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pedrospatch · 5 months ago

Text

run

Raider! Joel Miller x Female Reader

*moodboard is for aesthetic purposes only. no mention of reader’s race or skin tone.

summary: When you’re given the chance to run from your captor, you don’t take it.

warnings/tags: 18+ ONLY, MINORS DNI. RAIDER ERA. DARK!JOEL. DUBCON. MENTIONS PREVIOUS NONCON. UNSPECIFIED AGE GAP (reader is in her 20’s and Joel is 50). reader is described washing her hair (the exact length is not specified) and she wears a dress. she is also shorter than Joel. violence, kidnapping, reader has major stockholm syndrome, Joel is fairly soft for her but HE IS STILL NOT A GOOD MAN, brief mention of Tess and Joel being involved with each other, Tess seems like the villain but she might actually be the only one of these three who is not totally fucked up in the head. SMUT. daddy kink. size difference (no description of reader’s body type, Joel is just a big guy with a big dick, enjoy it). oral sex (female receiving), super risky unprotected p in v sex (mention of reader ovulating, Joel pulls out, don’t be be like these two, practice safe sex), creampie (yeah he doesn’t give a fuck the second time around). many, many pet names (baby, baby girl, honey, angel, sweetheart, little girl). um i think that’s it. oh, and they fuck in the dirt.

PLEASE HEED ALL WARNINGS.

word count: 8.6k

a/n: one thing about me is i WILL soften up EVERY version of Joel Miller to my little heart’s content. HUGE HUGE thank you to @endlessthxxghts and @joelsdagger for lending me their eyes and beta-ing this fic for me last night. <33 i love and appreciate you guys SO MUCH. i loved seeing you both in the doc at the same exact time lmao. this can be read as a standalone, but it is considered part of the captive universe.

Everyone in the group has a job. Except for you.

Or at least, that’s what you hear them say.

That bitch doesn’t do shit.

She never has to lift a fucking finger.

She should work for her meal—just like the rest of us.

Bitterness laces their tones when they talk about you.

Insults grow a little bolder when he’s not around.

Useless.

Freeloader.

Leech.

You might not be out there with a rifle in hand hunting game or invading camps and spilling blood for supplies—but you do in fact have a job, and that job is to make Joel Miller happy. It is your responsibility, your duty, to please him, and to keep him satisfied. Because keeping him satisfied keeps him in a good mood, and one thing you’ve come to learn about your captor is, where there is a good mood, often there is mercy.

Hell, you’re doing them a favor by keeping their violent, fearsome leader in a good mood. Because you’ve seen what he does to them when he’s not. He can be just as brutal towards his own people as he is to strangers.

It doesn’t make a difference, though. They still see you as nothing more than his coddled little whore.

“Fuck, that’s it.”

He groans, his thick, callused fingers digging harshly into the softness of your flesh as he holds you firmly in place underneath him. “Oh fuck, baby girl,” Joel curses through gritted teeth, his hands gripping your hips as he uses his own weight against you, pressing you down into the old mattress until you feel every uncomfortable lump, each creaking spring.

While he isn’t fucking you as roughly as he has on other occasions, he’s hardly being gentle. It’s hard, fast.

Loud.

Joel couldn’t care less about the rest of the group, the men and women on the other side of the wall, forced to listen to the sounds coming from the single bedroom of the cabin he decided they would hunker down in for the remainder of the summer season. Strings of curses and brutish grunts that came rumbling from deep within his chest, pleading gasps and whimpers that fell from your swollen, bitten lips. If anything, knowing they were listening only spurred him on—it didn’t hurt to remind them, especially the men with wandering eyes, that you were his special girl.

His good girl.

You certainly did your job, and you did it so, so well.

“Christ, sweetheart. M’so fuckin’ close—” Joel picks up speed, his hips snapping even harder, faster, the front of his thighs slapping against the backs of yours. Each thrust causes the bed’s rusted, iron headboard to slam violently against the wood panel wall.

You clutch fistfuls of the single, stale, yellowing sheet beneath you, each stroke he delivers knocking the wind out of your lungs, making it harder to breathe. He is so heavy on top of you, this big, broad, bulk of a man who makes you feel swallowed, smothered, and small. Joel takes up so much room inside of you, and it’s a wonder how you could possibly have any space left to spare.

It’s a fullness you can’t seem to get enough of.

It’s a craving, a need.

Worst of all, it’s slowly becoming a want.

“Daddy,” you choke out, fisting the sheet tighter, your skin stretching taut over your knuckles. Can the others also hear the squelch of your drenched cunt around his cock as it begs him for more?

“Fuck. You’re doin’ so fuckin’ good for me, baby,” Joel croons his praise. His hands abandon your hips and he hunches over you, his thrusts momentarily ceasing. He crushes his chest against your sweaty, quivering back and leans forward even further, bracing his large hands on either side of you. Then, his lips move to the shell of your ear and he speaks, his breath blazing hot on your skin. “Y’take me so well, honey. Y’take Daddy’s cock so fuckin’ well. This pretty little pussy was fuckin’ made for me. She was made jus’ for me—ain’t that right, angel?”

He’s right.

Oh, how you fucking hated that he was right.

It was made for him. Your cunt. Your body. You.

Every part of you was made for him, and only for him.

All you can do is nod dumbly in agreement.

“Say it,” Joel whispers his firm command. “Wanna hear you say it. Be a good girl and use your words. Say it, say this pussy is made for me.”

“Yes, Daddy,” you moan obediently, prompting him to grin against your ear. “My pussy is made for you, just—just for you. No one—no one else. Only you.” Could this really be the same voice that would break, grow hoarse from screaming for him to stop? The same voice that would beg and plead for him to set you free?

Jutting his hips forward, Joel buries himself to the hilt, eliciting a noise from you, something caught between a pained whimper and a contented sigh. His balls, heavy and full for you, rest on your clit, which is still sensitive to the touch after he’d spent a majority of the morning with his head buried in between your legs. Desiring yet another release, you try wriggling around beneath him in a silent plea for more. More, more, more.

Please, Daddy. More.

Joel’s grin widens. He places one of his hands on your soft lower belly, fingers dragging down the slope of it until he finds the slick swell of your seam between your legs where his girth splits you open. “Ready, baby?”

Nodding, you open your mouth to answer him, but the sound of your own groan cuts you off when his fingers firmly circle around your throbbing, swollen bud. “Oh,” you breathe, instantly sinking right into his touch. Your eyes screw shut tightly in pleasure, and you throw your head back onto his shoulder. The scruff of his beard is rough on your cheek, and it burns, the same way it had burned the tender flesh of your inner thighs.

His hips find their rhythm as you rub against his hand—you’re almost there. He knows this, you can tell by the chuckle that thunders in his chest and against your back. But you’re too busy chasing your pleasure to be embarrassed.

He’s made you a needy, greedy girl.

“Daddy,” you mewl, trying your hardest to move under him, to work your cunt up and down on his cock. “I’m gonna come—” You gasp, back arching as Joel strokes in and out, his fingers rubbing your clit with urgency.

Joel plants a sloppy, wet kiss on your cheek. “Give it to me, baby,” he grunts. “C’mon. Lemme feel her squeeze me.”

Feeling how close he is too, you try to hold on for just a little bit longer, at least long enough to finish with him, but Joel’s relentless, and you’re forced off of the ledge you’re both standing on first.

Crying out, your walls spasm around him, asking to be filled until he’s made a complete mess out of you, until white leaks, and it slowly dribbles down the insides of your trembling thighs.

