#Snow White defense | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

princesssarisa · 8 months

Text

Comments about "Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs" that can and should coexist

I think these comments address every feminist complaint I've ever read about the 1937 Disney classic, though I don't know if they'll all be "addressed" in the live-action remake or not.

"It's an old-fashioned convention for a fictional young girl's dreams to revolve around romance, based in the outdated, patriarchal idea that love and marriage are what female lives 'naturally' revolve around and should revolve around. It's only appropriate that more 'modern,' 'feminist' heroines have different wishes and goals."

and

"For a lonely, abused orphan like Snow White, whose only apparent friends at the beginning are birds, it's perfectly natural that she should dream of love."

"Love at First Sight isn't realistic, to portray it in modern media is out of fashion, and in real life, it would be ridiculous at best and disturbing at worst for a young man to just notice a pretty girl singing alone in a courtyard and promptly climb over the wall and sing a love song to her."

and

"Love at First Sight is a storytelling convention, and children can see it in fairy tales without assuming it's real. It won't make your daughter instantly run off with a cute stranger. Snow White and the Prince's romance isn't meant to be realistic – it's a simple, old-fashioned, idealized Romeo and Juliet-style romance, and we should feel free to enjoy it as such."

"Modern feminism doesn't like damsels in distress. It's only natural that in today's media, heroines should show more strength in the face of danger than they did in 1930s media."

and

"It's perfectly natural for Snow White to be petrified with fear when the Huntsman is about to kill her – instead of, say, trying to fight back – and frantic with terror as she runs through the dark forest. Not because 'girls are weak,' but because she's so young. A boy in the same situation would have just as much right to be terrified. Besides, after her initial terror passes, she proves remarkably resilient as she comforts herself by befriending the animals and singing a song. Not all strength looks 'tough,' after all."

"The original Grimms' tale and the 1937 film's emphasis on Snow White's cleaning and cooking reflects an outdated, patriarchal model of ideal femininity. It's probably best for a modern retelling to at least slightly downplay it, or omit it altogether."

and

"There's absolutely nothing wrong with having a nurturing personality and favoring domestic skills, regardless of gender. It's perfectly fine that as an individual, Snow White enjoys cooking and uses songs and imagination to make housework fun. Especially because of the Cinderella-like life her stepmother forced her into – domestic work is the main skill that she's learned, and it's all she has to offer the dwarfs in exchange for staying in their house."

"The 1937 Snow White is a bit too much of a 'mother hen' to the dwarfs, in a way that arguably borders on ableism. In a modern reimagining, she should remember that they're her elders, not children, and give them due respect."

and

"It's endearing to watch Snow White cajole, gently scold, and tease the dwarfs, and to gain power over a household of seven men in her own soft way."

"As the Queen's only (step)child, Snow White is presumably the heir to the throne. Retellings focuses on her coming into her own as a leader, leading a rebellion against the Queen, and finally becoming queen herself in the end are valid. So are retellings where the Queen is only Snow White's regent and wants to kill her not just for her beauty, but to keep the throne for herself."

and

"Snow White doesn't need to be a leader and her storyline doesn't need to be political in any way. That's not what the tale is about."

"Someday My Prince Will Come isn't a modern feminist song, just like I'm Wishing isn't one. It's out of fashion for a heroine's dreams to revolve around romantic love. The emphasis on the Prince coming to Snow White also places her in a passive role, rather than letting her be active like a more modern heroine and search for him."

and

"Someday My Prince Will Come gets a bad rap. Snow White isn't fantasizing about a prince she's never met. She loves him already, and is singing of her undying hope that they'll meet again, even though it seems unlikely that they will. Nor does she center her whole life around her dreams of him. Apart from the song and her wish on the "wishing apple," she never even mentions him after their meeting: as much as she loves him, she doesn't waste time pining for him, but moves on with her life while holding onto her faith that they'll reunite. Nor can she go looking for him herself, because she's in hiding from the Queen, so of course she dreams that he'll come to her."

"Snow White is painfully naïve to trust the Witch, and to let her in the house and take food from her despite having been warned repeatedly to beware of strangers. This earns her no points as a role model. It's no wonder that modern adaptations tend to make her 'smarter,' and either (a) have the Queen take the shape of someone she already knows and trusts, or (b) have her know the apple is poisoned, but eat it as a self-sacrifice to save the dwarfs' lives or some such thing, or (c) rewrite the story's climax to cut the poisoning altogether."

and

"Snow White isn't stupid, she's just naïve because she's young, and the Witch takes advantage of her kindness and her love. Despite knowing better, she can't bear to refuse a frail old woman's pleas to let her rest in the house. Then when she's told that the apple grants wishes and will bring the Prince to her, when she's been dreaming of him so ardently and still has no way of knowing if they'll meet again, she can't resist. It's a fatal mistake, but aren't heroines allowed to make mistakes? Must she be a role model in every moment? Why can't it be poignant that the Witch takes advantage of her youthful innocence and tender heart to mislead her?"

"The trope of the male hero saving the heroine was overused and outdated long ago. It makes sense for a modern retelling of Snow White to find some way or other for Snow White to save herself."

and

"The Prince waking Snow White isn't a particularly glaring case of 'boy rescues girl.' It's just a matter of love conquering evil. The Prince doesn't do any 'manly' act of heroism; all he does is give Snow White a kiss that he doesn't even know will revive her."

"The Prince kissing the seemingly-dead Snow White's lips has earned so much controversy over the years that it should be no surprise when modern retellings avoid it."

and

"The Prince's kiss isn't 'necrophilia' or 'non-consensual.' He's just giving his 'dead' beloved a sad, affectionate farewell. In later movies, is Belle being 'necrophiliac' or 'non-consensual' when she lays her head on the Beast's lifeless chest while declaring her love, or is Elsa when she hugs Anna's ice statue form in grief? This is no different."

"The Queen can be seen as a misogynistic figure, first of all by vilifying a woman in power, secondly because petty vanity is her motive, and any possible sympathetic explanation for why she's so desperate to be the fairest in the land (e.g. because society ties women's worth too much to their beauty) is ignored. It's understandable that a modern retelling should try to make her a more nuanced figure."

and

"The Queen is still one of Disney's most terrifying villains, despite being the first. She doesn't need more 'depth' or 'nuance' to be an outstanding character."

"Snow White is a passive character in both the original Grimms' tale and the Disney film. She's defined more by what happens to her and how other people feel about her than by anything she does. So of course modern retellings will tend to find ways to make her a more active player and give her more agency."

and

"A character doesn't need to be 'active' or have constant 'agency' to be a good character. We push for heroines to have 'agency' because women have too often been forced to be passive and rely on men, but for an individual character, in and of herself, 'active' doesn't need to be the rule. In the Grimms' tale, Snow White is passive because she's more of a symbol of youth and beauty than a real person: the real (villain) protagonist is the Queen. And in the Disney film, where Snow White is more of a person and more clearly the protagonist, what she does is be warm, friendly, and full of life and joy. In this way she earns others' love, and love saves her life. For some of us, this is wish-fulfillment and central to the story's appeal. Snow White is threatened with the Queen's terrible hatred, but just by being herself she earns a bounty of love, and love proves stronger than hate."

#disney #snow white and the seven dwarfs #snow white #feminism #commentary #defense

35 notes · View notes

marciabrady · 2 years

Text

rachel ze*ger: *bashes Disney's Snow White as a dated portrayal of women without substance and says her Snow White will actually have to learn lessons throughout the film, unlike the original*

actual quotes from the original film that depict some of the lessons Snow White both learns and teaches during her narrative, identifying her value to past and future audiences:

"I really feel quite happy now. I'm sure I'll get along somehow. Everything's going to be all right." The power of positivity and optimism yields resilience in the face of adversity. Snow White was almost murdered and had to run away from the only home she'd ever known. She had a panic attack and allowed herself to process her emotions in a healthy way, and once she acknowledged her feelings, she instantly felt much better and began to make plans on how to rebuild her life. You can't become a product of the things that have happened to you- you have to continue moving through life. So yes- acknowledge what's happening, process your emotions, but also don't let circumstances outside of your control destroy you. Get back up and keep going, even when it seems impossible. You're capable of so much more than you realize.

"Please don't run away. I won't hurt you. I'm awfully sorry. I didn't mean to frighten you. But you don't know what I've been through. And all because I was afraid. I'm so ashamed of the fuss I've made." Despite what you're currently going through, you can't let that bleed through to how you affect and treat other people. Always be mindful of the impact you have on others and never allow yourself to become a victim of your own misfortune. While it's important to allow yourself to fully experience the weight of your own emotions, sometimes getting too stuck in your own circumstances can make a situation worse and create additional barriers for you to conquer. Keep everything in perspective and keep your eyes open to the communities around you.

