#A Thousand Junkies | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

joeloverture · 28 days ago

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flesh currency | j.m. x disabled!f!reader

masterlist | notifs blog | on palestine

pairing: qz!joel miller x disabled!f!reader summary: you have an arrangement with joel. pleasure as currency for your painkillers. but what happens when he tires of the same old song and dance? warnings: (18+ mdni) reader has chronic pain/uses a cane*, sexual favors for painkillers, dubcon but reader is fully comfortable even with the headspace she's in, drugs (reader takes illegal painkillers, the kind is not described), elements of both game and show joel, ableism (cr*pple), mean!joel, slight intox (reader takes 1 pill before the act but is in her right mind during), smut, degradation, underwear sniffing/musk kink, ass eating/rimming (m!receiving), instructions, humiliation, slight praise, thigh riding/leg humping, tit & ass grabbing, cumplay [no use of y/n] word count: 6.2k author's note: stimky joel. yeah. this is my grossest fic to date but it's also kind of my favorite. there's regressive language packed in here (junkie, etc) but that doesn't align with my perspective on the use of opiods when it comes to patients in pain. hell, im one of them. i hope this speaks to you as much as this is hot for you. thank u @lovesickonmybed for being my rock as always. pics in moodboard arent mine. *don't let this put you off, please. being disabled in the apocalypse is not as far fetched as fungal zombies. it's always useful to read experiences that aren't yours.

“You need to go home, lady.”

The FEDRA fuck glowering down at you is bulky and glistening with sweat. He’s got his arms crossed over his chest, chapped lips twisted into a snarl. The hustle and bustle of the mess hall is persistent, a thrum of chatter and scraping utensils that batters your skull. A rag hangs limp from your hands — saturated with dirty water and diluted cleaner.

You lean heavier against your cane and wince as the handle digs deeper into the calloused heel of your palm. “Why?” you ask, tilting your head up.

“Can’t have any fucking cripples slowing us down. You knocked over that spray bottle five separate times. Been counting.” Cripple. The word hurts almost as much as the burning, burning, burning in your legs and arms. Almost.

He gestures vaguely towards the busted spray bottle of cleaner. You hadn’t noticed it fall down on the bench as you were tying yourself into knots just trying to wipe it down.

“But I need rati-”

“Don’t care what you need. You’re slowing people down. Got more suitable workers lined up outside the door. Get going, or I’ll have you removed.”

The spray bottle is capsized much like you, tilted and leaking onto the bench. A needling sensation pedals itself into the back of your knee and you can’t stop yourself from wincing.

You squeeze the rag in your hands and chuck it onto the table before you limp out of there.

Pain isn’t something that happens to you anymore.

It’s inextricable from yourself. Sewn into your muscles, bone marrow, and tissue. Stabbed into the pincushions of your fleshy joints. You’ve become the pain scale, the same one that hang in the FEDRA-installed medical tents.

Usually, your pain is a bearable backdrop to the show that is trying to survive in the QZ. Lately, though, it’s become the centerpiece. Just as inescapable as this hellhole you’re stuck in.

You weren’t always like this. There are flickers in your memory of sob stories on the news. Kids in wheelchairs or dragging themselves along with arm crutches before they even got their braces. Something happened to you after the world ended. Something that derailed you, sent you scattered into a thousand pieces and left you in the shrapnel spray of your own making.

You try not to think about it.

It’s hard not to on days like this, though. There’s books in the semi-refurbished libraries and abandoned bookstores that talk about how people like you used to live. They’d have benefits programs (laden with flaws, of course) that kept them afloat. Caretakers, sometimes. Elevators used to work without generator power. You envy them.

There are endless more in this QZ just like you. Limping, shambling, flailing. Drowning in the black sea of FEDRA suits.

Right now, you’re crawling.

Up the stairs of a derelict apartment building. Trash lines the sides of the stairs, crumpled and mashed into the ground by heavy-footed boots. You tangle your hand in a cobweb and wipe it on your jacket, cane thunking against the stairs as you haul yourself up. When your knee bashes against the edge of a stair, your hands grapple against the air as you fight an invisible entity. A frustrated, exhausted noise crumbles in the back of your throat.

Floorboards creak behind you, and you cringe.

“Fuck are you doin’?”

You roll over and muster a rueful smile. “Hi, Joel.”

The first time you went to Joel, he was your last resort.

“I need something for pain. Anything.”

He’d looked at you like he saw right through you. Now, knowing what you do about him, you’re sure that he did. Like a pane of stained glass that he’d held up to the sun.

He’d rifled through his mattress for a couple minutes. “Got you for sixty.”

You couldn’t do sixty.

When you told him that, he’d only shrugged at you. “Ain’t my problem, kid. Either scrounge it up or quit wastin’ my time.”

“I– I–”

You were never very seductive. Not even before your body turned into… this. This cataclysmic, living horror that disorients you in every waking moment.

You settled for unzipping your jacket. Tugging down your tank top. Showing your tits.

A wordless ordeal, one where your cheeks flamed hot and you felt like he’d taken a scalpel to your skin. But you always felt like that, at least.

“Ah, now we’re talking.” The chair scraped against the floor as he stood, meeting you in two strides. He’d looked at you with heat in his dark eyes, so dark that you could see yourself leaving your dignity in a pile at his feet. He’d reached across the empty space between the two of you and grabbed a handful of your tit, thumbing at your peaking nipple. “A junkie and a whore. You’re cute, I’ll give you that.”

You hadn’t been scared to spread your legs. To let him into the warmth festering in your core. It hurt, all of it did, it always does. But for a brief, blistering moment, when he was balls deep inside of you, the pleasure swelling in your stomach had been enough to dim the lights of the pain.

Since then, you just kept going back. A leech he just couldn’t shake.