“Fuckin’ Christ,” Joel rasps. He lifts himself off you and he pulls out, taking his throbbing cock in his hand. His chest heaves as he fists himself, the wet sound of your slick in his palm filling the room. “Down,” he grits, and you obey him, lowering down yourself on the mattress until you’re lying almost completely flat before him. He gives himself one final stroke just as you look over your shoulder at him, the gentle flutter of your eyelashes the last push he needs. “Fuck! Fuck, fuck—” Joel spills his load, shooting thick ropes of warm cum along the soft curve of your spine.

You rest your cheek on your folded arms, biting back a small sigh.

He’s left behind an ache—you feel painfully empty.

But it was Tess, who had been given the task of helping you track your menstrual cycle, that had given him the warning earlier that morning. “She’s ovulating. Don’t be a fucking idiot, Joel. Last thing we need is for her to—”

“Relax,” he’d gruffed in response. “I fuckin’ know.”

Spent, Joel hunches over you once more and he lightly kisses the top of your head before burying his nose into your hair. “Good girl,” he murmurs. Affection that once was unwelcome and unwanted, that once made you feel sick to your fucking stomach, now makes you feel something else entirely. You’re not quite sure what it is, only that it’s warm. Comforting. “Y’did so well for me, sweetheart. Always do.”

Your lips curl into a faint, tired smile he doesn’t see.

A while later, you find yourself perched on the bed with the sheet wrapped around you, quietly watching as he gets dressed. “Daddy?” you say tentatively as he drops into a nearby chair to pull on his boots.

“What is it, baby girl?”

“Do you—do you think we can go to the creek today?”

Joel finishes lacing his boots and looks up at you.

“I’d really like to wash up,” you admit, softly. That, and you would like to see the light of day. He’d boarded up the windows with slabs of wood—sometimes, if you’re lucky, you get some decent light seeping through the teeny gaps.

“Not today, honey. I’ve got some things to take care of. Supplies are low, we gotta do a run. Don’t have the time to take you.” He stands and picks up his rifle, slinging the strap of it over his shoulder. Noticing the crestfallen expression on your face, Joel’s eyes soften. He walks over and gingerly cups the side of your face in his palm. His thumb strokes your cheek. “Promise I’ll take you to the creek tomorrow, sweetheart. First thing. Alright?”

Nodding, your eyes fall to your hands in your lap.

“Okay.”

Joel kisses your forehead, then leaves the room.

He makes sure to lock the door from the outside, and you can’t help but wonder if he knows locking you in is no longer necessary.

“I can take her.”

Joel’s dark eyes remain focused on the state map laid out on the table in front of him. “What the fuck are you talkin’ about, Tess?” He sees her in his periphery, but is too busy figuring out the group’s best route to look her way.

“I heard her asking you to take her to the creek so she can bathe,” she tells him. “I can take her.”

Finally, his head snaps up and he turns to her. “What?”

Tess leans her hip against the table, crossing her arms over her chest. “You and Tommy can take the group, go and take care of what you have to take care of. I’ll stay behind and take her down to the creek,” she suggests casually, as if she’s not asking him to trust her with his most prized possession—the only damn thing on what was left of this fucking earth Joel Miller actually gives a shit about. “Once she’s washed up, I’ll bring her back to the cabin and put her back into the room. Easy.”

Joel stares at her, bewildered. “What makes you think I’d fuckin’ allow somethin’ like that?”

“Oh, come on.” She huffs and rolls her eyes. “Anytime I bitch about having to do something for that girl, you’re on my fucking case about it, and now that I’m offering to do something for her, you don’t wanna let me?”

He shakes his head and lowers his voice. “You’re talkin’ about takin’ her outside, Tess. Without me.”

“The creek’s just a mile away,” Tess reminds him. “I’m pretty sure I can handle getting her there and back with no trouble, Joel.” When he says nothing, she cocks her head to the side and scoffs. “What? You don’t trust me enough to take her under my wing for a couple hours?”

Joel’s lips pull into a tight line.

Of course he does. Tess was his right hand woman, his second in command.

He trusted her more than his own fucking brother. She had never given him any reason not to, had never given him a reason to doubt her loyalty to him. No, his lack of trust has nothing to do with Tess—but everything to do with you. He doesn’t trust you. He will never trust you.

“What if she tries to—?” He can’t even say it.

“Tries to what?” She pauses. “Run?”

His throat goes dry and he gives her a subtle nod.

Joel Miller was a bad man who did bad things, but you were his good. You’ve brought back some meaning into this wretched life of his, gave him something that felt a lot like a sense of purpose. You were something for him to take care of, to keep safe and protect.

Tess raises an eyebrow at him. “You think I’d even give her the chance? Besides, the girl’s not that stupid, Joel. She knows better than to try anything. She knows she wouldn’t get very fucking far.”

“Tess—”

“I’m just trying to do something nice for her. Besides, I think it might do her some good to be in the company of someone else for once—the company of a woman.”

Joel peers at her, taking a minute to think it over in his mind before asking, “You’ll have her back in the room before I get back to the cabin?”

“Long before then,” she swears. “All in one piece.”

He hesitates. He’s still not sure.

It’s then that he remembers that disappointed look on your sweet, pretty little face. “Alright,” he relents with a deep sigh. “I trust you, Tess.”

It always feels a bit strange to be outside.

But being outside without Joel?

It feels even stranger.

When he’d walked back into the room and told you Tess was willing to take you to the creek, the news had taken you by complete surprise. When he said he was willing to let her take you, that you almost couldn’t believe. It hadn’t even sunk in until the three of you stood outside the cabin and he was kissing your forehead sweetly in a temporary goodbye before turning to Tess.

“Never take your eyes off her,” he’d instructed her.

“She’ll behave.” She had smiled at you as she pulled her pistol from the waistband of her jeans, the gleam of the silver barrel catching your eye. “Isn’t that right?”

Swallowing dryly, you had answered with a strained, “Of course.”

She’s the last fucking person you wanted to cross. She was almost as terrifying as Joel, if not more.

“Tess? W-Where are we going?” you ask as you trudge along behind her, hoping you don’t sound as winded as you feel. Although you had no way to keep track of the time, it felt like you’d been trekking for at least an hour. Your feet are starting to hurt in your shoes—old, worn, yellow canvas sneakers that certainly weren’t made for hiking. “I don’t remember the creek being this far from the cabin.”

Tess snorts. “Don’t tell me you’re tired already.”

“It’s just—we’ve been walking for a really long time.”

She glances over her shoulder at you. “Here I thought you would be a little fucking grateful to be out getting some fresh air,” she chuckles, shaking her head before turning her attention back to the path ahead.

“I am,” you squeak, stumbling over a fallen branch.

Silence falls over the both of you.

“We’re not going to the creek,” Tess finally speaks after a minute. “I’m taking you somewhere else. Somewhere even better. Just trust me, kid. Now hurry up.”

It takes another hour before you reach your destination, and you hear it before you can even see it, a humming sound that turns into buzzing the closer you get. Then, you feel it, a vibration in the rocks beneath your feet. “Is that a—?” Stepping around her, your mouth falls open in absolute awe at the sight before you.

The waterfall is nestled right in between the trees and surges over the rocky mountain, throwing up bubbles of spray as it plunges into the lake at the bottom, and from there, it foams into a thick, white lather at the base. On the bank, where you stand, you spot different types of vegetation you couldn’t identify even if you tried—all you know is that it’s green, and it’s beautiful.

“This is incredible,” you gasp.

“Way better than some little creek, huh?” Tess tucks her pistol into the waistband of her jeans and shrugs off her pack. She digs around in the front pocket and pulls out something wrapped in a piece of crumpled brown tissue paper. She hands it to you. “Here.”

“What’s this?”

“Well, if you’d fucking open it, you would know,” Tess rolls her eyes. “It’s my last piece of soap. It’s all yours.”

