#landmine woman | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

tremendum · 1 year

Text

Mr. Miller’s House

pairing: joel miller x fem!reader (afab, use of she/her, use of the word girl)

rating: explicit. (18+. mdni.)

word count: 7.6k requested: yes summary: “Joel was a mean, mean man. and you eat it up like a woman starved for months.” warnings: mentions of food/eating, drinking alcohol, age gap (unspecified), Jackson era, Ellie gets a splinter, Joel is honestly rude to Ellie in this and reader is judgy about Joel’s parenting practices lol. but really, this is just filthy smut (PiV, unprotected), dirty talk, sir kink, use of the word slut a LOT, one use of the word bitch, humiliation/degradation, hints of masochism, choking, exhibitionism, public smut, rough sex, dom!Joel, mean joel, lots of fighting/anger, cumplay, dirty talk, ass spanking, pussy spanking, mentions of blood (reader gets scraped knees), throat/facefucking, rough oral (m!receiving), overstimulation, dacryphilia, multiple orgasms. lmk if i missed any please lmfao

notes: okay jesus fucking christ!!! i wrote this so fasst lol but it was fun and highly requested. hope yall like it. as always reblogs/asks/comments are always great motivations :’) this is not reread because as i have said before im lazy and INSANE!

[this is a sequel to Mr Miller. part three other Joel fics: fever landmines ]

★

this was a mistake. you shouldn't have done this....this was a terrible idea.

fuck.

the chair is stiff beneath you. there's a hard coolness about it that is welcomed on the skin of your bare legs, the shorts you wear helpful in the heat of summer but futile against the slick of sweat that sheens your skin. the chair is hard, but yet still strong, sturdy.

you swallow dryly, heart beating fast. it's the same chair you sat at just a few weeks ago, signing the log with Joel leaning over your shoulder, before he-

you look away, around, anywhere in order to avoid the memories, hot and boiling and clawing at your mind and suffocating you until you stop breathing- and then your eyes settle, they glue themselves across the kitchen table.

they glue themselves to him.

fuck.

Joel's already staring at you; his lips are downturned in that permanent grimace he always sports, the muscles of his torso rigid with immobility - perhaps he thinks if he's still enough, the ground will just swallow him whole and he won't have to do this.

you yearn for that escape as much as he does.

then, out of the silence; "see, this isn't so bad."

speak for yourself, Ellie.

both heads in the room turn to the speaker slowly, the girl watching between the two of you, more than willing to ignore the obvious disdain in the air. she's grinning like a damn devil.

this girl's going to kill you.

it is that bad, contrary to Ellie's statement.

it'd been days of her begging you, with a tug on the hand, a punch to the shoulder, and countless pleads and threats until you finally caved in and accepted her proposal to have her and Joel over for dinner.

no matter how much you detest her guardian, you just can't resist those big puppy-dog eyes, or that gigantic, youthful smile.

for the last few months, Ellie has grown to be quite the little farmhand for you; though you like to keep to yourself on your days in the gardens, it was nice to have the girl buzzing around you and the other gardeners, pollinating each person she sees with questions like what really happens in germination and is this ripe? can I pull it?

it's cute, how excited she is to show Joel all of the crops you've grown with her in the last few months. but what isn't cute, is that it's him that has to be here. of all people, why did Joel have to be the one Ellie chose as her father?

because.... things weren't okay between you and Joel.

you're not sure if you were childish for expecting for him to warm up to you after - well, after the time he bent you on this table and fucked you stupid - but you hadn't been prepared for the coldest shoulder you've ever gotten in your measly life for the last few weeks.

it didn't help that the summer was kicking up and you needed more crops than ever for the commune; your patrolling had dwindled into maybe one or two every week or so, usually with Maria - so you didn't have to face Joel, really, at all.

but he avoided you like the plague when in town or on your street (though, he did that with everyone) and even at the Tipsy Bison, where your presence would clean him from the room before a drop of condensation could even slide down his glass of whiskey.

hell, maybe he even put a word in with Maria and Tommy that the last patrol together didn't go as planned; you'd even considered doing it at one point. you're not sure, but it just made you all the more irritated when you'd catch glimpses of their porch in the afternoons, Joel holding a guitar around Ellie's chest, chuckling as she strummed horribly. as if everything was okay. like you didn’t exist.

the anger and hatred grew awful.

it festered, grew when Maria mentioned off-handedly to Tommy that some woman, Dahlia, had taken a liking to Joel. you'd nearly shattered the glass you were holding in your fist at that; Joel, with Dahlia? that grumpy piece of shit, taking a liking to someone sweet and kind like her?

you ought to punch his fucking face.

you're zoned out when Ellie suddenly comes into your line of sight; reaching over your chest to grab a slice of the fresh bread you'd picked up earlier that day. you blink back into reality as Joel grunts, "E-Ellie, hey." he's shaking his head as he gestures to her arm, "use your manners."

he sounds almost embarrassed; annoyed. your mind betrays you as it whirls back; when Joel had you pinned down on this very table, commanding you in a different way, his eyes dark with delight as you cried and writhed for him.

but at his chastising, you send Ellie a sneaky look, rolling your eyes when Joel's looking down. the girl chuckles at that and an untrusting Joel stares daggers between the two of you. Ellie clears her throat with a smirk, "sorry. can you please pass me the bread?"

you grin, "why, yes, ma'am." you hand her the basket, "thank you for asking." you add to the girl on your right, your eyes on Joel's. he stares back harshly, hand grabbing for the glass of wine that sits in front of him.

another few moments of tension before Elie decided to take it upon herself to introduce as much of the food that sits on the table in front of you as she can remember.

peas, spinach, lentil and cabbage stew, beet salad, goat cheese and roasted carrots, cauliflower mash. fresh bread.

proteins from animals are scarce and are typically served in only the dining hall, so you decided to skip the meat and serve roasted artichoke instead. Joel doesn't look too thrilled about that as Ellie explains. you hide your scoff behind a sip of your dark wine.

"-and, look, I planted these beets." Ellie points to the bowl on the table which houses arugula and beet salad; you smirk down at the plate as Joel hums as if interested. his eyes flicker to yours from across the table as Ellie delves in on a tangent about how bloody beets look, those dark pupils flickering over your face before flitting back to the young girl. his eyes were swimming with something else, something.... seductive.

a shiver runs down your spine.

does he ever think about it?

you do. you think about it every night - how his hands felt, rough, unforgiving; the look on his face, that dark smirk when he'd made you beg for him to ruin you... the frenzy in his eyes when he'd ‘taught you some goddamn manners,’ when he'd taken you apart brutally and quick. Joel was a mean, mean man. and you eat it up like a woman starved for months.

your name calls you back to Ellie, whose eyes are wide and tracing over a rough, splintered notch in your table, "the hell is this from, is it-" her fingers jolt away at the rugged piece that slides into her skin, "shit!" she yelps, shaking her hand.

your brows furrow, rising to help her as Joel pulls her hand towards him. "I have tweezers." you mutter, disappearing into your bathroom to pull out your tweezers, returning to see Ellie smiling in embarrassment and Joel sitting with his arms crossed, amused irritation lacing his face. his beard is growing in more recently - you can hear the noise of the short bristles scratching his hand as he rubs his knuckles over his jawline.

nodding, pleased that Ellie's discomfort has subsided, you set your tweezers on your right, spearing some salad on your fork as silence cradles you three yet again.

it’s only tense and silent for a moment. then Ellie speaks, and it’s just tense.

"why is there a notch like that in your table?" she finally wheezes, as if she'd been summoned to be silent until she couldn't handle her curiosity anymore.

you don't have to look up to know that a pair of dark eyes pin you to your chair, daring you to say something about it.

your throat dries as you swallow your mouthful of salad, coughing a bit.

a rip in your flannel, the grazing of your soft skin with the blade. a hand pulling hard to dislodge the knife from its home against you; the thick slide of Joel as he drags his length through your destroyed, spent core.

"um- I-I" perhaps it's your panic, of the knowledge that his eyes are glued to you, but soon your eyes meet his; unwavering. "well. someone likes to threaten people when they can't find patrol logs."

"Joel!" Ellie hisses, smacking his arm, "you fucking stabbed her table and didn’t do anything about it?” she’s grinning.

"yeah, Joel," you smirk, swirling with desire as his hawkish gaze pins you to your chair, "you really should use your manners. you've ruined my table."