"And as you sweep the room, imagine that the broom, is someone that you love and soon you'll find you're dancing to the tune." Always infuse even the most mundane things about you with love and suddenly your work, no matter how seemingly inconsequential it may be, will feel meaningful.

"When hearts are high the time will fly so whistle while you work." Doing something with lifted spirits and in a state of happiness makes a job ten times easier than setting about to accomplish something in a miserable mood. Nine times out of time, working on something when you're in a good disposition will also provide better results and findings.

"I know! We'll clean the house and surprise them. Then maybe they'll let me stay." Never expect anything from anyone. While Snow White assumed that the cottage belonged to orphans, making it an orphanage- and she, herself, is an orphan and she'd then have a rightful place there if, indeed, it was an orphanage- she didn't expect free room and board. She looked about her and noticed that there were gaps to be filled- namely in cleaning and cooking- and then went about fulfilling those tasks, which she hoped to leverage to bargain shelter for herself.

"Now you wash up the dishes. You tidy up the room. You clean the fireplace. And I'll use the broom!" Divide and conquer! Snow White delegated the various tasks of cleaning to the different animals and accomplished what would've individually taken her all day in a single afternoon. Identify the strengths and weaknesses of those around you, and work together as a collective to bring yourselves closer to a shared goal.

"You think their mother would- maybe they have no mother. Then they're orphans. That's too bad." Never assume anything about other people because you don't know the path of life they walk down and their situation. Never judge someone by what they're wearing or what they look like or the house they live in because you're never going to be fully aware of their circumstances and you'll come across as ignorant. Lead with compassion, always.

"If you let me stay, I'll keep house for you. I'll wash and sew and sweep and cook..." To avoid being kicked out of the haven she'd found, Snow White needed to pitch her values to the future landlords. As mentioned above, Snow White noticed the gaps that were needed to be filled in the house and pitched her services accordingly to tempt the dwarfs into letting her stay. It's hard to argue in the face of facts. Snow White knew the value she could bring to the Dwarf's cottage and wasn't shy about presenting it to them in a plea to allow her refuge.

"Oh, [you've washed] recently? Let me see your hands!" Never take anything anyone says at face value. If you're doubting them, call them on their bluff and ask for proof- and never be afraid to voice your doubt.

"March straight outside and wash or you'll not have a bite to eat!" Despite the fact that the Dwarfs nearly kicked her out before agreeing to letting her stay, Snow White had ownership of the tasks related to cooking and cleaning and she wouldn't budge until the Dwarfs behaved accordingly to the standards she set in place. She treated them as equals which, in turn, made them treat her as an equal. Sometimes, people are too afraid to come off as bossy or intimidating, or to throw their weight around, but there are moments you'll need to assert yourself and if you play second fiddle to someone, they'll treat you as just that.

"Bless the seven little men who have been so kind to me." Before wishing for anything for herself, or allowing herself to fall into a line of self despair over the tragic events of what happened to her earlier in the day, Snow White is grateful among all else. She thanks the Seven Dwarfs for their generosity toward her and asks for God to bless them. With a grateful heart, you can accomplish anything, and if you're thankful for the good things in your life and don't take anything for granted, your fortune will only multiply.

"Well, aren't you going to wash? What's the matter[, Grumpy]- cat got your tongue?" Snow White wasn't afraid to match Grumpy's energy in the moments he exhibited hatred toward her, but she always kept it playful and never meanspirited. If we encounter hatred in the workplace or at home, sometimes it behooves us to stick up for ourselves or comment on the apparent behavior others are exhibiting toward us. Always be mindful of limitations and how to express this in a safe way though- Snow White never pokes a hornet's nest or says anything toward Grumpy that would threaten the home she'd made for herself in the cottage. She knows exactly how close to walk up to the line.

more lessons we can observe from snow white in the 1937 film from her body language and different plot points:

Leave a situation that's dangerous and frightening to you. The minute the Huntsman tells Snow White of the Queen's motives, Snow White flees into the forest for refuge. She didn't try to sympathize with the Queen or reason her way out of it. Snow White recognized the potential danger she was in and she worked quickly to remove herself from it. A girl I worked with once said Snow White was dense for this- after all, why wouldn't she work with the Huntsman to ensure he'd bring her food and water while she was in the forest or assist in finding her a place of shelter? But the fact of the matter is, Snow White trusted the Huntsman once and that resulted in him nearly killing her. Cutting ties with him was the most conducive way to a safe future. Even if he didn't want to hurt her, if Snow White's whereabouts were known to him, there's no telling what the Queen would do to him to retrieve that information or to force him into using that knowledge to put Snow White in a place of danger, once again. More on this in the incredible post my friend made.

Make your intentions known! Snow White, in many ways, is a product of manifestation. Her mother wished for a child as white as snow, as black as the ebony on her window-frame, and as red as blood, and she received just that from the universe. Likewise, Snow White didn't shy away from making her wishes known to the wishing well- the wish of love after years of neglect and isolation and abuse- and her love came to her by the end of the song. Later, during the scene with the apple, she again voices her wish to be reunited with her lost love- and sure enough, it comes true!

Trust your instincts! So many people overlook this lesson that Snow White teaches, but she was visibly uncomfortable by the hag during their shared scenes. Her body language depicts her consistently shrinking away from the other woman, and generally behaving in an uneasy demeanor with tense facial expressions and a disturbed energy. She even openly says, "I feel strange" after consuming the apple. The hag applied to Snow White's compassion, identifying it as a "weak spot", because she could tell Snow White was growing increasingly vague and guarded.

Don't judge a book by its cover. Snow White wasn't frightened by the hag because of her unconventional appearance, but the frightening energy with which she interacted with Snow White. However, Snow White never judged the hag's appearance and when the hag feigned a heart attack, Snow White's compassion motivated her to nurse the old woman back to health and give her a drink of water. Juxtapose this with the Beast from Beauty and the Beast who couldn't see past the hag's outer appearance and refused to offer her shelter for the night. In turn, he was cursed until he learned the lesson that Snow White had already known.

Never expect anything from anyone or rely on a title. Snow White is the Princess of the land the Seven Dwarfs dwell in, yet she never once relied on her title or power in her interactions with them. She easily could've pulled rank and pointed out that since their property fell on the land of her rule and her former parents' rule, they should be more than willing to accommodate her. Instead of relying on these false barometers of social standing, Snow White interacted with them on a human level and offered to work in exchange for her room and board. This led to the Dwarfs interacting with her as an equal in return and they had so much more love for her than they would've if she pulled a "do you know who I am" card, leading them to rush to the cottage that much more quickly when they sensed she was in danger and surrounding her coffin in eternal vigil prior to the ending of the film.

Be open to different ways of thought and to the world around you. We live in a nuanced, vibrant world with so many different ways of thought and methods of approaching a conflict. One of the top attributes employers look for in future hires is a teachable spirit. There are many times throughout the film where Snow White askes those around her for ideas and is open to advice. "What do you do when things go wrong?" "Maybe you know where I can stay- in the woods, somewhere? You do? Will you take me there?" Snow White is always open to experiencing the world around her and never discounts the opinions and thoughts and values of those around her. In turn, she leads a very full life and this resourcefulness serves her in moments in dire need- like when she's homeless in the woods with no future prospects or connections.

#snow white #snow white defense tag #snow white 1937 #oof i'm so angry #i get lily and elle did this #and naomi to a certain extent #but like #this hurts the deepest #there's so much hate for snow white already that #i would've expected rachel to respect the character or understand her somewhat #or be the person to present the character in an authentic way that would soften contemporary audiences up to snow white #what she's doing is cheap and disgusting and anything but novel

188 notes · View notes

demigodofhoolemere · 3 months

Text

I’ve been seeing this float around on Facebook lately and it’s bugging the crud out of me:

What is with everyone’s obsession with insisting it’s bad to need to be rescued? For as long as the human race has been on the planet, people have had problems that they needed other people’s help to resolve. Needing help is not a failing nor should it be the takeaway from these princesses’ stories as if it’s a bad thing that makes them weak. Yes, they do need help. Your point?

Snow White and Aurora were both under a curse that rendered each of them effectively dead. Were they supposed to magically wake themselves up? I’d want to be rescued if I were them. Plus, breaking it down to “she needed a prince” belittles the efforts of the Seven Dwarfs and the Three Good Fairies, who did most of the legwork in the resolution of their respective movie plots out of deep platonic love for the girls under their care. Then there’s Cinderella, who lived in an abusive household. It’s not a weakness that she wasn’t able to get out of that situation on her own, and once again, giving all the credit to the prince (and credit where credit is due, he did search far and wide for her and was able to take her away from that life in the end) detracts from the aid provided by the Fairy Godmother who enabled her to get out in the first place. All of these ladies had more helpers than just their princes, and it is because of the combined love and efforts of all of these people that our heroines were able to have their happy endings. There are plenty of great stories where the heroine is able to fight for herself, but these particular stories aren’t about that because these ladies are each in terrible circumstances where they simply don’t have the ability to do so. They do what they can, but in the end they can’t save themselves alone and there’s nothing wrong with that. These are beautiful stories about having people in your life that value you enough to fight for you when you can’t fight for yourself. Wouldn’t we all want someone to come to our rescue when there’s nothing we can do about our situation? Is it not a good and comforting moral to show that there are people in your corner who will show up for you no matter what the circumstances?

