, predator gaze zeroing on the little omega trying to leave her trap, he presses a big hand down on your tailbone, grinding your cunt that feels raw and full and bruised and right against his pelvic bone. “Where do you think you’re goin’?” Voice a deep burr.

You give him a shy, appeasing look, nuzzling his belly, his thick pectoral and shift and shimmy up towards his face, feeling the heavy weight of him fall wetly from your bruised sex. It stings and flutters madly, clenching around the too large space he’d made inside you. Shuffling up on your knees, you peck at his chin, his mouth, suck on his lip. And when you look down between the two of you, there’s a puddle of thick white semen slowly drooling from between your legs onto his belly.

You shuffle down now, licking up the mixture of slick and sweat and come, tasting the crease between his thigh and pelvis. You move lower, and resting your head on his thigh, you mouth at his cock, wet and slobbering, pressing a kiss, tasting the flavor of your cunt.

“I feel so lovely,” you sigh dreamily, pressing another kiss.

He groans low, “A little more tongue– there you go. Oh, fuck– omega, that’s so good.” He threads his fingers through your hair. “It’s because you’re full of everything I just gave you. You’ll need more soon.”

You open your mouth wider, try to swallow him down, enjoying how his come slips out of you, making the tops of your thighs, your ankles you’re sitting on, all sticky wet. All mine, you mumble around his thick length, and his answering laugh is so vital, oh, everything really is so wonderful. He tugs you up by the roots of your hair, jaw hanging wide and spit slick so he can stick two big fingers in there and rub at the slimy surface of your tongue, grunts a hungry sound.

He pushes you back, hand still fisted in your hair to spread you wide and inspect the wreckage he’d left between your thighs. “Lemme see–” he murmurs. “Look at how red and swollen you are, baby. Little cunt’s all fucked open.” He gently scoops his come back inside, smearing it along your cunt.

Ah– Ah– You protest when he presses his fingers inside to feel the slip of his semen along your walls. Poor, baby, he coos. His cock stirs at your little sounds of hurt, soaked as it is, streaked with come and slick and a little pink tinge of blood. The sight makes him fully hard again. “You did so well, first time taking a knot. It’ll be easier next one.” You writhe and arch as he pets your cunt, spreading your legs wider despite your limp sounds of protest. Head rolling back against the blankets, you grip your tits in both hands and squeeze, whimpering at that too.

When you lift your head to look down at them, lifting the two little handfuls in your palms to take in the sight of your chafed, swollen nipples your eyes go wide. “Look’t what you did to them – they hurt now.” And although he’s sure you intend to sound like you’re cross, the moan you end on, the way you’ve begun to rock your hips, tells of different things.

“My poor girl, lemme kiss ‘em.” He stretches over you, taking your hands away to press a barely there kiss to the tip of each breast. “Poor little tits – poor little pussy too, all split open.” And he bends to kiss your blood tinged cunt, the flavor of lost innocence and come on his lips.

He kisses you again, nibbles on your thighs, and your eyes are hazy, fever full, and you sigh a fluttering sound of oh, “Everything’s so lovely,” you say again. “And you’re so beautiful, alpha. We should eat green apples. I love green apples so much.” Delirious, a little nonsensical.

“We will. We will– whatever you want,” he says, but he’s already mounting you again, wedging his fat cock into your tiny, battered hole, enjoying the sound of your half pleasure, half pained keen. And he doesn’t give you the grace of going slow, the rut is full on now – he fucks you into your nest hard, fucks against your womb until he’s filling it again. Only gentles once when you mumble into his ear, slurred and almost drooling, I want to watch it go in and out of me.

And despite his ferocity, the way he uses and abuses your cunt, he knows you need it from the way you open that little blossom mouth and try to swallow him whole, hungry thing. You yank at his beard and pull on his hair and scratch at his skin, bite his gland again and again, and he shocks himself by being nothing like afraid, nothing like uncertain. No, he only feels settled now. Joel only feels himself.

He realizes that he had always needed this, but now, he wants it too. The distinction is stark and important beyond measure like some sort of primordial state of consciousness. He is only himself, dog fight lost and left victorious for it.

You pass the days of your heat and his rut locked on his swollen knot, a steady stream of his come being pumped into you constantly. There’s no way he hasn’t bred you by now, and it makes something pleased and terrifyingly savage swell within him.

He’s forced to shove an ice pack between your legs on the third day, between bouts on his knot, during a moment of clarity for the both of you while he feeds and waters you. But then later, after he’s given you one of the strawberry cream popsicles he’d made and frozen for you the day before you’d arrived, you sit, swollen cock buried deep, slowly rocking back and forth while he watches with an almost sick sort of rapt fascination as you eat the popsicle in little kitten licks, leaning back on his lap ever so often to bare your cunt to his gaze, slick and split wide, red as the strawberries in your sweet treat.

“How is it?” He doesn’t specify which, the popsicle or the cock rocking inside of you, but you peer at him with the brightest and keenest sort of gaze, a look that tells him all he needs to know about himself, all that you see within him which is everything. You flash him a huge, cheesy grin, all the answer he’s getting, and you’ve got a tiny gap between your two front teeth that he finds so, so endearing, and his answering laugh is so vital, so alive, it’s like he steps into himself again after twelve years of vacancy.

And with that bright light of clarity, a blink, blink, you seem to come fully awake for a moment. “Tell me of the things you like,” you order, taking a large bite of the iced treat and pressing your cold mouth to his, passing the flavor of strawberries onto his tongue.

He takes the moment and tastes it, pulls you close, “I like how the fire plays over your skin,” a palm ghosting down the slope of your naked back to the place where you’re connected. “How it makes shadows and shows me that glow inside.”

And as the fever fades, he switches to handling you with carefulness, gently stroking at your sensitive, come-filled pussy, careful of the stretched soreness of your little hole and the bruising around your nipples. With more awareness you remind him that he’s a big, stupid alpha with a big, stupid knot and that you hurt and want more.

But there’s still time and heat to take advantage of, and on the day he knows will be the last day of this animal lust, he stretches you out flat on your belly, his weight completely over your back, and he fucks you prone and immobilized, caged in by his bulging arms, telling you of how you own him now, how he belongs to you, how he’s going to keep you full and happy forever. “Make me come. Clench – good girl. Again,” he orders, and when his knot swells for what he knows will be the last time of this rut, relishing in the last whispers of your heat filled belly, he sniffs through the curtain of your hair and finding the still swollen gland at the nape of your neck, he slowly sinks his teeth into the vulnerable patch, binding your mating.

Dawn peeks over the horizon like a faint suggestion, and you’re married on the cliffside one bitingly cold winter morning, the sea as your witness. Ellie and Dina are there, and they’re your friends now. You have friends, real friends, no more half life, no more half friend.You have friends, and you are important and significant and as vital and alive as Joel is. You’re real, and he helped make you so, yes, but really, you always had been.

You wear flowers in your hair and a dress the color of the sky, and he has mirrors in his eyes, and the two of you are the same. Equal and only yourselves, and you love each other more than anything in only a very true way, nothing soft about it.

When you know you’ll have a baby, he swallows your fear and your worry, marks your gland again as a reminder of all he is, all you are. And when you ask, for you can’t not share with him, “Will they come one day, to check if we did what we were supposed to? To see if we had a baby?”

He tells you, “Yes, they might,” very solemnly.

“What if–” a difficult thing to say out loud, now that you understand the thing you are and the way of the world so well, now that he’s shown you all there is to be shown, “What if they’re an omega like me – will they take them?” Give them their own white box and a not life to be nurtured by instead of a mother.

But like all obvious things, he shares with you, always, only truths. “Never.” And the look in his eyes is so serious, eyes like mirrors, that you know his words are fact. “I’d never let that happen, I swear to you.”

And the glow still comes, and the heat still takes you, but he’s always there now and nature is still an inescapable thing, but the perilous edge is no longer such a danger when you’re protecting each other.

Netherfeildren's Masterlist

Updates Blog

#HSM fic #vic fic #joel miller #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller x reader #joel miller smut #the last of us AU #alpha/beta/omega dynamics #joel miller x you #joel miller x f!reader

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dindjarinsbeskarbunny · 11 months

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Incase you missed the best parts of the sneak peak of “strange way of life” with Ethan Hawke and Pedro Pascal released in Spain yesterday.

#pedro pascal #the mandalorian smut #joel miller smut #joel miller imagines #pedro pascal x reader #alpha din djarin #din djarin x reader #din djarin #din djarin imagines #pedro pascal imagines #pedro pascal smut #joel miller

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flordeamatista · 7 months

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THE WITCHING HOUR ──── KINKTOBER'23

⚈ In this spooky month of October, I am excited to welcome you to THE WITCHING HOUR.

⚈ The following are some of the deck's sexiest cards for unlocking pure kinky feelings with handsome men. As part of the storyline, the cards' auras have been incorporated. (shoutout to @aquariusbarnes & @mrsmischief209 for teaching me about tarot cards)

⚈ Each sex tarot card has its own unique storyline, captivating visuals, and seductive daydream effects.

⚈ 18+ blog only. Minors are not allowed to interact with these stories. You are responsible for your own media consumption, so please read the individual warnings for each fic. Each fic I will update the warnings on this post.

──── WEEK ONE

THE DEVIL

⚈ dbf!andy barber

sex tape + corruption kink + pussy slapping

──── WEEK TWO

THE MAGICIAN

⚈ mafia!lloyd hansen + mafia!nick fowler

mirror sex + chase kink + double penetration

──── WEEK THREE

THE EMPRESS

⚈ husband!joel miller

body worship + breeding + aftercare

THE EMPEROR

⚈ boudoir photographer!thor odinson

temperature play, + lingerie + orgasm control

──── WEEK FOUR

ACE OF WANDS

⚈ ghost face alpha!bucky barnes

sex toys + voice kink + fingering

THE SUN

⚈ music producer!ari levinson

blowjob + exhibitionism + cum play

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luci-in-trenchcoats · 1 year

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So many ideas, so little time...

#when you want to work on 1500 ideas at once #like Alpha!Soldier Boy #or Beau and his new partner!reader #or that Joel Miller x reader fic I started #or countless Dean ideas #at least the second Havenfield novel is nearing completion!

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c0pernicus · 10 months

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If anyone cares to listen, I made a short little playlist for Joel and Ellie with heavy tlou2 game vibes !!! I might make a proper post like old times for it for funsies tomorrow if I’m not too tired

#I totally didn’t cry while making this #I’m not super happy with all of the songs but it’s under an hour so I can’t complain too much #joel tlou #ellie tlou #joel miller #tlou #tlou 2 #ellie williams #the last of us #the last of us 2 #tlou playlist #yodeling alpha

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freelancearsonist · 1 day

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the mark they saw on my collarbone

➔ post-outbreak Joel Miller x afab!Reader // series masterlist

➔ 4.4k words

➔ Joel’s instincts kick in when he runs into an omega in trouble along a smuggling route.

➔ Rated MA // a/b/o dynamics and the associated gender politics (alpha!joel and omega!reader), heavy dom/sub dynamics, unprotected piv sex, creampie, fingering, oral (reader receiving), biting/marking, blood, size kink, joel calls reader little one/little thing, mention of reader being food-insecure, alpha!tommy and alpha!tess are here briefly. takes place one year post-outbreak.

➔ this reader insert character: has female anatomy, no pronouns used, is generally able-bodied, is mentioned to be smaller/shorter than joel and can fit into his jacket, is otherwise a blank slate.

Tess’s face perks up halfway over a fallen tree–she stops in her tracks to tilt her nose into the wind. “You smell that?”

Of course Joel smells it. His senses were alerted to it about half a mile ago; he’s always had the better nose. He’s been trying to ignore it, however. There’s no point to giving into temptation in this shattered world, no matter how sweet the scent.

“Whew,” Tommy huffs, wrinkling his nose at the heavy pheromones that now drift around the trio. “Whoever it is, they’re closer than comfortable.”

“Smells like they’re in trouble,” Tess posits–always the thoughtful one. Always wanting to have faith in humanity, no matter how many reasons the last year has given her to lose hope. “That’s an omega. If not in full out heat, then damn near close to it.”

“Ain’t no way there’s an omega out on their own in these woods,” Joel growls. “It’s a trap.”

Tess shoots him a look–worried, stern. “What if it’s not?”

“It is.” He doesn’t even entertain the idea. There’s no way anything is left untainted in this world.

But with every step forward, the scent gets stronger and Joel’s resolve grows weaker. Your scent is so sweet. It reminds him of springtime in Austin, the little yellow sour grass buds and picnics in the park with…

The scar on his temple gives a single little throb, and he forces himself to focus up. They’ve got a clear destination, a contact to meet outside the Atlanta QZ. He needs to keep his head in the game and out of the past. Dwelling on that, on what the world was merely a year ago, is fucking pointless. No matter how much he hopes, how much he dreams, how much he begs and pleads to a god he never really believed in to begin with, nothing brings her back.

The scent makes his stomach churn the stronger it gets. It’s not like any omega he’s ever known before. They’ve all been… a little bitter. Or maybe his ex just left a tainted trace in his nose, spoiled it for everyone else. He’s never needed a partner to feel complete, anyway. Being a father is what gives him purpose. Gave him purpose.

He pushes that train of thought from mind, sets his jaw, and marches on.

The funny thing is, they’ve spent a lot of time in these woods–Tess, Tommy, and him. For as close to the QZ as it is, they’ve never met a single other soul in these parts.

That’s why, when Joel senses your pheromones only getting stronger as they forge on, he thinks about saying something. They’re headed straight towards you, into what must be a trap. The Atlanta QZ doesn’t take omegas; there’s no reason one should be so close. If he was smart, he’d make sure that the group avoids you at all costs. But there’s a deep, primal part of him that forces him to keep his mouth shut just as he’s about to open it and suggest rerouting their journey. He wants to investigate, to find out if you’re really as sweet as you smell.

He can tell Tommy and Tess are thinking along the same lines, and it makes his teeth grit together, eyes pinched in frustration. There’s an underlying possessiveness in every further stride he takes, eyes boring into the backs of his pack members’ heads while he takes position at the rear of the group.

This is why people used to say that alphas couldn’t work together, he realizes. Not that it’s ever been an issue for him before–but he’s never smelled an omega he’s wanted so much before, either. Tommy was always the tail-chaser, before everything went to shit; he was constantly getting himself into trouble, and Joel would constantly bail him out. And Tess… he’s never met an alpha quite like her. He’s never seen her with an omega, either; never bothered asking if she had one before the outbreak. But she’s compassionate, if a bit tough. She doesn’t seem like the main threat right now.

This is what he’s always hated about these god-forsaken roles. He watches Tommy’s pace pick up a little, sees the younger Miller’s nose tilt ever-so-slightly to the wind, and in this moment he sees his own brother as a threat. That’s something that should never have had to happen. But a pack of three, and all alphas… it was bound to happen sooner or later. Maybe they’ve all been fooling themselves.

It’s been great for them thus far, being able to use each other when necessary without fear of repercussions, but there also hasn’t been an omega in the picture yet. Now, with heavy pheromones swirling invisibly between the three of them, a subtle and silent struggle for dominance starts to rear its ugly head.

The scent only grows stronger, and it makes Joel worry. It’s heady, damn near overwhelming. Joel’s never witnessed an omega so close to heat without actually being in heat. The pull of your pheromones is dangerous–it’ll draw in every alpha within a range of miles, maybe even some from the QZ with how close you are. The range will only grow once your heat actually breaks out. The pack is heading directly towards the source of great danger, and all three of them know it. Even still, all three of them are powerless to stop it.

Joel spots you first. You’re nestled under a tree, sound asleep, half-camouflaged by a blanket of orange and brown leaves. You’re gorgeous, there’s no other way to describe you, and with your pheromones flooding his senses it’s nearly impossible for him to hold back from approaching you.

He reaches out a quick hand and grabs his brother’s arm just as he’s about to step towards you.