"shut the hell up right now." he snaps at you, hand slamming his fork down harshly onto the plate. you and Ellie both jump at the sternness in his voice.

you listen, for once.

and honestly, ten minutes ago feels like heaven compared to the tenseness of this silence.

several minutes go by, the sounds of scraping forks and knives and the meager attempts by you and Ellie to salvage a decent dinner conversation ringing soft in your kitchen.

at least you and her are trying.

you ignore the notch from the knife like a wildfire and pretend Joel isn't even with you; Ellie is more than enough life and laughter for you, and your playful disposition matches hers perfectly despite the joy-damper of a man sat across from you.

he's stewing. arms crossed, chewing on food here and then, mostly listening and sighing, brushing off Ellie's jabs or playful questions or stories. he won't do anything except eat and glare at you.

the wine bottle is nearly gone and you're not sure if it's his fault or yours. probably both.

you snap when he just outright ignores Ellie, shaking his head with a sigh and taking another bite. the audacity.

"-she asked you a question, Miller." you snap, fed up with his dissociative disposition. you don't even intend to say it; even Ellie looks up at your words, surprised.

his head turns to face you too slow to be safe. his eyes are fucking furious as he mutters, "excuse me?"

"hey, guys-" Ellie's hands are out in front of her, but you can't take your eyes off him.

"I'm just saying, you could at least try to pay attention." you spit, crossing your arms defensively, "we made this dinner, we're just trying to have a conversation, the least you could do-"

"you don't tell me what to do." he states, calm and cool, pointing at you. his nose flares as he breaths heavy, your own breath quickening. arousal rushes to your center and you shift on your seat.

"-listen, maybe this was a bad idea. I knew you weren't the best of friends, but this is-" Ellie starts again, eyes flickering between you both. "this is too awkward."

"no, Ellie, I'm sorry-" you start to say, breaking.

you don't want her to be caught in the cross-fire of your problems with Joel; it's unfair. the further this goes, the more she'll be put in a position of mediator, so you figure it should just end now.

"Ellie, go home."

Joel growls the demand, eyes looking to her, his hand falling gently to her shoulder. her eyes widen, as if asking him if he's serious.

"what?" she asks, "no! you'll-you’ll fucking stab each other or something."

yeah, you think. you might.

Joel's shaken off her shoulder but he's resilient, "go on, go see the kids for the movie. I'll come later. we just need to sort something out." he mutters, eyes falling to you at the tail end of his sentence.

shivers roll down your spine; fuck, fuck - a flood of arousal hits you again, and you swallow, willing the feelings to go the fuck away.

Ellie's scowling, but still has the decency to thank you for dinner before slamming the door hard on her way out of the threshold.

Joel's eyes stay locked with yours until her footsteps are gone.

it’s silent for a moment before he speaks.

"do not fuckin' disrespect me like that in front of her again." he snaps.

you narrow your eyes, "you're concerned that I- what, I undermined you in front of your girl?" you hiss incredulously. "come on, that's pathetic."

"I don't like you." he snaps, shoving his plate away from him in an almost childish act of defiance. it’s shocking, the immaturity of his words so sudden. barely prompted.

it's clear he intends to continue this little confessional of his, but you have no intention of allowing that.

you roll your eyes, "big fucking deal. what do you want me to say?" you hiss, "sorry that I was rude, Mr. Miller! let me just cook you fucking dinner and invite you over to make up for it."

his nostrils flare, "never wanted to do this in the first place." he mutters.

you nearly rip out your hair in frustration. "obviously you didn't! christ, why do you always act like everything you do is a goddamn chore?" you snap, "Ellie wanted to have a nice night and show you what we've been doing- what she's been doing for this community. and all you can do is sit here and act like a fucking asshole because you don't know how to enjoy anything. it's a miracle she's still around with you, when you treat her like that."

his jaw clicks in anger, "you have no fuckin' clue what we've been through together." his voice is close to a yell, "you don't know how much that girl means to me."

"then why won't you show her!?" you yell.

it quiets the room for a moment and a fleeting feeling of pride is squashed when he speaks again.

his brows raise, a look of realization creeping onto his face. he nods his head, "I see what this is," he lets out a bitter, mocking laugh. "you want me to tell you how much I love your food? y'trying to prove to me that you're not a bad influence on her, after all?"

you stare at him, anger clouding your sight; are there tears of frustration rimming your eyes? you hope he doesn't notice.

"-newsflash, darlin', I don't fucking care about you." he finishes, scowl dark. "you're a nuisance. don' know why Tommy took you in, anyways. you're a foul-mouthed, untrustworthy, pathetic little slut- and jus' because you can't stop thinking about my cock doesn't mean I owe anything to you. no dinner, no fuckin- cordial neighborly attitude, nothing."

thinking about- what?

oh, fuck him. your face burns; your jaw unhinges. of course he thinks this is about you and him. your eyes spare a quick, fleeting glance to the notch in the table before you glare, "well I don't fucking care about you either, Miller. don't be so fucking conceited."

he laughs, shaking his head as he downs the remainder of his wine before slamming the glass down, but you're not finished. you can't let him think he's won.

"you’re delusional. I haven't thought of it once." you spit, aflame at his accusation. you feel flustered, still caught off-guard. if anything, it was him who was obsessed with it - you see the way his eyes can't leave you; the way he adjusted his jeans earlier when you leaned over to pull a bowl from your cabinet.

"really?" he spits, brows raised. his chest moves with the exertion of your yelling and you resist the urge to hit him or stomp your foot or anything. "yes, really." you defend, face heating up under the scrutiny of his knowing gaze.

"anyone ever tell you you're an awful liar, sweetheart?" he drawls, raising his brows at you.

you fume, standing up, pointing to the door, "get the fuck out, Joel."

his eyes light ablaze with the same anger that rages in your heart as he stands, throwing his napkin on his plate, "gladly. food was great." he spits, storming out of the house with no other words.

your scowl doesn't leave your face for the entire rest of the night. what- what the fuck was that? how dare Joel assume so much about you- he doesn't know you, at all.

your eyes fall to the bottle in your hands.

ellie left her water canteen at your place. you were so angry, so mad earlier, that you hadn’t realized she’d left it until a few minutes ago.

she doesn't need it, right? she could get it next time she comes round. yeah. she'll get it next time, you don't have to go over. right?

no.

you have to go over.

the anger within you festers just as much as the slick that plagues the apex of your thighs in the aftermath of your spat with Joel; it's a vicious cycle where you think about his tone, how condescending it was and then you get mad - but some sick part of you wants it to consume you; wants him to consume you.

you’re fucking obsessed with him. you hate him.

you need to hear him yell at you again- if-if anything, to get your ten cents in on the argument, and also maybe to get some good content for your wet dreams tonight. jesus christ.

god, you're so fucked up.

christ.

so once you finish cleaning from the remnants of the meal, your legs are carrying you over to his house with Ellie's canteen in your hand before you can second-guess it.

what the fuck are you doing?

you're standing on their porch in mere seconds, your breath heavy with wrath. what if Ellie opens the door? well- you suppose, if she does, you'll give her the canteen and talk to her. probably apologize for acting the way you did. no business with Joel, then. yeah. that’s... that’s fine.

fuck. why do you want Joel to answer so terribly?

you know where the answer lies - a coiling beast of arousal, consuming and muddling your mind, just at the apex of your thighs.

Joel is a fucking asshole. you need him. now.

your knuckles slam so hard and unforgiving against their door that there is no possibility of them assuming it's anybody else but you at their porch. their light is flickering and dim above you as you stand, canteen in hand, eyes trained forward in determination.

the door swings open in an air of irritation.

your face jerks back as Joel Miller stands, staring at you with the disdain of a thousand lifetimes swirling around his eyes.

"y'here for more?" he snarks.

your momentary hesitation melts away when his words drip from his lips. a glare pierces him through the eyes when you shove the canteen into his hands, "I'm here for Ellie. she left this." you spit.

he lets out a chuckle, humor absent from the ring as he scratches his nose, "right." he mutters. "well she ain't home. went to the movie in town." he clips, setting the canteen on the table just inside the house. "y'need me to pass any more of your words of wisdom on to her?" he asks, voice clipped and prickled with sarcasm.

you glare. "yeah. just do me a favor, tell her I'm sorry her dad is being a hypocritical, neglecting asshole." you snark, sending a false smile up at him as he leans with his arms crossed at the doorway.

you don't miss how he leans into it, how he's not slamming the door on your face. he wants to argue, too. "-and you can suck a dick, Mr. Miller." you add, intending to whirl away on your heel.

he scoffs, a deep and condescending noise. "thanks for comin' all the way over to return a little canteen. g'night, darlin', hope you don't make too much'a mess when you cum all over that table again tonight thinkin' of how much I hate you. glad y'got your ten cents in."

your face burns hot in embarrassment, and at the irony of him using the same phrase you’d thought.

the door moves quick to shut, but your arm moves quicker.

your hand wedges is just before it shuts, leaving you far too close to Joel than you'd like - gunpowder, pine, and dark amber whiskey surround your senses. again.

so you shoot another fist forward, aiming for his left jaw; aiming for it to hurt.

he’s going to fucking hurt.

it doesn't make contact with the warm skin, though: no, his hand has caught your wrist in an iron-tight grip, wrenching your arm down hard.

you let out a gasp of surprise as he shoves you off of the door and away from him before you can blink.

but instead of the door slamming in your face, his rough hands are pushing you hard up against the side of his garage. the door behind him remains ajar as he pushes himself into your space, growling at you as your mouth falls open in shock.