Her kind generosity comes as a surprise—usually, Tess wanted nothing to do with you. But you don’t question it, and you certainly don’t turn the rare luxury down.

“Thanks,” you say, shooting her a grateful look.

Tess nods towards the body of water. “Alright, then. Go on and get to it.”

You take the piece of soap out the tissue. The scent of lavender is faint, but still very much there. Joel will like the smell of it on your skin tonight, you think.

As you start to pull the strap of your cotton blue dress down your shoulder, you feel her gaze fixed intently on you. Heat rushes to your cheeks. “Uh, aren’t you going to turn around?”

“For fuck’s sake,” she scoffs. “I’ve got what you’ve got. Now hurry up, we don’t have all fucking day.”

Nodding, you peel off your dress and underwear, your face on fire as the older woman’s eyes slowly drag over your naked body. Carefully, you step off the bank and wade into the water. It’s so clear that you can count the pebbles underneath your feet.

Leaning against a nearby tree, Tess calls out, “You have ten minutes! And stay out of the waterfall! Last thing I need is for you to fucking drown.”

As she lights a cigarette, you can’t help but stare at her. Her features, though worn down after the hell she had been through trying to survive the post outbreak world, are beautiful. Big, dark green eyes, a perfect nose, and full, pouty lips. There’s never been a doubt in your mind that she and Joel have been involved with one another, and lately, the mere thought of anything between them made you uncomfortable.

It’s an odd sensation deep in your gut—jealousy?

But what were you jealous of? Her having had him first?

It shouldn’t matter to you, but it does. Insecurities you have never in your life felt before seep into your bones.

“Anyone ever tell you it’s fucking rude to stare?” Tess quips, raising an eyebrow at you. She shoves her lighter into the back pocket of her jeans.

Nervously, you sink lower into the water, nibbling the inside of your cheek. “Tess? Can I ask you something?”

“What could you possibly fucking want to ask me?”

You hesitate.

“How—how long have you known each other?”

“Who?” Tess plucks the cigarette from between her lips and flicks the ashes. “Me and Joel?”

You nod. “Yeah.”

She shrugs. “Don’t know. Six, seven years?”

“How did you two meet?”

“Long story that’s none of your fucking business.”

You ask your next question before you lose your nerve. “Have you two ever—?” Unsure of how to phrase it, you stop and clamp your mouth shut in instant regret.

“Have we ever what?” Tess studies your face, and she quickly realizes what you’re trying to ask her. “You’re seriously asking me if me and Joel have ever fucked?”

Biting your bottom lip, you glance down into the water at your feet. You honestly don’t expect her to answer, so when she does, you look back up at her in surprise.

“Yeah.” She takes a long drag from her cigarette, then adds, “Few times.”

Something unpleasant claws at your insides. “You two were together? Like a couple?”

“Something like that,” Tess mutters, flicking her ashes once more.

“What happened?”

She looks at you, pausing before answering, “You.”

Oh.

Before you can utter another word, Tess snaps, “Quit asking so many goddamn fucking questions and finish up washing. You’ve got eight minutes left.”

Not wanting to push your luck further than you already have, you do as she tells you in complete silence.

You lather up the soap in your hands, washing your hair first, and then your face and body, using your hands to scrub yourself as best as you can. Between the calming scent of the soap, the soothing sound of the waterfall, and the warm afternoon sun, you find yourself relaxing. You try to clear your mind, live in this peaceful moment which you very well may never get again, but your mind begins to wander.

And it wanders straight to Joel.

Closing your eyes, you can’t help but picture him here, standing behind you in the lake. You can almost feel his hands on you, long, thick fingers lathered with lavender soap, sliding down your body. His lips at your neck, he cups your breasts in his hands, rolling his thumbs over your hardened nipples until your head lulls, falling back onto his shoulder. Joel drags his hands further down, over your stomach, going lower and lower towards the place where you need them the most. “Yeah, baby?” he murmurs into your neck, dipping one of them between your legs until you are, quite literally, in the palm of his hand. “This where y’need me?”

Breathless, you respond, “It’s where I want you.”

Suddenly, your eyes snap open.

There is a wetness between your thighs, one that has nothing to do with the fact that you’re standing waist-deep in the middle of a lake. You shake those thoughts away and finish washing yourself.

“Time’s up,” Tess calls. She meets you on the bank with a dry rag. “Here.”

The rag doesn’t exactly cover much surface area, but you dry yourself off as best you can before tugging on your underwear and slipping on your dress. Just as you crouch down to slip your shoes on, she tosses her pack and it lands in front of you with a soft thud.

Confused, you glance up at her.

“There’s about a week’s worth of jerky in there. Longer, if you know how to ration,” Tess explains, calmly. “And a canteen for water. I also packed you a flashlight and a pocket knife. It’s not much, but—”

Frowning, you rise to your feet. “What are you talking about, Tess? What’s going on? Why are you giving me your pack?”

“Because I’m giving you a chance, kid.”

A feeling of dread pools in the pit of your stomach.

“A chance to what?”

“Run.”

Your heart stutters a beat. “Run?”

“He’ll come looking for you. You need to get as far away from here as possible. Run away, as far as you can, and don’t fucking look back.”

All you can do is stare at her in shocked silence.

“I can help you get a head start,” Tess offers, quietly. “I can show you which direction to go in and put you on a path leading to the closest state highway—”

“But what if I don’t want to run?”

Tess places her hands on her hips, and she exhales an incredulous laugh. “Jesus,” she breathes, shaking her head in pity. “He’s really got you fucking brainwashed, doesn’t he?”

You glare at her. “I am not brainwashed, Tess.”

“You’ve gotta be if you’re telling me you wanna go back to him.”

“Tess—”

She cuts you off. “He gave the order to raid your camp and kill your people,” she reminds you. “He fucking slit your father’s throat right in front of you, then took you as his prisoner. He made you his fucking sex slave.”

“He takes care of me! He feeds me, makes sure I have a bed to sleep in no matter where we are. He keeps me safe. He—he cares about me.” You will your voice not to tremble as you stand your ground. “No. I’m not running away, Tess. I want to go back.”

Tess sighs. “You’re really not gonna make this easy, are you?”

“Take me back,” you all but demand, your hands curled into the least menacing little fists she had ever seen in her life at your sides. “Take me back to the cabin—take me back to him, Tess. I mean it.”

Amused, she huffs through her nose. “Or else what?”

“You can’t make me run away, Tess.” As you take a step towards her, she reaches behind her and swiftly whips out her pistol from the waistband of her jeans. You halt, freezing in fear when she aims the barrel of the gun at your chest.

“Actually, I can,” she says, her finger hovering over the trigger. “So here’s how this is gonna go. I’m gonna walk away now. And if you even think about following me, or trying to find your way back to the group, you will die.” She tosses you a tiny, wry smile. “Believe it or not, I’m doing you a real big favor, kid. Problem is, he’s got you so fucked in the head that you can’t see it.”

“Tess, please,” you plead. “Don’t do this to me!”

She begins to back away. “Remember when you’d say that to him? How you’d beg him not to do those things to you every night? Beg him to let you go?”

“Please, just take me back to him!”

You start to follow her.

“You take one more fucking step and I’ll shoot you,” she threatens, her eyes darkening. “Don’t think I won’t.”

Tess keeps her pistol pointed at you until she slips into the trees and disappears, abandoning you in the middle of the forest.

He’s furious. Livid.

Joel paces back and forth on the porch.

“Where the fuck are they?”

The old, rotting wood that wraps all the way around the cabin creaks, and certain softer spots bend and buckle, threatening to give way beneath his heavy boots. Joel’s younger brother leans against the railing, which is just as fragile, an unlit cigarette dangling from the corner of his mouth.