“Don’t,” Joel growls from deep in his chest. His eyes dart around quickly, searching every inch of autumn foliage for some sign of the trap this must be. They’ve heard about this exact kind of trap before, and Joel mentally curses himself for falling right into it despite knowing better.

Hardly any unmarked omegas survived outbreak day. Many of the few that did were captured by large groups of malicious betas and put into traps, their heats used to lure in alphas who were then exterminated en masse. Joel and his pack have been lucky not to encounter such a trap yet, but everyone’s luck runs out eventually.

They stand, they watch you, and they wait for the other boot to drop.

But it doesn’t. You sleep peacefully, albeit squirming a little bit, and no one else comes. There’s nothing but the sound of birds chirping in the distance and wind rustling the bare branches of the trees overhead.

All of a sudden, you wake. Your entire body jolts, nostrils flaring at the heavy and suddenly overwhelming scent of alpha. Your beautiful eyes widen with fear, and Joel sees you're about to make a break for it.

Without thinking, he steps forward and holds a hand out in front of him–a sign of goodwill. “Easy, omega. We ain’t gonna hurtcha.”

Your chest heaves with panting breaths, but you don’t move yet. You’re smart, he thinks. You know you can’t outrun all three of them.

“You’re in a spot a’trouble,” Joel continues, trying to make his voice as gentle as possible as he takes another tiny step closer to you. “Could smell your heat comin’ on from miles away. What’s a li’l thing like you doin’ out in the woods all alone?”

“Going to the QZ.” There’s a firmness behind your tone–how brave you are, he thinks. And how stupid.

“Where you comin’ from?” He asks–prying, but gently.

You look apprehensive, but you answer anyway. “Tennessee.”

“Didn’t do your research, did you sweetheart?” He grumbles as gently as he can. “Atlanta don’t take omegas. You go there, ‘specially in the state you’re in, you’ll be shot on sight.”

He can almost see the gears turning in your head, albeit slowly given your state; you’re wondering if he’s really telling the truth, if you can really trust him. You’re wondering why he hasn’t leaped at you yet.

You gulp and plant your hands in the dirt at your sides as if you’re getting ready to stand, but you don’t move yet.

Tommy takes a quick step forward, and Joel sees the way you flinch at the sharp crack of a twig underneath the younger Miller’s boot.

“Joel–”

“Shut the fuck up,” he growls, a little harsher than he means to. “Don’t you fuckin’ move, Tommy. I mean it.”

“Please don’t hurt me,” you whisper, hardly louder than the breeze. And then he sees it–the first pang of heat, your face screwing up in pain and your body squirming uncomfortably on the forest floor. You try not to show it, but Joel catches it anyway. Your heat is here, and his instincts take over.

“Fuck off,” he snarls, stepping firmly between Tommy and you. Tess steps forward, mouth agape in some mixture of shock and confusion, and Joel swivels his burning gaze to her. “Both of you. Fuck off. Go on ahead to Atlanta, I’ll meet up with you there.”

Tess doesn’t look affected, just concerned. “Joel, what the–”

“Go!” He roars. There’s no room for argument, even though Tommy opens his mouth like he might try. In the end, they know there’s no winning. Not right now, not with Joel’s pheromones rising and his eyes so dark. They hesitate just a moment, slowly back away, and then finally admit defeat and vanish into the trees.

Once they’re gone, you don’t try to hide your pain as much. A whimper escapes your lips as you squeeze your thighs together and all pretense falls away.

“You okay, little one?” He drops to his knees beside you so he can give you a better look. It’s clear that the road you’ve traveled has not been easy on you–he’s amazed you’ve survived as long as you have all on your own. You’re disheveled and dirty, maybe even worse off than he is. You look like you haven’t eaten in days, and the simple t-shirt covering you isn’t nearly warm enough to protect you from the chill riding in on the late autumn breeze.

Joel’s quick to rip his jacket off and drape it around your trembling shoulders–he feels a strange surge of pride when you quickly pull the fabric tightly around you and nuzzle your face into the collar for a deep inhale of his scent.

“Talk to me, omega.” His voice is deep, demanding. “You doin’ okay? What can I do to help?”

“Alpha…” Your voice is so quiet, and all he wants is to take you into his arms. But now of all times is not the time to be hasty. As much as he wants you, he refuses to take advantage of you.

“It hurts, alpha,” you continue quietly.

“I know, baby.” The sweet ting of southern accent in his voice seeps into your very veins and warms you from head to toe with each rapid thump of your heart. “How can I help?”

You reach a shaky hand towards him and he meets you halfway, marveling at how small your hand is compared to his paw. He never really considered himself a big guy until this moment, seeing you so small and helpless beside him. Clearly it’s affecting you too–he sees the way your thighs clench tightly together the second he touches you.

“I trust you,” you murmur so sweetly.

For a moment, he considers running. He’s done horrible things with the hands that now hold you so gently. He’s not one to be trusted. He’ll only end up hurting you.

“Your scent’s gonna draw more alphas in, baby,” he coos deeply. “There’s a whole QZ fullav’em just a couple miles away. It ain’t safe to be out in the open like this.”

But there’s no logic or reason left in your gaze–you nuzzle your face into his neck so you can inhale his scent straight from the source, and Joel knows there’s only one way this ends without some worse alpha coming along and hurting or killing you.

“Need you, alpha,” you plead as shiny tears fill your pretty eyes. “Please, it hurts so bad.”

Joel wonders if this is your first heat–it sure seems like it. You’ve probably been on suppressants since the day you presented. Every bone in his body screams for you; screams to take your pain away, to soothe you with his own body, to make you his.

He’s never felt so much like an alpha as he does in this moment, when your heat gets the better of you and you fuze your mouth to his in a searing kiss.

Joel actually moans into your mouth. It’s deep and a little louder than he means to be, caught off guard by the suddenness of the kiss but even more by how sweet you taste. Your scent didn’t do you justice, really. He’s never gotten addicted to someone from their kiss alone before, and yet just as suddenly as it started he needs more. He needs to devour you whole, to claim every inch of you until there’s nothing left for anyone else. Even as he licks into your mouth and easily takes control of your mouth with his tongue, he knows this is going to end badly. He also knows that he doesn’t care.

“Sweet little thing,” he coos as he tugs you to straddle his lap. You can feel the insistent press of his hardening bulge against your core, and you grind down so hard he hisses. “Easy baby, I gotcha.”

“Alpha, please…”

“Gotta have some patience, omega,” he tells you firmly. “I’ll take care’a ya, but I gotta getcha ready first. Don’t wanna hurtcha.”

You kind of want it to hurt, you kind of want him to burn himself into your very soul, but you don’t say as much out loud. You probably couldn’t form the words anyway–all that comes from your mouth is a needy little whimper.

“Hush, omega, you’re okay,” he whispers into your ear as he lays you back against the fallen leaves, one hand carefully cushioning your head while the other pulls your thigh open so he can slot himself between your legs. “M’gonna make it all better, just gotta be good f’me.”

“Alpha…” You feel the first ounce of relief as he drags your jeans and underwear down your legs in one smooth motion. Your burning skin is met with cool air and it feels incredible. Nearly as incredible as the sensation of his kisses tracing down your body, even through the fabric of your t-shirt that he leaves in place because he doesn’t want you getting cold no matter how much it feels like you might spontaneously combust if you don’t feel him inside you soon.

“You’re gonna be good for me, arentcha?” He hums against the hem of your t-shirt, just above where you so desperately need him.

“Yes, alpha,” you breathe as politely as you can manage.

His lips latch onto your clit as soon as the words have left your mouth. He knows exactly what you need–none of that torturous rapid flicking that you’ve experienced in the past but firm, honest-to-god, get-the-job-done suction.

He slips a finger into your dripping entrance and it’s honestly amazing that you don’t come right on the spot. Just that one thick finger is a stretch–it makes you arch your hips up off the ground, desperate to get away from the onslaught of pleasure and yet simultaneously wanting more.

“I know, sweetie,” he coos against your clit, slowly curling his finger until he finds the spot that makes your thighs tremble. “Feels good, doesn’it?”

“Y-yes, oh my–”

He throws all pretense out the window and adds two more fingers, filling you to your breaking point. You shatter without warning as he increases the pressure on your clit, thighs quivering and hips bucking pathetically as your warmth coats his chin. Your entire body wracks as he works you through it, fingers curling against your g-spot as his lips mercifully release your clit with an obscene pop.

“That’s right, baby,” he coos proudly. “So good f’me.”

You’re panting as you come down, satisfied for one beautiful moment even as he pulls his fingers from you so he can kiss his way back up to your mouth.

He slots between your legs so he can lick into your mouth again, and the taste of your own pleasure on his tongue makes everything come crashing back down. Your cunt clenches hard around nothing, and you groan out in pain and need for him.

He grunts when your legs lock around his sturdy waist, feet pressing into his ass to grind his heavy, jean-clad cock into your soaked folds. He moans from the very pit of his stomach, surprised at the sudden movement–and then he presses even harder, grinding himself so firmly against your cunt that you swear you can feel the outline of his mushroom head even through the layers of clothing he still wears.

“Tell me you want this, omega,” he pants into your ear, still pressed so tightly to you as he reaches down to tug his belt open. “Tell me to fuck you.”

“Please, alpha.” You’re trying so hard not to sound whiny, but you’re failing miserably. “Please fuck me.”

Joel simply adores how sweetly you ask for what you need. God, he doesn’t even know your name, but it’s taking everything in him not to claim you for the rest of eternity.

Would that really be so bad? Clearly you’re a survivor if you’ve made it this far, and as an omega no less. You could be a valuable addition to the pack.

But really, it’s the thought of having you as a home to come back to that gets him tugging his cock out of his jeans to the symphony of your quiet moans and pleas. He thinks about having a lovingly-crafted nest and the sweetest, tightest cunt he’s ever known waiting for him at the end of a long day, and it takes everything in him not to blow his load right then and there.

He knows he doesn’t deserve this, but he’s willing to be selfish anyway. Just this once.

“Holy shit,” you gasp when you look down and see the firm length of him, barely contained in his big hand. He’s thick and weeping precum, tip stained a dark maroon from sitting in his jeans untouched this long. He’s nothing like the betas you entertained yourself with before the outbreak–you’ve never even really seen an alpha’s cock in person, and certainly none this large.

He must see the apprehension in your gaze, because he takes your chin between his thumb and forefinger so he can raise your face to meet his dark, brooding eyes. “You tell me if it hurts, okay? Don’t wanna hurt you, wanna help you feel better.”

You don’t know why, but you trust him. So you nod, and you tug him into a deep kiss.

The first press of him into your waiting core has your mouth dropping open, head pressing back into the hand that cups the back of your head. He keeps you pressed so firmly against his entire body as he inches in. He’s so attentive, pulling back to watch your face for any sign of discomfort as he rocks his hips, pushing an inch deeper with every shallow thrust until the base of him settles as tightly against you as he can.

He doesn’t find anything in your expression other than pure euphoria.

He kisses you, breathless and messy, as he wills himself to stay still while fully sheathed in your tight heat. Damn it all, he’s fighting so hard for control. He’s never had someone squeeze him so perfectly, so warmly. Your cunt is pure, unadulterated heaven.

“A-alpha,” you whine once you’re ready, but he can’t move. Not yet. You’re his omega, he needs to take care of you, and he’s far too close to spilling himself deep inside your cunt and pressing even deeper so his knot can take root. He could never live with himself if he disappointed you like that.

“Please, alpha,” you try again, and the unrelenting need is what does him in. You need him, not just anyone. No one else could satisfy you how he does–he’s sure of it.

With the first true thrust of his hips, a wave of pheromones rushes over his senses. He basks in the scent of you, nearly high on it, and then the danger of this comes crashing back to him.

He thrusts deep, makes your toes curl and your chest heave, and he asks a weighted question as the pace continues. “This your first heat?”

You nod your head, barely even able to process his words. “R-ran out of s-suppressants.”

Fuck. He knew it. You don’t even seem to realize the danger, the calling card that you’re putting on display for every alpha within a ten mile radius. It’s a miracle that no one has shown up–everyone in Atlanta is probably wise to the trap scheme, luckily. But luck runs out eventually, and someone’s going to end up taking a chance for your delectable scent.

“Others’re gonna smell you, omega,” he growls as he grinds deep. “Ain’t safe to be unmarked out here. They’ll come f’ya.”

The pleasure is unbearable–toe-curling, blood-boiling, thigh-quaking. All you can do is sob and whine as his big cock fucks into you and hits exactly the right spot with every thrust.

“Gotta mark ya,” he continues quietly. “Only way to keep you safe, baby.”

You come out of your reverie a little bit at that; but deep down, you know he’s right. The only way you’ve been able to survive so long was a stockpile of suppressants you were lucky enough to get your hands on. But they’re gone, and with them your chances of surviving much longer. Unless you let this stranger mark you–the most intimate gesture possible.

“Okay,” you breathe against his neck. “Mark me.”

Your cunt clenches unbearably tight around his shaft as his teeth dig sharply into the base of your neck. Your taste floods his mouth, heady and warm–in combination with your legs locked around his waist, he can’t stop it. He’s coming before he can warn you, hot ropes of seed coating every inch of you, seemingly endless. And then, without thinking, he presses that little bit deeper so his knot can fill you to your limit.

You sob at the sensation, nails digging into his shirt-clad back in a feeble attempt to tamp down the overload of pleasure at the sudden stretch of his thick knot in your tight cunt.

“Fuckfuckfuck–” he growls into your bitten neck, grinding himself as deep as he can as his cock pulses within your tight walls. “Oh fuck omega, I’m sorry–”

You hush him to the best of your breathless ability as your hands smooth through his sweaty brown hair and down over his shoulders. “It’s okay. It’s okay, alpha. You made it so much better.”

There’s a long moment of silence, Joel’s mind swirling with so many thoughts that he can’t focus on a single one. You coax him through it silently, hands smoothing over the fabric of his shirt as your breathing slowly comes.

You’ve never felt so full, so complete. His scent surrounds you and fills you; nothing has ever felt quite so right.

You realize vaguely that he’s licking the blood from the teeth marks on your neck, and you think now’s as good a time as any to give him your name.

He looks up at you, confused for a moment, and then a warm laugh bubbles from his throat. God, he can’t remember the last time he actually laughed. What are you doing to him?

“Joel Miller,” he introduces himself back. “M’sorry, I shoulda started with that.”

His arms are getting shaky from supporting his weight above you, so he grabs firmly onto your waist and rolls smoothly onto his back with you rested snugly against his chest.

“M’sorry,” he repeats again as he feels his swollen knot pulse within you at the slight movement of your hips. “I meant to pull out, I–”

“I wanted it,” you tell him. “I wouldn’t let you. I’m sorry too.”

He gulps, nods once as a hand idly comes up to cradle your head. “I’ve got a guy in the QZ. He can get us a pill. But we’ve gotta be more careful next time.”

“Next time?”

“That was just the first round, baby,” he explains quietly. “Heats can last days, even a week. You’ll need a lot more care ‘fore it’s over.”

“Oh.” You feel so dumb, getting your education from someone whose knot is currently swollen inside you.

“We’ll get a pill,” he promises. “And I’ll pull out next time.”

“You’re… not leaving?” You’ve tried so hard not to have any false pretenses about this. You figured from the get go that he’d leave as soon as his knot went down and you’d never see him again.

He sighs heavily and runs a hand over the patchy brown hair on his chin. “Look, I… you met the rest’a my pack earlier, sorta. There’s just the three of us. We’re not good people, but… we’ll keep you safe. And you seem like you’re able to earn your keep.”

“I am,” you’re quick to assert.

“And I’ve marked you,” he adds. “Can’t just leave ya out here to fend for yourself. You’re my omega now.”

You don’t know why, but the words make your heart flutter.