“Jesus, girl. C’mon, up on your feet.” He patted you on the shoulder, grabbing your cane for you. He holds his hand out. You swallow your pride and accept the help, letting him drag you up. You wrap your arm around his shoulders and your free hand around the banister, letting him pull most of the legwork. “Stumblin’ around like a goddamn stalker.”

You grumble under your breath, a jumble of words too incoherent to mean anything sufficient. At the top of the stairs, he thrusts your cane back into your hand and heads down the hall without you. You glare at his shoulders before limping after him. One dragging step after another. The tread of your boot dips into a greasy looking puddle.

Joel fumbles for the key into his apartment, and you lean against the wall while he sorts himself out. At least he’s not covered in blood today. There’ve been times where you’ve shown up when he’s fresh off of a supply run, smoking gun sticking out of his waistband.

You use your cane to knock the door shut behind you.

“You’re lookin’...” He surveys you. “worse for wear.”

“Fuck you, too,” you say. A pause, punctuated by casual crossfire outside. “I need more.”

Joel huffs a laugh. “‘Course you do.”

He’s never given you that sort of attitude before. You swallow down the lump in your throat. “Please, I–”

“I ain’t a one man Salvation Army. Everyone’s got needs.”

“I’ll… I can…”

“What? Suck me off? You got a pretty mouth, baby, but I got about twelve girls who can do the same thing.”

“FEDRA won’t let me work,” you blurt out. Sympathy with Joel isn’t even a one way street. It’s a path that hasn’t been foot trodden. “They… they kicked me out when I tried, I’m trying, Joel, I swear I a–”

“Deep breaths,” he says. He folds his arms over his chest and jerks his head toward the slouching couch in the room. “Sit down. Can’t talk to ya if you’re fuckin’ hyperventilating.”

You prop your cane up against the armrest and drop yourself into the cushions. You dig your palms into your eye sockets and suppress a scream.

“I’m working at a deficit with you.”

“I know,” you grit out.

“I put up with a lot, but you’re drainin’ me dry here.”

“You’re right,” you relent. “I’ll find someone else. Sorry… for the trouble.” You reach for your cane again, but then he’s tugging it out of your reach.

“You’re waddling around like a fuckin’ fool flingin’ your legs open for any guy whose got what you need, gonna get yourself killed out there. Lotsa guys have less of a tolerance for girls like you than I do. I’m not runnin’ you out the door.”

“Then what are you doing, Joel?” you ask, hand still hanging in the open, wrapped around the empty air where your cane should be.

He sets the cane in your hand, and you deposit it at your side again. “Givin’ you a wake up call,” he says. “What’re you willing to do for your fix?”

“I…” Just three short months ago, before you’d sought out the much-feared Joel Miller, you would’ve said nothing. Just three months ago, your pain was bearable, livable, mere tinnitus. Now it is a bonfire. Roaring in the kindling of your ribcage. “Anything.” You swallow, worrying your tongue against your teeth. “I just want to feel normal.”

“Tough shit,” he says.

You have nothing to say to that. You only sit there, biting into the inside of your cheek. Knives sink into your skin with each breath. It hurts to be alive, it is anguish to be alive, and you just want to swallow a pill down dry. Enough to dull the edge, enough to make things tolerable. You stare at your feet as the room swirls.

“Alright,” Joel says after a moment. “You look beat, and I’d be a worse man than I already am if I ‘took payment’ now. I’ll give you one.”

Your eyes light up.

“You’re gonna take a quick nap in my room while I pull some strings, yeah? Let it kick in. Then we’ll see about what you can do to earn the rest if you’re up for it.”

Maybe sympathy can be a two way street. You’ve heard everything about him. Seen the occasional wanted poster floating through the street before FEDRA moved on to the Firefly of the week. Likely heard gunshots fired from the barrel of his gun.

“Thank you,” you whisper as he plucks one from a baggie. He drops it in your hand and you can’t help but wrap it in your fist. The inherent value of what he has given you.

He sees you eyeing it, sees you thinking, and says, “Don’t hurt yourself. I’ll wake you in an hour.”

And you do wake in an hour, scar-serrated, gun-hardened hand on your cheek. It’s instinctive to roll away, or at least it should be with someone who’s as bloodstained as Joel. Instead, you find yourself nuzzling into his palm before you’re even fully awake, when the walls of his apartment are only a border of the shapeless dream you’d been having.

“Rise ‘n shine, sleepyhead,” Joel says. He taps you on the apple of your cheek, and you find yourself blinking the crust from your eyes. Your fists go to rub at them. “Feeling any better?”

It’s not entirely gone — it never entirely is. It’s always the sand dollar nestled in the sand. The grain of sand lodged inside of the crevices. The clutch of your high is less of a clutch than it is a hangnail caught on a thread. It’s only a fracturing lightheadedness instead of a backslide into euphoria. You feel perfectly grounded, body taken off of the perpetual razor blade edge it rests on and airlifted onto a sturdy mattress.

“Yeah,” you croak, clearing your throat of any trace of grogginess. “Yeah.”

“Good,” he says. “I got twelve slow release tablets for you. Should be enough to get you strong enough to work the ration lines for a couple days.”

“I promise I’ll make this worth your while– agh.” You say, whimpering as you try to sit up.

Joel keeps you down with a hand on your shoulder. “Oh yeah? And what exactly are you offerin’ me this time, huh? More of those pretty tits? A taste of that leaky little cunt?”

“Anything you want,” you blurt out. A hefty statement with even heftier implications. But just one pill has shredded your pain from glass sticking out of your skin into little pinpricks. A miracle confined to a little circular pill.

Joel cocks his head at you. “Anything, huh? You’d sell your soul for a hit, wouldn’t you? Let me do whatever the fuck I wanted to that pretty ‘lil body of yours?”

A better person, the upstanding salt of the earth, would’ve walked away long ago. But you can scarcely walk on a good day, so all you can do is bob your head at him.