The other thing that’s bugging me about this:

Leia has to be rescued. By a man, and at that, one who could technically be seen as a prince. No one bats an eye at this, because it’s understood that she’s being held prisoner on the Death Star and couldn’t possibly be expected to get out of that on her own. It’s not seen as a weakness that someone had to come for her and take her away from there. Leia is awesome and is rightfully acknowledged as a great heroine, but she also needs help sometimes, because everybody does.

So WHY do people get so hung up on these princesses who also shouldn’t be expected to get out of their own prison cells of eternal sleep or abusive family by themselves? Why the strong negative reaction to girls needing outside help in such serious scenarios? For all that people say these stories teach girls to sit and wait for a man to save them, the stories themselves absolutely never try to say that, and frankly, with the opposite trend in recent years of fictional women who have to do everything on their own and can’t be shown to need help because they have to be the Strong Female Character, I’d be far more concerned about the impact that would have on girls. Far better to say you might need help at some point in your life than to instill the idea that you’re not a strong girl or not good enough if you can’t do everything by yourself.

Anyway. Justice for the classic Disney princesses.

#this is a disney princesses defense blog #disney #snow white #cinderella #sleeping beauty #star wars #sw: originals #leia skywalker #rant #and on a personal level? i’ve been in the position of feeling like an idiot or failure if i couldn’t do everything by myself #i was terrified for a long time to ask people for help because it felt like admitting that i was what i felt i was #if the modern stories where women being strong means they don’t need help had been a thing yet when i was at that age #it would have made me feel even worse #and as someone who has since that time also had to learn to live with chronic illness #and the reality that there’s not a ton i can do for myself #the stories of women who need help and are never looked down on for it but are seen as worthy of that help because they are loved #those are the kind of stories you end up starting to need at some point #give me more maidens in towers. i don’t care.#the idea that people love you enough to find you well worth their effort is what some of us need

10 notes · View notes

ziggyplayedguitar96 · 8 months

Text

#rachel zegler #snow white #snow white 2024 #snow white live action #greta gerwig #I’m part of the rachel zegler defense squad #people are so upset about the changes but I guarantee those same people didn’t give a flying fuck about snow white until now #just like the little mermaid #also greta gerwig is the writer so have some faith

19 notes · View notes

edwardtulanepdf · 6 months

Text

she’s a 10 but she has parasocial relationships with disney characters

#was too scared to put this on my main LMAO #but anyway for one of my classes my professor is asking us over the weekend to ponder what it means to be a princess #using the disney princess films as a blueprint #and like due to all the rachel zegler snow white drama she’s creating for herself I’ve seen a lot of people #make really valid arguments in defense of the disney princesses esp the classic ones #so I am even more well equipped to argue a case for them #and there’s this one person in my class who is so annoying and seems like they would probably take on the pseudo-feminist idea of like #the classic princesses being weak bc they seek domesticity or true love #which in most cases is just blatantly not true #anyway I could write a thesis about this topic and I will be exercising some of that argumentative power on Monday if I have to

3 notes · View notes

chaoticbug · 2 years

Text

The more that I think about it the more ridiculous it is that once upon a time was just like “snow is and would be a bad mayor.”

The only time the show has her attempt to be a mayor is within a few weeks of her giving birth to Neal. Snow is very much a brand new mother. She literally says she is not sleeping.She should have been on maternity leave!!

My girl was literally raised from birth to be a leader, and was a successful leader from the time she starts to reclaim the kingdom till the curse hits. She would have been a good mayor of storybrooke!

#another reason 4x02 annoys me #let snow rest please #my annual ouat rewatch #out season 4 #snow white defense squad #once upon a time #ouat #snow white

28 notes · View notes

raichoose-gone · 2 years

Photo

Dragon Siblings + Via!

#of rage and love. ( S T E L L A )#turn the white snow red. ( A N D R E A L P H U S )#so i'm putting my defenses up. ( O C T A V I A )#i tried to get to atlanta on a peach blossom highway. ( M U S I N G S )#it all adds up. ( G A M E S )

8 notes · View notes

thousand-winters · 1 year

Text

It doesn't even bother me that I've become a vain person. I will look at a mirror and go "damn, I'm pretty" and I feel no shame at all about that. After so many damn years of feeling I would never be pretty because colorism is a bitch and I'm not white, I think I fucking deserve this. I'm gorgeous, actually. Fight me.

#personal #don't mind me. just thinking about my character development while checking that my grom outfit looks good ahdnsbdnd #like you don't understand. at 6 I was already feeling like shit bc I'm the darkest one of the women of my family #at some point in middle school I wore a headband with a bow on it and I was mocked to death for being 'burned snow white'#my father would constantly say he would get me this or that product to make my skin lighter #it's so weird. so fucking stupid. I'm so so pissed about it and I get to enjoy not feeling that way anymore #in other news I can't use eyeshadow without looking like a 5yo that got into their mom's make up lmao #in my defense I literally started trying yesterday. oh darius. the shit I do for you agdkabdnd

4 notes · View notes

artist-issues · 7 months

Note

it's really sad people will keep on defending the terrible little mermaid movie cause they wanna cry racism and other movies cause of crying racism. honestly I'm tired of it, the original little mermid is better, original snow white is better, everything orignal is better. but since disney want to get political, their stocks are failing and their losing money. disney is crashing and burning, they can't make anything original anymore.

Yeah, true.

I think the idea of "original is always better" isn't 100% true. The truth is, Disney used to do retellings better than anybody.

Snow White's original fairy tale, in the Brothers' Grimm version, is very good. It's all about pure innocence. But Disney came along and made a bigger, more fleshed-out version. In Disney's retelling, the Dwarves had personalities instead of being cave-dwelling blank slates, and the Prince actually met Snow White while she was dressed in rags and still loved her instead of seeing her asleep and dressed beautifully for the first time.

Those changes that Disney made to the "original" fairy tale for their movie didn't ruin the original. They just deepened the original. They complimented it.

Audiences back when the first fairy tale was being told may have understood that Snow White's beauty = purity and innocence, but Disney knew that audiences in the 1930s would need more information to understand, and enjoy that message. So

The Prince is interested in Snow White before be even knows she's a Princess, and before he even sees her beauty, because he hears her singing about love genuinely. It's her pure innocent love that attracts him.

The Dwarfs all have personalities, but the one thing they have in common is their fear of new, potentially uncomfortable things. It's not until Snow White and her genuine, selfless love comes into their lives that they start being selfless and brave, too.

The Queen dies the same way she lived: trying to bring harm to others because she only looks out for herself (even though in the original fairy tale I believe she faces capital punishment instead of her own jealousy destroying her.)

Same thing with Cinderella, and even with The Little Mermaid. The fairy tales weren't invented by Disney: the animated Disney versions were retellings. But that's the difference:

Retellings - Stories that change some details about the original, but never change anything that strengthens the important themes of the original. They're not exactly the same, but they're faithful to everything that the originals stood for.

Remakes - Stories that change the themes of the original: erasing everything that the original stood for and trying to re-write what the characters should stand for for modern audiences.

And that's the problem. Disney used to do faithful, complimentary retellings of timeless stories. Those stories were worthwhile, and Disney did them justice. Disney reminded modern audiences of the themes and values in old stories.

Now that's not true anymore. Disney doesn't remind people of the original, timeless values of old stories. It tries to rewrite those values, and in doing so, it says "those values were never timeless, or even fit to be called values."

That's the painful thing. Disney used to be the best name in retellings. Now it's the worst name in retellings.

#Disney #Disney live action #the little mermaid 2023 #tlm #Snow White #Snow White defense #se #snow white and the seven dwarfs #snow white and the 7 dwarfs #Snow White 2024

79 notes · View notes

tubbietommo · 9 months

Text

I am 100% convinced the actress that's gonna play Snow White in the Disney real live version has never seen the original animation. Which is just super sad. Snow White deserves better.

#also let her just find true love wtf is wrong with that?#Snow White #Snow White was one of the first disney films I was introduced to (and I was obsessed with it) so I'm super defensive about it

0 notes

snowsinterlude · 4 months

Text

playing dangerous.

c.w: gun play, peacekeeper coriolanus, fingering, rough sex, throatfucking, slapping, degrading, breeding, hate fucking, unproctected sex

based on this ask ! hope you like it anon, sorry if i got anything wrong. mwah

you could say a lot of things about coriolanus snow. you could say he was mentally unstable, that he was a whiny bitch who would throw a tantrum at any small thing that made him angry.

however, you couldn't say he was a bad fuck. not when he had your face pressed down and a gun pointed at your sopping cunt. you couldn't say he was ugly either, not with that white peacekeeper uniform hugging his body so well.