You and Joel catch up to Tommy and Tess at the edge of the QZ, just in time for the meeting with their contact. Joel had explained to you on the way that it was an old acquaintance, a guy they’d met in Texas shortly after the outbreak who they’d worked with for a few months before he joined up with FEDRA. Now he sneaks supplies out to them in exchange for rarities from the other QZs.

That’s what the pack does, Joel had explained. They’re smugglers–they distribute things illegally between all the different continental quarantine zones.

Tommy and Tess see the two of you coming, and they’re instantly on guard. It only gets worse when Tommy recognizes the brown leather jacket wrapped tightly around your torso to shield you from the breeze.

“Joel.”

Joel tries to ignore Tommy’s call, but there’s not much he can do.

“Joel, what the fuck’ve you done?”

Joel supposes Tommy’s outrage is justified, but he shields you from it anyway. Truth be told, he doesn’t rightly know just what he’s gotten himself into with you.

#joel miller #joel miller x reader #joel miller smut #joel miller fanfiction #alpha! joel miller #joel tlou #joel miller x you #joel miller fic #tlou #the last of us #the last of us smut #the last of us fanfiction #cece writes #series: maroon

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corazondebeskar-reads · 24 days

Text

of rage and ruin masterlist

of rage and ruin - ongoing

werewolf!alpha!Joel Miller x f!omega!reader

summary: Joel Miller made it twelve years into the apocalypse without getting bit. He turns into a much different kind of monster than he expected, though.

dividers by @saradika-graphics

also on ao3

series warnings: dark, dead dove do not eat, a/b/o, alpha/omega dynamics, omegaverse, captivity, torture, forced proximity, non-con/dub-con (due to the nature of heats), canon-typical violence, genre-typical violence, horror themes, monster fucking, graphic violence, graphic depictions of injuries, suicidal ideation, gore, unprotected sex, oral, vaginal, heats, knotting, abuse by captors (not by either joel or reader), death, murder of innocent people, typical raider/hunter behavior, sexual assault/abuse by captors, mention of cordyceps, angst, hurt/comfort, no y/n, reader is able-bodied and afab with no specific descriptions, viewer discretion is advised

reader notes: no y/n, no name, no description. reader is able-bodied and afab, uses she/her. joel can lift reader but he's a werewolf with superstrength so it's not indicative of body type. reader has no living family.

This is an omegaverse au. It contains typical and altered elements of a/b/o tropes.

You are responsible for the media you consume. Read at your own risk.

This story does not have a set publication schedule or a predetermined number of chapters.

chapter one

chapter two

chapter three: tba

chapter four: tba

*title from "Bad Moon Rising" by Creedence Clearwater Revival

As always, if you'd like to read but have concerns about triggers/themes/deaths, my DMs are always open.

#joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller x f!reader #alpha!joel x omega!reader #alpha!joel miller #a/b/o au #alpha!joel miller x omega!reader #werewolf!joel miller #werewolf joel miller #the last of us fic #dead dove fic #fic: of rage and ruin

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joelhoney · 6 months

Text

#1 girl

pairing: dbf joel miller x afab/sorority sister reader

kenny here... tumblr Blipped me u guys. but i loved this too much to let it waste into nothingness. so here we go again take two using an ancient blog i never even used (from 2016 mind u...) enjoy!

You're too wrapped up in sorority duties to remember somebody's supposed to pick you up and drive you home tonight. One pissed-off Joel, curious conversation, and cowboy hat later, your evening takes an unexpected turn.

warnings: no outbreak au, dbf!joel, self gratuitous age gap (21/51), shy reader w/ some bursts of confidence, blowjob (m receiving), handjob (f receiving), dirty talk, praise, degradation too..., overuse of pet names... must b all

Of all the ways you imagined spending your fifth day of spring break, the last was in your dad’s best friend’s pickup truck with lame rock playing dryly through the console radio. In fact, last is generous—the idea itself had never even been conjured in your head.

The reason why is because you and your dad’s best friend—Mr. Miller—don’t typically interact beyond the confines of dinners, mandatory laughter, and the occasional one-on-one about something like boys in college, or classes in college, or the drive to college. Nothing much had changed when you moved the brief drive away to UT Austin, and between you everything’s remained the same, even now in your senior year.

For instance, a break—summer, spring, winter—would begin with your parents picking you up and shuttling off to the house, and end with an affair of the similar sort. Quickly into your first year, though, you learned to always insist you either leave school late or leave home early for spring break to take advantage of campus parties, especially because your senior year had cemented your shiny new position as President of Alpha Phi.

Any officer position in a sorority already came with a good deal of responsibility, let alone the presidency; and in addition to having recently turned twenty-one, the role required you to exhaust every drop of social battery, every ounce of skill you had at party hosting and alcohol obtaining without the use of a flimsy fake.

The eliminated nerves of using fakes made you much less nervous during parties, which often led to you letting more loose than usual. This party you’re in was thrown by some frat on campus, but this house is your last place of four; first two pregames, then a bar, then here. At some point at the bar your sisters had surprised you with a fun gift for the night, so you’re also wearing a pink sash, onto which rhinestones spelling out #1 Girl have been glued with precision.

Already you’re dizzy, wiping clammy fingers on the stiff cotton of your tight tank top, the curve of your tits spilling over the Alpha Phi logo. It’s small on you, the hem high above your navel and higher above the loose, low hem of your denim shorts. If they fell low enough on your hips, the high arch of your pink thong would’ve shown itself—maybe it did at some point, you’re too loopy to care.

“Oh, no,” you’re saying, but you can barely hear yourself over the rap song playing and everyone singing along, “no, I hate Jäger.” You’re shaking your head at your best friend and Vice President, Lia, who raises two handfuls of the opaque liquid. She shakes her head, sets them down on the table you’re leaning against.

“Lighten up, duuude. We’re taking them to celebrate your first and last spring break as President.”

“Aw, fine,” you muse loudly, giving in. “Only this once.” Out of obligation and genuine gratitude, you allow yourself to stomach your least favorite drink—then another, and another, a bit of each shot dribbling down the column of your throat and stickily onto your chest.

Lia snaps at the red bra strap that peeks out of your tank strap, laughing. “Settle down, Prez.” A partygoer, rowdy as they come, roughly deposits a sweaty cowboy hat onto your head and you yelp in surprise, steadying it. Whoever gave this, I’m keeping it! you holler, laughing as you feed yourself a shot of something your tongue enjoys more.

Absolut crowds the inside of your mouth when you take it back, interrupted only when a hand comes to shake at your shoulder. In your rush to turn, you nearly hit them with your hat.

It’s Cole, a good friend and member of the frat whose house you’re currently getting tipsy in. His eyes are rimmed and the whole air of him smells like weed. He offers one greeting: “Yo.” His eyes slide down to your chest, where your tugged-down tank has exposed a few inches of your red bra’s lacy cups.

“Hey,” you say, the syllable sounding sticky. “Up here, you ass. Jägerbomb?” You offer a smile.

“‘M a’ight. Listen, some…” He shakes his head, like he’s trying to place what he’s here to tell you. Then he nods, having remembered—“Right. Some old guy’s out front asking for you.”

“Asking for me? Old… guy?” Your eyebrows scrunch together, mind foggy. “My dad?” Shit. You’d completely forgotten they’d be picking you up today or tomorrow. Maybe they’d been waiting for hours—it’s one-thirty, the clock on the living room mantel reads.

“Nah, man, not your dad, this guy’s… he’s got a red pickup truck, um, he’s, like, he’s old looking.” He raises a hand above his own head. “Tall.” His voice is drawly with the weed high, but as soon as he said red pickup, you knew exactly who he was talking about. One look at your phone confirms it—five missed calls and a message, 11PM, sent by your dad: Joel’s in the area for work. He’s going out with buddies but can swing by the house to pick you up. I’m giving him your #.

“Fuck.” You blink. “Fuck! I gotta go.”

You never usually have to pack shit to go home, considering the drive isn’t too far. Briefly you consider making a detour to collect things from your sorority house, but you decide to sacrifice the laptop and the few important chargers. So, armed with only your phone, you wrench your way out of the crowd, a few goodbyes thrown in your direction and back.

The front door is open so the partygoers spill onto the front yard, intermittent conversation littering the area. Along the pavement, frat guys’ Civics and and Priuses are parked beside an old looking red pickup truck; leaned against it is—

“Mr. Miller,” you blurt out when you’re closer to him, voice steady (your mind is just as well, shocked back to lucidity from his presence). “I’m sorry. I had no idea you’d be picking me up today—tonight—” You heave a sigh, apologetic, refusing to meet his eyes. “Sorry.”

His arms are crossed over his chest, the sleeves of his button-up rolled up to his elbows. Even from a few feet away you can make out the shape, the lines of muscle on his forearms. He looks tired, moody—more than usual—and your heart pangs with guilt at the idea that you could be the reason behind it. But despite your best—really, your best—efforts, your stomach still swoops the same way it did when you were seventeen and naive, enough to find next-door-neighbor Mr. Miller extremely handsome. Hell, extremely hot.

It didn’t make sense. You’d suspected your little crush would be that—an adolescent, childish thing, evaporating more and more into thin air with every drive made to campus. But he never stopped being handsome, never stopped his corny jokes and the pet names that got you warm every time you visited over break. You had plenty of eye candy on campus, athletes and gamers alike, and yes you’d been picky, but had managed to sleep with a select few—despite all of it, only the remnants of your fantasies of Mr. Miller satiated you when your hand creeps into the apex of your thighs late at night, lust wrangling shame into silence for a few minutes.

You blink and the train of thought is over—the real thing is here, eyebrows set low, mouth frowning.

“Kiddo,” he starts, his voice thin with exhaustion, “look, I’ve done my share of… drinkin’, and that. I get it. But you gotta…” He clicks his tongue, eyes looking your outfit up and down. “You gotta let me know, let your parents know, where you are, and if you’re okay. ‘Cause I really did not want to spend tonight drivin’ from house to bar, to bar to house, feelin’ like I was lookin’ all over Austin for you.”

“I know,” you supply quickly, nodding. Your hands, fidgety, find purchase on the fibres of the silk sash strung along your figure. “I’m so sorry, Mr. Miller. I didn’t check my phone the entire evening, and—”

“It’s okay.” He says, nonchalant, lifting himself off the side of the car to walk to the drivers’ side. Gruffly, he adds, “Car.”

You’re quick to tug the door open, settling yourself on the passenger seat and breathing nervously. Your legs are littered with body glitter, your chest with the tack of Jäger. You spot him outside, his walk slow. He’s annoyed—rightfully so—stopping just shy of the door to pinch at the bridge of his nose, his lips miming a slow exhale. When he finally wrangles himself to sit, it’s quiet for a minute, then another.

“Y’have fun?” He starts the car, thrumming it to life. You nod, then offer a verbal answer—yeah. He nods, wiping a palm over his face. “What were you up to?”

“I, um… I organized a pregame for my sorority.” You toy with the rogue strands of denim of your shorts. “We went to a bar, after… then another… then, well.” You gulp. “Here.” The last question escapes you in a shaky, breathy squeak. “And you?”

“Hah, sure, kid. Had some contractor thing, half an hour from here. Then drinks with a coupl’a buddies from work. Could’ve been home by eleven-thirty,” he says roughly, driving through the still-vibrant streets of campus, “but it’s nearin’ two and I’m on a college campus.” The urge to apologize bubbles at your lips, high in your stomach, but you remain quiet. After a few stretches of dry silence, he asks again. “That party must’ve been real fun for you to leave your old man—and me—on radio silence, wun’nit?”

“Sure,” you manage, stammering. “We were celebrating my sorority presidency.” The dark scenery of Austin blurs past.

“Oh, sorority presidency,” he repeats, both teasing and genuinely curious. ��I did hear your dad mention you were in Alpha Phi, s’that right?” You nod. “What’s that, then? Do presidents get cowboy hats?”

Your face grows hot, hands reaching up to clutch at the rim of the hat atop your head. “No, this—somebody put it—it was a joke, Mr. Miller.” A huffy laugh escapes you. “Sorry.”

“Sweetheart,” he says, and you wrench the reminder he’s 51 he’s 51 he’s 51 through your head while he pauses, “‘m drivin’ you around Austin late at night, and I’ve known you for your whole life. How ‘bout we drop the Mr. Miller act, alright?”

“Oh. Okay,” you say. His hands grip the steering wheel firmly, and your eyes wander to his arms, to how he’s basically stuffed into the shirt he’s wearing, big and broad and bulky. His eyes remain focused ahead, so you let yourself indulge a tad bit more—lower, to the material of his jeans. It’s dark in the truck, so you can’t see much, just the flex of his thighs. “Joel.”

“Attagirl.” You chew at the inside of your cheek, already feeling arousal simmering in you, low and dirty. You’re going to soak through this godforsaken thong. “Mind if I make a pit stop?” You shake your head profusely, watch as he pulls into a gas station parking lot. “Want anythin’, girl?”

“N—” your lips form, but you scrap your original answer. “Gum, if they have it.”

“Be damned if they don’t.” He slams the door shut and you watch him enter the store, watch him through the glass panels. He’s so broad. You’d nearly completely forgotten how stupidly you liked him, and now it’s coming, throttling back full-force, especially with the thrilling aspect of it possibly coming to fruition. You are, after all, an adult. And so is he, paying for his shit with a tight-lipped expression, arms crossed again, arms big and—Jesus.

You squeeze your thighs together, willing yourself to get your shit in place when he pulls the door open again, his eyes scanning your seated figure. He tosses you the packet of gum, and you respond with a sweet thank you, Mr. M—Joel, and you fiddle with the packaging as he starts the car again, driving until scenery grows more and more familiar, closer to home.

“By the way,” he says, voice husky with the unuse of not talking for a while. “Think it’s best you spend the night at my house tonight, kid. It’s late. Later than late.” 2:44, the console digital clock reads in blinky red text. “Your parents don't want the door rattlin’ open at this hour, so I’ll let you in the guest room.”

“Oh,” you say. “Sure.”

“D’you have a change of clothes?” He asks, even if he knows you climbed into the seat with nothing but your phone and a cowboy hat. You shake your head and he tsks. “You’re barely covered, sweetheart. Best be careful walkin’ around when the night’s this chilly.”

Barely covered. You think of every possible response, but what leaves your glossed lips is the riskiest: “What do you mean, barely covered?”

You figure if he starts saying shit like what are you insinuatin’, kiddo? You better sleep at yours tonight instead, it’s an easy out—you’re turning the corner onto your street now, and your stomach is boiling with nerves, sticky and anticipatory. “I jus’ mean… it shows a lotta skin.”

“It’s sorority merch, Joel,” you reply, half-amused and half-defensive.

“No, I”—he sighs, like he wants to backtrack what he’s just said—“I know, but… always worth somethin’ to be careful. Might catch a cold with all that leg… all that—you—showin’.” He parks in front of his house, this sizey, homey thing, and your heart flips knowing how familiar this place has been to you your entire life.

“I’m not going to wear winter gear to a spring break frat party.” You’re bolder, suddenly, but even if the statement is, your voice is level, meek, even. Joel nods, as if admitting defeat, and gets out of the car first; you follow, sneakers crunching against the asphalt as you follow him into the house.

“I hope,” he starts when you’re stationed beside him at the door, “I didn’t… offend you. I was jus’ concerned, is all.” Then he’s stoic again, slipping inside, straight to the kitchen to pour you a glass of water. He flicks a yellow light on and you squint when you get there, rubbing at your eyes to prevent them from aching.

You’re still rubbing at them when his gaze drops from your fussed-up hair and askew hat down to the shiny surface of your chest. Your goddamn top leaves him nothing to the imagination, your tits spilling out of it scandalously. The low cut even lets your bra peek through, red and bright and hey, you show up from college wearing these large university shirts and sweatpants—not this, never this. And your shorts, the way they’re really just a fucking belt, starting low on your hips and cut off high above your thighs.