“Christ, Joel. Can you fuckin’ relax?” Tommy grumbles, fishing around in his back pocket for his lighter. “You’re gonna bring the whole damn cabin down if ya don’t cut that shit out.” He sparks a flame and lights the filtered end of the cigarette. He takes a long drag, and exhales the smoke through his nose. “You’re gettin’ worked up over nothin’, brother.”

“S’almost sundown, and they’re still not fuckin’ back.” Joel shakes his head. “Fuckin’ knew I shouldn’t have let Tess take her. Somethin’ happened, Tommy. I just know it.” He lifts his shirt and reaches for his pistol, pulling it from the waistband of his jeans. “M’gonna head to the creek myself to find ‘em. Ain’t gonna sit around on my goddamn hands and wait for it to get fuckin’ dark.”

“She’s with Tess. M’sure the girl’s fine—” Tommy stops, his eyes widening slightly. “Well, hell.”

“What?”

Tommy jerks his chin over Joel’s shoulder before taking another slow, casual drag of his cigarette. He savors the last few seconds of peace before shit inevitably hits the fan and his brother unleashes his wrath on anything, or anyone, in his path.

Joel whips around and his stomach sinks, his blood ice in his veins when he sees Tess approaching the cabin. Alone.

Both his mind and body go numb. It’s a jarring shock to his nervous system, and it takes him a minute or two to fully process the fact that you’re not with her.

“Joel,” Tess says his name carefully as he descends the porch steps and walks towards her. “I need you to take a breath, alright?”

“Where—where is she?” His voice breaks, his weakness momentarily slipping through the cracks.

Not that Tess didn’t already know you were Joel Miller’s weakness, his soft white underbelly, the only vulnerable part of his hardened self that could be penetrated—you would have been his downfall. As much as she’d like to say she did what she did solely for your own good, she also did it for his, and for the sake of the group as a whole.

It needed to be done.

He stands in front of her, a ticking time bomb about to go off.

Prepared to face whatever consequences of the choice she had made, Tess tucks her gun away and sighs. “You need to take a breath—”

Joel snatches her arm, his fingers digging into the flesh above her elbow. His emotions hit him all at once.

Fear, worry, anger. It’s the third that takes precedence, and before Tess can utter another word, Joel yanks her forward. She crashes against his chest so hard that it knocks the wind out of her. “Where the fuck is she?” He leans down, his nostrils flaring as he brings their faces the closest they have been in almost a year.

“Joel, take a fucking breath—”

“Where. Is. She.” His grip on her arm tightens with each word he bites out through his teeth. He’s vaguely aware the others have piled out of the cabin, gathering on the porch to watch the altercation.

“She ran,” Tess explains, calmly. She doesn’t falter, not even as his fingers sink deeper into her skin, promising her painful bruises which will take days to fade away. If he decided to let her live. “She ran away, Joel. I turned my back for one fucking second and she was gone. She even took my fucking pack. I tried going after her, but it was no use. She was too fast.”

Behind him, Tommy snorts. “She outran you?”

Her eyes momentarily flicker to him. “Her knees are a lot younger than mine,” she replies, flatly.

“Which direction did she go in?” Joel demands. When Tess doesn’t immediately respond, he shouts, “Which fucking direction!”

Tess manages to snatch her arm out of his grasp. She glowers at him, hissing, “What the hell does it matter which direction she went? You won’t fucking find her.”

His eyes meet hers, and he sees it. Feels it.

She’s lying to him.

“Tess.” Joel’s voice drops dangerously low. He studies her face, his brows creasing with suspicion. “What did you do?”

“I didn’t do shit, Joel. She fucking ran away.”

Without warning, Joel takes her by her throat. His other hand brings his pistol to her head, shoving the barrel of it against her temple. His nose touches hers. “Now, tell me why I have the feelin’ you’re not tellin’ me the whole truth?”

Tess lifts her chin. She searches his eyes, a sharp ache shooting through her. After everything, all the hell they had been through together—he would end her life, put a bullet in her because of you? Did she mean that little to him?

Or maybe she’d never meant anything to him at all?

She’s not sure which stings more.

“Because you’ve fucking deluded yourself into thinking that she willingly wants anything to do with you,” Tess finally answers. “That’s why.”

He ignores the burn of her scorching words.

“Where the fuck is she, Tess?”

“If she’s smart, she’s far away from here by now,” she hisses. “I did everyone a fucking favor, Joel. That girl is just another fucking mouth to feed. And what if you get her pregnant? That’ll be another one. Not to mention, a crying baby could draw unwanted attention and get us all killed. Ever thought about that? She’s not an asset to the group, she’s a fucking liability. Besides, I think I can speak for everyone when I say we’re all fucking tired of hearing you ra—”

Joel digs the barrel harder into her temple, his finger hovering over the trigger. “Listen to me. You’ve got ten seconds to tell me where she is, y’understand me?”

“Or what? You’ll blow my brains out?” Foolishly, Tess chooses to call his bluff despite not knowing for certain whether or not he’ll actually pull the trigger. “Go ahead, then. Kill me, Joel.”

His finger twitches over the trigger, but he doesn’t pull it. He can’t fucking pull it. Not on her. Not on Tess.

Still in his hands, she sags slightly in relief.

Swallowing harshly, Joel Miller lowers his gun and does something she’s never seen him do before. He begs.

“Tess, tell me where she is,” he whispers. His pleading is subtle, and only she can hear it. “Please—just fuckin’ tell me where my girl is.”

Tess stands her ground and says nothing.

Releasing her, Joel shoves her aside and with nothing but his gun in his hand, he sets off to find you.

“Ow, fuck!”

You gasp, quickly lifting your bare foot off the ground.

You’d stepped on something sharp—a stick, or maybe a rock?

In a desperate attempt to try and keep up with Tess’ tracks, you had stupidly left behind your shoes back at the waterfall. But the mere seconds you had spared by not stopping to put your shoes on hadn’t given you the advantage you thought it would. She had moved much too fast, and within minutes, you’d become helplessly, hopelessly lost. Every tree and every bush, they all look exactly the same, and for all you know, you’ve probably been going around in fucking circles for the past couple of hours in your search for her footprints in the dirt.

Sagging against the trunk of a nearby tree, you take a minute to try and catch your breath, to give your poor little feet a break from hiking over fallen branches and jagged stones.

Your head falls back, eyes gazing through the canopy of trees. Dusk has settled in, and nightfall is on its heels. It was foolish of you to leave behind your shoes, but even more so to leave behind the pack she had given you—in the pack were all the things meant to help you survive. Knife, flashlight, food.

Sure, you can survive a night out here in the wilderness without any of those things—but then what? Come dawn, what do you do? Where do you go? Do you just stumble around in the woods and hope for the best? Pray you’ll make it onto a highway with signs that will point you to a quarantine zone?

Hell, maybe you’re overestimating yourself. Maybe you wouldn’t survive long enough to worry about your next move. Howls in the distance remind you there’s wildlife out here, dangerous predators that come out after dark in search of their next meal. Or what about infected? It wasn’t unheard of for them to veer off the highway and lose themselves in the trees.

You recall your first few weeks in Joel Miller’s hands.

Escaping them was all you could ever think about, even though the chances of you surviving alone were slim to none, just like they are now. Never having been on your own, death would have been inevitable—but back then, in your darkest moments in captivity, you wished for it. You’d welcomed the idea of starving, freezing, or being torn apart limb from limb by an entire hoard of clickers. At least then, you’d die with your freedom.

Almost a year later, that wish has been granted.

You’re free.

You may very well die, but you would die free.

Closing your eyes, you think about Joel. His arms, that once held you down—held you still—as he did all those things to you without your consent, are arms your heart yearns to have wrapped around you, holding you close.