A smirk slices across his face. Joel reaches out to you to grip your chin, thumb pressing into bone. It’s satisfying in a twisted sort of way. Your eyes go all glassy and your lips form a picturesque pout. “Well ain’t that just precious,” he croons at you. “You think you’re the first desperate junkie to offer me the world for a cheap high?”

“No,” you mumble. “But that’s not… that’s not what this is. I have a good reason —”

Joel snorts at you. “Yeah, keep tellin’ yourself that. Might not be the first one to come crawlin’ — literally — to me, but you might be the most pathetic. Tits and ass, that’s all you got to trade. Tell me sweetheart, how long ‘fore those goods wear thin?”

“According to you, they already have,” you fire back.

“Oh, they definitely have,” he says, voice so stony that it’s on the verge of being a leer. “But that don’t mean I can’t squeeze a little more outta you. You see, kid, I got a special request today. Something that requires a… different kinda payment.”

You worry your lip, teeth scraping over skin. You’re already in this deep. There’s so little you have to lose, pride included. Eventually, you take a deep breath and steel yourself. “Please, Joel. Just… just tell me what I can do.”

He leans in close, breath hot against your ear as he hangs onto your chin. “You’re gonna eat my ass, baby. And you’re gonna do it with a smile on your face, you understand?”

You stare, blinking once and then twice. He– you– what? “Excuse me?” you ask, brows furrowed.

“You heard me right, sweetheart. I want to see that pretty little mouth wrapped around my asshole, suckin’ and slurpin’.” He squeezes your chin. “That make enough sense to get through your drug-addled head?”

You squirm under his scrutiny, face heating up as if you’ve been held over an open flame. He’s looking at you as if he’s got you all figured out. Knowing him, he does. After you’re certain his handprint has started to stain your jaw, you say, “...Why?”

He shrugs. “Why not? ‘Cause I can pull any crackhead off the street and shove ‘er down on my cock until snot’s runnin’ out of her nose and her belly’s full of my cum. Can’t just find any girl who’s willing to knock on my backdoor. Takes a real nasty degenerate bitch to do that. And you’re a desperate little druggie willin’ to do anythin’ for a fix. You said it yourself.” He chuckles under his breath. “Seems like a match made in heaven to me.”

You swallow. Work the saliva in your mouth. “I… I’ve never, um–”

Joel’s head goes back with a grating, harsh laugh. “Never ate any ass before? Oh, you’re a dainty ‘lil thing, ain’t ya? Don’t worry your pretty head, sweetheart. I’ll teach you what you need to know.”

“I didn’t think you’d be the type to… want that sort of treatment.” Joel’s rough in bed, yes. Probably less rough with you than the other girls he sees, considering your predicament. You just hadn’t marked him as the type to want anyone near his ass.

Joel laughs. “I sure as hell ain’t. But here’s the thing, sweetheart. I don’t just want your tongue proddin’ around between my legs. I want to see your slutty little face smushed between my cheeks while you debase yourself for your hit.”

And that… makes more sense. This isn’t about his pleasure. It sure as hell isn’t about yours. It’s about him getting off on making you suffer, making you do something uncomfortable, something many would dub unpleasant.

Maybe you are a nasty fucked up degenerate bitch, because slick leaks into the gusset of your panties.

“Think you wanna do that for me?” he asks, dragging his hand from your chin, down your side, to where he gives your hip a light squeeze. “For you?”

“Yeah,” you say, a little breathless and plenty dizzy. Then, when you gather your wits, you nod firmly and speak louder. “Yeah.”

“Attagirl. Knew you were an obedient little pill chaser.” He gives your hip a tiny little smack. “C’mon, strip for me. Show me what we’re workin’ with.”

This part, you’ve done.

You fiddle with the hem of your tank top and lure it over your head before dropping it on the floor. You wriggle out of your bra, letting your tits fall loose. Joel nods his approval as you kick off your boots. You move on to your jeans, flicking the button. Dragging them down your thighs, savoring the hitch of denim on blemished skin. You have no problem showing off for him in this way, heels knocking your waistband down and leaving the pants in a lump on the floor. You’re left in your panties, the wet spot with the evidence of your slick shining through.

“Oh, baby,” Joel laughs. You shiver. “Ain’t even done anything to you… fuck, maybe you were meant to be a little ass eating slut. Filthy thing.”

You avert your eyes, face flaming, body boiling from the inside out. He’s standing hip-level with you, his semi visible in the stretch of his jeans. “Hey,” he says, hand gliding up your side. He taps your cheek with a bent knuckle. “No reason t’ be scared. First time for everything, yeah? Not gonna bite ya.”

You’re not scared. Just demeaned and humbled — exactly where he wants you to be.

He undoes his jeans, zipper snarling as it loosens, and knocks them and his boots off in a pile next to yours. He makes no move to take off his briefs or shirt, just taps your thigh. “Scoot,” he says. You shuffle over. “Gonna lay on my back. Figure that’ll be comfiest for you?”

“Yeah,” you say. “Um, thanks.”

Despite his reputation, despite how he treats you like a fucking cum rag, and despite this being a business transaction, he never neglects your own comfort. He never blocks the door. He never traps you in this situation.

Joel climbs onto the bed, sprawls out among the flattened pillow below. You go back on your haunches before adjusting yourself onto your stomach. You look at him and his rising bulge as he gets comfortable.

“I, uh, what do I–” You’re bumbling, and you know it. Seduction, even after a few transactions with Joel, still isn’t your domain.

“Alright, you little ass kisser in training. Gonna ease you into this. First thing you gotta do is get comfortable with the smell,” he says.

You give him a look.

“Like I said, you’re drainin’ me dry. Soap’s not the cheapest find, baby. Gotta make due. Besides, who needs bar soap when I’ve got your eager little tongue ready to wash me up?”

“Jooooel,” you whine, nose crunching.