Alpha Phi, the pink text on your white top reads on the left chest area. Right where your tits curve into the top, the slogan is printed: Union hand in hand. God, sororities and their fucking… quotable bullshit. And don’t get him started on the sash, this cutesy, frilly thing he wants to loop around your wrists so he can fuck you over the counter. He knows he can’t—it’s so wrong, so wrong. He’s known your dad for ages.

But you… you're so tempting, a little minx, chirping Mr. Miller all sweet and apologetic, chest out on full display. He blinks when he hears your voice filter through the fog in his head. “—off?”

“What was that, sweetheart?” His eyes meet yours again and he feels a twinge of embarrassment at the way your bashfulness has somewhat melted to give way to the clear amusement on your face. You must’ve spotted the way he ogled you; he wasn’t exactly trying his hardest to be subtle, unfortunately.

“D’you have something I can use to wipe myself off?” You gesture to your sticky collarbone area. “I got Jäger all over myself. Can’t handle the stuff.” You grimace at the memory, and he goes to grab a wet wipe; while waiting, you hoist yourself up onto the counter, bare legs swinging.

Joel turns to toss you the packet of wipes, but his throat dries before he can even call your name out. Your back is to him, and clearly you’re waiting for his return—you’ve busied yourself by sitting on his counter and letting the hot pink lace of your thong rise above the waistline of your shorts. Lord have mercy, he thinks to himself, adjusting his jeans as he walks back over to you.

“Wipes,” he says roughly, not anything else.

You accept the packet and smile shyly. “Can you…” you pause, the implication hovering over both of you, heavy. “Wait for me?” He nods, inviting. Warm. And he watches, inviting but not very warm anymore, the way you wipe over the expanse of your chest, over the curve of your tits, every other part of you dusted in glitter.

“So,” you say again. “Since we’re on first name basis now, Joel, I, um—I hope it’s okay to ask questions.”

“Sounds reasonable. Go for it,” he accepts.

“When’s the last time you went to a party?” Your smile is mischievous.

He chuckles, a huff of air. “...Long, long ago, kid. Back in my day, partyin’ meant beer, maybe a little weed… not that I'm complaining there, you understand.” He nods resolutely. “These days, a quiet home-cooked meal with just the people I really care about… is a party.”

“Wow, what an old guy answer,” you giggle. “Back in youuuur day.” Your raspy, honeyed voice wraps around the your with a teasing lilt.

“Oh, I’m old now, am I?” His stoic demeanor chips away when he laughs. “That makes you what, sweetheart? You’re barely a pup.”

At his words—at the utterance of pup—you roll your eyes and try to shift your seating so your thong doesn’t stick to your folds. “Okay, fine, next.” You’re not even wiping anymore, the material wrung into your fingers, which lay in a fist by your side. “When’s the last time you got shitfaced?”

He gives a grimace of a smile. “Aw… boy, it's been a while.” He comes closer, going from leaning on the opposite drawers to right beside you on the counter. You’re sitting and he’s leaning but still he’s taller, just a bit level. “But there was that one time back in my more adventurous days, when I was younger. A bachelor party wh… well, the details don't really bear talkin’ ‘bout in polite conversation.” He raises his eyebrows. “Why ya askin’ all this? What’s will all the last times?”

“I’m curious, is all.” You smile, leaning back; if his eyes drop just a bit, he’ll see right through your top, maybe even underneath the cup of your bra. “Okay, fine one last… last time.” You giggle, breathy. “When’s the last time you… had sex?”

The air shifts, and Joel clears his throat before chuckling. “S’none of your business, young lady. A gentleman is not raised to kiss and tell.”

“Oh, but he gets shitfaced n’ tells?” You test, pouting and leaning closer toward him so you can quiet your voice. “Come on. I won’t tell anyone I even asked.”

He sighs, contemplating. “Well… it’s been a while.” He gets his fair share of lays, when he goes out to bars with friends or the rare date, but nothing too drastic. It has been a few months. “But you didn’t hear that from me, understood? Now, let’s drop it.”

But you don’t drop it, you brat. “You’re like the born again 40-year-old virgin,” you tease smoothly.

“Try 51, honey,” he grunts out, depositing your dry wipes at the disposal across you. He turns back around, restrained.

“And what, you don’t wanna change that?” No, he thinks—what he wants is to take you over the counter ’til you’re sobbing and sore.

“Hey now, don’t think I don’t think about it sometimes. But I jus’—I don't wanna get involved with no one, even though... Hell, if I met the right person, I might just change my mind. Ain’t that the way it goes?”

“That’s such an antiquated view of sex,” you quip boldly, pressing your arms to your sides. “What happened to just having one good fuck?”

His eyes flicker down then up. “Well, hey. Slow down with the cursin’, sweetheart. And what in the hell makes you think I don’t do that?” He crosses his arms, offering a raised eyebrow and an insufferably smug smile.

“You didn’t necessarily object when I called you a twice-over virgin.”

He chuckles. “There’s more than one way to let it all out, my girl. You don’t have to just go all in to hit the spot.” The thought of him using his own—or some girl’s, actually, hand, throat… to get off, gets you all hot. You want to be that girl. His girl.

“Like how?” You ask, tilting your head to the side.

“Old man like myself probably can’t offer tricks you’ll find… useful.” He grunts, prepares to go upstairs. He reaches over you for the packet of wipes and your proximity urges him to stop, savor the closeness before the rational part of him reminds him you’re his best mate’s daughter.

“Okay, fine,” you say sweetly, voice much quieter—reserved just for the space between you two. “One last, then.”

Mmm, he huffs affirmatively, greenlighting your request. Impatient.

“Since when did old men do that?” You ask, inquisitive, placing emphasis on his self-proclaimed old man title.

“What? Entertain l’il minxes like yourself?” He responds, intending to break your newly-built façade of smugness.

“No,” you respond coolly. “Pack nine inches.” Then you’re clambering off the counter and walking to the stairs. He inhales sharply at the sudden vulgarity of your words, watches every move, every little bounce of your pert ass under the tiny shorts, the wave of your hair, every flex of the ridden-up lace thong against your back.

You turn briefly. “Coming or what?” And then you slip upstairs.

He hears the pad of your footsteps grow quiet and shuts his eyes, letting his composure waver in your absence.

Had he known Harold’s little girl would turn out to be the world’s biggest fucking tease—Jesus Christ. “Lord,” he rasps under his breath, repeating a mantra, holding back the urge to palm himself through his jeans. “Lord, have mercy.” Then he follows you, already spotting something different—the open door at the end of the hall.

His open door. It’s the one that directly mirrors your parents’, a revelation they all had a good laugh at. Sometimes if a matter was so pressing, a well-aimed pebble to the glass window would get Joel’s attention well enough. The lights are flicked on, cool-warm, in his bedroom. You’re in his bedroom.

Or you’re not. He walks in to find no trace of you, save for the scuffed white sneakers by the doorframe. He toes off his own boots and spots the walk-in closet light’s also been flicked on.

“Christ, you’re quick. You’re s’posed to be in the guest room.” He gestures vaguely to the one on the left side of the hall, even if you can’t see him.

“I had to pee. And I needed something to sleep in,” you say politely from inside. He grunts softly to himself at the thought of you undressing in there, the thought of you pulling on something of his.

“Get out of there,” he orders. “I’ll get you somethin’.” Under his breath he mutters, “S’my goddamn closet.”

You chirp okay but he adds anyway: “Hurry, out.”

So you do follow him, even follow the order to hurry, because you’re hasty in your exit, clutching the cowboy hat to your chest. “Sit.” He points to the bed, watches you set the hat next to yourself gingerly. And one last time he asks the Lord for mercy, quietly and in his head, before shutting off every other rational thought that had stopped him tonight.

You follow suit, hat still clutched to your torso, and he slowly comes to stand just in front of you, your face level with the buckle of his leather belt. When you shift he catches sight of the side of your bra, the lace of it. Eyes cast to your bare thighs, you pipe up.

“By the way, Mr. Miller—Joel, I didn’t mean to say any of—I mean, I thought we could talk comfortably about it… that… stuff, but I took it too f—”

“You’re damn fuckin’ right you took it too far.”

He spits it out roughly, harshly. Like he’s scolding you. A zip of shock goes through you—you hadn’t heard him swear so loud before. Maybe he is. “I give you a free ride home at half past one, give you water, give you a place to sleep for the night knowin’ damn well your momma n’ dad would both have killed ya if you stepped foot in that house wearin’ next to nothing. What do I get in return?” He looks down at you, two rough fingers jerking your chin to look up at him.

“I—” you squeak, your voice and confidence betraying you. You’ve soaked through your panties at his sudden switch in behavior. Like you’d broken a dam.

“I get a brat… whorin’ herself out to me like I’m not over twice her age.” He tuts, like he really is disappointed, and your heart almost drops. “I get all these damn questions about sex, like you think I’ll break and fuck you on my kitchen counter.” He was considering it. “All the teasin’, all the skirtin’ around in a thong and a fuckin’…” He shakes your chin. “S’there even anythin’ in that head of yours, honey?”

Your mouth’d been open. You shut it and lick over your lips. “Yeah,” you defend weakly. His hand lowers to stroke at the column of your throat, then to hook under the tight strap of your bra, peeking out under the white of your top. He sidles it back and forth.

“S’this why you asked me all those dumb questions downstairs, huh, sweetheart? ‘Cause you wanted me to pull your top open and fawn over this”—he yanks the hat away, revealing your torso underneath—“little show o’yours?” Your cleavage is sinful, downright—perfect, perky, inviting him to mouth at your tits. Your sash sits prettily above them and he can’t help but pull at it, too, jolting you toward him.

“N—” you inhale sharply, letting him pull and push you around as he pleases. He observes the blinding glittery writing on the pink material and lets out a humorless, self-satisfied huff of laughter.

“Number… one… girl.” His rough thumb grazes over the divots of the rhinestones. “That’s jus’ about right, ain’t it?”

“Yes,” you reply, voice small.

“I’m not sure I agree, baby girl,” he drawls. His touch is precise—he knows exactly where to go, what he’s doing—but rough, dirty, almost, and the huge size of his hands don’t help to support otherwise. He tugs down your tank top so it’s tucked underneath your bra, and you yelp, making a move to cover yourself. He laughs again—“Sure, go all shy on me like you haven’t been showin’ yourself off to me all night. Knees.”

You get off quick, so quick you’re dizzy when you steady yourself on two knees. Two lithe hands make their way to his belt but he steps backward, revels in your evident confusion, clumsiness, the flush high on your cheekbones. “Buckle down, sweetheart.”

“But—”

“No goddamn buts. Listen to me.” He ends up being the one to make work of his belt, and while he talks you have to bite your lip to keep from going slack-jawed at the sight of him. You’d been kidding about the nine inches thing, but Christ he’s huge, strained against the tight denim. He’s thick even under the layers of clothing, and all you want to do is choke on him. “You’re gonna let me use that mouth t’get off, first thing,” he grunts, like this is all some chore to him, “because I am not goin’ to put my cock in my best mate’s daughter.”

“How about,” you croak lightly, “your fingers, then?”

“Jesu—we’ll see.” He tugs his cock out then, and he’s fucking huge, he really is, his tip angry and flushed and being rubbed along your lips, sticking them up with his precum. He sighs contentedly, humming low, the vibration sent straight to your half-open mouth. You suck on the tip of him, watch a slow smile form on his face. “That sash oughta say somethin’ else.”

Your silence grants elaboration. “Number one slut, maybe.” You shift on your thighs, trying to hide how aroused you are at his mean behavior. But he can tell, he can watch the way your blinking slows, the way your eyes glazed over, glassy and teary from trying to take more of him. He doesn’t tell you to slow down, or go faster; he just watches, eyebrows knitted, focused. “Budge up.”

A hand, big and calloused, threads through your hair and gives a tug, goading your mouth open so more of his cock slips past. Your jaw aches from the attempt alone, so you pull off before you start choking too much, tonguing at the parts of him you can’t reach—lower, until you’re laving at his balls. He grunts, pleasured, simmered down. Attagirl. Then you’re back, bobbing up and down, trying despite yourself to take all of him, until your eyes are watery and you’re spluttering, choked.

“Now this is…” He says, and it comes out in a contented little sigh, “a number one throat. Keep those pretty lips open, honey, ‘m gonna fuck them.”

You do, your achy jaw slacked as he begins bucking into your mouth, the sounds of your choking only spurring him on. He’s dominant, taking and taking, and you’re humiliated to find how wet you are, soaked through the lace of your thong and darkening the denim of your shorts. The tip of his cock hitting the back of your throat only gets him to thrust even faster, watching tears fall from your eyes, streaky with mascara. His best friend’s daughter, taking dick like a fucking champ.

He thrusts harder, each sound emitting a nasty, incoherent noise out of you, choked little gasps that have him harder each time. Gonna fuck this throat raw, he mutters. Since that’s what you wan’ed, ain’t it? You reach up, light fingers massaging his balls, and then his hips stutter, and with barely any warning, you feel his hot seed shoot into your throat, little satisfied groans leaving the man above you.

You swallow what you can, limited by his dick still in your mouth. When he pulls out you lap at the cum left behind, circle your tongue around your lips, make a whole show of it. You speak again, your voice raspy and spent: “Please, my turn?”

He lifts you up and smirks at the way you yelp in surprise, tossing you onto the bed and pulling you back onto your knees, your back to his chest. He wrangles your shorts off, gives your ass a smack as he pulls them down, enough to expose what’s underneath. The stiff material gathers just above your bent knees, restraining you from moving much.

“D’you know what,” he says, still sounding angry—like he’s lecturing you, stern, “I could’ve been in bed, wakin’ up at six to work… instead I gotta teach this little brat a fuckin’ lesson. Your old man not teach y’enough manners?” He tugs your bra down, thumbs roughly at your pebbled nipples, wrenching a moan out of you. He’s hard again, dick poking into your ass, and fuck you want him in you.

“He didn’t,” you sniffle, pitiful. “Y’gotta teach me, Daddy.”

“Oh, she likes that, don’t she?” He grumbles, like the title is annoying, juvenile. The way his cock twitches tells you otherwise. “Shut up, baby honey. I got this.” He reaches up your thighs and the ticklish, pleasurable sensation gets you hot.

Joel, you whimper, seizing in on yourself. He grabs your other arm, pulls it back toward him so you remain open and pliant. Please, wait.

“No time for waitin’, not when you spend hours prancin’ around like a little whore, sweetheart.” Without preamble, he’s running his fingers up your thighs again, not stopping this time until his fingers are pressing into your clit, rubbing over the thin, soaked fabric of your panties. “And you’re so fucking wet for me. My number one girl, ain’t you?”

“Yea,” you babble dumbly. “Your number one girl.”

“Thaaat’s right. My girl needs her needy cunt filled up, don’t she? By Daddy’s fat fingers.” You nod along, drawn in by the vulgarity of his words, the way he spits them out. You’ve spent several nights fantasizing how his big, rough hands would feel on you—and you’ve been outproven. He’s so fast, so skilled with his fingers; they feel delicious in you. And you can’t stop thinking about all of those girls he implied he’s slept with, the way they probably got to this first. Lucky bitches.

He’s gotten you so wet the entire night, even moreso now, that your pussy is making obscene squelching noises with each pump of his fingers, these nastily loud noises that humiliate you, that turn you on even more, that make you drip all onto Joel’s linen sheets. Fuck, you whimper. He swats at your ass. No swearing, he’s saying.

“Look up for me, honey. Up at the window.” Outside, the sun’s beginning to crawl over Austin, just the faint blues and yellows of early morning. You realize you know this because his curtain’s been pulled open—by him, earlier, before any of this even started, you assume. And the only other thing you can see other than the sky and the sliver of the neighborhood is your parents’ window.

“No,” you plead, looking down. He doesn’t let you, tugs you back up to look by your hair. He knows your parents won’t be up ’til seven-thirty latest. But you don’t know that, and for now, you don’t have to.