“Jesus,” you grit, a tear rolling down your cheek.

Maybe Tess had been right. Maybe he really does have you fucked in the head.

Joel was a monster. He had taken everything from you, including your innocence. He’d defiled you in ways you hadn’t known were possible. He was a terrible, terrible man.

A terrible, terrible man who kept you fed.

A terrible, terrible man who kept you warm.

A terrible, terrible man who kept you safe.

Another tear slides down the side of your face. What is fucking wrong with you?

You don’t know. But what you do know is, the thought of never seeing Joel again is somehow more terrifying to you than the thought of dying even the most brutal of deaths.

A loud rustling sound brings your train of thought to an immediate, sudden halt, and your eyes wrench open.

It’s darker now, but you manage to catch a movement in the shrubs, only mere feet in front of you. Panic flares in your chest, it rattles you to your very core, and even though every nerve in your body is urging you to move, you freeze, your back flush against the tree trunk. Your fingernails dig painfully into the bark as you watch the shrubs part down the middle, and a tall, hulking figure emerges with a heavy grunt.

At first, you think it’s just a figment of your imagination showing you what you wanted to see—a hallucination. Blinking furiously, you lightly shake your head, and then take another look at him. Your breath hitches when you realize it’s Joel.

He stares at you in the same manner, as if he’s trying to figure out if you’re real, or if his mind is playing a cruel, cruel trick on him. Feet cemented to the forest floor, he watches you take a small, tentative step towards him.

Once adamant that you’d never look him in the eye, you find your gaze locking directly with his as you carefully take another step closer. Then another, and another.

“Joel?” It’s the first time you’ve ever uttered his name.

He seems as taken aback hearing it as you are saying it.

“Joel.” It rolls off your tongue smoother, and with more ease the second time around.

It sparks a flame somewhere deep, deep inside of him, a fire that burns differently than those ignited by carnal desires.

No, this is something else entirely, and you feel it too.

“Baby?” he whispers hoarsely. “S’that really you?”

“Joel!” you cry, hurling yourself into his arms.

Joel’s gun falls from his hand and he curls them around you. Burying his nose into your hair, he inhales deeply. The scent of you, the feel of you—you’re fucking real.

Shuddering with sobs of relief, your arms wrap around his waist, and you cling to him as if you’re clinging onto dear, precious life itself.

“Hush now, s’alright,” Joel soothes, cradling the back of your head in one hand, while the rubs soft, calming circles into your back. “I’ve got you, honey. M’here.”

“I swear I didn’t want to run away,” you explain through your tears. “I begged her to take me back to you, Joel, I really did! But she left me out here—she said she would shoot me if I tried following her back. Please, you have to believe me, you just have to believe me!”

He squeezes you harder against his chest. “I do, baby. I do believe you,” he assures you. Pulling away, he takes a step backward and takes your face between his palms, peering at you in concern. “Y’hurt, sweetheart?”

“No,” you hiccup, curling your hands around his wrists. Your lower lip trembles. “I—I thought I’d never see you again. I was scared I wouldn’t,” you admit, softly.

Joel’s thumb wipes away a fresh tear. “M’here now,” he murmurs. “You’re with me, baby. You’re safe, alright?” As a late evening breeze passes through, he lets you go and shrugs out of his brown jacket. He goes to drape it around your shoulders, but you snatch it right out of his hands, then toss it aside.

Something in you snaps. You take fistfuls of his flannel, pulling him down towards you to do yet something else that takes you both by surprise—you initiate a kiss. You lean forward and press your lips to his, a little swipe of your tongue across his bottom lip as you clutch tighter at his shirt, holding him in place. Groaning, Joel opens his mouth more, his tongue brushing yours.

Liquid heat pools in your belly, and before you realize it, you’ve grown frantic, kissing him with fervor. Releasing his shirt, you slide your hands down his chest, over his stomach, lower and lower until you find his belt buckle. Desperate, you clumsily fumble with it, and that’s when Joel tears away from you, his breath hitching.

You’re begging before he can even say a word. “Please. I need you—I want you. Right now.”

You cup him through his jeans, and he exhales sharply.

“Fuck.” Without giving it a second thought, his hands reach for the straps of your dress, pushing them off of your shoulders. He roughly tugs at the material, letting it slip down your body until it falls around your feet. In a tangle of limbs and tongues, you both sink to the forest floor. Your hands brush his buckle, and he catches your wrists. “Not yet, baby girl. M’still in charge, alright?”

Sheepishly, you nod.

“Say it.” His command is firm, but somehow still gentle.

“You’re—you’re in charge.”

“Good girl.” Joel guides you onto your back. He’s over you in a second, swelling your lips with a hard, hungry kiss that leaves you dizzy and breathless. He moves his mouth, teeth scraping over your cheek and jaw, down to your neck where he nips at the tender, delicate flesh over your pulse point. Then, he bites his way over your collarbone and to your shoulder. “Bet she’s already wet for me,” he mumbles into your skin. “Ain’t she, baby?”

Pushing himself back onto his knees, he slides a finger over your clothed cunt, eliciting a small gasp from you. Hooking his fingers under the elastic waistband of your cotton underwear, he yanks the fabric down your legs. It catches on your foot, your wetness smearing against the inside of your ankle.

You’re drenched.

“C’mere,” Joel grunts, sliding his hands under your ass and pulling your hips over his thighs. He leans over you once more, your bare, throbbing cunt rubbing against the crotch of his jeans. He tuts lightly into your neck as you buck against him. “Such a fuckin’ needy little girl.”

Desperate, you try rolling your hips into his. “Joel.”

“Kinda like it when y’say my name.” He starts making his way down the length of your body. “Think I’ll like it even better when you’re screamin’ it. Won’t I, baby?”

Your stomach tightens as he nibbles his way down your neck again, teeth scraping over your clavicle and down your chest to your heaving tits. Taking one in his hand, the other goes into his mouth—his tongue is scorching hot over your nipple. He licks the pebbled flesh, sucks it and bites it while he rolls the other peak in between his thumb and index finger. “Oh fuck,” you gasp.

Releasing your breast with a wet pop, Joel sinks further down your body. He plants hot, open-mouthed kisses along the curve of your tummy, leaving behind a trail of fire in their wake. He stops over your mound and hovers for a fraction of a second before pressing his nose into the silky soft curls there. Inhaling deeply, Joel picks up the subtle, herbal scent of the lavender soap you had washed yourself with. “Fuck, y’smell so fuckin’ good.”

He pushes your thighs open, pinning one to the ground with his hand while the other goes over his shoulder. Your foot slides down his back, toes curling despite the fact that he hasn’t even reached the spot where you’re aching to have him most. Heart thundering, your blood rushes, roaring in your ears.

Joel turns his head, his lips brushing your inner thigh in another kiss. “S’this where y’want me, honey?” he asks you. Goosebumps erupt over every inch of your skin as he draws closer, his breath like steam on your core. He glances up at you, his cock twitching against his zipper at the sight of you laying naked before him on the floor of the forest. Willing. Wanting. “Hm? Right here?”

“Yes,” you breathe. “Please, Joel.”

Thankfully, you only have to ask him once, and then his face is buried between your legs, and he is giving you what you want.

“Fuck!” you cry out. Back arching, your head tilts back until the crown of it meets the ground, leaves and twigs finding their way into your clean hair.

Joel’s tongue flattens over your cunt in a broad stroke, then dips between your folds, collecting your slick with a harsh groan, one that sends a bone-rattling vibration throughout your entire body, from head to curled toes. His mouth opens wider—a starving, greedy man trying to eat you whole. Sliding his tongue over your clit, Joel seals his lips around it, sucking the sensitive bundle of nerves until it swells in his mouth.