"did you just try to hit me, girl?" he whispers, voice deadly serious. you swallow, arousal rushing down to your heat; you swear you can feel your heartbeat in your pussy as he stares hard at you, but your eyes trail down to his jeans.

you hide your smirk as you take in the stretch of the rough denim, the outline of his own arousal evident even in the dim light. he’s hard because you were going to hit him.

your body aches as you remember the stretch of him inside you, splitting you open. your eyes flicker back up to his where he breathes heavily, expecting a response.

you give him one.

"yes, but you already knew that." you smirk, cocking your head as you boldly gyrate your hips forward slightly, your clothed cunt clenching in desire as you graze his hard-on. "or are you not hard right now, Mr. Miller?" you purr, your voice laced with seduction.

his rough hand shoves your hips hard back against the wall, a growl slipping his throat. "y'got a dirty fuckin' mouth on you." his breath hits your cheeks in a warm reminder of the wine you'd both had for dinner.

"so it wasn't because of that?" you ask, blinking in a false sense of innocence, watching as his eyes swim with an animalistic hunger. you've got him right where you want him. "was it from thinking about me touching myself? or, from remembering the last time we were together in my house?"

his momentary lapse in recovery allows for you to go in for the final kill, "Mr. Miller,” you coo, “do you think of my pussy when you fuck Dahlia? d'you wish it was me?" you spit, smirking up at him as red splatters his furious features, "you can talk all you want, Mr. Miller, but I know you're just a greedy, desperate man who loves to pretend you have any power over me." you whisper into the shell of his ear, palm roughly grabbing the outline of his cock boldly.

his next movements take your breath away: the shock of his fists slamming hard against the wall on either side of your head makes you jump, and his hawkish, angry eyes bore into yours.

"get your fuckin' hands off of me. now."

his voice is... scary.

the blood leaves your head as your damp spot of your pants floods with desire, the fear spiking a real excitement in you. you are smart enough to follow his orders; the look in his eyes suggests you do so.

your hands shakily fly back from his crotch to hang by your sides as you stare up at him - nervous. excited, ready.

his eyes are narrowed, stern as his brows are furrowed low. the permanent scowl on his lips is intimidating as he holds your gaze with fierce intent. "you're gonna be real fuckin' honest with me, now. okay?"

you swallow dryly, staring up at his face, how he's boxed you in with arms on either side of your head. you feel cornered, small; prey, hunted by predator.

you nod smally, startled into silence, unable to speak as the ache between your legs becomes unbearable. your legs clench, searching for relief only to be disappointed at the dull sensation.

he stares at you for a few moments, unmoving except for the flaring of his nostrils and the rising of his chest as he breathes just as heavy as you.

"are you wet?"

your face flushes with heat. christ, Joel is going to kill you. (if you don't kill him first). your legs feel weak, desire driving your heart rate up as you nod meekly, voice cracking out. "y-yes."

he nods, seemingly pleased with your honesty.

"how long have you been walkin' round with ruined panties?" his head tilts down slightly, angled down at you as if chastising you. you flush in shame, genuinely taking a moment to remember the exact moment you first noticed your underwear dampen.

you can't admit to him that you woke up this morning with his name on your lips and a wet patch on the seat of your sleep shorts, can you? (and certainly not that it happens every day.)

"s-since-" you take a sharp inhale, glaring at him for humiliating you like this - outside, no less. anybody could walk past or look out their window and see Joel and you like this. "dinner."

his brows raise, the look darkening on his face. you can tell, he loves the beginning - the teasing, the arguing, the embarrassment - just as much as the end. "dinner? s'like, two hours." his frown immodest, tempting. judging.

you nod, biting back a snide comment about Joel being an excellent time-teller, your face burning in embarrassment as you break eye contact, staring at your feet.

"d’you like being a slut?" he asks, then. you nearly whimper at his words, the aching in your cunt burning, pulsing and clenching around nothing as you stare at him in desire. fuck Joel Miller.

"'m not a slut." you say, but the defiant words come out more as a whine than a sharp argument. one hand falls from the wall on your left to grip onto your jaw, holding your cheeks hard as he forces your eyes back up to him.

his nails dig into the soft flesh of your cheeks as you gasp, your own hands in fists as you resist pulling him into you.

"that's not what I fuckin' asked, now, is it?" he sneers. you blink up at him, shaking your head after a moment of contemplation. "no, sir." you whisper meekly. you don't miss the tightening of his grip at the honorific as it falls sultry from your lips. he hums.

"do you want me to touch you?" he asks next. you can't even have the decency to stop your whine as you nod, "yes, please."

his other hand falls from the wall, eyes just as angry and unforgiving as he undoes the button on your shorts single-handedly. "good. don't you fuckin' look away from my eyes, y'hear me? hands down, eyes up."

this is twice now that he hasn't let you touch him - your brows furrow, but just as he snaps in front of your face, you let the thought melt away.

"y-yes, sir." you nod, your palms sweaty, heart thundering as he shoves his hand down the front of your shorts, breaching your underwear easily as fingers slide through the deft curls that lie just above your heat.

"gotta warm y'up for me this time," he mutters, eyes sharp as he watches yours, ensuring they don't do as much as blink.

it's delicious, almost too much as two of his thick fingers part the seam of your lips, your wetness spilling and coating his fingers immediately. you burn in shame, thighs starting to close over his hand.

one ruddy, thick thigh slides to kick your leg to the side, widening your stance as he shoves you harder up against the side of the house. the tip of his finger prods at your aching hole, leaking with desperation for him.

there are crickets outside, a steady but low staccato of music filling the summer Jackson air as one finger slowly slides into you, curling unforgivingly as you gasp, rising on your toes as he stretches you. "fuck," you whimper, throwing your head back against the wall behind you.

the thud is dull, but it echoes around the street and it calls your attention to the very public space you're in.

"hey." Joel snaps, one hand swatting your cheek lightly as your eyes close, "don't look away."

you blink back at him as he pumps lazily for a few moments, watching your every micro-expression, the way your chest stutters with his motions. the noise of your arousal is humiliating against the pleasant summer breeze.

you can't help the low moan of his name when he adds a second finger. the stretch is nothing like when it's his cock inside of you, but the strokes, the curl of his fingers start to coax a simmering coil in you that you know will explode soon.

your eyes are still on his obediently when you nearly whisper it.

he hears it, though, and smirks, "what was that, darlin’?"

you groan in irritation but it splinters into a sharp moan when his fingers pick up their pace, fucking into you as you lie slack against the wall, legs trembling.

"just- fuck me. fuck me now." you wheeze, the desire a burning snake that coils around your chest and squeezes at your heart.

"no." he decides, eyes glaring, "can't have y'whining like a bitch again, darlin'. gotta open you up on my fingers first." the sting of his words are cushioned by the lust that swirls around his voice, the languid was his thick fingers pump up into you, holding you up against the frame of the house with a dark smirk.

you nod, hissing in stimulation when one finger slides to start rubbing your neglected clit with just enough pressure to curl your toes; your chest is slick with sweat, fingernails digging painfully into the meat of your palm as you hum, lips sealed tight to avoid yelping out.

your eyes flicker from his once more, scanning the street just feet away from you, paranoid of the possibility of a neighbor seeing you.

Joel notices, of course. "what, baby, don' want the neighbors to see?" he hums, eyes cutting into you as your face flushes with heat, "y'seemed to want everybody to hear me fucking you stupid last time, didn't 'ya?"

you groan, "fuck you, Joel."

his hand stops its ministrations just as cold ice pours down your spine. oh, shit.

his hand slides out of your pants, face furious.

you shake your head, eyes welling with tears; you hadn't meant for it to slip out like that. "n-no, wait, 'm sorry, didn't mean it." you whimper, voice choked with the loss of his hand.

he just huffs a cold chuckle, wiping his hand over his face, the other one glistening with your juices under the light of the porch.

your panicked, desperate babble of apologies is stopped with one look from him.