“What then, huh, sweetheart? When they go to check on the weather n’ they see their best friend poundin’ their young daughter? What’d they think?” You jerk away, overcome with pleasure and embarrassment at the imaginary situation. You feel his fingers pump in and out of you, filling you up. They’re probably thick and hot, glistening each time they come out. You’re tightening up; you’ll cum soon, make a mess on his hand, which already drips with slick. “So you better hurry. Better make a mess on me soon.”

“I am, I’m—I’m gonna,” you moan. You’re wrapped up in the way his fingers play you just the right way. You’re so close to the surface, and you’ve been wanting this for way too long, so you nod, let yourself get carried away by his words, let yourself give in, spreading your legs as wide as they can go as he fingerfucks you, working out the tension that’s been building up for forever.

“That’s my number one girl,” he grins into your neck, and you’re convulsing release onto his hand, wetting it even further. He wraps a hand around your waist, keeps you close to his figure, his erection at the small of your back. “That’s it, honey. Did so well for me.”

“I want it,” you say meekly. “Even if they see.”

He groans. “Sweetheart, you must think real low of me to believe I’d put my cock anywhere near Harold’s daughter’s pussy.”

You tug your panties fully down, just enough so they fall off on their own the rest of the way, and guide his slick hand behind yourself, pressing his finger first into your folds again, sensitive, and then up toward your tighter hole.

You feel his breath tighten behind you when you say: “How ‘bout there?”

#dbf!joel #joel miller #joel miller imagine #joel miller smut #joel miller x reader #pedro pascal smut #joel miller x you #joel miller x y/n #joel miller tlou #the last of us #tlou x reader #joel tlou #joel the last of us #joel x reader #pedro pascal x reader #tlou smut

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Text

Plushies 5 - Piggy

Joel Miller x F!Reader

Plushies Series Masterlist but Can be read as standalone

^^Story is not nearly as serious as the gif--its just the knife bit that counts.

Summary: Date night starts with being hungry--but ends with a different kind of hunger.

Warnings: Plushie humping, unconventional toy in the bedroom, unprotected sex, daddy kink, doggy, cowgirl/riding, degrading and praise, lots of giggles at the end, mentions of a fight, cum eating, creampie, a little Protective!Joel, comedic dumbassery for these two as usual

18+ ONLY

- - - -

When you and Joel occasionally decide to treat yourself for an all out dinner, sometimes it’s a lovely table service, nice dress occasion, with a sexy glass of wine and 5 pieces of cutlery—and other times it’s at the Hungry Pot with a giant cheese smothered greasy loaded brisket and bottomless coke/root beer floats. Tonight was a Hungry Pot night. And while you were excited to indulge Joel’s starving belly after a long and physically taxing day, having him nearly start a fight at the bar only 10 minutes after the two of you were seated wasn’t exactly the date you wanted.

Not that the night was ruined at all. It’s not his fault you get so wet when he goes alpha mode.

“Bed. Now,” you command. Your warm hands force him into your room. The two of you had whisked out of there before the food was even ready. Not really because he was worried about being kicked out, but because he could see the look in your eyes and knew this was going to be a different kind of date night.

He could barely keep his hands off you in the car, and the wet throb pooling between your legs didn’t help either.

He plops his ass down on the cushion, famish gaze looking up to you tower over him between his thighs. It’s one of the few times Joel obeys you. You push him back, climbing over his waist as his hands go to their usual spot on your sides.

“My hero,” you charm. Your lips devour his, tongue poking through his teeth. His neck strains to keep your mouth on his.

His hands move to your upper back to hold you close but you immediately grab his wrists and pin them to the bed.

He smirks.

“Ya like being in charge?”

You shake your head bashfully, nipping his lower lip. “Just want you—and you’re taking too long.” His ravenous eyes piercing yours then down to your lips.

“Jesus. Like watchin’ me get all riled up in front of you? Bet you do. Makes that little pussy gush, don’t it?” He greedily sucks your tongue back in his mouth, hips grinding down against his poking bulge. “My perfect, sinful angel.”

Your digits slide upwards, entangling your fingers together as the two of your hands move up along the bed, over his head while you continue to make out.

There’s sudden movement—and Joel immediately tenses, hands escaping yours—“Thefuck—what”— and he’s karate chopping something alive in the mess of your plushies that goes flying out of the bed and into the corner of your room violently.

“S’something movin’! Get back!” He orders.

You feel your entire body being hoisted up on to your feet, Joel protectively guarding in front of you. arms holding you close as bay behind his massive figure as he scans the room ready to pounce again.

The two of you can hear the faint lively buzzing of the thing that was living in your bed. And you finally sigh in relief.

"Joel! That’s Mr Oinkers!"

Joel has an incredulous look back at you. Now you want to scold the man trying to protect you for yoinking him so fucking hard. You brush past the brown bear of a man despite his worrying stance and retrieve the poor squished pig from the floor. He’s got a big dent in his poor face—Joel’s punch right on target even when it surprises him. You refluff the pink piglet gently to his original rounded and exceedingly huggable shape.

You hand it to Joel, now more curious than defensive. His large hands tentatively engulf its entire body, sending it into a little spasm of vibrations.

He stares at it with a mixture of disgust and amusement. “What the fuck."

"It vibrates when you hug it."

"Where the fuck you huggin this, between your legs? They sell this to kids?"

“Oh my god, It’s not THAT kind of toy.” Who gave this man such a dirty brain? “Besides, it doesn't have that level of power. Just give it a regular, loving squeeze and it vibrates a little. Like an interactive teddy bear when you hug it?"

His eyes don’t really say much. He twists it like a wheel, inspecting the underside, gauging the weight of the battery pack safely snuggled inside. It’s gone still in his hand, but when he gives it a firm squeeze, the little jiggles come back to life, humming in the quiet room. A small, yet distinctly Joel, smirk begins to tug at the corner of his mouth.

And--oh fuck—you know that look.

It’s the look of ‘Kiss this plushie’s virginity goodbye’ look—so oddly specific and yet so trademarked by your boyfriend now.

He practically holds Mr Oinkers hostage for the next hour, cradling it under his massive arm as he sifts through your kitchen drawers. You hover around him, partially unsure what he’s up to, but also for poor Mr Oinker’s safety. While you love Joel being rough with you, you don’t like when he gets too aggressive manhandling your poor little squishes. They have to live at least until you die and that means coddling them with delicate, loving embraces, sweet kisses and regular poofing—.

NOT LIKE JOEL RIPPING THE SEAM WITH A PAIRING KNIFE RIGHT NOW.

“JOEL!”

The horrid sound of scratchy tearing of fabric rapes your ears like nails on a chalkboard, and you instantly go to seize the pig from his grasps.

But Joel yanks it just right out of your reach, your hand closing around thin air.

“Ah! Don’t play around when Daddy has sharp tools.”

“Fuck off, Joel, you just ripped my plushie!”

He brushes you off. “Mr. Piggy—“

“—It’s Mr. Oinkers.”

“—The pig—is just havin’ a bit of surgery—“ his fingers dig into the fresh hole, pries apart the back flesh of the pig even more, making your ears twinge with pain at the continued horrors—“gonna sew him back up, sweet pea, don’t worry.” He looks at your bewildered and near crying state and chuckles. “Jesus. I PROMISE—gonna make him just like new okay? Now please stop worrying?” He caresses your cheek with soft grace, thumb soothing over the redden state of your eyes.

You nod, refusing to cry over it. “Okay...” you whisper, adding a quick “fucker,” and calm down now that you’ve uttered the necessary retort. “Please—be gentle…” you say meekly, eyes trained on the gash in Mr. Oinkers once smooth body. The cotton filling practically gushes out, wanting to escape like pussing blood.

He kisses your forehead. “I promise. Now go take a shower, and let me finish with my patient here, yeah?”

With a final little kiss to your forehead, you do as he tells you.

Afterwards, you can’t help but anxiously pace, peeking towards the harsh light of the kitchen where Joel works. He had splayed out more tools found in your apartment—a litany of batteries, thread and needle, a screwdriver, the fished out battery pack from deep inside the plushy’s wound.

True to his word, Joel keeps a surprisingly gentle touch. He carefully removes and replaces the batteries with a different—more sinister pair, places the cotton filling back in, glasses perched on his big nose as he holds the fabric close, sewing little strokes with the thin thread like an expert ancient seamstress, quiet and concentrated in his habitat.

And despite all his intimidating physique and attitude, the thing that you loved about him so much was that he was just as delicate. He fucks you like rag doll one minute then is tending to you with the softest, sweetest touches and kisses. The man is practically a walking paradox.

It makes you wet all over again.

So when he tells you to get naked on the bed and straddle the now recovered from surgery Mr. Oinker’s, you don’t even question it. You so badly want to please him again and again.

Joel settles right behind you. Your bare crotch hovers just over Mr Oinker’s poor squishy face—but what’s one more sacrifice to the Pussy King’s use?

You feel hot open mouth kisses along the length of your spine, his fingers curling around your sides, gliding up your breasts with smooth, ticklish haste.

“Go on, give ‘im a big hug,” he whispers to the shell of your ear. “Between your legs,” he adds with a chuckle.

You sink down your knees a little further, feeling your dripping entrance make contact with the soft, stuffed plush. The pig jolts to life with a violent seizure—far more aggressive than it ever did before.

“Oh!—OH god!” You moan, instantly wanting to pull away, but the firm press of Joel to your back prevents you from going anywhere. The plush vibrates extra violently between your legs, nudging your little clit repeatedly.

“Feel good, baby? Gave him a stronger dosage.” You feel the hard press of his bare cock humping along the crack of your ass, his arms draped over you with palms flat into the mattress—caging you between himself and Mr. Oinkers.

“I—you—“

“Lay forward. Let me and the Pig do all the work.”

He presses his forehead on your upper back, forcing you down until your face is relaxed into the pillow. You barely hum a “Mr. Oinkers” to correct him. Joel shakes his head, unresponsive.

The new position pushes your clit even more snugly into the lively Pig’s jittery tummy. You moan out loudly, your clit sucking up the pleasant sensation.

You hear him laugh a little at the state of you: ass up, face down with a fun little vibration toy wedged in your slit. He pumps his hard cock in his hand a few times before sighing.

“Put it in f’me,” he says.

You don’t hesitate—reaching your trembling hand, so shaken with pleasure, behind you to grasp his throbbing length, pulling the bulbous tip closer so that it parts your petaled folds. Joel grunts at the feeling of the plushie vibrating along the underside of his balls. He thrusts in slowly, stretching you wide to accomodate his thick girth.

“Fuck me with a hoe, baby girl, you’re so perfect f’me,” he moans.

Joel pauses, savoring the mix of vibration and tight squeeze of your cunt sucking him in.

“Joooooeeeeeellllllll,” You whine desperately. You try to wiggle your hips to incite movement but he holds you still.

“Sorry baby, man’s gotta enjoy what’s his.”

Your heart swells, resigning to his desire. Hishishishis, rolls over in your mind like a placate spell. I’m his.

You feel the warm weight of his belly conforming to the arch in your spine, his hot breath tickling your ear once more with a sweet kiss. “Piggy treatin’ you real good down there?”

“Ah—mhmm—it’s s’good. So good, Daddy.”

“Yeah? Smother him with your cute little nub. He’s so excited to get a taste of ya pussy. Just like me.”

You bury your face into the pillow—Joel’s deisgnated pillow. His scent fills your nostrils, the hot stretch of his cock fills your cunt. All while you can’t help but start grinding your sopping pussy against the plush, effectively touching your clit with mad vibration while also fucking yourself on to Joel.

“So hungry, babygirl,” he grunts. “Told ya, let Daddy and his new friend help ya. Just stay still like the good girl I know.” Hot paws wrap around your hips as he begins to work a steady pace, thrusting in and out of you while also pressing your ass down into the piggy’s face. He watches his cock disappear into you before emerging with glistening slick of your sweet juices, so wet pent up and needy for him all night.

And the damn PIG between your legs just happily jittering with violent spasms nonstop makes it impossible to ignore the knot growing in your lower belly.

Joel can feel it too—the way your walls are closing in on him.

“What does my babygirl say?”

“T-thank you—Daddy!”

“Wrong.” He starts a quicker pace, making you cry into the pillow with each unforgiving rut. “Give ya a hint—the cow goes moo, dog goes bark—what does the piggy say…?”

“I—I don’t—”Oh god, he can’t seriously be asking…

“Oink for me.”

“Ugh—Joel—no, fuck—I’m close. Right there please!”

But right as you’re on the cusp of your orgasm, he pulls back, lifting your hips with him so the Pig just barely graces your folds as he shallowly grinding his hips against your ass.

“Cmon, make the little guy between your legs proud. And the big one inside you too. Do it for me,” he repeats, a hint of sadistic satire dripping in his voice. “Oink like a pig.”

But you groan in frustration again. His hands keep you pinned high, locking you uncomfortably, unable to leverage your knees to fuck yourself back onto him and finish the job. You so badly need to cum, the persistent hum on your inner thighs making your legs quiver, practically begging to have the wet animal feasting on you again.

The consideration of embarrassment over your release only washes over you briefly before your opening your lips and bubbling his wish from deep within your throat:

Snort—“O-oink,” you cry meekly. “Oi-nk”.- Snort— “oink!”

He stops moving entirely. You almost want to cry, because what the fuck—he said he’d let you cum! The room is silent minus the persistent buzzing muffled just out of reach under you.

Then you feel little shakes behind you, like something caught in Joel’s chest. The shakes grow, rippling through his body— until you can hear him— laughing out uncontrollably with tears in his eyes while he’s still buried balls deep inside you.

"That's... That's not funny Joel!"

"I'm sorry I just didn't think you'd actually do it!" He slips out of you and sits back on his haunches, arching backwards as he clutches his chest from wheezing so hard.

And he’s still cackling, hardly noticing he’s the only one laughing, nor the lack of mirth in your body language, the shift in your positions as you roll him on his back and straddling the big hunk of giggles. And it’s only when you’re lining his dick along your wet pussy that his amusement goes stale.

“—Hah!—oh—oh shit."

His hands instantly seek purchase on your waist, mouth parted ever so slightly with eyes glued to the space between you where his tip just barely begins to poke your folds.

You hover over him for an agonizing amount of time, refusing grant him entry.

"You... told me to,” you say, face red and hiding from him.

While he was so hyped up on the adrenaline that you were finally going to take charge in this rare moment, he now sees it in you. Yes—you were embarrassed. But yes—you wanted to please him so badly that it was worth the shot. He can feel himself swell in your hand, precum and your juices coating his dick proudly because this is his girl.

Joel grips your hips and starts rolling your pelvis into his, sinking himself into you and taking charge again. You gasp out, hands on his chest to steady yourself as you both rock into each other.

His eyes are darkened again, movement purposeful. “I know. I know, babygirl. That's what I fuckin’ love about ya. You'd do anything I ask you, huh baby? Humping your squishy piggy just cuz I told ya. My Little cum hungry, greedy girl.”

You lean back, bouncing on his cock with little slaps of your ass clashing down. That delirious feeling of Joel—his voice, his touch, his cock—JoelJoelJoel—filling your every senses once again, mugging your brain as you ride him to your hearts content. “I’m Daddy’s c-cum hungry greedy—girl,” you moan, brain so turned to mush so quickly that he can’t help but smile.

“‘At’s right. There’s my girl. Didn’t even have to ask ya.” He plants a wet kiss on your knuckles, and you can feel yourself shudder at his lustful gaze. “Keep goin’. Just like that. Ride me. Fuck me.”

He slaps your ass with encouraging stings, begging you to bounce along his shaft harder, faster.

And in true Joel fashion, he fists the nearly forgotten vibrating plushie and shoves it at the crevice right between your pelvises.

You cry out pathetically, riding Joel faster. The pig’s full belly wedges between the two of you, jittering against your abused clit and a bit of Joel’s unsheathed cock with violent rhythm. He groans out, fucking up into your tight heat harder.

“Say ‘Thank you Mr Piggy’,” he commands, his voice straining with the impending proximity of his own orgasm.”