High-pitched little cries and whines spill from your lips. Your hands shoot down, fingers tangling themselves in his dark, graying curls, eliciting a grunt from him when you tug at his roots. “Joel, fuck,” you choke, your nails scraping against his scalp. He slurps and swallows your wetness, the sounds drowning out those of the night—the chirping of crickets, the croaking of frogs, the soft hooting of owls are washed away until all you can hear is him devouring your pussy.

Your body starts to tremble, and you know you’re close. Joel does, too. He feels your thighs twitch, threatening to close around his head, but he wrenches them further apart with a muffled but firm, “No.” He drapes his arm over your pelvis, his large hand splayed on your belly.

Relentless, he sucks your clit, gliding his tongue over it, again and again until the muscles in your lower tummy tighten and you burst at the seams, unraveling into his mouth. Warm slick gushes out of you, a sweet mess he licks clean. You choke back sobs of pleasure, your body tensing, vision blurring with every stroke of his tongue, each scrape of his teeth over your clit.

Joel lifts himself onto his knees with a grunt and gazes down at you—his good girl, sweet and pliant and ready to be fucked full of his cock. His hands slide his belt out of its brass buckle, eyes still trained on you as he pops the button of his jeans and yanks down his zipper.

Your mind is fuzzy, still syrupy and dripping—it doesn’t fully register what he’s doing, not until he climbs back over you and you his hard cock brushes your thigh, hot velvet that sears the inside of your leg. Precum smears your flesh.

“Y’feel that? Feel what you fuckin’ do to me?”

“Joel.” Hands shaking, you reach for the buttons of his shirt, desperate to feel more of his skin on yours. You whine when he catches both of your wrists in one hand, pinning them above your head. “Your clothes—”

“Stay on.” Ducking his head, he nips at your pulse point and mumbles, “Tell me what y’want, pretty girl.”

Joel shifts over you, his cock now resting on your lower belly, thick and heavy and leaking.

You squirm under him, hips coming off the ground, that hollow thing inside of you begging to be filled.

“Use your words, sweetheart. Tell me what y’want.”

“You, Joel—I want you. Please, please, please—”

He hushes you.

“I’ve you, baby. I’ve got you,” Joel promises. He wraps his other hand around himself, dragging the head of his cock along the seam of your puffy folds, up and down—he elicits a ragged little gasp from you when he grazes your clit and his fingers tighten around your wrists. He coats himself in your slippery slick until he’s glistening with it, and then he gives a slow roll of his hips, working himself into you.

Your mouth falls open. No words come out, no pleas for more—only jerky breaths, pathetic little pants for air as you take it.

Joel’s cock throbs, pulses like a heartbeat as your cunt welcomes him home. He presses his forehead to yours. “She’s always so fuckin’ sweet to me.” His voice is low, rough gravel. His eyes meet yours in the dark blue glow of the forest, and he savors the last moments of seeing your pretty face before the last traces of dusk are gone. Brushing his lips to the corner of your mouth, he feeds you his cock inch by inch, murmuring, “That’s it, honey. Good fuckin’ girl.”

You melt around him at his praise.

Releasing your wrists, he moves his hand, placing it on the crown of your head. “Ain’t ever lettin’ you out of my sight again,” he swears. “Alright? Never gonna be apart from me again, baby girl. Never. Y’understand me?” He curls his other hand firmly around your jaw, his fingers sticky with you and him. “Do you understand me?”

“Never,” you repeat, softly.

Joel kisses you, deep and slow, almost sweet. Tender. He breaks away, his lips hovering right over yours as he pushes his hips forward, bottoming out inside you.

Moaning, your hands grasp at his shoulders. Your legs widen further to accommodate the breadth of his hips.

“There y’go.” Joel presses deep within, until your belly feels hot and full. “That’s it, baby. Good girl,” he coos, drawing his hips back, then rolling them right back into you. He takes one of your ankles and tosses it over his shoulder, giving himself a better angle to fuck into you.

A loud cry tears from the back of your throat. “Joel!”

He grins in the darkness. He knew he’d like hearing you scream his name.

Joel’s hand settles on your leg that’s over his shoulder, your thigh already shaking. “Y’gonna be a real good girl n’ give me another one?”

You try to answer him, you really do, but your mind falls further and further away.

His fingertips sink into your thigh. He strokes in and out of you, never retreating more than inches at a time so he keeps you full. Stuffed. “Christ. Takin’ it so fuckin’ well,” he croons, moving your leg off of his shoulder so they are both wrapped around his waist. Hunching over you, he bears down hard, using most of his weight. He almost chuckles at the little oof that puffs out of you.

Rocks and twigs dig painfully into your back, but all you can do is feel him. How close he is.

You’re right there with him.

“Joel—fuck, I’m gonna co—”

You’re cut off by your own sharp gasp.

“That’s it. C’mon, honey.” Joel slips his hand between your thighs, his fingers firmly rubbing your clit. “C’mon, baby. Be a good girl and come on my cock—”

It rips through you like an electric current, a shockwave that has you clawing at the dirt. You come crying Joel’s name, crumbling into a whimpering, quivering mess.

Within seconds, he’s swept away by the same tide.

“Baby,” he groans, dropping his head into the hollow of your neck. He goes still and lets your tight cunt clench at him, gripping his cock as it throbs, pulses, empties into you. After a minute, he brushes a kiss to your neck before mumbling, “My sweet girl.”

Joel makes no move to pull out of you. Wrapping your arms around his shoulders, your soiled fingers toy with the soft curls at the nape of his neck, shattered breaths slowing and piecing back together.

You gaze up through the trees at the night sky, feeling the safest you’ve ever been with the earth at your back and your whole world on top of you, his cock buried in your cunt.

Tess is right. Joel Miller really does have you fucked in the head.

You’re certain of it when you make the realization with a smile.

divider credit to @/saradika 🖤

for fic notifications please follow @joelsgreysupdates!

#why yes #i AM going to queue this to post when i am dead asleep #captive!joel #dark joel miller #dark! joel miller #tw dubcon #tw dubious consent #tw noncon #tw dark fic #joel miller smut #joel miller x reader #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller x female reader #joel miller x you #joel miller one shot #fic: run

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chilling-seavey · 4 months ago

Text

The Patriarchy (gr63)

↳ A/N So @sadiethekoala encouraged my curiosity of dabbling in writing/posting my 'darker' kink content so...here you go 🫣

↳ Summary: Of course George is a feminist; but who is he to deny you when sometimes you just want him to treat you like his property.

↳ Pairings: George Russell x Fem!Reader (NO use of y/n)

↳ Word Count: 3.5k

↳ Warnings: 18+, NSFW, light drinking, patriarchy kink (major fetishization of traditional gender roles), arguably free use kink, breeding kink, heavy degradation and dumbification and objectification (name calling like 'slut', 'whore', and 'bitch'), spanking, spitting, hair pulling, restraining, dirty talk, choking, rough unprotected sex, aftercare is NOT written in this fic but take it that it will be IMPLIED (aftercare is a MUST after intense and degrading scenes like this!!!).

George had been proud of you for as long as he had known you. You were a hardworking and determined woman and he loved seeing you pursue your career so strongly and passionately. It was honestly one of the things George admired you most for. You weren’t someone to take anyone’s shit and certainly not when it came at the expense of your beliefs, passions, or those you cared for the most.

In a man’s world, you pushed the boundaries of what a woman was capable of and George, of course, backed you every step of the way. Especially while so invested in a vastly male-dominate sport such as Formula 1, George only grew more and more aware of the prejudices and disparities that were hidden between the lines. And, in such, he always made himself publicly viable as someone who believed in equality without bounds.