"get on your goddamn knees now."

you shiver with excitement, tears drying slightly as you swallow, complying quickly. the cement is rough and cold under your bare knees, your hands held still together on your thighs as you stare up at him in wait. he stands tall before you; the shroud of the flickering porch light emboldening him, making him look like a god - an unforgiving one, at that - as he pulls his thick, pulsing cock from his jeans.

your mouth waters as he starts to pump it languidly, the tip a red color from arousal, leaking precum.

he doesn’t have to ask you to open your mouth for him, your own desire to taste him spurring you to stick your tongue out flat in wait for his dick.

"I'm going to ask you again." he says, tapping your tongue with the weight of his length, the slapping noise flooding your underwear as you ache to feel him again. "do you like being a slut?"

you swallow, tongue sliding along the bottom of his head as you do, muttering a slight, "yes, sir."

"'s right. you love being my slut." he nods, your mouth open and ready for him as he thrusts his whole length into your wet, warm mouth; you gag almost immediately, his hips unforgiving as he immediately starts to fuck into your throat. you try your best to breathe through your nose, gagging as his tip pokes the back of your throat - you know there'll be a bruise that will make it painful to eat, drink, speak - you fucking love it.

he lets out a grunt of arousal, nodding as his hands gather your hair from your face, gripping your cheeks and pushing your head back against the side of the house.

two thrusts, a few tears from your eyes as you choke, your lungs burning for air.

he pulls away, you suck in air with a strangled gasp. your saliva links you to his heavy cock, a chain that holds you in his grasp. "tell me you love being my slut."

you burn at his words and in your brief hesitation, his cock is slapping at your mouth, his impatience bleeding through his actions.

"I-" your voice is wrecked after only a few seconds of him in your mouth, but you swallow as you gasp for air, "I l-love being your slut."

he slides himself through your slick lips again, hips a punishing pace as he fills up your mouth, your throat tight and wet. his groan echoes through the street; in the corner of your eye, you swear you see a light turn on in a bedroom window. shivers of desire run through you as you resist the urge to touch yourself.

you can't breathe; your nose brushes against the course hair at the base of his shaft, the scent of him surrounding you as his hips try to smash you against the side of the house.

he holds you there, hands rough on your cheeks, slapping your right cheek as it bulges with his length. you choke, gagging as you try your hardest to keep eye contact. his face is harsh, his sneer cold as he stares at you, "'s right, choke on your fuckin' words, darlin'." his hips press forward slightly and you cough around him, it's too much - tears slide down your cheeks as you try not to gag more.

"you gonna disrespect me again?" he asks, tilting his head as spit trails down your chin, tears meeting the trail of saliva as it drips down onto your chest.

you can only hum a nuh-uh around his cock, hoping it's enough to satisfy him. you feel yourself throb and fucking burn with need, your knees sore from the cement under you.

you cough and sputter when he pulls himself away from you, mouth sore, jaw aching and throat wrecked. his eyes flicker over to the house across the street before he grips your shoulder, tugging you in your aroused, dazed state up to your legs.

"oh, darlin', you're bleedin'." he coos at you, thumb swiping your cheek as you stand up. he's right: your knees are just scratched enough to speckle the skin with dark splotches of blood. you feel a tingling sensation of arousal as he hums, "let's get you inside, hm?"

you stumble to keep up as he storms through the threshold of the house, the door swinging shut after your shaking frame falls inside. it's dark; there is only one lamp turned on in the other room.

Joel is almost a shadow as he surrounds you, your hands falling onto his large, stiff shoulders as he pushes you against the door frame.

your legs give out from desire soon and the two of you tumble to the ground, a mess of grunts and shoves, tearing at clothes as you whimper in desire, his own lustful groans echoing the empty house. as his pants are shucked off and your shorts are thrown across the room, your hips are shoved and flipped over until you're ass-up for him, one of his large hands moving roughly to grab a handful of your plush behind.

your hands and knees ache, but you wiggle your ass slightly in need, not daring to speak to him. the anger that radiates from the two of you is a grenade; you can feel the tension bubbling behind your desire and so you just move back until you brush against his hard length, the fabric of your panties completely soaked as you grind against him.

his moan echoes as a hand falls hard to slap against the skin of your ass. you let out a strangled yell, the pain stinging through you as you keen forward. you know there will be a handprint branded into you, you know it'll be sore to sit and you'll have to think of him each time. he'll consume you for days.

you love it.

his fingers tease the wet material that's glued to your pussy with desire, tracing over your lips lightly over the fabric. "pretty cunt, just for me." he mutters; you shake with desire when you realize it was more a mutter for him than an intentional phrase for you to hear.

"think you're ready for me, baby?" he grunts, his fingers pulling your underwear to the side, exposing your puffy, glistening cunt to him.

"I'm so re-ready sir, please, fuck me." you beg, reduced yet again to nothing but a writhing mess for the worst man you know.

he gives no warning, no teasing - he breaches you swiftly and rough. you scream.

it cracks, it echoes, it's painful as you yell out, his cock heavy and huge and aching as he slides into you, sheathing you fully within a few seconds. Joel's moan reverberates on your skin as his hands grip so hard at your ass you think his fingers will remain there for days.

he immediately sets a pace that has you squirming under him, breath choking up in your chest as you slide against the hardwood. the smell of the house is Joel - sandalwood, whiskey, pine. sex.

your arms are tugged roughly.

panic rises in you when you think you're about to slam your face against the floor, but as Joel pounds hard into you, he pulls your hands tight to your back, holding you up to you're suspended with just his cock working you open can keep you from falling.

it's bliss. it's sharp, this angle; he hits into that spongy spot inside you as his cock drags against your pulsing walls, your hands clenching as your breath leaves you.

one hand sneaks over your front, grasping at your tits as he reaches up into you deeply. then it snakes lower, rocking you forward as he swats at your clit, the sharp smack of his palm causing you to squeeeeeze around him, trapping him in your aching desire. he lets out a grunt, "fuckin'- jesus christ, girl, you're s-so tight."

the noises of your arousal swallowing his dick echo around the room in a sickening chorus.

"dumb girl, lovin' it when I yell at her," he mutters to himself, chasing your high as he feels it spasming close around him. "gonna be o-obedient and thank me for each orgasm, 'kay?" his accent is thick in the throes of passion, you notice.

you nod, unable to speak, unable to think as you feel the crest of something incredibly blissful; you let out a wheeze of ecstasy. "y-yes, s-sir," you choke, your voice croaking from the remnants of his dick wrecking you.

you barely realize you're cumming until you’re screaming, a white-hot, searing arousal streaking your vision. tears are resurfacing on your eyes as he hums, "say it."

you swallow, shakily squirming as he pounds into you, unforgiving in tone and pace. "than-thank you."

it only takes a few more minutes and his thick hand squeezing your throat before you cum for a second time, your hands pulling at his hips, trying to escape the overstimulation of his long, dragging thrusts. the floor is slick with your juices, and so is his pubic bone.

"thank you, s-sir." you slur out, his hand holding you by the throat against his chest, his heartbeat slamming just as fast as yours.

soon he drops your arms, their shaky muscles barely stopping you as you fall to the floor. his chest follows you until he's smothering you, thrusts becoming weak with his own nearing orgasm. you cry, the overstimulation causing you to shake. "'s too much, too much."

he hums, "you want me to stop?"

"no!" you scream it, wail it; no, christ, don't stop. never stop.

he chuckles; a dark, brooding noise. "an' you wonder why I think you're such a bad influence." he mutters into the shell of your ear as he pushes further, deeper into you; "lettin' an old man fuck you into the floor. lovin' it."

he chuckles as you let out a whine, eyes screwing shut at the bursts of pleasure coursing through you. your knees ache.

"'s dirty, isn't it? and you love it, pretty girl."

you let your cheek drop onto the hardwood at his ministrations, spent from your previous orgasms; the pet name makes you flush, arching your hips back. he's so deep, you feel him in your throat. each thrust pushes his tip into your cervix, a dull ache with a swirl of pleasure and ecstasy. you let out a groan, "love it, love it s'much. love it, sir, thank you." you whimper, your brain empty except for Joel Joel JoelJoel-

"good m-manners, sweet girl." he hums, pressing a hot kiss to your spine. goosebumps form in his wake, his words echoing in your brain. sweet girl.