"H-hjs name is —mmmmm—Mr. Oinkers.”

"Well I'm the one fuckin’ you right now and I'm telling ya it's Mr. Piggy.”

While Joel’s lips curl into a snark, so desperate to have you cum, your mouth parts so heavenly, eyes heavy with lust as you chant. “T-Thank—you MR! Mr PPIGGY! Ahh—ah huh—for—fucking me—my-mm-my clit—hungry pussy—fuck Joel!—needed Daddy’s filling—wanted to fuck you—Piggy kisses my cum hungry—pussy—so good—oh fu-FuuCCCkkKK I’m cumming—I’m cumming on my Piggy! Thank you, Daddy!” You cry with a pained smile, letting go as pleasure washes over your entire body, shaking with the same lack of control as Mr Oinkers has been showing you all night—and Joel doesn’t let up. Fucking you through your orgasm with one death grip on your hip and the other ramming the plush between your sweaty bodies, biting your swollen sensitive nub as he canters up into your womb.

“Yeah fuck—fuuck that’s it-there’s my girl—gonna let Daddy make you his cum dump? Huh? You want that? You do—you fuckin’ do—dirty girly—shit—Daddy’s gonna give it to ya.”

You fall forward, your breasts smushed against his chest as he continues to rut into you. You let him use you. Let him dominate your body and own you because it feels best when he does.

He’s gritting his teeth, the plush absolutely pancaked between you and sputtering along his pelvis, sending shockwaves down from his base to his balls. “Oh fuck—Mr Piggy—givin’ it to me too shit—shit baby! here it comes!”

He growls when he cums, pouring buckets of cum from his tight balls and releasing inside you with each spurt. And the soft cushion of the pig between you rumbling only prolongs his orgasm, ropes after ropes filling your gut like a four course meal until he’s over sensitive and yanking the soaked cotton mess out and tossing it to vibrate helplessly in the corner of the room.

He cradles your neck close, breathing in the sweet smell of shampoo from your partially damp hair. Soft strokes along your spine comfort you as you both relax in each other’s embrace.

As you rest on top of him, you pull your head out of the nook of his shoulder, his eyes falling to yours as you two lie staring at each other.

“Why’d you get so mad at that guy at the Pot?”

Joel scowls at the memory: “He asked if you were single—said I looked too old n’ that ya needed a real man to satisfy your appetite.”

You hold your breath with him. Then you snort—like a real, genuine and uncontrollable snort. “And you didn’t laugh your ass off at him?? Oh my God, Joel! That’s fucking hilarious!”

His fingers curl around your soft hair, a half hearted smile on his adoring face.

Your eyes become serious again. “You didn’t actually believe him, did you?”

“I did. For a minute. Till we got home, and you showed me how hungry you were for me. Needed to take ya right then.”

“Proved him wrong.”

“No,” he shakes his head, sucking in a big breath. “No, just did it because I wanted ya so badly for so long. Who else is gonna do this crazy shit, fuckin’ stuffed animals like the weird little freak you are?”

Your jaw drops in astonishment, sitting up on your elbow. “The plushie fucking is YOUR idea! I have never humped any of these bitches in my life until you!”

You can feel his chest rumbling, eyes crinkled with subdued laughter.

“You fucker,” you croak, voice cracking with a giggle.

You both hear Joel’s tummy growl. “I’m still hungry, didn’t get to eat our Pot, remember?”

“That’s funny. I’m surprisingly full. Thanks to you,” you hum, kissing his lips.

He accepts, making out with you unhurriedly until he’s rolling you over to your back and gliding down your body, pressing his chapped lips between the valley of your breasts, down your naval, and over your sensitive clit. Your legs spread on instinct. Joel’s eyes never leave yours as he presses his nose to your slit, inhaling the succulent scent of your mixed cream. “Gonna make my tummy happy too?”

His tongue laps up at his cum dripping down to your crack back up to the source, making you grip his curls. “I s-still ha-haaaven’t forgiven you for —urgh Daddy—r-ripping Mr. Oinkers apart.”

“So? Made him better, didn’t I?” He continues to suck up his cum clean from your entrance. “I ripped Mrs. Oinkers apart just now too.” He buries his nose into your cunt and snorts: “Oink—oinkoinkoink!”

You yank his hair harshly off of you and kick him to the couch for the rest of the night.

Until an hour later, you’re waddling wrapped in a big comforter and curling up against him on the thin sofa and spooning him. He wraps his arm around you with a kiss to your neck before falling asleep again.

-----

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emisprocrastinatingbywriting · 1 month

Text

Alone and Forsaken

Chapter 5 Summary:

You wake the next morning to find Joel gone, your heat now lighting up every nerve ending in your body. Meanwhile Joel, sent into a frenzy by your unexpected visitor, works to fortify your position. After slicing his hand on a piece of barbed wire, he returns to the cabin only to be met with a sight that has his knees weak. Can Joel keep his distance?

Warnings: Bad dreams, brief mentions of past abuse/violence, reader has a fucked up past y'all, heats, hurt/comfort, and SMUT, sooo much smut (Minors, DNI please)

A/N: Howdy y'all! I hope all of you have had an amazing week :) Things are heating up (no pun intended) between you and Joel. But first, a nightmare about reader's time in the pit. As always, take care of yourself first! Trigger warning for the dream but you can scroll through the first bit if that bothers you. Moving forward, major smuttyness brought to you by yours truly, enjoy!

Chapter 5/20

Chapter 5: Hunger

“You know, your mother has been worried sick about you for the past two months.”

The light that framed Josiah’s figure was blinding and you squinted at him as your eyes struggled to adjust to the light. The room that they had been keeping you in was windowless and dark, with cement walls being your only company aside from the guards for the past few weeks. Or was it months? The days blurred together as you wasted away in the pit, the cold hard floor soothing your aching bruises as you tried to keep a hold of your sanity.

“I guess I should have expected as much, the guards told me that you haven’t been answering their questions no matter what… techniques they use,” he mused, moving forwards into the cell.

You scooted back, trying to put as much distance between you as you could. Your back hit the wall and you wrapped your arms around your knees, watching as Josiah crouched down in front of you. His pale blue eyes raked over your figure, a look of disgust turning down the corners of his mouth. Josiah sighed, shaking his head before grabbing your face. His bloated fingers pinched your chin and you tried not to wince, unwilling to give him the satisfaction of knowing that you were uncomfortable.

“When I took you and your mother in, I had believed you to be a little angel. You were always so sweet as a little girl but the second you presented, I knew that you would be trouble. Always sneaking off with that other omega, defying your mother and I and speaking out of turn,” he tsks, pinching your face until you groaned in pain.

Josiah let go of your face, pushing your head back so that it smacked against the concrete behind you. A sharp crack of pain made tears begin to form on your lash line, and you tried your hardest not to let them fall as he sneered at you. Josiah stood, towering over you for a moment before moving back to lean against the wall across from you.

“You know what I said to myself the last time you gave me cheek? I said, Josiah, that girl needs an alpha. A strong one like yourself to keep her in line, someone who keeps the faith and does not spare the rod. Lord knows she needs a good whooping every now and again,” Josiah said.

A laugh came out of your mouth before you could stop it, the sound broken and hollow from the dryness burning your throat. After the physical punishments had failed, the guards had begun to starve you out. You didn’t even remember the last time you had anything in your system but you knew it was too long as your stomach pinched itself and grumbled for food.

Josiah cocked an eyebrow at you, glaring down at you before he said, “You will be mated to Paul. He will keep you in line and get you back to the Lord’s embrace. That is not up for discussion. The only question is when. If you give up everyone who helped you leave, then I will let you go back to your husband and the two of you can solidify the bond as God intended.”

“He is not my fucking husband, I never said yes at that stupid ceremony,” you seethed.

“No, but I did, and I am your father. Omegas don’t get a say, you know that. Now, I’ve talked to Paul and luckily he’s willing to forget your little runaway act. He said he would chalk it up to typical hysteria and let it go, as long as you humble yourself and be the good little wife that you were made to be,” Josiah said calmly, barely acknowledging your outburst.

“I. Am. Not. Your. Property,” you said, ennunciating each word as you scowled at your stepfather.

Josiah laughed, reaching back and knocking at the wall behind him. A group of guards crowded the doorway and looked towards him, clearly waiting for some sort of instruction.

“Oh I know you aren’t my property anymore, you’re a married woman now. But unfortunately for you, sweet daughter, your husband has been wronged. You owe him a debt, and you disappeared before he could collect. Now, it’s my job as leader in our community to right wrongs, which means sometimes I have to remind people of their place,” he spat before turning and murmuring something to the men in the doorway.

Two of the guards moved forward and grasped your arms, dragging you upwards as you thrashed. Josiah just stood there chuckling as the guards struggled to keep you from getting away.

“Don’t worry, you’ll learn soon enough,” he said before he focused on the guards trying to wrangle you, “Throw her in the sweatbox, see if that jogs her memory at all.”

“NO!,” you screamed as they yanked you down the hall, tears pouring down your cheeks at the thought of the cursed space.

The sweatbox was infamous within the community, tales from those that survived it becoming a powerful deterrent for everyone else. After being thrown into it three times since your capture, you understood why. Unbearably hot and cramped, the tiny room felt like you were confined on the surface of the sun. You begged the guards through your sobs, remembering the smell of your depleted body and how you had to sit in your own filth for days before they dragged you back to your cell. The guards paid no attention to your cries, barely even looking at you as they shoved you into the room.

“PLEASE! NO! YOU CAN’T DO THIS!,” you screamed.

You pounded on the metal door, feeling claustrophobic already in the room that gave you just enough space to sit with your knees folded into your chest. Sweat had already begun to trickle down your back from the heat. You jolted back, the peephole suddenly being ripped open. Josiah’s eyes met yours from the outside, his gaze unwavering and cold.

“I hope you confess your sins soon child, before Paul comes to me to inquire about a new mate,” he snapped.

“Please,” you begged, all of the fight in you depleted from fear.

“Repent or he’ll have no use for you. Sinful omegas beget sinful pups, you’d be wise to remember that. I’d hate to have to comfort your mother because your husband decided he wanted a more… accommodating wife,” Josiah warned, his voice low and daunting.

Before you could respond to his threat, he slammed the peephole shut, leaving you blind in the dark heat once more.

A gasp escaped your lips as you shot up, sweat pouring down your face as your damp clothes clung to your frame. Your eyes wheeled around the room as you tried to remember where you were. Bookshelves, carvings, a guitar, the worn sofa and throw blankets. You sighed as you remembered that you were with Joel, you were safe. Josiah was dead and Paul? Well, hopefully he was dead too.

You wiped your brow, the sweat still dripping from your hairline and you tried to calm your racing heart. Standing, you started towards the bedroom in search of Joel but a sharp pang from your core had you dropping down to your knees in front of the couch. You whined, clutching your stomach as a bright and pulsing ache screamed at you from your core.

“Joel?,” you croaked, suddenly feeling very vulnerable.

No answer.

Where was he? You tried to call out again but another wave hit you, forcing wetness to drip down your quaking thighs. You looked down and groaned, realizing what was causing the storm brewing under your thin shorts.

“JOEL?!,” you cried out more urgently, now needing him for an entirely different reason.

When no answer arrived, you braced yourself on the couch before stumbling into the bedroom in search of him. Leaning into the wall for support, you inched towards the door as waves of slick soaked through your bottoms. Finally making it, you pushed the door open only to be met with the smell of something sharp and sterile. You stood in the doorway, bewildered at the smell of cleaning products.

And then it all came back to you.

The man grabbing you, the struggle, breaking away and throwing the vase in his direction, ripping at his hair as he tried to push his grimy hands up Joel’s shirt, being dragged down the hallway as you wailed and fought, him climbing on top of you and you beating at his chest as panic overwhelmed you, him raising his hand to slap you before he was torn away.

You stared at the floor, remembering how Joel had defended you. You listened when he instructed you to go, but you had only made it about halfway down the hall before you stopped. A sense of protectiveness had shot through you, what if Joel needed your help? What if the man got the jump on him? You had turned on your heel and crept back into the room just in time to watch Joel snap the neck of your attacker. You hated to admit it, but as you watched his hulking frame tower over the other alpha, a twinge of desire had sparked from your core before you remembered the ordeal that you had just been through.

Now, with the body gone and nothing left behind besides the stinging scent of lemon, the memory made you feel weak. Joel had protected you, he had provided, he had even comforted you afterwards and covered you in his own scent. You groaned at the thought, forcing yourself towards the bed. Flopping down, you expected to be greeted by the usual aroma of Joel only to find clean sheets devoid of the alpha.

You cried out, shoving your face into the covers and trying to find any trace of him, but it became clear that he had stripped the bed after disposing of the intruder. Your core burned, sending painful jolts of desire as panic began to needle its way into your chest.

Moving on autopilot, you ripped open the door to the closet. Stooping down, you collected all of the stolen clothes that you had been hiding from Joel. You shoved your face into the worn fabric, whining at the smell before dumping them on the bed. Tearing into the living room, you collected everything you could, bringing back every blanket or pillow that smelled even remotely like him. You even snagged the bath towel that hung in the bathroom for your pile. Semi-satisfied, you went to work, adjusting the items just so before your instincts signaled that the nest was complete.

You sighed, feeling slightly less panicked but still nervous at Joel’s absence. You wondered briefly if you should go find him but the jolts coming from your soaking folds were enough to dissuade you of the notion. Instead you crawled into the center, cocooning yourself in Joel’s musk as a fresh wave of slick had you shimmying out of your clothes and flinging them to the floor.

Grabbing at one of his well worn flannels, you breathed in his scent before shoving it in between your legs. Any sense of shame long since gone, you keened as your pulsing clit rubbed against the harsh fabric. You thought of Joel cutting the wood, of him providing for you so well, of him towering over the man, of him sucking at your neck, of him calling you his. You rocked your hips against the flannel, your clit catching on it and sending sparks up your spine as you tried to imagine it was Joel that you were rubbing yourself against.

As you ground your hips down hard, with thoughts of Joel swirling through your mind and your heat growing in intensity, you tried hard not to let his absence worry you. Instead you focused on the friction building and the pleasant smell that overwhelmed your frantic senses.

- Joel -

“Fuck,” Joel hissed, a sharp sting erupting from his hand as he caught his flesh on the wire.

Holding it up to examine, Joel watched as his blood began to trickle from his rough palm down to his rolled up sleeve. He cussed again, sighing as he tore a strip from the t-shirt hidden under his sweater. As Joel wrapped up his fist, he took a moment to focus on his breathing. Trying to calm his pounding heart, he tried not to think of what was waiting for him back at the cabin.

Joel had woken that morning confused. He couldn’t remember the last time he had slept without having his cruel memories jerk him back to consciousness. He had slept peacefully for the first time in a very long time, but his neck was fucking killing him. He groaned, cursing himself for getting so old. Lifting his head from the soft pillow that cradled his face, Joel propped himself up on his elbows.

It took him a moment longer to notice you as his eyes adjusted to the early morning light that poured in from the windows, but then he did. His breath caught in his throat as he hovered over your sleeping form, watching your calm face and how your skin glowed with a light sheen of sweat. Looking down, Joel’s eyes widened as he realized where his face had been buried. A drool mark darkened the fabric across your chest, and he groaned as the fragrant air tickled his nose. Peppermint and lavender made his mouth water and his cock stir to life.

Joel suddenly became very aware of how close he was to you. Your legs framed his hips, one hand loosely grasping the curls on the back of his head and the other laid upon his shoulder. He could feel the twitching in his pants responding to the feeling of your heated core against him, the wet fabric staining his jeans. It took everything in him to keep himself from grinding up against you.

Joel imagined the gasp he would pull from your mouth as the seam of his jeans brushed against your throbbing clit. He imagined the way your eyes would blink open, squinting from the sun for a moment before zeroing in on him. He imagined grinding down against you once more, just to hear you moan, before capturing your soft lips. He - Fuck.