“Nuh uh. No complainin’. I’m doin’ you a solid here, unless you’d rather me shove you face-first between my cheeks?” You shake your head, and he raises his brows at you. “Thought so.”

Joel slowly peels off his briefs, and your mouth can’t help but water at the sight of his mostly-hard cock. You remember the heft of it inside of you, the way he’d made room for himself inside of your body. And then your eyes trail lower to how his bulky thighs branch into the meat of his ass.

He hands you his briefs and gives you an expectant look. “Go ‘head. Sniff ‘em.”

“I– really?” you ask. They’re heavy in your hand and the exact sort of thing you’d expected him to wear. An off-white color, discolored by years of sitting around in a post apocalyptic world. A little bit stretched out with a hole in the waistband.

“Really. C’mon, kid, I don’t have endless patience.”

You change you grip on them and tentatively bring them to your nose, inhaling the musk that he’s embedded into the fabric from days of wear. It’s sharp and pungent, but underlined with a faint trace of sweetness. His musk is almost sugary, with the way it cloys inside of your lungs. Your hesitant sniffs turn into fuller, deeper breaths.

A cocky grin crosses his face. “And that’s just the appetizer, baby. Wait until you get a real mouthful of me.”

You whimper into the fabric, snuffling against it. Feeling yourself drift into that floaty, cotton-candy state of mind that you nosedive into whenever you’re with him. You watch, enraptured, as he spreads himself apart. His pucker is nestled in a thatch of hair and skin, tanner and darker than the rest of him. “See that?” he asks “That’s where you’re tongue’s headin’ baby.”

You let out a tiny little whimper. Joel laughs at you and a fresh wave of slick saturates your panties.

“This is the real deal, sweetheart. Go ahead. Give it a whiff.” You dip your head lower than it already is, nerves winding around your chest. You take a tiny, halfhearted breath. “How’re you gonna kiss it if you can’t even breathe it in, baby? Just get your nose in there, first. Think of it as an initiation.” He reaches back and gently grabs the back of your neck, tugging you closer. Before you know it, your nostrils are mashed against his hole, and every breath you take is muddied by him. You whine, a keening noise that traps itself in your throat.

“That’s it, sweetheart. Deep breaths, now. Let me defile that pretty nose.” You listen to him, controlling your breaths and drawing them in deep. “You’re gonna learn to love this. Nasty fuckin’ girls always do.”

You pull back when he loosens your grip on his neck, panting and dizzy off of him. You feel cross-eyed, almost. Swooning over the sensation of being buried between his legs.

“Look at you,” he coos. “Really are just a pathetic ‘lil fucktoy. All worked up and drooling over my ass.”

“I,” you start, but your voice tapers off when you realize you can’t argue that. You are pathetic, damn near slobbering over him just for a chance at pain relief.

“Say it before your mouth gets busy,” he says. “You know what you are, sweetheart. Tell me.”

“I’m your pathetic little fuck toy,” you whisper. You can’t disobey him, not if you want your drugs. But he isn’t wrong. How could he be, when you’re so far underneath him right now?

“And?” he nudges.

“And — I want to eat your ass.” The words come out all stumbling and embarrassed, muffled by your own shame. But they only make you wetter.

He smiles down at you. “Attagirl. Now why don’t you kiss the outside for me. Get used to usin’ that cute little mouth.”

You’re a squeamish person. It’s in your nature; unfortunately a nature that’s contradictory to the nature of the world that you live in. Still, you swallow whatever scraps remain of your dwindling pride and kiss up his sun kissed thighs. You plant your lips above the crook of his knee and poke your tongue out, laying a trail of saliva and heat up to the crease of his thigh. Joel sighs as you draw a spiral with your tongue. You glance up at him through lidded eyes and are almost startled by the unadulterated want that glaze his own eyes.

“Gettin’ closer, baby,” Joel says. His hand goes up to cup the back of your neck, thumb rubbing circles into your neck. “Knew I chose right with you. Got a curious mouth on ya.”

You nuzzle up to his ass cheek, pressing a timid kiss against the swell of it. You bite gently at your lower lip when you separate from him. Your breaths have quickened, now, and he gives the back of your neck a reassuring little squeeze.

“Spread ‘em,” Joel coaxes, so you do. You press your thumbs into supple, fuzzy skin and spread him open for your scrutiny. You can’t help but lick your lips and come to regret it the second he chuckles. “Hungry, aintcha?” And maybe you are. But still, you hesitate when you lean in, taking a deep breath that is entirely steeped in his musk.

“Like a deer in headlights,” Joel mumbles. “Gonna make my hole blink at you or what, baby?”

“You’re crass,” you say, teeth digging into your lower lip.

“What’s crass is how your sloppy cunt is leakin’ waterfalls all over my bedspread.” He smirks at you when you pull a face. “Now go on, baby, I know you wanna eat it right on up.”

You try to ignore the distinct kickdrum of your throbbing clit where it’s buried between your thighs. Your head dips, and you kiss up his cleft. Occasionally, your tongue flicks out. He tastes how he smells. Like the same sweat and musk that everyone has from living in the QZ with an undercurrent of almost honeyed warmth. You lick up the inside of one of his cheeks, pride rushing through your gut when your tongue at the edge of his asshole makes him moan.

“Quit avoidin’ it, sweetheart. I got places to be. Jus’ pretend it’s a peach ring.” You’re dizzy, head swimming off of the sensation of being this close to him in this way. “Give it a ‘lil kiss. Just a smooch.”

You lean in and press your lips against his pucker, a tiny whine lodging in your throat. Joel grunts above you. It’s humiliating, being this low beneath him, this debased. There’s not much further you can go, so you flatten your tongue against his tight hole and spin it around his skin. You’re drooling all over him, tongue sweeping across wrinkled flesh. “Fuck, attagirl, just like that.”