Behind closed doors, that very same belief lingered. In your Monaco apartment, you equally divided up household chores and tasks, shared the responsibility of cooking, and came to mutually agreeable terms that made your life together that much more enjoyable and refreshing. A relationship built on trust and equality, it was the balance of give and take that left you both as strong as ever.

What came with the ease of your relationship was open communication and, with that, a bit of a pre-disclosed agreement from months before that George had figured you had forgotten about. It was something said haphazardly one night when the two of you were wine drunk and cuddled up on the living room floor; a little secret you had been harbouring, whispering to him plainly about your deepest desires. Your smiling confession was something so unlike your natural persona that for a moment he had thought you were entirely joking. But you were serious, pleading with him that if he ever saw you donning that vintage blue gingham dress, that he had your unspoken consent to push the hazy boundaries into a roleplay vastly different from what you were familiar with sharing together. George agreed to your terms and thought it wouldn’t ever really come to fruition.

It was a joke, he was sure of it. No fiercely independent woman such as yourself ever wanted to be treated under such taboo, out-dated, and almost cruel mid-century gender roles. Right?

Until on Thursday night when George came home from media duties just about the time you had finished making dinner, finding you donning that sweet 1950s gingham dress and matching white kitten heels. It was the last thing he had expected to come home to, falling to a surprised stop as he entered the apartment to the smell of a delicious meal waiting for him.

You smiled over at him in the foyer and hurried over to take his jacket off of him, “Welcome home, love.”

“Hello.” George said slowly, letting his arms slip out of his collared jacket as you carefully pulled it from his shoulders. His suspicions were simmering as you leaned in to kiss him once before hanging up his jacket in the front closet. He asked a tentative, “What’s all this for?”

You tucked your hand in the crook of his arm and led him over to the table that was neatly made up with two place settings, “I figured you had a long day at work and wanted dinner as soon as you got home.”

“Yeah...that’s nice.” George said, testing the waters a little.

He sat down and watched you walk over to the bar cart to pour him a drink, topping it with a few ice cubes before bringing it back over to him. You set the short glass in his hand and left a kiss to his cheek and headed into the kitchen again, your heels clicking over the hardwood floors. George watched you silently, sipping his drink and leaning back in his chair with his left hand drumming a slow quiet pattern on the mahogany table top as you bustled around the kitchen to finish up.

“You look pretty today, love.” he tried.

You smiled to yourself as you plated the food, “Thank you, sweetheart.”

It wasn’t far out of George’s mind that he wanted to marry you one day - although he always told himself that was for years in the future - but there was something about the stereotypical domesticity of it all that seemed to...enlist a change in him. At first hesitant about carrying through with your agreement, he suddenly felt a flutter of something curious deep within him, wanting to try this out for himself. And if you wanted it? Who was he to deny you that?

“Was work alright?” you asked sweetly as you brought over two filled plates and set them on the table.

“Yeah, it was hectic.” George set his half finished drink down on the table and pushed his chair back a little to lead you onto his lap. You obeyed, perching yourself on his thighs, staring at him quietly as he eyed you up. His blue eyed gaze traced the side of your dress up to the clothed curves of your breasts and then across your collarbones, your neck, and jaw, finishing at your rouge painted lips. He swiped the pad of his thumb over your bottom lip and pulled it down gently to watch it fall back into place, “I missed you.”

“I missed you too.” you replied, your voice a sweet drawling purr as your arm draped around his shoulders, manicured fingers toying with the seam of his Mercedes team shirt.

Your soft words made a small smile tug at the corner of his mouth and he set his hand down on your thighs right at the hem of your dress, patting your lap gently before he gave a gentle squeeze to your flesh.

He pressed you on with a cheeky, “How much?”

“Way too much,” you answered, an angelic smile on your lips, knowing exactly what you were doing when you punctuated your reply with a, “sir.”

That word always snapped something in him, digging right down to his raw desire to just have you at that exact moment the three letters fell from your sweet lips.

The sudden speed at which he moved made you gasp, forced off his lap as he stood. He pushed you right up against the edge of the table until the edge was pressing right against your pelvis and your hands fell flat against the wood surface. The filled plate rested, steaming, between the frame of your hands.

“Is that so?”

He was right behind you, his body pressed up close and his breath right against your ear. His hands slid down your straight arms before resting right on top of yours, holding them down on the table.

“Is that why you wore this pretty little dress for me?”

“Yessir.” you breathed shakily, your heart already racing with anticipation. Your home cooked meal sat warm on the plates in front of you but any appetite for real food was gone; you were too busy craving him instead.

“Yeah?” George growled against your ear as he pulled up the bottom of your dress, having to take a few handfuls to successfully bunch up the dress and the voluminous petticoat underneath. When he had enough of the fabric in one large hand, he used his other to slap down hard against your ass.

The sharp spank echoed through the apartment and you gasped forward at the impact. It wasn’t often that George got rough with you - he was more the sweet and gentle type within his passion - so the rare times the more dominant side of him came to the surface, you capitalized on it. Especially now, when something much more intense seemed to have come over him, like he was really ready to go all out to give you exactly what you had confessed to him that you wanted.

You withered as he pushed his hand around your waist and under the bunched up fabric of your dress to slide over the front of your panties, pressing his whole hand down on your pussy, the heel of his palm right over your clothed clit. His lips met your neck in sloppy kisses, moaning lowly as he felt how warm you were under his touch while he sucked hickeys into your skin and breathed you in completely.

“Baby…” you whispered, “What about dinner?”

“I don’t want it.” he reached around you and shoved both plates to the side and out of the way, clattering the cutlery and a fork fell to the floor in his bit of an aggressive rush. He then bent you forward over the table and spanked you hard again, “I want my pretty little housewife to take my whole fucking dick while I fuck her like my own personal little whore.”

You could have sworn you could have dripped down your thighs at his demand, biting back your eager grin as he held your head down against the table by a tight grip at the back of your neck. He spanked you again with his other hand, once, twice, a third time. A pink handprint was undoubtedly appearing on the curve of your bum where he hit you. Unperturbed, George just linked his finger in the thin fabric of your panties to pull the waistband higher, giving him a full canvas of your perfect ass for him to slap his palm down harder.

“Please.” you squeaked out.

“Please what, my love?” George pressed, groping your ass before spanking you hard again. “I hope you’re not trying to tell me what to do right now. You know who’s in charge here.”

You let out a little whimper in silent submission, your cheek still pressed to the table top from where he held you down. George then linked his finger around the lace of your underwear and followed the fabric right down between your legs where you were already soaking through the material.

“Really missed me, huh, sweetheart?” George taunted, gently pinching your clit to pull a sharp gasp from your throat. Then, without warning, he grabbed the thin material of your panties in his fist and tore it right off you.

The slight sting of the ripping fabric over your hips and the rough grunt that left his chest with his strength had your teeth sinking tightly into your bottom lip through a small whimper, hands still pressed flatly to the table top on either side of your head.

“Fucking hell,” George chuckled darkly, lifting up the puffed skirt of your knee length dress again to keep it bunched up around your middle, “you look so fucking pretty like this.”

“Please, sir.” you breathed, pushing your hips back on him until the front of his slacks were pressed up snugly between your legs.

You could feel the bulge in his pants and how it was pulling the fabric taut. It made your mouth water, your teeth sinking into your bottom lip again with a small hum, desperately grinding back on him to somehow get him right where you needed him most.

“God, you’re such a pathetic little slut, my love.” George tisked, slapping his hand down on your ass one more time before shoving you forward again, trapping you entirely between his body and the edge of the table. He kept you there firmly while he worked to unpin his belt, the faint clinks of the metal buckle and what it implied had your pussy fluttering in anticipation. With his belt undone and slacks unzipped, his large hands groped your hips and followed your desperate motions back against him, grinding against you a little more with your feet planted securely on the floor in your kitten heels.