"you're gonna cum one more time." he orders, the thrusts of his hips grinding you down, melting you, tearing you. you nod, "yes, yes-yes, fuck, gonna-gonna cum again." you whimper, the painful overstimulation of his cock drilling through your spent, swollen folds.

your third orgasm has you wailing, shaking your head as you convulse in pleasure, his strong grip holding your hips down as he hits your spot repeatedly, the noise of him fucking into you echoing through the foyer.

there's tears on the floor as you shake, colors exploding behind your eyes as he whispers things you cannot hear into your ear.

when you come to, he's still ravaging your body.

you're limp, ecstasy flowing through your very being as his cock spears through you, hands smacking you, gripping you, grunts leaving his mouth as he nears his own orgasm, having pulled three from you.

"where are your manners?" he whispers into your ear. you let out a broken half-laugh, half-gasp. "fuck- thank you, Joel, thank you."

he hums in satisfaction and you swear you feel his cock twitch inside you as you utter his first name.

he's back in your ear in seconds, surrounding you, swallowing you whole. you love it.

"this is my pussy. mine." he grunts, "never think 'bout any other pussy. jus' this one. always." his voice is laced with desperation as he swats your ass, thrusting into you a few more times as you squirm, sobbing, throat raw.

yours, you whimper in a chorus, body limp as he uses you; his thrusts are sloppy. he's so close-

and he cums just as he's pulling out of you; you gasp at the loss but also as his cum shoots hot spurts across the plush curve of your ass, a bit onto your spine - most of it over your ruined pussy, streaking you in white.

you pulse around nothing, shaking as your legs give out. he groans a deep thing, fingers falling to spread you open, the lewd noise soft and slick.

you jolt and he shushes you with a soft caress of your back. "jus' wanna see it, baby. wanna see how I ruined you."

you swallow dryly at that, nodding as you tilt your hips, eager to feel his eyes over you, over all of you; eager for him.

a finger smears his spend over your juices, pressing lightly at your puckered hole, pushing some of his cum back into you. "fuckin' christ, girl."

you set out a laugh that turns into a cough of pain at the ragged state of your throat.

he stands and leaves you on the cold floor, covered in sweat. you try not to let your heart deflate when he’s gone.

but he returns with a rag and hands it to you before shucking his jeans on; you pull your underwear back on with shaky hands once you’ve wiped yourself clean, your body exhausted.

you sigh. even the thought of making the trek just a few houses down to your own place is daunting as your eyes flutter. something in his eyes glint in understanding when your gazes meet each other, and he seems to get it.

so if Joel gathers you in his arms with a grunt and a short complaint, you don't think too much about it.

(you hate him. he hates you.)

and if he holds your head to his chest as he starts the walk back to your house, it’s not a big deal to you.

when brings you up into your bedroom instead of leaving you at your front door as he finally carries you to your house, you chalk it up to you being nearly asleep. you must be delirious when he tucks you into your mattress and pulls your blankets up. you swear he mutters something about dinner and nice and good job.

(what a cocky asshole.)

it's probably a dream, when a hand caresses the sweaty skin of your forehead, brushing hair away gently before footsteps disappear through the doorway.

. part three .

requests open

#joel miller smut #joel x reader smut #joel miller x reader #joel miller x reader smut #Joel Miller #pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal smut #the last of us smut #the last of us x reader #the last of us #tlou spoilers #tlou fanfiction #the last of us (hbo)#the last of us (tv)

5K notes · View notes

the-froschamethyst4 · 6 months

Text

Where is my husband

𖤐Pairing: Husband! Ghost x Wife! Reader

𖤐Pronouns: She/Her

𖤐Warnings: Fluff, emotional, kissing, language, married couple, you may or may not cry,

𖤐Summary: Ghost was on a dangerous mission that he had a feeling he might not even make it home to see his wife

—————

Beep...beep...beep...

Ghost was hooked up to a monitor, he got shot at and stabbed on this mission, he was close to dying and he didn't want to die, he wanted to go home and see he wife, he wanted to grow old with her, he wanted a family with her, he wanted a child with her.

His eyes were closed as he was having a watchful eye on him while he rests, the doctors and nurses checking up on him and Price, Soap and Gaz all watching over him.

Soap had a broken nose, arm and was recovering from a gun wound.

Price was recovering from almost being blown up by a landmine.

And Gaz was in a wheelchair after breaking his leg and a gunshot to his lower abdomen.

Ghost was lucky to even come out alive.

"Are we going to tell, Y/n?" Gaz asked, looking up at Price.

"I had Lasswell, let her know...I haven't heard anything," he said as they looked at Ghost through the window into his room as doctors went through more tests if he was okay and could go home soon.

"Price!" Price jumped hearing his name, all three men turned seeing a worried and teary-eyed Y/n coming towards them.

"Y/n!" Price called. Before she could make it to the window to look at Ghost, Price and Soap stopped her.

"Just be prepare what you may see," Price said.

"John, where is my husband and is he okay?" Y/n asked worried and a tear finally falling on her cheek.

"The doctors said he's going to be okay, but they just need to run a few more tests," Soap said as he held Y/n's shoulders and brought her to the window.

Her eyes widened and tears falling even more down her cheeks. She stepped closer to the window as she saw her husband laying on the hospital bed, wires hooked to him and doctors and nurses making sure he was good to go. She saw that his eyes were closed.

"He's been asleep for 4 days..." Price said.

"They said it's a coma...he may or may not wake up," Soap said.

Y/n turned to Price. "So, I may not have a husband anymore?" She said with tears falling.

"We don't know, Mrs.Ri-"

"Mrs.Riley?"

"Yes?" A doctor came out asking for Y/n.

"If you would like to come in and see your husband..."

"Is he okay?" She asked him.

"He's just fine, we just need him to wake up and he can be released," Y/n walked into the room as the same with the guys but they stopped in the doorway.

"We'll leave you be, Y/n," Price said as all three left along with the nurses and doctor.

She walked to his right side, her hand touched his, she sat in the chair that was next to his bed. She drops her head on his hand tears falling from her eyes onto his hand.

Ghost felt something drop on his hand, a small hand on his hand, and he heard sniffling. He opened his eyes and looked around he saw that he was in the hospital and looked down at the woman crying on his hand.

"Ow," he says as his head was hurting. Y/n shot up and looked at her husband.

"Simon!" She said, cupping his face and kissing his skull mask, she grabbed the bottom of it pulling it up and kissing his lips, which caught him off guard. She ran to the doorframe and called for a doctor.

"DOCTOR! DOCTOR! HE'S AWAKE!" She yells as him, two nurses and Price, Soap and Gaz came back to the room to see Ghost.

"Ghost."

"How do you feel?" Price asked as the doctor checked him once more.

"I feel fine..." he said as he lifted his arm, so the nurses could check his blood pressure.

Y/n was smiling seeing that her husband was awake. The doctor checked his eyes and cleared his throat before talking.

"Well, Mr.Riley, we will sign off of your reports and by the afternoon you should be allowed to leave with your wife."

"Wife?" Y/n's heart dropped when he questioned the doctor. "I have a wife?"

Price, Soap and Gaz looked at Y/n, who played with her fingers after hearing Ghost doesn't know that he is married.

"Ghost...your wife," Price pointed to Y/n standing next to the bed.

"She's not my wife..." Ghost said, turning back to Price.

"Yes, she is, you married her, 2 years ago...do you...not remember her?" Soap asked.

"No...I don't remember marrying her...I don't remember dating anyone..." Ghost said.

The guys looked at Y/n as those same tears wanted to fall again.

--------

"Doctor, why the hell, does he not remember Y/n but knows us just fine?" Price questioned the doctor.

"I'm not sure...but we figure something out," he looks at Y/n. "He remembers everything before 2 years ago that's how he knows you three just fine...whatever happened before he came here, you, have disappeared from his memory...you need to get yourself back into his head, help him out, help him remember you...till then we'll sign off on the papers and you are free to take him home, Mrs.Riley."

"Thanks doctor," was all Y/n could say.

"For nothing," Soap said as the doctor was out of ear shot.

"Soap," Price growled. Y/n walked back to the window seeing her husband eating the horrible hospital food, she swallowed a lump in her throat and walked into the room.

Ghost looked up at her as she sat next to him again. He still had on his black wedding ring.

"So...you're my wife?" Simon asked.

"Yeah...it's okay if you don't remember me, Simon...I will help you remember who I am...who we were together."

"Thanks...I'm sorry, you seem like such a sweet and gentle woman, if I am married to you, I must be a good guy then to get someone like you."