"don't worry," he whispered, biting your shoulder, "it only has one bullet." he smiled, chuckling at your clear despair, a total contrast to your soaked panties. "not as if you care, though"

"of course i do! fuck it, snow. you're the reason people call cops bastards!" you said, frowning at him as if your hips weren't bucking up on the gun. you didn't even knew if what he said was actually true.

"you should be grateful i'm not playing russian roulette on your pussy, darling." he said, thanking heaven's he handcuffed your hands before all that. "if you don't like it, i know just the right place to aim it. other than that perverted wet pussy of yours. are you a pervert? god, you're soaking wet" he said, grinding the gun in your cunt.

"aim it at your head, you sickfuck." you spat, not bothering looking at him.

"i don't know if you noticed but i have a gun pointed to your pussy, if you don't wanna get shot you should start being a good girl instead of a manic bitch." he said, slapping your ass and making your body jolt.

how the hell did it come to this?! you remembered that he had returned home after deployment and your parents made you go over to his house to give him some sweet dessert as a way to ❛thank him for his services.❜ fuck it. you hated him. if depended on you, he would have been killed by a rebel or something, but god, that's the best dick you've ever seen or felt, even if through grinding. you would never admit it to him though.

"on your knees, please." he said, a fake chivalry on his sadistic tone. and did you have any other options? of course not. so now you were on your knees, gulping down and watching him unbuckle his pants, his hand slapping your face lightly to make you wake up and stop looking so much at his eight inches shaft. "god, you're drooling so much just from looking. guess i won't have to aim a gun to your head for you to suck it." he said, and you stared at him with anger.

"you better kill me already cause i am not sucking that thing." you said.

well, all your defenses were throw away as he pointed the loaded gun to your head, smiling as you opened your mouth and engulfed him obediently, still looking at him with that angry stare in your eyes, that was soon replaced with tears as you took him. god, how could a dick taste so good?

"fuck, you're taking me so good, doll." he said, smiling as you drooled on his dick, getting it all wet from your saliva. "making such a mess, crying so much... you're so pretty when you're not running your mouth around so much." he said, grabbing your hair and making you curse mentally before he started to fuck your throat, his balls meeting your chin as you took him, giving in as you moaned against his cock.

too aggressive, you thought. but it was just as good as you imagined it to be. and he was getting just what he wanted to. he was fucking that attitude out of you, your throat taking him so well he only wondered how good it would feel to fuck your cunt. with that thought in mind, he pulled back of your mouth, and you thought you were really dumb from how you tried to get him to thrust into your mouth again. you wanted to taste him, and he couldn't help but chuckle at your despair.

"i didn't even had a proper taste of your cunt and you're already dumb? thought you were stronger." he said, getting you to stand up as you were still salivating. he cleaned your tear stained cheeks, the softest thing he would do to you today. so, ripping your panties and seeing your cunt, he thrusted two fingers in it, not mindinho if you were uncomfortable. your wetness made it very clear that you weren't anywhere close to discomfort or pain. and your moans did it too.

"fuck it, get away, coriolanus!" you pleaded, not wanting to be the one moaning his name that night. and he didn’t even bother listening to you, too occupied with thrusting his entire lenght inside of you. it felt horribly good, his hot cock sloppily fucking your pussy as he fucked you in missionary, holding your left thigh to hug his waist just so he could have a better access to you. so good. so hot. it felt perfect.

you felt dumb.

your eyes closed shut as you did your best to hold in your moans, letting out a few groans and grunts as he slapped your ass, getting a hold of your other thigh and fucking you with your back against the wall, your eyes looking into his. fuck. you prayed to god that he wouldn’t end up making you say something, but god didn't seem to want to help you.

"tell me, doll," he started, groaning against your lips. "who does this pussy belongs to?" he asked, and you did your best not to answer, but the way your hips were trying to buck against his seemed as an answer. "words, bunny. use your words."

"n-no. no- i won't- fuck!" you moaned, lips opened slightly as you couldn't help but let your moans out of your mouth. you just wanted to cum already. it was too brain-mushing for you to do something other than moan and squeeze his dick inside you.

"tell me, or i'm not gonna let you cum." he said, brushing the gun on your clit, the cold metal making you mewl and cry.

"i-it's yours, c-coryo. it's yours. i'm sorry! please let me cum!" you begged, crying. he smiled, kissing your cheek and tasting your salty tear drop.

"i don't recall letting you call me coryo, bunny." he said, his dick kissing your cervix as you felt it throbbing inside you.

"o-officer! fuck, i'm sorry!" you slurred, and finally he had what he wanted.

he finally fucked the attitude out of you. not only that but he also got his dick wet. it was perfect.

"good girl." and you came, shaking on his cock as he kept thrusting in you, running for his climax.

once he did came inside you, he didn’t allow you to clean yourself, made you walk and sleep with your pussy filled by his cum.

#coriolanus snow x reader #young coriolanus snow #young president snow #tbosas smut #the hunger games the ballad of songbirds & snakes #coriolanus snow fanfiction #coriolanus snow imagine #coriolanus x reader #coriolanus x you #x reader #peacekeeper!coriolanus snow #📚 anon

2K notes · View notes

soullumii · 1 year

Text

stranded | joel miller x f!reader

pairing: joel miller x afab!fem!reader

summary: you get stranded in the middle of a blizzard. joel comes to your rescue. you share a bed for warmth. things escalate from there...

warnings/tags: 18+ content, MDNI!, smutttttt yurrrr (vaginal fingering, unprotected piv sex, dubious consent, lil bit of somnophilia, joel is packinggg), no outbreak!joel, modern au, implied age gap, soft!joel, pet names (peach, baby, darlin', sweet girl, sweetheart), lil bit of joel being jelly, cuddling to keep the cold at bay, fluff, NO USE OF Y/N

word count: 7.6k (idk what the fuck happened)

“Damn it!”

You press down hard on the gas pedal, grimacing when your engine revs but the car doesn’t move an inch.

Your tires skid uselessly over the snow and your headlights reflect into a white wall of nothing—the snowfall so thick you can’t see anything in front of or around you, as if you’re trapped in a snow globe. The road is practically gone from existence.

The only thing you can hear is the wind whistling and the staticky sound of Carrie Underwood’s ‘Jesus Take the Wheel’ going in and out on the radio.

Yeah, you wish he would right about now.

“Fuuuck,” you whine, eyes stinging with unshed tears. You hit your wheel in frustration, dropping your forehead onto the horn. It honks pityingly.

Of course, the one time you were actually going out, you had forgotten to check the weather.

You’re probably going to die out here on this back road through the woods. There’s no one around, not that you can tell, and you’re low on gas. You were going to fill up once you got out of the woods and back into civilization, but the blizzard had other plans.

Your stomach rumbles, crying out for the dinner you had skipped in hopes of having a hearty, post-sex meal with the hook-up you are—or were—on the way to see. Though, that’s certainly not happening, and the snacks you usually had stuffed into the glovebox are gone, your sister having stolen them last week after you dropped her off at school.

(Darn that growing goober!)

You don’t have anything that might prove useful in this situation besides the long, slim heels on your pumps (which could be used in defense), and the thin peacoat wrapped around your shoulders. You check your phone to see if you can call a towing company, but of course, it has zero bars.

“Shit, shit, shit,” you whimper, pressing the heel of your palm to your watering eyes.

“It’s gonna be fine,” you say to yourself, picking your head up and rubbing away the tears in your eyes. You take deep breaths and put the car into park. “You’ll be fine.”

The sudden sound of a knock on your window startles you so bad you yelp, jumping in place as ice cold terror rises up your spine.

You can hardly see who had knocked, only their gray silhouette in the white blizzard.

The stranger knocks again.

“You alright in there?” The shadow asks, a hint of a Texan accent curling their vowels. Shit. It’s a man.

You slowly grab your shoe from your foot, holding it so the heel faces the window, and snow blows into your face as you carefully roll it down an inch or two for precaution, because who knows if it’s a fucking cannibal-axe-murderer who preys on unsuspecting women stranded in the snow. Maybe he does this every year—maybe this is his prime harvesting place and time.

Your eyes are wide as you peer through the opening warily, heel at the ready.

He’s close enough now that you can make out a prominent scowl, hard brown eyes, salt and pepper hair…

…wait a minute. You’d recognize that glower anywhere.

“Joel?”

Your lungs suddenly remember how to work again, and you inhale on a shaky breath. The hand holding your shoe drops to your thigh in relief.