Hips jerking back, Joel broke himself from the fantasies that were making his dick throb and leak into his jeans. He needed to get it together before he worked himself into a rut, your fever already clawing into the base of his being and drawing out his most primal instincts.

As easily as he could, Joel extradited himself from your embrace. Stopping only momentarily to cover your sleeping body in a blanket, he moved forward and kissed your forehead. He gasped softly as he pulled away, an unfamiliar feeling wrapping around his heart but he shook it off, trying to push it as far from his mind as he could as he stood up.

Quietly as he could, Joel had cleared the corpse and any proof that it had ever existed away from the cabin. He had worked diligently, almost growling at the memory as he covered the floor in harsh chemicals to pull the scent of your attacker from the wood grain. The contractor in him was shouting at him not to pour the scented cleaner over the finished wood but he ignored it.

After finishing, he debated on what to do next. He stood over the couch for a moment, watching you sleep as he weighed his options. On one hand, he could crawl back over you and nuzzle himself into your sleeping form. He was sure that you would welcome him. On the other, a creeping sense of danger was making bile rise in his throat. He needed to keep you safe.

Joel had left you, his need to keep you safe overwhelming the confusing emotions that you were eliciting from him. Taking into the surrounding trees, he moved quickly, setting up new traps and fencing around the cabin. He prayed that you wouldn’t go wandering off anytime soon, dreading having to unravel you from chicken wire.

With his hand throbbing and sweat covering his body, Joel knew it was time to go back. Turning back, he tried to go through every scenario in his head. You would be awake, it was too late in the morning for you to be still asleep. The thought of facing you made him attempt to slow his pace, but his nerves ensured that he reached the steps in record time. Joel stood at the front door for a moment, trying to steel himself before opening it. He sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose with his good hand momentarily before turning the handle.

- You -

A fire raged in between your legs, tears flowing down your flushed face as your rutted against Joel’s towel. Leaning forward, you buried your face into the fabric surrounding you, huffing at the smell of him. Your hips worked frantically, whining as the rough fabric scratched at your swollen nub. Heat gathered at your center, pulling everything tight before a weak pulse of pleasure inched its way out of your glistening folds.

Slick covering your thighs, you cried out in frustration. The smell of the absent alpha surrounded you, driving you into a frenzy. The towel that you rubbed yourself against was a poor excuse for the man who plagued your mind. The heat returned immediately, the pain making you grasp at the walls of your makeshift nest and whimper.

“Jooooel,” you sobbed, a fresh wave of tears accompanying the slick pouring from in between your legs.

“Christ darling.”

You gasped, scrambling to turn and face the gravelly voice. Flipping around, you moaned at the sight of him.

Joel’s cheeks were bright red, sweat made his t-shirt cling to his chest, and his hands were clenched at his sides. You watched as he gulped, his gaze finding yours momentarily before raking down your naked body. You should be embarrassed, but as you watched how his eyes turned black as he watched your breasts heave from exertion and how he licked his lips at the drops of slick rolling down your thighs, you felt a boost of confidence surge through you. The way he looked at you made you feel wanted, sexy even, something you had never felt before.

“Joel, please,” you called to him softly, a coy smile gracing your lips as you crawled towards the edge of the bed to meet him.

You rose and placed your hands against his chest, leaning into him. Joel stood there motionless as he chewed on the inside of his cheek, clearly warring with himself as you wrapped your arms around his neck. With you scratching at the nape of it, he closed his eyes momentarily and let out a low moan. Hands twitching at his sides, he sighed before snapping them back open. Joel’s gaze was pleading as your face inched towards his. You stopped inches away from his lips, doubt creeping up through the tension that crackled in the stifling air. The doubt didn’t last long as Joel surprised you by surging forward.

A soft noise came from you as Joel crashed his lips against yours in a soft yet determined kiss. His hands came up, one cradling the back of your neck and the other yanking your hips against his. You moaned into Joel’s mouth and he took the opportunity to tease your tongue with his own. Burning desire made your thighs shake as you clawed at the hem of his shirt.

Breaking away momentarily, Joel ripped his shirt off before picking you up off of the bed. You yelped, giggling before your eyes rolled into the back of your head. A pathetic whimper crawled out of your throat as Joel began to mouth at your neck, the hardness of his length pressing against your bare core as he carried you over to the dresser. Placing you on top of it, Joel broke away again.

Whining, you tried to capture his lips again but he pulled you back with the grip he had on the back of your neck.

“I need you to tell me that you want this baby, I need you to tell me now. ‘Cuz once I start,” Joel groaned, leaning forward to whisper in your ear, “I don’t think I’ll be able to stop.”

Your thighs clamped against his hips, bucking up to grind yourself against the harsh denim. Eyes rolling back, your nails dug into Joel’s shoulders as he sucked angry marks into your sensitive skin. You tried to muster up a coherent response but all that came out of your mouth was something between a wail and a shout.

Joel chuckled darkly, moving his head back to hold your face in one of his large palms. With his breath fanning over you and scarred chest on full display, you whined as his other hand moved down the length of your shuddering form. You carded your fingers through the smattering of hair on his chest, absentmindedly tracing over a random scar that formed an angry line as he rubbed soothing circles into your hips and thighs. He caught your hand with his own, making you meet his piercing gaze. A shudder ran down your spine from the way he looked at you. The name for that look rattled around your brain as Joel pulled your hand up to his mouth and kissed the back of it gently. You gasped as you watched him place it over his thundering heart.

“Tell me darling, please. I can’t - you need to tell me that you want me. Please, I need to know that I can have ya,” Joel begged, the desperation in his voice making you dizzy.

Gripping the back of his neck, you pulled him closer and kissed him hard. A soft hum came from him, his lips moving in tandem with yours as you tried to meld your bodies together. Ankles locking behind his back, you dug your heels into him to pull his hips into your own. This kiss was different, longing rolled off of the both of you like waves and crashed together as hands and mouths explored one another.

You leaned back to catch your breath, watching as the string of spit that connected you stretched and broke. Eyes meeting once more, you suddenly couldn’t wait any longer. You needed him. You’ve needed him since the first day you met him. Hell, maybe you had always needed him, but that was too much to think about right now. Not as your abdomen cramped and a heat like no other screamed at you to rip open the rough denim that pushed against you.

“Please alpha, I need you to fill me up. Make me yours Joel, please, please, please,” you cried as your shaky hands tried and failed to unbutton his jeans.

Joel let out a feral moan before he launched himself towards you. Desperate now, Joel kissed you passionately, his teeth clacking against yours as he devoured you. He nibbled on your bottom lip before delving his tongue in to taste you, making your head spin and body ache with desire. Sucking on your tongue, Joel reached up to cup one of your breasts in his hand. He pinched your nipple between his fingers, rolling the nub and hardening it.

Panting, you broke away to whine, “Please Joel.”

He hummed, leaning forward to kiss your neck once more before trailing his lips down your body. His mustache prickled your skin, leaving goosebumps in his wake as he moved to wrap his lips around the opposite nipple. You cried out and flung your hands up to pull at his locks, eliciting a devastating moan from him. His other hand came up to play with your other breast as he sucked and bit at your now reddened nub. Joel kept up his attention on your breasts for what felt like ages as you begged. He laughed softly as you thrashed below him, letting up only to switch sides. Tears had begun to fall from your eyes, your frustration making you wiggle so much that the dresser knocked into the wall behind you. Joel chuckled again before pulling back to look at you properly.

“You’re some squirrelly today darling,” he drawled, playing with the curls that covered your mound as you arched into him, “Something on your mind?”

You whined and bucked, a frustrated noise leaving your lips as you playfully smacked his shoulder. Joel chuckled darkly, kissing your cheek sweetly before picking you up once more and tossing you on the bed. You flopped against it ungracefully, sitting up only to be knocked over as he grabbed you by the ankles and pulled you to the edge of the bed. Shivering as Joel stood over you, his eyes feasted on your vulnerable state. You gulped, beginning to feel self conscious at his primal gaze.

“So fucking beautiful baby,” Joel breathed, moving to hover over you before leaning down and trailing his lips across your heated skin.

He kissed over the scars and stretch marks, admiring the patch of hair above your seam for a moment before he pressed his nose into the curls and breathed in, moaning loudly as he rested his cheek against your thigh. Whining again, you begged him to crawl back up your body but he stayed put. Instead, you felt him pry your damp legs apart.

“W-what are you doing?,” you asked through a gasping breath, hands clutching the sheets below you.

“M’gonna make you feel good darling, get you all nice and ready for me,” he said softly before he leaned forward and licked a long stripe up your seam.

A garbled, “Joel!,” left your mouth as he shoved his face into your core.

Stubble chafing the inside of your thighs, you writhed on the bed as Joel’s long strokes had you pulsating. Feeling you grow impatient, he switched to calculated flicks, making your clit jump and a garbled moan bounce off the walls. Your mind was completely blank, the only coherent thought that you had was Joel, Joel, Joel, Joel…

He was ravenous, sucking on your throbbing nub before moving down to shove his tongue into your core. You felt him crook his tongue inside of you, lapping up the slick that poured out of you. Hands flying to his hair, you shouted his name as he moved up again to suck at your clit, his fingers moving to breach your entrance.

“J-Joel - AH! Oh my god, please Joel. I - fuuuuck,” you wailed as he slid one, then two fingers inside of you.

You had never been so full in your entire life. You had never been filled, period. Always nervous to try, warnings about purity haunting you even during the heights of your heats, you had satisfied yourself by grinding against whatever pillow or blanket you could find. Now, with two of Joel’s thick fingers pumping inside of your hole, and his mouth sucking and flicking at your clit, you felt a blinding pressure building embarrassingly fast.

Nervous of the intense feeling building inside of you, you tried to scooch your hips back on the bed but Joel’s free arm clamped down over your mid section. Now, with his forearm pressing against your abdomen and his relentless pace doing wonders on your aching core, you had no choice but to feel the entirety of the pleasure that Joel was ripping from you.

“C’mon baby, make that pussy cry for me, I know you can. You want to be a good girl for me, right sweetheart?,” Joel asked sweetly, his words making your head spin as his fingers picked up their pace inside of you.

“Fuuuck yes, I wanna be good. I’ll be so good for you Joel. Please, please, please,” you sobbed, hips twitching with the pressure building inside of you, begging to be released.

Joel’s fingers hooked against your walls, the calloused pads of his fingertips rubbing over a devastating spot inside of you that had you practically convulsing on the bed. Your heart rate sped up, blood pumping in your ears so loud that you could barely hear his response.

“Good girl, now cum for me darling,” Joel said sternly, the tone of his voice making something inside of you melt as he lowered his mouth back down and sucked your clit hard.

You wailed, hands pushing Joel’s skull into your center and heels digging into his back as you trembled. You barreled towards the precipice, letting yourself be overcome by Joel as you gushed around his digits. Babbling nonsense at him, you gasped and squeezed his fingers. Pleasure rocked through you, fraying all of the nerve endings in your body as Joel fucked you through it. His pace never faltering, he kept his mouth and fingers going even after the last contraction had weakly clutched him. Suddenly feeling the overstimulation, you whined and pushed at his head, trying to wiggle out from under his strong hold.

“Quit it, I ain’t done,” Joel growled, his voice muffled as he spoke into your folds.

The switch in Joel’s demeanor had your head spinning. He had always been so gentle with you, a true southern gentleman. Now, with his fingers pistoning roughly inside of your core, the wet sound of his hand smacking against your center echoing throughout the room, his presence was menacing. It only made you want him more.

Any protest that you had soon vanished from your mind as Joel doubled down on his efforts. He sucked your poor clit in between his lips again, batting it with his tongue as he slid a third finger into you. You yelped at the sudden fullness, lungs fighting for air as your second orgasm barreled towards you. Black dots filled your vision as you tore at his scalp, worrying for a moment about hurting him before a feral noise sent vibrations through your pussy.

“Fuuuck, Joooooel. Oh my - I fucking lo - oh my goood,” you moaned.

Joel hummed, the vibrations of it buzzing against your clit and sending you flying off the deep end. You gasped, throwing your head back as your core locked his fingers in place, squeezing them almost painfully as ecstasy had you twisting in his grasp. You could hear him groan as more slick soaked his face, Joel slurping it up and prolonging the blinding pleasure that had you mumbling nonsense.

Finally slowing, Joel carefully pulled his fingers from your core as you hissed. Bringing them up to his face, your eyes followed his movements as he separated them to watch the strings of arousal gleam in the daylight. His eyes met yours, a smirk forming on his face before he sucked his glistening fingers into his mouth. You gasped at the sight, having never seen anything like it. Moaning at the taste, Joel’s eyes raked over you as you laid panting and naked in front him.

Weakly, you reached a hand out to him and he took it in his larger one, kissing the back of it sweetly before crawling up your body. With his lips kissing up your sternum, the heat was back now despite your two previous releases. Your hips bucked into him as he ran his teeth across the sensitive skin below your ear. Joel moaned at the friction, grinding his hips down into yours as he teased your gland. You wordlessly willed him to bite down, to seal the claim he already had over you, but he refrained.

“Never thought I’d have ya like this darling. So sweet, so smart, so soft, and all fucking mine,” he mumbled, bruising your neck with his teeth.

“Y-your, m’yours Joel. Please, I’ve never had someone like this. I-I-I need you, please, I need you to fuck me,” you begged, finally managing to shove his pants down his hips and gasping as his hard cock sprung from its confines.

As you reached to grab it, Joel grabbed your hand and your eyes flicked up to meet his own. You whined, wanting to feel the warm length that pulsed against your slicked thigh. You were not an expert by any means, but you knew Joel was fucking huge and it made your mouth water. Pretty and thick, with veins running down the sides, a trimmed patch of curly hair gathering at the base, and a glob of precum pearling at his reddened tip, you needed to touch him. You fought against Joel’s hold on your hand but he demanded your attention.

Joel’s chest heaved and you could tell he was fighting against his own instincts by stopping, but he pushed through, gripping your face and looking deep into your eyes. You stared back at him in confusion, frustrated as you wondered what the hold up was.

“Darling is this - have you never, uh… What do you mean you ain’t never had someone like this?,” Joel asked through panting breaths, the hair on his chest brushing up against your sensitive nipples.

“Because I haven’t. I was with everyone at camp and then I was on the run, now m’here. Never wanted anyone before, never needed anybody before you,” you whispered, suddenly feeling shy as his eyes widened at your admission.

“Shit,” Joel swore, blanching as he rolled off of you.

“W-what?,” you croaked, eyes watering as he distanced himself from you again.

You hauled yourself up and slid into his lap, chasing him without even thinking about it. Joel cursed, his bare cock now seated in between your folds as he tried to keep your hips from moving against his painfully hard cock. You whined, weakly shifting to try and spark some sort of friction between you as he hissed through his teeth.

“Darling, f-fuck, I wouldn’t of done it like that if - oh sweet Jesus,” Joel groaned as you managed to rip one of his trembling hands off of your hips.

Determined, you held his hand above his head as you rubbed your soaking seam against him, moaning as your clit caught on the tip of his dick. A fresh wave of slick coated him as you moved, helping you grind into Joel as he bit his bottom lip to keep his moans from spilling out.

“I need you Joel. M’yours. Fuuuck, and you’re mine. This is all fucking mine, nobody else’s,” you growled, shocking the both of you as a wave of possessiveness washed over you.

Something clicked in Joel’s brain as the words tumbled from your lips. Finally having enough, Joel flipped you on to your back and loomed over you. Pools of black boring into your soul, your walls fluttered against the emptiness his fingers left behind. As Joel watched your pussy twitch, you could practically hear the gears turning in his head before he came to a decision.

“If you want me to stop, you tell me. If I’m hurting ya, you fucking tell me. Got it?,” Joel said seriously, making sure that your eyes met as he said it.