George didn’t even strip completely, he just pushed his pants and boxers down to the tops of his thighs just enough to pull his dick out and then he was shuffling up close behind you.

“Please, fuck me. I need you so bad, sir.” you whined.

“Listen to you, sweetheart; calling me ‘sir’ like a submissive little bitch.” his voice was low and gravely, full of lust.

He took his hand from the back of your neck to, instead, wrap around your throat to pull your chest off the table. This way, he could lean forward and brush his lips over the shell of your ear while his dick pressed teasingly up against your entrance, feeling the way your body shivered at his words.

“Yeah, you like me calling you my little bitch?” George purred right into your ear, his hot breath falling against your neck and raising the hairs on your arms while his fingers squeezed the sides of your throat, “Wearing this pretty little dress...making a shitty little meal to get my attention...just asking for me to fuck you stupid.”

“Yeah.” was all you could whine out, lashes fluttering.

“Yeah?” he mocked you tauntingly, barely giving you a moment's warning as he pushed inside you strongly.

Your mouth fell open in silence as he stretched you out, letting out a soft little squeak at the pressure he spread across your hips. Your hand squeaked across the wood table as you tried to find something to hold onto, ending up reaching up to grasp his wrist.

“Fuck.” George huffed stiffly, his hips flexing against yours, tightening his hand around your throat. “Love this tight fucking cunt.”

He started rocking into you slowly at first, savouring each stroke as if to feel you all, to give you every inch, and his slow breaths fell against the side of your face warmly.

“So good.” you whimpered, pushing back on him in steady time, “You’re so big, sir.”

“Yeah, you love my cock, don’t you, sweetheart?” he spoke lowly, “Been waiting for this all day, huh? Wanting me to come home from work and fuck you full?”

“Yeah. Please.” you cried, pressing your palms down harder on the table top as he sped up.

He shoved into you a bit harder, grunting hard against your ear until all you could focus on was him; the stretch he pushed through your body, the smell of the light alcohol on his breath and his familiar cologne that still dotted his shirt from that mornings application, and his hand around your throat.

“Oohh, God.” you squeaked out, mouth falling open as he took you over the side of the dining room table.

“Good girl.” George said lowly against your ear, his salacious words a lustful chant, “My good little housewife...good little fucking whore. So pretty and submissive for me. Gonna let me fuck you how I want, isn’t that right?”

“Yes, sir, please, please, please-” you begged shakily.

“Yeah?” George pulled your head back by your throat, finger and thumb pressed right up under your jaw to hold you tightly.

Your head was almost bent entirely back to look at him upside down, your mouth agape as a flurry of pleasured sounds tumbled from your lips uncontrollably. He fucked the sounds from your throat with practiced ease, the dishes on the table rattling with every firm ram into your body as he took you how he pleased.

You squealed loudly, hands rolling into fists on the table top as tears pricked your eyes through the painful pleasure he expertly pushed through your whole body. He held you in place with one hand fisting your dress and petticoat over the small of your back and the other squeezing your throat until your mouth was falling open through little gasps.

“That’s it.” George groaned, pulling your head back towards his shoulder before he was pinching your cheeks between thumb and forefinger to spit loudly in your mouth. “Want me to put a fucking baby in you, sweetheart?”

The words were unexpected but the way your body clenched so hard around him that he almost lost it right then and there was his answer enough. He shoved two fingers in your mouth and picked up speed a little more, groaning hungrily against your cheek

“Yeah, you do. Gonna get you nice and full and pregnant. My pretty little wife’s gonna look so good knocked up.”

“Yes, sir, yes, sir, please-” you mumbled through his fingers, words barely sensible as you drooled down his palm involuntarily as he kept you gagged.

“Oh my God, baby.” George gripped you tighter, fucking you harder and faster until the table was nearly scraping across the hardwood floor with every thrust. “Gonna make a fucking mess of you...cum so fucking deep inside you. Gonna knock you up like my good little bitch.”

“I need it! Fill me up, baby, please!” you cried messily, clawing at the table as your pussy pulsed strongly around him.

“You need it?” he cooed, “You need me to cum inside you? To make you a mommy? Hm?”

All you could do was stumble out a chant of, “Yeah, yeah, yeah-”

In one swift movement, George pulled his fingers from your mouth and tangled his hand in your hair to shove you down against the table again. You caught yourself on your forearms with a squealing gasp, sliding forward under his controlling hand until your chest was flat to the table and your fingers could wrap around the opposite edge of the table. The slick lewd sound of your skin colliding filled your modest apartment as he ravished you from behind, harmonized so prettily with your shared breaths and moans.

“I want you to cum for me, sweetheart.” George spoke through his teeth as he held you face down on the table, “Show me how good I can make my pretty little wife feel while I pump her full of cum.”

His other hand slipped around your waist under the plethora of fabric from your dress without faltering the firm thrusts he gave you. His fingers were easily coated in your slick wetness as they blindly found their way between your legs, making it almost effortless for him to rub easy circles over your clit. You fell perfectly silent at his added touch, gripping onto the edge of the table even tighter as you felt that indescribable warmth coiling strongly within you. In seconds, your eyes were nearly rolling back and your toes were curling in your heels as you came around him, gasping and panting and moaning as your body clutched right down on him like a vice.

“That’s it!” George groaned loudly, shoving into you faster and more desperately to help you draw out your orgasm, “That’s fucking it, baby. I’m gonna put so many babies in you…show off that you’re mine. My perfect little cockslut housewife. Begging to be fucking knocked up. Shit-”

Oversensitive from your orgasm, his aggression had you whining loudly, tears burning in the corners of your eyes. He wasn’t letting up, taking exactly what he wanted from you, just how you had begged him to all those weeks ago in your tipsy confession. Your eyes were screwed shut with pleasure that bordered on the precipice of pain, unable to control the way you cried out until your voice echoed through the apartment. George slapped his hand over your mouth.

“Take it.” he ordered through his teeth against your ear, “You’re gonna take my whole fucking load until you’re dripping like a pathetic little bitch.”

You whined into his warm palm and felt him twitch inside you as your muscles pulsed around his thick length.

“Fucking...take it.”

George came hard, bucking into you sloppily through loud moans and grunts. His eyes scrunched closed through it, fingers pressing you harder into the tabletop as he shot thick warm spurts deep inside you. You could only grab onto his arm as he filled you up, withering behind the erotic feeling of him claiming you completely. His moans were heavenly and you nearly came a second time at the overwhelm of it all and his hand that was wrapped around the back of your neck only tightened as he finished.

He let you go after a second and you pushed yourself up from the table, your arms straight and hands flat as you glanced back at him over your shoulder. George’s lips grazed your jaw and he left a few lazy kisses over your skin as you both took a moment to catch your breaths, lingering in the post-orgam bliss together for a moment longer. His hands ran down your sides warmly and you let out a shaky sigh.

George then reached a hand up to gently tilt your chin towards him with a soft, “Come here.”

You kissed him sweetly, sharing lingering kisses with his dick still pressed up nice and deep inside you. After a few moments, he leaned back to look at your face and he gave your hand a squeeze before shifting back from you and pulled out slowly. Your body ached as he left you empty but his fingers pressed themselves between your legs instead.

He could feel your heartbeat right there, not to mention how soaked you were, dripping his cum out and onto his fingers, hidden under the skirt of your dress as it fell back down around your thighs. George left a little kiss to your shoulder when he finally pulled back and he gave your bum a little pat before he was zipping up his pants again,

“Order us a pizza, sweetheart. Dinner got cold.”

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