His brown eyes narrow. “Peach…? The hell are you doin’ out here?” He asks, and Jesus you forgot about that stupid nickname he gave you. It sends butterflies loose in your stomach. “It’s a goddamn blizzard.”

You scowl in exasperation, though, at his obvious observation. “Yeah, I think I know that, Joel. What are you doing here?”

“I heard a honk, figured someone needed help.” He looks you up and down, his gaze lingering on the circles of mascara around your eyes. “Guess I’m right.”

You straighten in your seat, the gratitude you feel at his presence is overshadowed by the need to look self sufficient and capable, because you are. You’re a grown ass woman! So…

“I don’t need your help,” you huff.

He arches a brow. “Really.” It’s not a question.

You glower. “Maybe.”

Joel leans an arm on the frame of your car, and taps your window once more. “C’mon. Let’s go.”

God, this is so embarrassing!

“Fine.” You roll up the window and turn off the car. Joel tugs the car door open as far as it can go and offers a gloved hand to help you out. You wobble a bit when you step out in your heels, grateful that Joel is there to steady you. Though, the feeling sours a bit when he huffs in disbelief at your shoes.

You send him a glare, “I had plans for tonight, okay?”

“In the middle of a blizzard?” He deadpans.

“It wasn’t that bad when I first started driving.”

“Riiiight,” he drawls, “Well, I’m sorry to say, peach, but you ain’t driving in this mess anymore. You can stay with me tonight.” He says, closing the car door behind you.

Stay? With him?

“Joel, I couldn’t bother you with—“

“I wouldn’t offer if it was a bother.”

Joel’s as stubborn as a bull, more so than Ellie. And she is stubborn. You don’t argue, because it’s fruitless to argue with a brick wall like him. And, faced with freezing to death out here or staying in a well-insulated building, choosing the latter is obviously the right thing to do.

“Okay,” you relent and point to your trunk. “I have a bag back there.”

He raises a brow. “Heels and a bag…What kind of plans were we talkin’ about here?”

A hook up, Joel, you mentally drawl. Because…that’s exactly why you were out.

Like hell you’ll tell Joel that, though, he’d disapprove. He’s always been the protective type. You’ve known him since your junior year in college, after your families practically merged. But you’ve never seen Joel as another dad. He’s always been…something else to you.

“A trip to Nunya.” You supply instead of the truth, crossing your arms over your chest to try and conserve some heat.

“Nunya?” Joel’s brows furrow.

“Yeah. Nunya business, Joel.” You give him a sardonic smile.

He shakes his head and sends you a look you’re quite familiar with, the one that makes you feel inches smaller. And ten degrees hotter.

Joel sighs in exasperation and wordlessly wrenches the trunk open. He slings your bag over his shoulder as if it weighs nothing.

(It weighs a lot. You’d know, you shoved five different erotica books in there, just in case your date failed to make you orgasm.)

(Though thinking about Joel probably would’ve been enough.)

You lock your vehicle with a bemused glance. “What are we gonna do about my car?”

“I’ll tow it out tomorrow,” Joel says. “Roads are a fuckin’ mess right now.”

You trudge behind Joel to his quaint cottage sleeping cozily between tall pine trees and chubby evergreens. The porch light is on, and the windows glow a comforting orange. Puffs of smoke drift up from the chimney. It looks warm and inviting, like straight out of a Christmas movie.

You’re impressed at how close you managed to strand yourself to his house. Maybe Jesus really did take the wheel.

Joel kicks the snow off his boots on his front porch, then opens the door, gesturing for you to enter first.

When you breach the doorway with Joel at your heels, warmth settles over your cold-bitten cheeks along with an alluring aroma of meat and tomato and spices that hits you in a wave. You’ve never seen Joel cook anything other than Chef Boyardee Beefaroni, or burgers on Tommy’s rusting grill before, so this is certainly a surprise. It could be Sarah or Ellie’s cooking, but last time you checked, Sarah could cook eggs and Ellie could cook, well, nothing.

“So did you hire a personal chef to make whatever smells so good?”

He sets your bag down in the foyer with a grunt and shrugs out of his coat. “I made it.”

You can’t help the disbelieving laugh that bursts out of you, and the slightly offended look on Joel’s face only makes it harder to stop. You cover your mouth with your hand, but you’re absolutely positive he can see the mirth lighting in your eyes.

Though he’s offended, there’s a twitch to his lip, as if he’s trying not to laugh. “I’m perfectly capable of cooking.”

“I’m sorry—I’m sorry,” you try to stamp down your giggles. “Yes, you’re capable but… is it edible?”

Your stomach decides in that moment to start rumbling, and he smirks.

“Guess you’ll have to find out.”

You take your coat off and follow Joel towards the kitchen. As you follow, you take in his aggressively Texan decor and furniture. Paintings of cowboys and horses and mountains are hung artfully on cozy, beige walls. The Eagles’ discography drifts merrily in the air from an old record player. There’s a guitar stationed in practically every corner. It’s all so very Joel, though the random space ornamentals and butterfly drawings sprinkled about are so very Ellie and Sarah. It makes you smile.

“Where are the girls?” You ask, because usually those little stinkers would be stationed at the dining room table, bickering over the answer to a ridiculously difficult math problem.

“At Dina’s,” he answers, taking off his gloves and dropping them on the table. “They wanted to play in the snow.”

Oh. So you’re here alone with him. Anxiety prickles at the edges of your mind, sinking in your stomach.

“I guess I was the only one that didn’t know about the blizzard, then.”

“You must be livin’ under a rock to not know about it.”

You grumble in protest, but your grievances disintegrate on your tongue as you enter the kitchen and near the simmering pot. You breathe in the aroma, the smell so powerful it's almost like you’re actually tasting it.

You look over your shoulder at him. “Is this chili?”

He nods. “Want some?”

“Absolutely.”

He comes up beside you to open a cabinet. “Go ‘head make yourself comfortable on the couch. I’ll bring it out to you.” Your mouth dries at the sliver of skin that peeks out beneath his flannel as he reaches up.

You force yourself to turn around. “Wow. Such a gentleman, didn’t realize you were capable,” you say, your saccharine sweet tone doing well to mask how flustered you feel. You can breathe easier the second you exit the kitchen and enter the living room.

His voice follows you. “A simple ‘thank you’ ‘stead'a this attitude would do you some good, y'know?"

"I know," you sing-song, grinning as you settle yourself down onto his couch, grabbing a blanket from a basket on the way. A fire crackles in the hearth and you study the flames with fascination as warmth spreads across your skin. You tug the blanket around you, pulling it up to your chin.

Joel emerges a minute later and your gaze darts from the fire to the bowl he holds out to you. “Here.”

“Thank you, Joel,” you say emphatically, accepting the bowl and cradling it in your hands.

He smiles, “There we go. Guess you do have some manners.”

You give him a half-bow. Joel just smiles in that familiar way, like you’re just so ridiculous he can’t believe it. It makes your stomach curl giddily.

Having rolled up the sleeves of his flannel to his elbows, Joel’s forearms are on display, muscles flexing as he tosses another log into the hearth, and you drop your gaze to your chili, as to not get caught staring. He sits down in the armchair adjacent to you with his own bowl.

You blow on the steaming chili before taking a bite, an involuntary moan releasing from you the moment it hits your tongue—paprika, peppers, tomato, cumin. It warms your stomach pleasantly. Who knew Joel could cook so well?

“This is so good,” you mumble around your bite.

He swallows his own chili down, pupils large as he watches you. “Edible enough for ya?”

You nod enthusiastically, “I’m sorry I ever doubted you.”

“Mmhmm,” he hums, unconvinced, but he’s smiling at you again, and you can’t help but return it.

Comfortable silence lapses between the both of you as you eat your meals. Joel finishes first, of course, setting his bowl on the coffee table and leaning into his chair with a satisfied groan. He throws an arm over the back, spreading his legs. You watch him while he watches the fire, heat licking through you.

Eventually, after you slow down, you speak again.

“Thank you, Joel, seriously, for letting me stay.”

His eyes find yours and he nods. “‘Course, peach. Wouldn’t’ve let you freeze out there.”

You nod and glance around, taking in his cabin. A large, stone fireplace is set in the wall, a tree trunk coffee table stationed in the center of the living room, some handmade wood carvings of horses and other animals scattered about. There’s a drawing of himself sitting on the mantel, “To: Joel, From: Ellie” signed at the bottom. Your heart swells.

“It’s been awhile since I’ve been here,” you remark.

“I know,” Joel says. “You should come around more often. The girls miss you.”

Your smile turns shy and you feel a spike of bravery. “What about you? Do you miss me?”