Y/n smiled at his comment.

"You were always a good guy, Simon."

"Sometimes, I don't feel like it," he said, staring at his food. "And this food sucks."

"We can get real food once you're dismissed," she giggled.

---------

Simon walked to your car just fine, getting into the passenger side and Y/n got into the driver side but before she got in Price stopped her.

"If you need anything, you know how to reach me...and let me know how he's doing."

"I will...thank you, Price."

"Of course," he said as she got in and started her car.

"So, where do you want to go eat?"

"I don't care anything better than the hospital."

"Understandable," she said as she drove out of the parking lot.

"So...if we're married do we have...kids?" Ghost asked.

"No...we have a cat named Phantom."

"Phantom?" He questioned.

"You named him...because of his fur."

"Is he a black cat?"

"Yep, long haired, ember eyes and little bit of white on his paws." She said moving her head from side to side making sure the road was clear for her to go.

"What was our wedding like?"

"Big, beautiful, our colors were black and lavender, you thought it was weird at first but learned to love it later on," she said.

"Where was it?"

"The Napa Valley, you picked that spot, you thought the land was beautiful."

"I picked it?"

"I let you pick the destination and then I handled the rest."

"Was your dress beautiful?" He asked.

"...Yeah it was...when you saw it at the wedding-"

"I cried?"

"Yeah," she smiled at him.

"Do we have photos in the house where I could see?"

"Oh yeah...you put up so many photos of us around the house," Ghost smiled.

"I didn't know...a woman like you could make me happy, I thought I was honestly going to be alone for the rest of my life."

"No, Simon, don't say that."

"But I thought it was."

The rest of the ride home was silent, Ghost did ask a few more questions every now and then but he wanted to get home, he wasn't tired or anything, he just wanted to get home and feel his guard et let down because he was comfortable.

Y/n pulled into the driveway, and she went to Ghost's passenger side and opened the door for him as he got out, he held his side where he got shot and Y/n was worried if it was hurting him.

"Does it hurt?"

"A little...but it's fine," he said as he looked at the house behind Y/n. "Is this our house?"

"Yep," she smiled and unlocked the door and pushed it open. Phantom came running towards them both. Ghost looked down at Phantom who was meowing at the top of his lungs and rubbing his head on Ghost's leg.

Y/n picked him up and Ghost petted Phantom's head.

He removed his mask and tossed it on the bench next to the front door along with taking his boots off and jacket, but he winced feeling the pain of his other gun wound in his shoulder. Y/n came towards him and helped him remove his jacket.

"There..." she said, putting it on the coatrack.

"Guess you'll have to take care of me till I can go to therapy for it," the doctor had made a couple of appointments for Simon to go see a Physical Therapist after he gets his stitches out.

"That's fine, give me enough time for you to remember me," she said with a soft smile.

Ghost walked into the living room seeing the photos she was talking about. The fireplace had some sitting there some were wedding photos, and one had a photo of Phantom as a kitten.

There was on sitting on the coffee table in from of the couch and it was Ghost holding Y/n's waist and kissing her at the altar. There were some behind the couch, one was Y/n in a cute summer dress and a flower in her hair and his chin being held by Ghost as he was the one who took the photo.

Y/n watched as he walked around the living room, looking at the photos. She watched him pick a few to look at them.

"You took most of them."

"I see that...I like this one," he said, holding the one where she was in a summer dress.

"When you printed it out, you almost didn't want to put it out," she said.

"I understand why, look at this, she's beautiful," he said, Y/n smiled at his compliment.

Ghost had followed Y/n up the stairs to their shared master bedroom. He looked around the bedroom, definitely his doing on the decorating, black and white with some gray here and there, barely any sort of feminine touch.

"Which side did I sleep on?" Ghost asked.

"The left...you liked sleeping next to the window because if someone broke in...they'd have to get past you first," he smiled at that thought of keeping her safe from danger.

"Tonight, you can sleep here, and I'll take the guest bedroom if you don't feel like we should sleep together right now."

"Umm~ you can stay in here...it's more your bedroom than mine," Ghost said, rubbing the back of his neck. "We can set up a pillow border to keep apart from each other." He suggested.

"That can work," she said.

Y/n was in her silk pajama set as Simon was in sweatpants and a black tank top (I rather not call it a 'wife-beater') and got under the covers. He helped her set up the pillow barrier.

"I'm sorry, I don't remember you."

"It's okay, we have a whole day tomorrow to start over," she said with a reassuring smile.

#cod modern warfare #cod mw2 #cod mwii #cod x reader #fandom #fanfic #call of duty #mw2 #cod #ghost cod #simon ghost x reader #ghost mw2 #ghost x reader #simon ghost riley #ghost

650 notes · View notes

confused-wanderer · 1 year

Text

Scott *entering room* : Why’s Stiles lying face down on the carpet and screaming and why did Derek just pass me muttering about jumping off the roof?

Peter *having the time of his life* : It’s all just a- *voice breaks* - lil strange innit boys?

Stiles *screams intensified*

Scott: .. wh-

Lydia *trying to figure out how Stiles is one of the smartest people around* : We went to negotiate with the new pack

Malia *cackling with Peter* : The one possessive over its pack?

Scott: .. Right

Peter *snickering* : And Stiles here was with Derek making introductions cuz the rest of us *gestures to him and Malia* were… cautious

Stiles *screaming while lying face down*: YOU WANTED TO PLANT LANDMINES IN THE FOREST

Peter: Thats what I said.. anyways, the leader stepped forward, pointed to a woman in her pack and said, “She’s my mate.”

Malia *losing her mind and falling to the ground laughing while Stiles screams become louder*

Scott: and?

Peter: And what do you think our brave, snarky, cunning and smart Stiles said?

Stiles : IT WAS NOT MY FAULT OKAY IT WAS A MUSINDERSTA-

Malia *wheezing* : HE POINTED TO DEREK AND SAID “He’s my mate”!

Stiles *turning bright red* : I THOUGHT THEY WERE BRITISH OKAY?

#stiles stilinski #Derek hale #Peter hale #Malia hale #Lydia Martin #sterek #teen wolf #dumbass stiles #Scott mccall

2K notes · View notes

heavencanbeaprisontoo · 1 month

Note

Hi I hope you’re well 😊 I’m here to request your thoughts on Tommy Shelby as a father. Like how many kids you’d think he would have had if he only had one love interest (no falling in love with Grace or marrying Lizzie). Or if you think he’d be a girl or boy dad (personally i’d like to think he’d be a girl dad and have a big family haha). You can make this headcanon or just simply respond to this ask however you’d like! Thank you for taking the time to read and answer 🥰

Thomas Shelby as a Father

Tommy x Fem!Reader

Trope: Wait till your father gets home Warnings: Angst, spoilers for most of the series, period-typical sexism, references to past ab-se.

What we see of Tommy as a father is that he's distant and seemingly detached. This, I feel, is because of his trauma in losing Grace and his growing obsession with obtaining power.

We do see that Tommy is aware of his children's emotional state but seems unable to comfort his son. He goes as far as to have Arthur be the one to talk to his son about why he had to shoot his horse.

Tommy clearly cares about his children. He runs through a field of landmines to save his son, when he had almost stepped on one to purposely end his own life. Tommy goes nearly mad when he finds out Alfie Solomons was involved with the enemy that kidnapped his son. He shot Alfie for that betrayal with the intent to kill.

When Ruby became ill and he thought was all due to a curse, Tommy hunted the woman down. He went on a bloody rampage because he thought it would save her. With all of this, we know he is a loving father. But without Grace, he doesn't seem to know how to show that love.

Let's say that there is no Grace, only you, and that no sapphire is ever put around your neck.

That Thomas might be different than the one we saw parenting Charles and Ruby. I think he would want more than two children. I think he would be the sort of man who would say "one is enough," but really he wants four.

He would never raise his voice in his home without good reason. Tommy knows what its like to have a father that rules through fear and honey. He won't be kind only when he wants something. He won't make his children afraid of him.

Personally, I do see him as prime girl-dad material. Like he would have one son and three girls. Regardless of the birthing order, he calls the boy his "heir," but spoils the girls. They each have their own horse, a wardrobe of beautiful clothing, and freedom to do literally whatever they want. He has opened his briefcase to find dollies and teacups from your youngest girl's tea set before. She thought he would be lonely at work.

His girls would be the sort to follow around staff and ask them intrusive questions. Tommy would not be immune. His daughters would probably ask him questions like: "Do you not grow hair on the back of your hand daddy? Is that why it's only on top?" At least one of his daughters would have a "I'm totally a witch," phase where she's flinging curses just like he used to. Only with her, it's cute because she's only nine.