Nodding before he had even stopped talking, you locked your ankles behind his back as he hiked your legs over his hips, bodies unbearably closer now. Joel leaned down, lips ghosting over yours as the need for him to fill you had you squirming against the solid wall of his chest.

“Say it baby,” he chided gently.

“Please Joel, I need you,” you whispered as your noses brushed against each other, his honeyed tone making your heart flutter.

Joel kissed you fiercely and let one hand move down to run his fingers through your slit. He gathered up all the slick he could before he used it to pump himself, spreading your arousal up and down the length of him. He finally broke the intoxicating kiss, panting as he pressed himself against your opening, carefully pushing himself in the first few inches. Sweat began to form at your hairline as your body struggled to accommodate his size. Not only was Joel long but he was thick, your body fought against the intrusion as you winced. Joel grunted, clearly struggling as you squeezed him like a vice.

“Fuck darling, you gotta - shit - you gotta relax and let me in,” Joel hissed, his brow furrowing as he tried to keep himself still.

You nodded, moaning as he moved to capture your lips once more. As soft lips moved against yours and tongues mingled, you forgot about the heavy weight of his cock inside of you. With you distracted by his passionate kiss, Joel was able to slide in a few more inches. More slick came to greet him as your hole stretched and your fingernails left angry red lines down his back. Feeling emboldened by your response, Joel pushed through the last bit of resistance, sliding home and nestling himself in the cradle of your hips.

“Fuck you’re so tight, fucking choking my cock darling. Jesus, little pussy’s so wet,” Joel whined unabashedly in your ear.

You moaned, not used to Joel being so vocal. It was driving you crazy. His dirty words, mixed with the feeling of him carving out a space for himself inside you, had you nearing your end already. Mind long gone, you keened and tried to fuck yourself on him, pathetic little jolts to your hips making him gasp and groan.

“Please fuck me Joel. I can take it, I swear. I’ll be good, I’m your good girl, I’m - oh!,” you cried out as Joel threw your legs over his shoulders, moving himself back carefully before thrusting forward again.

His pace was slow but his thrusts hard, knocking the breath out of you each time. You choked on a whimper as he pressed forward and bumped against something that had a fresh wave of tears streaming down your face. Joel leaned forward, getting impossibly deeper as the curls at the base of his dick tickled your clit. Leaning forward, he kissed the tears on your cheeks, cooing softly as you hiccuped and whined.

“Aw, my sweet girl, d’you like that? Like my cock stretching you out? Bet you won’t want another after this, ain’t nobody else gonna fuck you like this baby. Christ, do you hear her soaking for me? She’s fucking crying for my cock, isn’t she? Shi-i-t,” Joel growled, his hips picking up the pace slightly.

You grabbed at his hair, his neck, his shoulders, anything to keep you grounded as you begged him for more. Joel gave you a devilish smile, making you squeak as his hips started slamming into you. Strings of your arousal dripped down Joel’s balls and soaked the hair on his thighs, making the curls glisten as he sucked at your neck again. Joel tore animalistic cries out of you as he pounded into your weeping hole, claiming you with each hard thrust.

“Pleeease,” you pleaded, not even sure what you were pleading for as you weakly tried to meet his thrusts.

Joel huffed a laugh through his moans, hips working double time as he felt your pussy begin to flutter around him.

“What baby? Tell me what you want,” he crooned, moving one hand to brush through the cute patch of hair covering your mound, finding your clit and pressing down on it harshly with his thumb.

Legs shaking and eyes watering, you locked eyes with Joel before you cried out, “You daddy, I want you!”

Joel’s pace slowed for a second as he took in what you said. Freezing, you wondered if you had crossed some sort of line. You weren’t even sure where that had come from, but it just seemed so right in the moment. An apology on the tip of your tongue, you were surprised by a primal growl rumbling out of Joel, making your already pulverized insides turn to mush as he pulled himself up on his knees. He moved you up on his lap as you helplessly wrapped your weakened arms around his neck once more.

Faces pressed against one another, panting mouths sharing air and his cock almost unbearably deep, Joel grabbed your hips and began fucking you up and down on him. He speared into you so deep that you screamed, breath catching in your throat as he worked your limp body into a frenzy. Pleas, cries, and the slick sound of him moving inside of you filled the air. All of your senses were overwhelmed with Joel as panting mouths mashed into each other, lips greedily moving in tandem before breaking away again for air. The room spun as his heavy balls slapped against your ass, Joel moving faster and harder as your walls sucked him in.

You were shocked at his strength. Joel effortlessly moved your body up and down his throbbing cock with one hand clutching your hip, the other moving to strum at your oversensitive clit. You squeaked, unable to do anything but hold on for dear life as he effortlessly dragged you closer and closer to your peak.

“Say it again baby, whose pussy is this? Who gets to fuck you like this? Fuck, you’re too good for daddy sweet girl. Such a pretty thing, so smart, so strong, smell so fucking good. God - shit - say it please,” Joel moaned as he pressed into your clit harder.

“Yours! D-daddy, I’m yours. Please, I can’t. Oh my fucking g- daddy please!,” you screamed, walls beginning to squeeze him brutally.

Joel hissed, keeping up his pace as he kissed at every bit of skin his lips could reach, beginning to ramble as he neared his end.

“S’right baby, daddy’s pussy, nobody else’s. M’yours too, fuck - anything you want from me is yours, just fucking stay, please fucking stay with me baby. I can’t lose - PLEASE baby, fuck, I need you to stay.”

The desperation in his voice had you reaching out to grip his neck, bringing him down to meet your lips in a kiss filled promise. As you poured everything you had into the kiss, you felt something nudging at the outside of your hole. You gasped, looking down to see his knot forming and begging to be jammed into you. With your orgasm making your walls start to tighten around his cock, you were suddenly desperate for it. You ground yourself against his knot and Joel moaned as it began to tease your entrance.

“F-fuck, you don’t have t- ah, oh shit,” Joel stuttered, his resolve breaking as your walls twitched against the base of it.

“Knot me alpha. Shit - need you to fill me up so that I can feel you for days. Please daddy,” you begged, shattering any reservation in Joel’s mind.

A grunt left Joel as he heeded your request, shoving himself forward. You cried out as you felt his thick knot lock the two of you together, pleasure boiling over as his cock began to twitch inside of you. Waves after waves crashed through both of you, walls contracting against his throbbing knot, each slight movement triggering another devastating round of ecstasy. You felt him spurting thick loads of cum inside of you, soothing the need that had been burning inside of you since waking up. Everytime you thought that he was done, a slight movement or twitch from one of you would have Joel crying out as he released again.

You could feel your belly bloating from the mess he made inside of you. You tried to calm yourself, sensing that Joel was getting overstimulated as he tensed and shook but you couldn’t stop the way your walls clamped around him. Another orgasm had your vision blacking out around the edges, your voice hoarse as you called his name. Joel gasped, holding you close and pressing his face into your chest as his cock painfully released into you again and again and again.

Finally spent, Joel carefully lowered you onto the bed. Groaning, Joel collapsed on top of you. The weight of his body was warm and comforting, pulling a purring noise from the back of your throat. He hummed, rubbing his face against the valley of your breasts as you began to play with his hair. With the heat satiated at last, you giggled at the feeling of his whiskers tickling your damp skin. Joel’s head popped up, pools of melted chocolate studying the lines on your face as you laughed.

“What’s so funny baby?,” Joel asked, a grin evident in his voice.

You settled, letting out a few more giggles before glancing down at his relaxed face, pushing his curls from his forehead as you smiled at him.

“Nothing daddy, m’just happy,” you said softly.

Joel barked out a laugh, groaning as the movement had his cock weakly twitching again. He shook his head, kissing his way up from between your breasts. He pressed his lips against yours softly, humming at the intimacy before pulling back and grinning down at you.

“Daddy huh?,” Joel teased, watching as your cheeks reddened and you whacked his shoulder again.

“You didn’t seem to mind,” you grumbled, looking away from him to study the wall in embarrassment.

He laughed again, leaning forward and pressing soft kisses across your chest, neck, and face as you squealed and giggled. Joel kept kissing you until you were out of breath from laughter and pleading for him stop his sweet torture until he finally relented. Panting, you met his eyes once more as he looked at you with a softness that had butterflies erupting in your belly. A giddiness bubbled up to the surface and you bit your lip, suddenly feeling girlish and shy as Joel looked at you like you were the only person in the world. He leaned forward and kissed your forehead, pulling back and clearing the loose strands that stuck to your forehead off of your sweaty face.

It was then that you noticed the poor excuse for a bandage that was wrapped around his palm, the center of it red with dried blood. You whined, panicking as you brought it up to your face to examine. Joel shushed you, shaking his head before you could get too worked up.

“S’okay darling, I just sliced it when I was putting up some wire. Nothing to be worried about, I swear. Barely felt it,” he crooned, watching as you leaned forward and kissed the dark stain.

“Why don’t you let me help next time?,” you asked, letting him go back to fixing your wild strands.

He chuckled, “You really want to help me with choring that bad? It’s boring stuff. I wouldn’t want you to feel like you HAD to.”

You whined, huffing impatiently at him as you rolled your eyes, “I’ve been bored Joel. I’m going nuts in here doing nothing all day. I would LOVE to help you with your ‘choring’.”

The last part made him snort as you tried (and failed) to mimic his deep twang. You giggled back at him, bodies brushing up against each other as the feeling of joy radiated off the pair of you. He watched you with a grin, noticing the way your nose scrunched up as you threw your head back in laughter. Joel grunted as your laughter made you clench around him, suddenly remembering that he was inside of you still.

“I didn’t hurt you, did I? M’sorry if I did. I was trying so hard to stay gentle but fuck baby, you don’t know how hard its been for me to stay away from ya,” Joel asked, his concern cutting through the sweet moment.

You kissed the hand that fussed over your messy hair, lips touching the bandage once more before you said, “Joel, you didn’t hurt me. That was everything I could have asked for. I’ve never felt so… wanted. Nobody’s ever made me feel like that.”

Joel tsked, shaking his head and grumbling under his breath about how stupid every alpha in your life had been up until this point, how you were the prettiest damn thing he had ever saw, how he had no fucking clue how he got so lucky. A softer laugh tumbled out of you, breaking him from his reverie and making him smile.

“Why’d you stay away?,” you asked softly, thumb gliding over the stubble on his cheeks.

A sigh left Joel’s mouth and he looked down, his knot now deflated enough that he could ease himself out of your puffy folds. You whined, panic popping the bubble of comfort that had cradled you moments before. You were terrified that he was going to get up and leave you there. Trying not to cry, you cursed yourself for ruining the moment. He hushed you as you gripped his forearms, trying to assure you as he pulled away.

“Shhh, it’s okay baby. I just need to clean you up and get something to fill that belly of yours. You need to eat before the heat comes back. Gotta keep your strength up for when my rut hits, reckon you’re gonna rip it out of me soon. Can already feel it coming,” he said carefully, massaging your sore hips as he inched off of the bed.

You nodded, sniffling and whimpering as he made his way out of the room. You tried to remember his words as anxiety trickled into your pliant muscles, making you tense. Joel would be back, he would be back, he was just grabbing something to clean you up and some food, it’s okay, he won’t leave you…

A hiss came out of your mouth as you felt something cool and rough between your legs. Joel shushed you, softly cleaning the mess he had made of your core with a washcloth. Tossing it behind him, he lifted you up onto his lap, situating himself so that he was sitting against the headboard. Before you could nestle yourself into the crook of his neck, Joel stopped you. He brought a glass of water from the nightstand, placing it at your lips. You gulped down half of it in one go, surprised at how thirsty you were.

“All of it baby,” he whispered when you paused, moving to tip the glass into your mouth again but you stopped him.

Grabbing the glass from him, Joel raised an eyebrow as you placed the glass at his lips. You looked back at him sternly, daring him to defy you as you tipped the water into his mouth. He acquiesced, chugging down the rest of the water and placing the empty glass on the nightstand. Next, he grabbed a granola bar and presented it to you. You grumbled, not feeling particularly hungry but he was persistent as he shoved it at you again.

“Share it with me?,” you asked softly, playing with his curls.

Joel nodded, tearing the package open and breaking the nutty biscuit in two, ignoring the crumbly bits that fell onto the mess of sheets and clothes below. The two of you ate in silence, one of his big hands rubbing your thigh while you absentmindedly scratched his scalp. Finally finished, Joel let you lean forward and rest against him, your body straddling him and face shoved into the gland on his neck, snuffling at his musk.

“Why?,” you asked again, your voice barely above a whisper.

He tensed and you snuggled deeper into him, trying to cover his body with your own as you smelt his scent slightly sour with nerves. Joel huffed lightly at your knotted hair, trying to calm himself down before he answered you.

“Darling I… There’s a lot of things you don’t know about me. Things I’ve done, horrible things… Some things I did to people that deserved it, others didn’t… And I’ve failed people that cared about me, too many fucking people. I couldn’t - I can’t fail you too,” Joel murmured against your hair, fingers now clutching your hips and holding you against him firmly.

You hummed in acknowledgement, playing with his hair as you responded, “You couldn’t fail me Joel, not even if you tried.”

Joel shook his head, his nerves threatening to break him out of the peace that you had cloaked him in. He pulled back and tried to speak, but you covered his mouth with your hand before he could.

“Joel, I know you think that you’re no good but you are. You are good. You could’ve left me out there to die, but you didn’t. You helped me and you didn’t even ask for anything in return, a bad man wouldn’t do that. Whatever you had to do in the past to stay alive, I don’t care. I don’t care about any of it,” you said, letting him work through the words for a moment before you continued.

He moved to protest, gripping your wrist and trying to pull your hand off of his mouth so that he could reject your words but you slapped his hand away. Joel guffawed under your hand, the feeling of it tickling your palm as he furrowed his brows in confusion.

“I know that you… That losing Sarah must have killed you Joel,” you could feel him growing more uncomfortable but you pressed on, “But that wasn’t your fault. None of it was. And it doesn’t mean that you aren’t good, okay? You’re good Joel. You. Are. Good.”

Joel watched you silently as you eased your hand off of his mouth, eyes shining as he cleared his throat. He nodded, swallowing thickly before he leaned forward and knocked his forehead against yours, shaky breaths fanning over your face.

“S’not all darling. I can’t - I don’t know how to tell you… There’s so much more than just Sarah and I don’t know if I can ever - fuck,” he cussed, his eyes falling closed in frustration as words failed him.

“I know Joel, I know. You’ll tell me when you’re ready. But until then, I’m not going anywhere m’kay? Hell, I’ve got things I haven’t told you yet either but I don’t care, none of that matters. You’re mine and I’m yours now, you’re gonna have to throw me out into the cold if you want me gone now,” you chided.

Joel chuckled, shaking his head before he said, “I’d never kick ya out baby. Just don’t know why you’d want to be with a grumpy old man like me. M’sure you could find a decent man in Jackson, probably tons of men your age there”

You shrugged playfully, pretending to think it over, “Hmmmm… well as tempting as that sounds, I think I’ll stick with you. Think I like my men a bit more experienced, no clue why. Daddy issues maybe?”

“Shut up,” Joel said through a surprised laugh, flipping you over onto the bed and attacking your sides with tickles as you screeched and giggled.

The heaviness pulled from the air, the two of you smiled at each other. Moving to get up again, Joel groaned when he saw the mess that you had made as the two of you had rolled around playfully on the bed. Sucking in a shaky breath, he watched your pussy begin to drip slick down your thighs once more, hole winking at him enticingly as he swore under his breath.

“Oh fuck Joel, I’m sorry. I know you probably need a bit of a break, seeing as you’re a senior citizen and all,” you joked breathlessly, his head shooting up at the jab.

A mischievous grin spread across Joel’s face, pearly whites gleaming menacingly at you as his gaze turned ravenous.

“Oh honey, you’ve got no fucking clue what this old man is capable of,” he chuckled.

A witty response died in your throat, mind numbing pleasure soon making you scream for the man that had his face buried in your core.

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