He takes a moment to answer, a veiny hand coming up to rub at his beard as he leans on the arm of the chair. Onyx eyes drag down your figure. “‘Course I do, darlin’”

Heat pools hot and thick between your thighs at that look, and you’re about to press him about how much he really misses you when a buzzing in your pocket captures your attention. Your phone. Guess you have some bars now.

marcus: where r u?

Oh right, the hookup!

you: blizzard blocked the roads. won’t make it tonight.

marcus: ok.

You scoff at the lack of depth in his response. Not even a “stay safe out there”? Jesus. You settle into the couch with a frustrated sigh, head thumping against the cushions, eyes falling shut as exhaustion creeps into you.

Boys always thinking with their dicks. Why do you even bother?

“What’s that about?” Joel asks. You peek an eye open at him. Firelight dances across his tan skin. He gestures to your phone. “That gotta do with the real reason for your trip tonight?”

You rub your temple, “Yeah.”

He hums. "...Listen, I know it's none of my business but—“

"It was a hookup, Joel," you interrupt, already knowing where he was going with that. He tends to do that, beat around the bush so much until you’re desperate to just say it. More desperate than he was to know it. You’d rather just skip that whole process.

"Oh,” his brows furrow.

"Yeah," you repeat dumbly, fiddling with the blanket.

"There, uh, ain't no shame in that, darlin'."

You quirk a skeptical brow, "I know."

"Alright," he mumbles, avoiding eye contact with you. Awkwardness settles between you.

"Things are just a bit dry," you supply, though you have no idea why you're still talking, or why you described yourself and the state of your love-life like that because Joel doesn't need to know that. Nobody needs to know that

But it captures his attention, because he's looking at you again, though this time annoyance is written on his features, along with something else you can’t name, his eyes practically black. Damnit, you knew he’d disapprove, even if he claims there’s no shame in it.

“And you went to some random boy for that?"

You straighten on the couch. "Who else am I supposed to go to, Joel? You?” Sarcasm drips from your words.

What the hell is he implying?

His gaze jumps to the fire, the muscles in his jaw clenching, his fingers flexing on the arm of his chair. "Never mind I said anythin'."

Your arms cross defensively over your chest. "I don't need your judgment, Joel.”

"I ain't judgin'."

"Sure sounds like it."

He stands abruptly, running a hand through his peppered locks. "I'm not, I just—listen, it's gettin' late. You should sleep. I didn’t have time to get the girls’ room ready, do you want my bed?”

You shake your head, "Couch is perfectly fine, Joel. Thanks."

“You sure?”

“Yes, Joel. I’m a grown woman who can handle her decisions.”

"I know that.” Frustration laces his words. He sighs, hand coming up to rest on his belt. “Just... let me know if you need anythin'."

“You got it.”

He turns the living room light off on the way to his bedroom down the hall. You don’t watch him leave.

Once he's gone, you change into your pajamas and settle yourself on the couch beneath a blanket or two. The crackling of the fire and the howling wind outside lulls you to sleep faster than you expect.

-----

“Fuck.”

The aggressive shivers that wrack your body are what wake you up in the middle of the night.

Your blanket is wrapped tightly around you, but it’s a thin, furry thing. Nothing like the down comforter you have at home. The fire has also gone out in the hearth, low flames flickering in the ash.

You pull the blanket up to your chin, curling in on yourself as the cold permeates your skin.

Aside from the chattering of your teeth and the squall outside, it’s eerily silent in the house. You realize, now, that the whooshes from the heating system you had grown accustomed to before are gone

Shit.

You reach for the lamp on the side table, pulling down on the chain. It doesn’t turn on.

“Shit.”

You sit up, blanket wrapped around your waist. The power is out. The snow storm must’ve knocked out a power line. It’s too cold to stay out here with only your thin blanket and the clothes on your back. And Joel had said…

Let me know if you need anythin’.

You really don’t want to bother him, but the goose flesh rippling across your skin and the pathetic way your lips are quivering, along with the shudders that wrack your body as it attempts to maintain homeostasis are not something you can just sleep through.

You tightly wrap your blanket around your shoulders and tiptoe down the hall. You can see a warm light from Joel’s bedroom, the flicker of a flame on the cream walls.

You slowly push the door open but hesitate at the sight of Joel buried comfortably beneath his comforter. You don’t want to wake him… but his room is awfully toasty from the fire crackling away in his own hearth. And his bed looks absolutely heavenly.

You steel yourself and pad to the side he sleeps on.

“Joel?” You whisper. He doesn’t respond.

You lean over to gently push his shoulder. “Joel.”

“Mm—“ His brows furrow, and he scrunches further into the blankets, reminiscent of a cat curling its paws over its head when woken up.

You push his shoulder again, a bit harder this time. “Joel. Wake up.”

He swats at the air, as if your hand is a fly buzzing around his ear. “‘M awake,” he mumbles against the pillow.

“Joel—the power went out. I’m freezing.”

He’s silent for a moment, eyes still shut. He’s no doubt rolling the words around in his head, trying to make sense of them through a sleepy haze.

Then, when he does, he wordlessly scoots back and reaches for the comforter. He lifts it, offering the space next to him to you.

“C’mere.”

You splutter, taken off guard by the invitation. “What? Joel—“

“‘M not askin’, peach. C’mere.” The last word leaves his lips like a command, and you straighten reflexively, apprehension holding your limbs hostage as want curls dangerously low in your abdomen at his tone of voice. That should be enough warning to not climb into bed with him.

You debate telling him to get his ass up and give you another blanket along with a couple more logs in the hearth so you can avoid any kind of proximity between you (lest you feel those capital-f Feelings), but you can practically feel the heat radiating from the bed and his body beckoning you in.

Oh fuck it.

You let loose a shaky breath and hesitantly slip beneath the covers, facing away from him. You stay glued to the edge of the bed, careful not to let any part of you touch him. Your legs curl into your chest for extra measure. Immediately, it’s so much better. So warm. So comfortable.

And it smells like Joel.

You inhale the earthy and spicy scent of him that lingers on the linen as your head sinks into the soft pillow, but your inhale chokes off as Joel’s strong arm snakes around your waist beneath the comforter, his large hand burning like a brand when it settles hot over your stomach.

He pulls you into him, the sheets swishing as he tucks you into his body. Your back slots against his warm, broad naked chest. His bare legs intertwine with yours, his pelvis almost flush against your ass, only covered by a thin pair of briefs.

Holy shit.

You can feel everything.

“Joel?” You question, voice quivering at the sudden closeness. “What are you doing?”

“Keepin’ you warm,” he mumbles against the nape of your neck.

You do feel warmer, though it might not be entirely because he’s holding you, but rather because of how he’s holding you. He’s curled around you, like a koala around a tree, thighs bracketing yours.

You can feel his beard scraping at the nape of your neck, breaths puffing against your feverish skin.

His thumb is rubbing softly along the pudge of your tummy, palm branding your skin, his fingers dipping innocently beneath the hem of your shorts.

You can barely breathe, or even think, heartbeat stuttering as arousal pools liquid hot and heavy between your legs. Every unknowing twitch from Joel’s fingers makes it worse. Every touch of his calloused fingertips against your skin is pure agony. Every brush of your ass against his pelvis has you throbbing. You stare wide-eyed into the darkness, gaze roaming the pitch black, as if something out there could make you forget about the ever-growing desire you feel for Joel.

You can’t sleep like this.

It seems like Joel can though, appearing to already be deep in slumber. He hasn’t moved in a few minutes, his exhales even and slow against you.

You try to ignore the wetness between your legs, ignore the instinctual urge to roll your hips back against him. You should just go to sleep. But this ache you feel, pounding and deep and relentless…You have to do something about it, even with Joel holding you close.

He won’t mind…right?

But how are you supposed to touch yourself with Joel’s hand in the way?

You could just move it. That’s the right thing to do, but it feels too good, so hot and heavy on you that you just don’t want to, and as a result, an idea so absolutely fucked worms its way into your mind, lust and desperation destroying any last semblance of rational thought. You could…

No. No. You can’t do that. He’s a human fucking being, not a hand shaped vibrator.

But… you really want to, and he’s asleep so…he won’t even know…right?

You make up your mind and slowly curl your fingers around Joel’s deadweight palm, biting your lip in concentration and shame as you carefully urge his hand further into your shorts. After each nudge of his palm, you wait to see if Joel gives you any sign of him being awake. But he’s dead asleep. After a moment, you keep going.

This is so fucked, but you can’t bring yourself to care when you finally feel his thick fingers brush over your clothed folds.

“Shit,” you whisper, breathlessly, holding back a whimper. You manipulate his hand so that his palm is resting large and warm over your aching clit, while his index and middle finger are placed heavily above your heat.

And then, you really say fuck you to your morals.

You give an experimental thrust of your hips into his palm, shuddering at the contact against your clit. Then you wait to see if Joel reacts, your head tilting a bit to look over your shoulder. But Joel hasn’t moved, hasn’t said a word. Good.