He tastes good. Savory almost. You lap against him, tongue laving across the furrows of his ass. It’s just as satisfactory as the time he’d shoved his cock down your throat and held you down until you were choking and teary eyed. If not more. Because he was right earlier — fewer girls would do this for a fix. And you’re one of them, on hands and knees while your tongue probes his most private place, licks all the sweat and grime from between his cheeks. You can’t help but moan.

“Told you you’d love it,” he says. “Told ya you fuckin’ would. God, you’re a needy little bitch. For your fix… for me.”

You whine in protest, but it comes out much more pathetic than that with your tongue slipping up and down his crack. Your hand goes up instinctively to play with his balls, squeezing and fondling with each pass of your tongue. Joel groans, hips jumping against you. “Yeah, that’s it. Eager slut… feelin’ me up…”

You whimper into him, muffled with how your face is buried between his cheeks. Your tongue lashes out again, whirling around his entrance. Your eyes flutter in time with your cunt. You want more, you’re just as hooked on him as you are on the sensation of being painless. You flick your tongue, lips peppering him with open-mouthed kisses as you work.

Joel hisses as you lightly test his entrance. “God.” His hips jerk again, sporadic. “Fuck — shit,” he groans. “Natural ass licker, aren’t you? Yeah, you are. Oughta tie you to my backside, have you doin’ this all the time.”

You mewl at the thought, thighs clamping together. Your free hand wriggles down to rub at your bare clit. You get two rubs in before Joel kicks your hand away. “Nuh uh. This ain’t about you.” Joel smirks. “All that bitchin’ about it, but you’re pretty fuckin’ horny for your tongue up my ass.” He hikes his legs under your arms. Confusion spreads across your face until he locks his ankles around your back and tugs you face first into his ass.

“Mmph!”

“Don’t suffocate. Be out of a pocket pussy if you do.”

Fuck. You clench, leaking all over his sheets. Your eyes can’t help but roll back.

“Look at you… bet you could get high off ‘a doin’ this if you tried hard eno– ungh.” Joel fully convulses when you wrap your lips around his asshole and suck. “Goddamn. Nasty whore really earnin’ them pills,” he grits out. You giggle into him when you see his cock twitch, precum oozing down the side of it. It leaks between his legs and onto your tongue, and you slurp him up eagerly.

You’re so aroused that it hurts, slick spilling in droves down the insides of your legs while you tongue him eagerly. Your hips rock subtly against the bed, and Joel’s head is too thrown back to notice your violation. He rocks his hips up into your mouth as you wriggle your tongue inside of his hole, probing the tightness of him as thoroughly as you can while he twists underneath you. “There you go, fuck me with your slutty tongue, baby. Get it in deep.” He groans as you drag your tongue along his insides. “Bet you’re gonna be sucklin’ on a pillow later. Thinking ‘bout my ass with your hands between your legs, rubbin’ that cock starved cunt.”

“Bet you’re wishing I’d pound that pussy now, huh? Wishing I’d shoot a load up that messy little slit?” You nod, tongue swiping up and down. You fuck your tongue in and out of him, moaning as you get the smallest friction from the sheets bunched up between your legs. His ankles tighten around your shoulders, holding you down with no escape.

You manage to wriggle in his grasp enough to spat a lob of spit into your hand. You reach up around his waist and wrap your fist around his cock, jerking him. Joel jumps, his hole rubbing against your tongue as he lets out a wrecked moan. Your thumb traces his head. Sounding strangled, he curses, “Fuck, fuck, fuck. Goddammit, you were made to eat ass. Wish I could have your tongue up there 24/7…. Show you off, baby. Bet some other smugglers would love to take your tongue for a ride, but no. Your pretty little mouth only opens wide for me, huh? Whenever I say jump, you ask me how high, dontcha?”

You moan in assent, tightening your grip on his cock as you stroke him. Your tongue works even harder, messy as you draw circles of spit around his rim. You suck with your lips locked around him, watch his abdomen twitch as you do, watch precum ooze from the head of his cock. You collect it on your thumb and use it to work him faster. Your tongue runs laps around him, his eyes fully on you. “God, baby, fuck, I’m comin’, I’m, co–”

With your tongue deep in his ass and your hand wrapped around his cock, Joel comes. Spurts of it leak out, some of it landing on your tits. You whimper and work him through it, through each groan and hitch of his hips, through each spasm and aftershock that coils through his body and snaps at him. His chest heaves as he looks at you, damn near starstruck.

“Grand prize ass eater right here. Nasty bitch, salivatin’ on my dirty hol—”

“Joel, please,” you cut him off, starry eyed all on your own.

“What? Already givin’ you your pills, ain’t no need to beg me for ‘em.”

“I–” you say. “I’m really wet.” You’re teary-eyed, maybe from the action of humiliating yourself, but much more likely from arousal, wound tighter than a coiled snake in your stomach.

Joel groans, and you swear his softening cock gives a mild twitch. “C’mon.” He swings his legs off of your shoulders and jerks his thigh, tapping it with a thick palm. “Get on up here.”

You an hour ago might’ve stood up for yourself, insisting that you at least deserve his fingers, but you right now was just tongue deep in Joel’s ripe asshole. So you scramble to mount his thigh, letting out a choked moan the second your swollen clit makes contact with his sweaty skin. You immediately start grinding yourself on him, feeling your slick squelch between your skin and his.

“Pathetic whore. Bet your tongue still tastes like my asshole, but you like that, don’t you? You like being my disgusting little junkie bitch.” You nod, bunching your hands into the fabric of his cum spattered t-shirt, tugging at it, tugging at him. “God, listen to you,” he says. Your broken-up moans, the sound of your wet pussy leaking and leeching against his leg. Your breaths are charred with the heat of pure, debauched need. It’s lewd, and you can see the shadow of yourself rocking your hips into him.