The only son of Thomas Shelby would be safely tucked under his wing. At your imploring, he would take your boy on long car rides or out into town without his sisters to bond. The boy has a lot of pressure on him to succeed, Tommy doesn't always sympathize with that.

All four of his children would be little hellions. He would be dragged to see their school's headmaster on a near weekly basis. To the point where he isn't always sure which of his kids is in trouble sometimes. He just drops a donation to the school and the problem goes away. That's not to say your children are bratty or terribly spoiled. Well, they are, but not unbearably so...

Tommy makes sure his children understand where he came from. He brings them all to the Cut to watch the ships come through. Loves to leave them at Charlie's yard for an afternoon of mischief and bonding time with "Grandpa Charlie." They also get dropped off at Aunt Polly's home for weekends every now and again. The girls always come back with a new swear word.

They are new money, not old money. There are those who will look down upon them based on this alone. He makes sure his children are educated and well-rounded individuals. Tommy often worries about the state of the Shelby Empire after he dies. You remind him that he "isn't allowed to die," before you say so.

Tommy is still more distant than you would like him to be. He's so focused on his goals, it's like he forgets all about Arrow House and the family that lives there. The oldest two girls have said as much to his face once before. He took the family on holiday after that. You knew he would go right back to long nights in the office, but it was still sweet.

Life with him is hardly perfect, but it's closer to it than you could have with anybody else. And that's enough.

#peaky blinders #peaky blinders x reader #thomas shelby #peaky blinders headcanon #peaky blinders imagine #thomas shelby x reader #tommy shelby #thomas shelby headcanon #thomas shelby x you

189 notes · View notes

doberbutts · 2 months

Note

yeah on that note ive also seen it said that we're weaponizing our agab when we share our experiences with misogyny to "shut down conversations of transmisogyny". i won't say this doesn't happen at all with some bad actors, but for it to be considered such a widespread problem, it feels more like our conversations are getting shut down first and our attempts to prove what we go through is real are then considered clinging to being a poor little woman victim

I was accused of "deliberately setting down landmines" when in reaction to someone butting in and trying to shut down a conversation I reminded them that it was a conversation about rape and forced pregnancy of trans mascs as a weapon of transphobes to force detransition or prevent transition in the first place. If we can't even talk about something that happens to us with regularity without being accused of "weaponizing [our] AGAB" or "having a victim complex", how are we supposed to prevent it from happening to any more of us?

Maybe [general] you wouldn't fear stepping on landmines if [general] you would just. Listen to the conversation instead of feeling like [general] you have to dunk on those talking about their problems all the time. Maybe if [general] you regarded trans mascs as an oppressed population instead of the epitome of privilege and power we could, you know, have actual dialogue and not feel betrayed and abandoned by each other.

The people who harassed me about that post were almost all trans mascs themselves telling me that that doesn't happen to us. Meanwhile I know no fewer than 4 trans mascs that it did happen to, more than one of which I have no idea is even still alive or not *because* of it happening to him, several more who it's been threatened *including myself*, and the post has direct testimonies of people who were in that situation or were born from that situation. Trans mascs gaslighting trans mascs and dismissing our own struggles and stories of our oppression while claiming to be doing so for the good of trans fems. And people wonder why there's such a rift between us.

155 notes · View notes

ashen-angel · 13 days

Text

my cigarette is sparkling ~

𝓲𝓰: 𝔁𝓾𝔁____._𝓻𝔂𝓾₊˚⊹♡ ໒꒰ྀིっ˕ -｡꒱ྀི১

66 notes · View notes

plushygun · 5 months

Text

girlfriends????

#illustration #jirai kei #landmine girl #地雷系 #地雷女子 #jirai onna #イラスト #量産型 #landmine woman #ryousangata #病みかわいい #art #tw sh related

60 notes · View notes

cvnnamxxn · 1 year

Text

'-'_꩜ 𝘠𝘰𝘶 𝘸𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘣𝘳𝘢𝘪𝘯𝘸𝘢𝘴𝘩𝘦𝘥 𝘭𝘰𝘯𝘨 𝘢𝘨𝘰 𝘈𝘯𝘥 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘸𝘦𝘯𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘳𝘰𝘶𝘨𝘩 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘩𝘢𝘳𝘮𝘧𝘶𝘭 𝘥𝘦𝘦𝘥 𝘛𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘪𝘴 𝘯𝘰 𝘴𝘢𝘷𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘪𝘵 𝘴𝘦𝘦𝘮𝘴 ꩜_'-'

art cred: hanabitaminc

#jirai kei #jiraikei #地雷女 #jirai #landmine girl #地雷系女子 #yami kawaii #landmine woman #art #sharp objects #tw knife #tw sharp objects #tw sharp things #medication #tw medication #tw medicine

109 notes · View notes

fitographia · 4 months

Text

Shoulder Pump Routine!💪🏼

Leaning Lateral Raise

4 Sets + 10, 10,8,8 Reps

Cross Cable Lateral Raise

4Sets + 12,10,10,8 Reps

Seated Lateral Raises

4 Sets + 10, 10,8,8 Reps

EZ-Bar Front Raise

4Sets + 10,10,8,8 Reps

Landmine Rear Delt Row

4Sets + 10,8,8,6 Reps

#Beautiful #fit #woman #fashion #gym #fitnessmotivation #fitness #FindYourBalance #sportgirl #lifestyle #motivationmonday #happy #fitnessaddict #selfie #home #love #workout #work #workinprogress #fitnessgirl #summer #sunset #sun #squats #gymrat #legday #leg #legs #strong #fitnessmodel

#fitness #gym #workout #fitnessmotivation #fit #fitnessgirl #fitnessmodel #squats #fitnessaddict #beautiful

248 notes · View notes

arc-misadventures · 6 months

Note

Jaune FMK: Ren, Sun, and Neptune. No! Not the dudes! The R63 versions! Cardin gets the dudes version.

God dammit… I have a brilliant, idea for this one, now I have to do it…

Context before we begin! Jaune is in his, Atlas design, and the, Fall never happened.

Let’s begin!

Jaune: MFK VIII

Jaune was sitting at a bench near the back of, Beacon Academy reading a book before a voice pried him away from his reading.

: Hey, Jaune. Mind if I join you?

Jaune looked up to stare into the sift pink eyes of his teammate Lie Rin. He smiled as he took in her beauty, her long flowing raven black hair, and her oriental dress. He nodded to his head as he gestured to the open space on the bench.

Jaune: By all means.

Rin: Thank you, Jaune.

Jaune had expected, Rin to take the seat across from him so he was surprised when she took the seat besides him, even more so when he registered how close she was next to him.

Jaune: Uhh… You need something, Rin?

Rin: Well, we just wanted to ask you something.

Jaune: We? Who’s we?

: She means us, handsome~!

Jaune looked over to see two ladies walking over towards him. He saw a girl with cyan hair stylized in a punk cut, with long bangs draped across her face. She wore a red shirt, overtop a white dress shirt that struggled to contain her sizeable bust with it. All the while she shot him a cocky smirk as she drew near.

Walking besides her, he saw a girl with a short, and wild haircut, she wore a loose dress shirt that proudly displayed her well defined abs, a result of her drive to perfect her body. With nothing, but a grey sports bra to hide her sizeable chest.

This appeared the leader of, Team SSSN, and her teammate, Sun Wukong, and Neptunia Vasilias.

Jaune: Hello ladies, you need something?

Nep: Yeah, we wanted to ask you something.

Jaune: Oh, and what is that?

Sun: Between the three of us, who would you, MFK?

Jaune stared at the pair dumbstruck as the pair sat down across of him, each of them shooting the befuddled knight a coy, and teasing smile.

Jaune: Uhh… W-Why are you asking me this?

Nep: Oh, just curious is all.

Sun: Yeah, just curious.

Jaune stared at the pair with a quirked eyebrow, visually displaying towards the pair how much he doubted the validity of there words. He turned to address his teammate hoping to gain a real answer from her.

Jaune: Are they serious?

Rin: Yes, yes they are.

Jaune: Okay… But, why are you doing this, Rin. I mean, I expect these two to want to know something like that, but you, Rin. That don’t add up.

Rin: I’m just curious what a man sees in a girl like me, like would he actually be interested in dating me?

Jaune felt as if he had fallen into a trap, that he had fallen into the midst of field filled to the brim with landmines, and that any wrong step he took he would set one off. He needed a defusal kit to deactivate these mines lest he go up with the mines. And, he was dealing with a minefield laid out by a trio of woman asking some very pointe questions.