Confident he won’t wake, you rock your hips again and again, holding onto his hand with your own, pressing it down with each thrust of your hips to get that sweet contact. The heel of his palm bumps your aching clit with each thrust, and you bite back moans and whimpers well enough, but you can’t hide the deepening of your breaths as you climb closer and closer to your climax.

Everything else fades away as you just focus on that one goal. On crawling over the edge. You hardly feel the growing smirk pressed to the back of your neck, or the way Joel’s cock is now hard against your ass as you grind against his palm.

“F-fuck,” you huff, eyes tightly shut as you ground yourself in his presence behind you, the beat of his heart thudding against your spine, the rise and fall of his chest, the light, unconscious brush of his lips on your neck. Closure is on the horizon as you imagine him lifting up on his arm and leaning over to actually get you off, his teeth biting down on your shoulder as he thrusts his fingers into your aching cunt.

“Joel—“ you quietly moan.

The moment his name slips from your lips, his hand suddenly pulls back, and you let out a frustrated groan (he can’t do that!), which quickly turns into a squeak of mortification (oh yes, he absolutely can!).

Because Joel is awake.

He. Is. Awake.

And he knows what you were doing, his chest rumbling against your spine as he—is he fucking laughing at you?

“Needy girl, aren’t you, peach?”

Mortification ignites in your cheeks, nausea pooling in your stomach. “Joel, oh my god, I’m so sorry—“

His hand gravitates to your thigh, curling around it. He pulls it up, inserting his knee in between your legs and he griiiinds it into your clothed cunt. Your desperate apology is cut off by a reflexive wanton moan, your back arching as pleasure reverberates inside you.

“‘S okay, baby, I understand. So fuckin’ desperate you had to use me while I was sleepin’, huh? Didn’t get what you wanted earlier so now you’re searchin’ for somethin’ else, hm?”

His large hand finds your waist again, sliding down your stomach to inch beneath both your shorts and your panties now. You gasp as his fingertips find your clit easily.

“I’m just a ‘lil offended I wasn’t your first choice,” he chides, fingers slipping through your soaking folds. “But I like this much better than you findin’ some boy to get you off. You need’a be fucked by a man, darlin’. Ain’t that right?”

His words send heat straight to your core, thighs clenching around his knee as he ruts it against you while simultaneously stimulating your clit with his fingers.

“Yes, Joel,” you moan. “Need you.”

His teeth scrape against your throat when he growls, “Goddamn right you do.”

You can’t believe this is happening.

Joel slides his hand further into your panties, his middle finger curling in to sink into your soaked cunt. You choke on a gasp.

“Who’s the guy?” He asks, randomly, while his finger rocks into you.

You can’t think as Joel inserts his ring finger alongside the other, stretching you so deliciously. “W-what?”

“The boy you were gonna see tonight. Who is he?”

Who was it? Mark? Matt? And why does he care? You don’t know, you don’t care, only thoughts of Joel Joel Joel consume your waking being.

“I—I don’t know, Joel. Please, oh my god.”

He hums pityingly. “Poor thing can't even remember his name.” His other hand comes up to slide through your hair, gripping the locks at the nape of your neck. He tugs, and you melt. “I’ll make sure you don’t forget mine.”

He doesn’t need to worry about that.

Joel moves his thumb to circle your clit as he thrusts his thick, long fingers up and into you, curling them to hit that spot that has your heartbeat dropping between your thighs, desperate and loud and begging for release.

“Hhhoh— Joel!”

“Tha’s right, baby. So goddamn wet. You’ve been dealin’ with this for awhile now, huh?”

You nod into the pillow on a broken moan as his fingers withdraw and sink into you at a steady pace, his thumb circling and circling and circling.

“Words, baby.”

You cry out, hands gripping the pillow. “Yes, yes. Joel. Been wanting this f’so long.”

“Should’a come to me first. Would’a helped you out a long time ago,” he drawls.

Yes you absolutely should have, based on how quickly you’re approaching your orgasm.

Your cries are so loud, but you don’t care, focusing only on your pleasure and the feel of Joel’s mouth on your throat.

You’re finally getting what you want. And fuck, is it amazing.

Your eyes roll back as it all builds up inside you, Joel’s hand unrelenting as he fucks you closer and closer to the edge.

You’re scorching, everything hot and intense, your stomach tightening, your legs stretching out as the pleasure builds and builds.

Fuck, you’re gonna cum—

It rips through you violently, eyes prickling with tears, your thighs clenching as your walls bare down repeatedly around Joel’s fingers, making him groan.

“Good girl,” Joel murmurs, hand eventually inching out of you and your shorts to squeeze your thigh appreciatively as aftershocks run through you, thighs quaking and clit throbbing. “That’s what you needed, huh? S’it feel good, cummin’ all over my fingers?”

His fucking voice!

“Mhmm,” you hum in agreement, sinking into the sheets, eyes drooping shut as pleasure lulls you to sleep.

He tsks, “Wake up, darlin’ I ain’t done with you yet.”

His beard scrapes against your neck as he moves to your ear.

“It’s my turn to use you.”

Your eyes shoot open. Fuck.

Joel pulls your panties down your legs as far as he can, and you squirm to wriggle them off of you.

He pulls away for a moment, but when he’s back, the bare, hot, thick length of him is pressed between your ass cheeks, and a full body shudder runs through you.

Holy shit, he’s big.

He grips your thigh again, but this time he throws it over his own. And then you feel it, the slick head of his cock as he guides it through your folds.

Oh fuck.

“You okay, peach?” He asks, laying a gentle kiss on your shoulder. Now you have tears in your eyes for an entirely different reason. His hand slides across your waist and up beneath the hem of your shirt, palming your breast. Your nipples tighten.

Your mouth feels dry and you swallow down a lump of lava. “Y-yes, Joel.”

“Good. Wanna give you all of me, how’s that sound, darlin’?”

You will take whatever, anything you can get from Joel.

“Good, Joel. Yes, please, oh my god.”

“There are those manners.”

A desperate whine slips from your lips as he directs the head of his cock into you, slowly and carefully, his hand running up and down your thigh in comforting strokes. God, he’s stretching you so much, hot and thick and pulsing inside you. It’s almost painful, but it’s a welcome pain.

“Jesus, Joel,” you moan when he stops to let you breathe, “You’re so big.”

“I ain’t even halfway in yet, darlin’.”

“W-what?” How is that even possible?

“You can take it.” He says, sliding in some more and fuck you don’t have much of a choice. but you can, and you will because he feels too fucking good, and you’re ready for him to make you feel it into next week.

“Is…is it all the way in yet?” You ask, thoroughly stretched and filled.

“Almost, sweet girl,” he breathes. “Goddamn, you’re tight.”

That makes you clench down even more, and he releases a pained groan behind you. “Relax, darlin’, c’mon.”

You do your best and let yourself sink into the bed, taking deep breaths and concentrating on the crackling of the fire.

And then, he thrusts fully into you, filling you up completely, and your mind is right back to him, a soft cry slipping from your lips into the pillow.

“There we go, tha’s it. Good job. Taking me so well,” he croons, stroking your side.

“F-fuck me, Joel, please move.”

He squeezes your ass in his large palm in retaliation to your command. “You use me, I use you, remember?”

But he listens anyway, likely desperate to move himself, because then he’s gripping your hip with a large hand and pulling back just to sheath himself fully into you once more, his cock head bumping against your cervix, and holy fucking shit.

“Joel!” You cry, and he leans over to kiss you, teeth biting at your plump lower lip as he thrusts into you again.

And again.

He rolls into you at a steady, bruising pace, and you’re practically boneless as you just take it. Cries and whimpers and moans spilling out of you like a gas leak as he mouths down your throat, sucking and biting and oh my god this is way better than just getting yourself off on his hand.

Then Joel shifts, pushing at your side to press your stomach into the mattress. You whine as he pulls out of you to situate himself behind you. He grabs your hips with both hands and pulls them up and backwards, easing himself back into you until your ass meets his skin, then he rolls his hips, driving his cock deep from a brand new angle.

All you can do is sob into the pillow.

He’s so fucking big, so fucking deep you can’t think of anything else besides him and his wonderful cock, or the filthy things he’s whispering into your shoulder blades.

His large hand plants itself on your spine, and your hands scramble for purchase on a pillow.

“Sweet girl, taking me so fuckin’ well,” he purrs. “You were desperate for this cock, huh? God, I wish you could see yourself. Split open on me like this. Your little boy toy wouldn’t be able to fuck you like this, ain’t that right?"

You shake your head. God, why did you even make that dick appointment in the first place?

You hadn’t even realized what being fucked by a “real man” meant until now.

Joel knows how to fucking deliver, you guess that’s why he’s so successful in his contracting business. He’s delivering you straight to that blessed release.