“Joel, oh God, Joel,” you moan, sinking your teeth into your lower lip as you roll your hips. Your clit catches on his skin and he groans.

“Gonna shove your face in the fuckin’ puddle you’re making,” he says. You clench hard enough that your eyes squeeze shut. His hands, once still at his side, move along to anchor at yours. He yanks you against him, fingers digging into the flesh of your ass cheeks. You’re wobbly and woozy, shaking as you hump him. “C’mon, c’mon. You need it, don’t you? About to cream all over your dealer.”

And you are. You’re so, so close, with pleasure strung so tight through your body that it could snap at any second. It’s coarse and ragged, a sort of friction that stings and catches on your insides. Your tongue’s hanging out, you’re leaking all over him, and you’re pumping your hips even faster. He smacks your ass hard enough that your ears ring.

Your head hangs low and you make a noise akin to a kicked puppy. One of his hands moves to your cumstained chest, rubs his cum into your aching, hardened nipple. “Give it to me, you depraved fuckin’ slut. Little pervert, rubbin’ that cute little clit on me.” He tenses his leg, and you’re done for.

“Joel!” you whine as you topple over that edge, flailing, kicking, screaming.

Joel grunts. “Attagirl. Soak me.” He keeps rutting you against him through the aftershocks, even after you go limp and slump against his front. You’re both sweat-slick, and you’re still shaking. A giddiness swipes through your body as you clench and clench. You’re out of your own body. This is a pleasure beyond the pleasures you have known.

Your mouth still tastes like him on the comedown.

You heave for air, winded as you look at him through darkened eyes. Joel pats you on the ass and pushes you off of him. “Oomph.” He grabs you by the back of the neck again, and, true to his promise, pushes you face-first against his thigh.

“Look at this,” he snarls. His thigh is glistening with your arousal and release, viscous and slippery. You whimper as you smell yourself on his skin. “Lick it up.”

That makes you clench again. You stick out your lolling tongue and lave over his leg, scooping up your cum with your own tongue. You whimper and pout at him, and find yourself dizzy with need when he laughs at you.

Then, you hit the mattress and the ceiling seems to spin over your head.

Joel gets up and groans. You think you hear his knees pop. A few footsteps later, and you’re all alone in his bedroom, cocooned in sweat-wet sheets. There’s an emptiness inside of you, one that sticks everywhere. The silence crackles along your eardrums.

“Here,” he says, and then you’re back inside of yourself. Your eyes flicker open and you’re watching him from upside down. He props your cane up on his nightstand and chucks a box of tissues at you. You grab a fistful of them and wipe down your chest, then your inner thighs.

He tosses you your clothes, next. You shiver and tug your shirt over your head with only some difficulty. When it comes to your legs, just lifting one makes it crash back down at your side. You bleat, squeezing your eyes shut through the pain. Maybe riding him had been… overzealous. But the painkillers had made you indomitable — or at least feel indomitable.

“Hey,” Joel says. “Let me help.” It’s a foreign tone from him. Softer than what you’re used to. He redresses you, even laces up your boots for you. When all’s said and done, he pats you on the ass. The silence is a blanket, a warmth of sorts.

“Thank you,” you mumble. “I… I’m sorry I don’t have any more to offer you.”

“Kid,” he says. “I agreed to this. I ain’t mad at you. And, hell, I don’t think I’ve ever felt like that. I’d say it was worth it, even if you’re robbin’ me blind over here.”

He pulls out the baggie of pills and folds them in your hand. “Try to stay safe out there.” You nod at him and lean yourself on your cane as you stand. You swing it in time with your steps.

“I will,” you say. It feels like more of a hollow promise, if anything.

As your hand lands on the doorknob, he says, “My door’s open. Come back when you need more.”

Whether he means more pills or more of him, you’re not sure. Maybe he’s not sure, either. But you’re hooked on something, you think. And you pretty sure it’s not the drugs.

#vetty's words 𓇢𓆸 #joel miller smut #joel miller x reader #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller/reader #joel miller fanfic #joel miller fic #flesh currency : fic

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etheraltides · 28 days ago

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Fractured Devotion

Pairing: Rafe Cameron x Reader

Summary: Rafe’s addiction and mounting debts push him to the edge after a threatening encounter with Barry. As the boy you love clings to you for comfort, you must decide how far you’re willing to go to save him.

Warning(s): drug use and addiction, volatile behavior (I mean it’s season one rafe), violence.

You sat on the edge of Rafe’s bed, flipping absently through a magazine you found on his nightstand. It was some glossy publication, all luxury homes and island life aesthetics. You weren’t paying attention to the words. Instead, you listened to the faint echoes of muffled voices downstairs.

Rafe was arguing with his dad again.

It had been a year since you’d started dating him, but it felt like you’d spent half of that time comforting him after some blow-up with Ward. Lately, though, it was getting worse. The fights were louder, angrier, and left Rafe spiraling into moods you struggled to pull him out of.

You adjusted the strap of your sundress, feeling a prickle of unease. You’d noticed how his behavior had changed over the past few weeks – more erratic, more aggressive. He was drinking more, using more. And when you tried to talk to him about it, he brushed it off with a smirk and a dismissive wave of his hand.

“He’s just so…ungrateful, you know?” Rafe’s voice carried through the door as he stormed into the room, slamming it behind him. His chest rose and fell with barely-contained rage, his blue eyes sharp and angry.

You looked up, setting the magazine aside. “Rafe, what happened?”

He raked a hand through his messy blonde hair, pacing the room like a caged animal. “Sarah,” he spat, as if her name tasted bitter. “That little traitor.”

Your brows knitted in concern. “What did she do?”

“She’s siding with them. With John B and those Pogue losers. She’s supposed to be my sister, our family, but she’s out there, screwing around with him instead of standing by us.” He stopped pacing and turned to you, his expression hardening. “Do you even know what that’s like? To have your own blood turn on you?”