Stepping on the landmine would be the least of his worries.

Jaune: O-Okay… Let me think… Mmm… Marry, Rin, fuck, Sun, and, kill, Nep. Or… kill, Sun and, fuck, Nep. Your interchangeable in this situation really. There, happy?

Neptunia, and Sun, stared at him with their mouths hung wide, at the shear blunt, and casualness he said that. While, Rin turned away with her hands over her face as a fierce blush spread across her face. Jaune just stared at the duo before he helplessly said:

Jaune: What?

Nep: You just said it?!

Jaune: Yeah, because you asked me to.

Sun: No, what she means is you basically spent no time thinking about it, you just said it. You didn’t even need to think about it?!

Jaune: No, I thought about it, there just wasn’t that much to think about.

Sun: Okay then, what did you think about that decided these pairings.

Nep: And, why are we interchangeable in the fuck, kill department?!

Jaune: Well, that’s easy; You’re, Miranda, Sun is, Liara, and Rin is, Tali.

The trio of girls stared at him like he was mad, mad that he based his decision after three characters from a video game that you could romance. Or, that he thought they fitted these three characters.

Nep: Okay, where the hell do you get the idea that we’re those three girls?!

Sun: Yeah! And, why am I, Liara?

Rin: I’m a little curious as well.

Jaune: Well, since this is such a simple thing, I thought of you as who I would romance in the game, and well you three fit those roles best. Mostly

Sun: And, we are that way because?

Jaune: Well… honestly, Sun the other girls don’t really fit you. Liara was the only other character I could tie you to since those three were the only girls I really romanced in the game. Blake could possibly fit her character better. Unless you have mother issues you haven’t told anyone about.

Sun: Is that it?

Jaune: Well, you are sexier than her, so we can’t use that.

Sun: I’m sexier than her~? And, why is that?

Jaune: Abs. You have abs for days little lady.

Sun pulled open her shirt, allowing, Jaune to see a clean view of, Suns tantalizing abs on full display. His eyes trailed her hand as it traveled down her body showing off every rise, and fall across chiseled abs.

Jaune would die before he’d admit he drooled just a bit. He was already dealing with hell from, Nora when he caught her drooling in desire at, Pyrrha’s well defined chiseled body.

Nep: And, why am I, Miranda? She’s an absolute bitch!

Jaune: Aye, but you are as hot as her.

Nep: Oh am I now~?

Jaune: You’re dressed in tight clothing that shows off your body just like she does. You have enticing eyes, and a cocky smile just like her. And, Miranda is best known for two things; A bitch, and that scene in the engine room. And, well…

Nep: You’ve fantasied about me doing just that haven’t you? Me pushing you down, sitting on your waist, pulling down my coat, and revealing the lacy bra I’m wearing as you take me there on the spot.

Jaune looked away nervously, he didn’t want to answer her, unfortunately him looking away from her with a faint blush across his face was answer enough.

The duos soft laughter was something he could do without.

Nep: Oh, you naughty boy~! If your up for it I’m all too willing to make your dream a reality~!

Jaune: N-Noted…

Jaune brushed away the growing blush across his face from the girls rather suggestive teasing. But, he was pulled back into it as he felt a soft tugging on his sleeve. He looked down to see, Rin looking away from him, hiding the faint blush across her face as she simply asked him her question.

Rin: J-Jaune… Why would you marry…?! W-Why am I, Tali?!

Jaune decided to spare, Rin any further embarrassment, but he made a mental note to address what she actually wanted to know. He wasn’t as dense as he was before, he could catch on to the hidden details now. At least he hoped he could.

Jaune: W-Well… Tali is my favourite character to romance. She’s one of the few characters that stands by your side throughout the series. She may leave your side every now, and then, but she does it to help her people. And, they’ve written her in such a way that you can’t help, but want to help her, and her people. She kind, cute, and endearing, when she loses her father you can’t help but give her a comforting hug to reassure her. How she reacts, being all flustered when you start flirting with her is so endearing I can’t help, but fall for her. Except for her singing that’s… that’s cringe.

Sun: It is cringe, but Tali’s no where near as sexy as, Liara is.

Nep: Or, Miranda for that matter.

Jaune: True, but I prefer her personality more so than her looks. Beauty fades in time, personality overcomes death. Not to mention her goodbye line at the evac is the best there is, hands down!

Sun: Pff! And, what makes you say that?

Jaune: Everyone else’s goodbyes are mostly, ‘I love you,’ said in some colourful way. But, Tali’s is unique, she’s pleading with you not to go, she knows she can’t stop you, you are her home, and she doesn’t want to lose you. Talk about pulling at the heart strings, I love that scene!

Nep: But, what about…?

Rin: J-Jaune…!

The trio were about to argue more, but stopped when a flustered, Rin dragged away, Jaune’s attention to her as she nervously tugged on his sleeve again.

Jaune: What is it, Rin?

Rin: “I-I have a home…”

Jaune: …?!

Rin: “Come back to me…”

A million thoughts were running like lightning through his mind that, Jaune thought his mind was going to short circuit. Was, Rin just just saying that to tease him? But, she sounded so sincere as she said it. What does she mean when she said this? Does she see, Jaune like family? His mother loves her her like another daughter, and she in turn sees her like the mother she lost. And, he see her as another one of his sisters… Wait, no, no he didn’t see her as that. Jaune’s not really sure how he sees, Rin; as a friend yes, but does she see him as potentially more than just friends, and if so, does he want them to become more than just friends?

His mind was so clogged with conflicting, and competing emotions, he didn’t break away from staring into, Rin’s beautiful pink eyes until he heard, Sun, and Neptunia’s snickering that caused his already deep blush to grow even more.

Jaune: O-Okay, there I said it! Happy now?!

Nep: Mostly, I wanna know who you see as the other romance able characters are?

Sun: Yeah! Why couldn’t I be, Samara instead of, Liara?

Nep: Yeah, why couldn’t I be, Samara?

Jaune: The pair of you may be stacked, but even, Yang’s impressive bosom wouldn’t qualify her as, Samara if you’re taking just appearances into account. You gotta add her personality into the equation.

Sun: Then who would be, Samara? Certainly not…?!

Jaune: Glynda.

SN: …

Sun: Shit, you can’t argue against that.

Nep: I wouldn’t mind her stepping on me… B-But what about, Ashely; Who best fits her?

Jaune: Considering, Ashely’s history, her familial problems, the desire to prover herself, and her xenophobia. Weiss.

Nep: That fits

Sun: She was a bit racist towards faunas when we first met. I understand why, but nonetheless.

Rin: But, at least she fixed her racist views.

Sun: True.

Nep: Since we already got the opinion of one of your team members, what about, Nora, who would she be?

JR: Nora.

Sun: Eh?

Rin: Nora will never be someone else, she will always be, Nora.

Jaune: But, if you must know she’d at least be a Krogan.

SN: …

Sun: That fits. She certainly hits like one.

Nep: My ass still hurts from that time she punted me with her hammer.

Sun: Maybe you could give her a massage, Jaune?

Jaune just stared down, Sun with a blank gaze that simply screamed: ‘Really?’ Rin quickly spoke up hoping to break the growing tension before it became too overbearing.

Rin: W-What about, Pyrrha? What would she be?

Jaune: Pyrrha? She’d be Fem-Shep hands down.

Nep: And, suddenly, Pyrrha became even hotter than she already is…

Sun: Not really hard for her to.

Rin: Does that mean your her, Garrus to her female, Shepard?

Jaune: I’m not cool enough to be, Garrus.

Nep: I would have agreed with you when we first met, but you’ve grown a lot since then.

Sun: And, you can be a surprisingly good smooth talker when you want to.

Rin: And, you looked good, damn good when we all went to the shooting range together…

Jaune: O-Oh… T-Thank you.

Sun: Wait, you forgot, Jack. Did you romance her?

Jaune: No, I find, Jack’s personality, and appearance unappealing to me. I don’t like the bad mouth kind of girl.

Nep: Everyone has their preferences, but who would, Jack be?

Jaune: Bleiss.

Sun: Oh that fi…?!

Bleiss: WHY THE FUCK AM I THAT UPTIGHT BITCH?!!

Jaune: What the hell?!!

#rwby #jaune arc #blake belladonna #pyrrha nikos #nora valkyrie #weiss schnee #lie ren #sun wukong #neptune vasilias #bleiss schnee #glynda goodwitch #yang xiao long

152 notes · View notes