You clench around the girth of him, the filthy sounds of your arousal echoing in his room along with the cracks and snaps from the fire burning steadily in the hearth.

If you couldn’t sleep before, you definitely will be able to after this because you’re mindless as he fucks you into oblivion.

“Joel, fuck—mmph—!”

“Yeah, that’s right. Can’t say anythin’ but my name.”

His breathing has become more labored, desperate grunts escaping his lips as his cock twitches inside of you. He’s getting close, deep and gravely moans falling out of him as his thrusts become harder and more sporadic.

His hand sneaks around your front, spanning your entire stomach as he slides down to your soaking folds, his middle and ring finger finding that sensitive bundle of nerves and giving them a gentle tap before circling, using that same method from before that had you squirming.

You writhe on his length, legs falling out beneath you as your orgasm swells within you.

“Please Joel,” you whimper into the pillow.

“I’ve got you,” he promises.

It’s there, filling your body, building and cresting and searing white-hot through your limbs.

And then he thrusts a certain way, hitting that spot within you, and his fingers are circling and—

Yeah.

You fall boneless to the mattress as you come apart, your arousal coating Joel’s cock as he continues to fuck you through your release, stroking your spine. Pleasure floods through your body as the tension releases, and tears freely fall as you cry into the pillow.

Because goddamn it!

How can something feel so good?

And then Joel’s pulling out of you and letting loose a long, satisfied moan as he comes all over your back, hot stripes painting you.

He collapses next to you, groaning something about his back.

And you can’t help but laugh, delirious and soft, and Joel’s laughing too, brown eyes sparkling. His calloused hand comes up, runs his thumb along your jaw, and he’s smiling at you, soft and unlike anything you’ve ever seen before.

“You alright, peach?”

“Ohhh yeah,” you giggle, sighing with contentment.

You’re gonna be feeling this for days, just like you wanted.

Joel’s lips brush against your forehead gently, and you’re too tired to acknowledge it, slumber pulling you under far too quickly. You think you can feel the gentle swipe of a wet washcloth on your back before you pass out.

-----

“Fuck…”

The bed is empty when you wake, and a spike of anxiety shoots through you as you sit up. A fire still crackles in the hearth, a fresh log dropped in the ash. On the night stand is a note, beneath it, one of Joel’s t-shirts, your jeans, and a pair of your underwear.

Mortification climbs through you as you read:

Peach,

My bathroom’s on the left if you’d like to shower. I hope you don’t mind, I went through your bag to get you some panties underwear. Lot of books in there. You sure like to read.

Oh god, he found your erotica stack. The covers are not misleading, either, he definitely knows what kind of books they are. You force yourself to keep reading through the humiliation.

I’m out picking up Sarah and Ellie, I’ll be home soon. There’s pancakes on the counter. We’ll tow your car when I get back.

Also–about last night…we don’t have to talk about it, if you don’t want to. But, I want you to know that if you ever need something like that again, I’m here. And for anything else. I’m here. Always.

See you soon.

Warmth fills your body and you reread those last sentences over and over.

Always. Does he really mean that?

You check the alarm clock on his nightstand–it’s eleven fucking a.m. Holy shit, you haven’t slept that late in a long time.

When you stand, an ache radiates through you, and memories of last night flit in your mind and along with them, a fresh new wave of arousal. You scramble for the shower.

You emerge fresh and clean twenty minutes later, smelling like Joel, having only his body wash and shampoo to use. Each inhale is practically torture, and the ache between your legs is just another reminder. Seeing yourself in his shirt makes it worse. You try and push it away.

You descend the steps, halting when you hear the sound of Ellie’s voice from the kitchen.

“And I was like, pew pew! And I got both of them out!”

Sarah’s scoff of disbelief follows. “Nuh-uh! You didn’t even hit me!”

You creep down the steps, smiling a bit at Ellie’s outcry of “Yes I fucking did!”, and then you hear it–Joel’s low laugh, the Texan drawl.

“You kiddos are gonna drive me crazy. Just eat your damn pancakes.”

“Why’d you make these in the first place? You don’t even like pancakes,” Sarah teases.

“Uh…”

You decide you should probably help him out. “Hey girls.”

Three heads snap in your direction. The eyes of one skirting down your body, a blush creeping across his cheeks. The other two brighten in shock.

“What are you doing here!” Ellie gasps.

“We haven’t seen you in forever!” Sarah adds.

You enter the kitchen and come up behind them to pull them in for a hug, your arms hooking around their necks. You smush their cheeks against yours. Ellie grumbles, Sarah laughs.

“I know! I’ve missed you guys so much. I’m just super busy with being an adult and all that shit,” you say, letting them go so they can breathe. You round the island, grabbing a plate and stacking two pancakes on it.

“Well, stop being busy. We miss you,” Ellie says.

“If I could, I would.”

“Why are you wearing Dad’s shirt?” Sarah asks, eyes narrowing, a mischievous smile pulling at her lips.

“I–um–” the question catches you off guard, and you scramble for an excuse, eyes flicking to Joel desperately. He clears his throat and crosses his arms over his broad chest, now covered in yet another, dark flannel. How many does he own?

“Snowstorm stranded her here last night, and she didn’t have any clean clothes,” Joel says, definitively.

It’s not a lie at all, and yet, it feels like one.

Sarah and Ellie exchange a look that says, yeah fucking right. You shovel pancake into your mouth to try and cool down the blush in your cheeks.

“Speakin’ of,” he continues, “I’ve got the tow dolly all hooked up so when you’re done, we can tow your car out.”

“Great. Thank you, Joel.”

His brown eyes flick between yours, his hand coming up to rest large and warm on your shoulder. “‘Course, sweetheart.”

You finish your pancakes without any more embarrassing questions from the girls, thank God, and then you’re out in the snow wearing a pair of Joel’s boots stuffed with socks (they’re too big, but they’re better than heels) and bundled up in one of his coats, watching Joel tow your tiny car out of the snowbank.

It’s just as cold as yesterday, though the dreary sky has cleared into a baby blue, the sun bright and high above the clouds. The roads are clearer, the snow plows having come by not too long ago.

You grimace as you hear your car groan and creak as Joel pulls it out of the snow, big puffs of it falling off the roof in clumps. Eventually, it’s on solid ground once more, and he tows it back toward his cabin.

Back in the driveway, Joel hops out of his truck and double checks your car. He pats the roof of it when he deems it accetable. “All good to go, sweetheart.”

You sigh in relief, “Thank you so much Joel, seriously.”

He nods, though he looks…nervous for some reason. “‘Course, darlin’. Glad I could help.”

You don’t really want to leave, but you’ve bothered him long enough, so you stroll to the driver's side and go to open it, but suddenly Joel’s hand comes down to keep it closed. You look up at him confused.

His expression is hard, serious as he looks down at you. “Do you regret last night?”

Well. You were not expecting that. You thought that, maybe, it would just remain undiscussed. A blip. Something you both shared, but never spoke of again. You know your answer, though.

“No. I don’t.”

“Good,” he says, eyes dark, “me either.”

He opens the door for you, pauses for a second then shuts it, voice desperate. “I just need to say this, before you go.”

You nod, encouraging him to go on.

He takes a deep breath, rakes a hand through his graying locks. Pinches the bridge of his nose, and shuts his eyes tight. When he opens them again, there's a hard determination in them. Your pulse quickens, your legs turn to jelly.

“I like you, peach,” he says. “I understand if you don’t want to be with me because of the whole single father thing. And, also because I’m me. But I just thought I’d tell you how I felt, because,” he huffs out a laugh, shakes his head, “I’m thinkin’ you might like me, too.”

Your hands are shaking, and not because of the cold. Maybe you should buy a lottery ticket with how lucky you've been these past fifteen hours.

“I’ve liked you since the moment I met you, Joel," you confess.

“Oh,” he says, breathless, and a smile pulls at his lips.

“Yeah,” you breathe, your own grin forming to match his.

The breeze shakes the evergreens, drifting flakes of snow onto Joel’s graying hair. His nose is reddened by the biting cold, but his eyes are warm as he smiles down at you.

“Not gonna lie to you sweetheart, I’m kind of glad you got stranded here.”

"Yeah, me too," you laugh, and then you pull him down to you, pressing your lips against his, smiling into the kiss.

This kiss is the exact opposite of the one he gave you last night. It’s careful, sweet, tentative. He reveres your mouth, rather than ravishes it. You’re both bundled in multiple layers, standing in the freezing cold rather than lying naked in a warm bed.

And yet, it’s just as perfect, if not more.

Eventually Joel pulls back, hands heavy on your waist. He’s still grinning. His hands frame your face, his thumb running softly along your cheekbone.

“Peach,” he says. “Would you like to stay for dinner?”

#joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller x female reader #tlou #tlou fic #pedro pascal #joel miller smut #joel miller

4K notes · View notes