You didn’t know how to answer, so you stood and reached for his hand. “Rafe, calm down. She’s just a kid. Maybe she doesn’t—”

“Don’t defend her!” he snapped, pulling away from your touch. “She’s tearing this family apart, and Dad just lets her do it. Like she’s perfect and I’m…”

His voice trailed off, but the look in his eyes – the self-loathing barely hidden under the anger – made your chest ache.

“You’re not a failure, Rafe.” you said softly, stepping closer. “You’re just—”

“What?” He laughed, sharp and bitter. “Go ahead, say it. I’m just what, (Y/N)? A mess? A junkie? A disappointment?”

“No.” you insisted, but he was already spiraling.

Rafe’s hand shot out, knocking a lamp off the bedside table. It crashed to the floor, the bulb shattering into a thousand tiny pieces. You flinched, but he didn’t seem to notice.

“I do everything for him,” Rafe said, his voice rising. “I do everything he asks – everything he needs – and it’s never enough. Sarah can screw off to Pogueland but all Dad sees is me. The screw-up. The kid who can’t get it right.”

“Rafe…” Your voice trembled as you watched him punch the wall, his knuckles splitting against the drywall. You’d never seen him this unhinged before.

“I’m the one holding everything together!” he shouted, ignoring the blood dripping from his hand. “I’m the one doing the dirty work, making sure this family doesn’t fall apart. And for what? So I can listen to his voice in my head, telling me I’m worthless?”

He collapsed onto the edge of the bed, his head in his hands. “Sometimes I think he’s right. Maybe I am just…broken.”

Your heart broke at the sight of him. You wanted to reach out, to pull him into your arms and tell him everything would be okay. But you weren’t sure if he’d let you, or if he’d push you away like he always did when he felt too vulnerable.

“You’re not broken, Rafe.” you said, sitting beside him. “You’re just hurting. And I want to help you, but you have to let me in.”

For a moment, he looked at you like he wanted to believe you. But then the mask of cocky indifference slid back into place. He stood, grabbing his jacket.

“Where are you going?” you asked, panic rising in your chest.

“Out.” he said curtly. “Don’t wait up.”

The door slammed open with a loud crash, startling you out of your thoughts. Rafe stumbled in, his silhouette outlined by the dim hallway light. He was a mess. His shirt clung to his damp skin, his hair was disheveled, and his pupils were blown wide, a wild, unhinged energy radiating off him.

“Rafe?” you called hesitantly, standing from the bed. The moment your voice broke the silence, his gaze snapped to you, sharp and glassy.

“What are you still doing here?” he muttered, slurring his words slightly. “I thought you’d leave. Everyone leaves.”

“I wasn’t going to leave” you said softly, keeping your tone steady despite the unease creeping up your spine. “What happened? Where were you?”

He ignored your question, pacing the room erratically, his hands tugging at his hair. “Barry.”he spat, the name dripping with venom. “That piece of shit thinks he can threaten me. Me!”

The name sent a chill down your spine. You’d heard the rumors about Barry, but Rafe had always brushed off your questions, assuring you it wasn’t serious. Now, though, the weight of his words pressed heavily on your chest.

“Rafe, what do you mean he threatened you?” you asked, stepping closer. “What’s going on?”

He stopped pacing and turned to you, his expression wild. “What’s going on?” he repeated mockingly. “I’ll tell you what’s going on. I owe Barry money – a lot of money – and now he’s acting like I’m his bitch or something. Like I’m just some loser who can’t handle my business.”

Your stomach dropped. “How much money, Rafe?”

His jaw tightened, and he looked away, his hands clenching into fists at his sides.

“How much?” you pressed, your voice trembling.

“Does it matter?” he snapped, his anger flaring. “I’ll take care of it. I don’t need you or anyone else to swoop in and save me, alright?”

You took a step back, shocked by the venom in his tone. But then you saw it – the fear buried beneath his anger, the shame flickering in his eyes. He wasn’t just angry. He was scared.

“Rafe.” you said carefully, “how much do you owe him?”

He hesitated, his lips pressing into a thin line. “Ten grand, alright?” he finally muttered, his voice barely audible.

You felt like the floor had been ripped out from under you. Ten thousand dollars. That wasn’t just a debt – it was a noose tightening around his neck.

“Rafe…” you began, but he cut you off, his voice rising again.

“I’ll figure it out, okay? I always do. Barry doesn’t scare me. He’s just a lowlife who thinks he’s bigger than he is.”

“Raphael, stop.” You stepped closer, placing a hand on his arm. He tensed under your touch, but you didn’t let go. “Let me help you.”

“What?” he barked, his laugh bitter and sharp. “You want to help me? With what, Y/N? You gonna go have a chat with Barry? Maybe flash your pretty tits and make him forget I owe him ten grand?”

“Don’t!” you said firmly, refusing to back down. “Don’t talk to me like that. I’m trying to help you, Rafe.”

“Help me?” he repeated, pulling away from you. “You don’t get it. This isn’t something you can just fix with your stupid optimism and your little good-girl act.”

“I can pay it.” you said suddenly, the words leaving your mouth before you could stop them.

Rafe froze, his wild eyes locking onto yours. “What did you just say?”

“I’ll pay him.” you said again, your voice steadier this time. “I have savings. I’ll pay Barry, and you can pay me back when you’re ready.”

For a moment, the room was silent except for the sound of Rafe’s ragged breathing. Then he exploded.

“Are you insane?” he shouted, his voice echoing off the walls. “You think I’m going to let you do that? Let you clean up my mess like I’m some kind of charity case?”

“I’m not doing it to embarrass you, Rafe,” you said, trying to keep your voice calm. “I’m doing it because I care about you. Because I don’t want Barry coming after you – or worse.”

“Worse?” he repeated, his voice dropping dangerously low. “What do you think he’s gonna do, huh? You think he’s gonna kill me? Barry’s all talk. He’s nothing.”

“Then why are you so scared?” you shot back, your frustration bubbling over. “Why are you pacing and yelling and breaking things if it’s not a big deal?”

He stared at you, his chest heaving, his face twisted with anger and something else –something raw and vulnerable. “Because I can’t lose you.” he finally said, his voice breaking. “Because if you get involved in this, Barry’s not just coming after me. He’s coming after you, too.”

You took a shaky breath, your heart aching at the pain in his voice. “He won’t come after me because I’ll pay him, silly”

For a long moment, he just stood there, his shoulders slumped, his hands trembling. Then, slowly, he sank to the floor, his back against the wall. His head fell into his hands, and when he spoke again, his voice was barely a whisper.

“I’m gonna fix this, okay?” he ran a hand through his hair, his words muffled.

You knelt beside him, your hand gently brushing his. “Then let me help you.” you said softly. “Not just with the money – with all of it. But you have to let me in, Rafe. You have to trust me. I’m not your enemy here.”

He looked at you, his blue eyes glassy with unshed tears, his lips trembling as if he wanted to speak but couldn’t. Instead, he reached out and pulled you toward him, his hands gripping your waist tightly, almost desperately.

His lips crashed against yours in a bruising, frantic kiss. It wasn’t soft or sweet – it was raw, messy, and full of need. His fingers dug into your sides as his mouth moved against yours, the kiss a mix of desperation and hunger. He kissed you like you were the only thing anchoring him, like he was drowning and you were his lifeline.

You gasped against his lips, your hands instinctively reaching up to tangle in his hair. His body pressed against yours, his movements erratic and uncoordinated, but his need for you was undeniable.

When he finally pulled back, his forehead rested against yours, his breaths ragged. “Shit. I don’t deserve you.” he murmured, his voice hoarse.

“No, you don’t.” you whispered, your hands gently cupping his face. “But you’ve got me anyway.”

For the first time that night, he let out a shaky laugh – a sound filled with both relief and sadness. He kissed you again, softer this time but no less intense, as if trying to convince himself that you were real.

#rafe cameron fanfiction #rafe cameron imagine #rafe cameron oneshot #rafe cameron #rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron one shot #rafe cameron fanfic #rafe cameron outer banks #rafe cameron x you #rafe cameron x yn

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weenwrites · 2 months ago

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Hii, long time lurker here! I love the way you write everybody so in character and feel free to ignore this, but could I request headcannons of the Autobots with an adrenaline junkie reader (I.e.skateboarding down steep roads, parkour, etc) who is actually really calm and philosophical? Always thinking about the nature of life regardless of how big or small?platonic please

[ Please do not repost, plagiarize, or use my writing for AI! Translating my work with proper credit is acceptable, but please ask first! ]

✎A/N: Hehe thank you!! Since it's been a hot second since I've last written something, I'll do 5 characters instead of my usual 3.

Optimus

He's certainly no stranger to thrill-seekers, though when you're pitted against cybertronian standards, all your hobbies and activities seem rather tame. Still, he understands that humans can be very fragile—it's a baffling conundrum to him, that humans are capable of surviving the wildest scenarios yet can die because of the smallest things. He'll often drop you off at a skate park and he'll always remind you to take proper caution and wear protective gear.

In the rare moments of downtime that he gets, (or if you join him on his patrols which always take place at ungodly hours of the day) he could go on for hours and hours discussing cybertronian and human philosophy with you. The differences and similarities in the way that humans and cybertronians interpret life and its meaning are very intriguing to him, and naturally he enjoys learning. Eventually it's pretty clear how much he looks forward to having you with him on patrol through the way he begins to conveniently go on patrol at more reasonable hours of the day.

Ratchet

He's scolded you countless times when you used your skateboard to grind down the railing instead of walking down from the catwalk normally. And he's also talked your ear off about skateboarding around his feet while he walks around. It's not really for being distracting but rather out of concern that you might fall and hit your head, sprain a joint, possibly break a bone, or he might step on you.

Chances are that no matter what he tells you, you're still gonna do what you do. Well regardless, he'll tell you to wear a helmet, elbow pads, knee pads—it doesn't matter how skilled you are, accidents can happen to anyone because of factors out of their control—and hey, don't forget wrist guards. When you fall, you naturally put your hands beneath you to catch yourself, so your hands and wrists mainly take the brunt of the damage.

He's not quite one for philosophical discussions, but you're welcome to idly talk to him about it, and occasionally he'll either agree with whatever philosophy you're talking about, or critique it and point out how absurd he thinks it is.

Ultra Magnus

What do you expect? He's about as fun as a wet sock. Skateboarding in the base is prohibited. Doing "parkour" around the base is prohibited. Do not scale the side of the monitor. Do not jump off the catwalk onto any passing bot. The list goes on and on for each new creative stunt you come up with. And somehow he has an uncanny knack for guessing where you've hidden up on the suspension beams overhead in the base, yet it's just the fact he has sharp eyes. He'll drive you out to a skate park or any public space if it means you'll stop doing it around the base.

He's not all too philosophical. That is to say, he's never had the opportunity nor the inclination to look into it for himself. However, the more you talk to him about it, the more he realizes that differences between Humans and Cybertronians only run skin-deep.

Despite being hundreds of thousands of light years apart, both Human and Cybertronian culture share some remarkable similarities. Back on Cybertron, no one existed for 'no reason'. Everyone had a purpose, they were assigned a role the moment they woke up, but on Earth? You choose that for yourself. Yet doesn't that seem daunting? To have to find purpose yourself? He dislikes the lack of "order" in that regard. Hm.

Smokescreen

To put it simply, he thinks you're super cool. Smokescreen idolizes you next to Optimus—it's not that you're in second place... You're technically first place in terms of human idols, so, yeah you've got that! See? You're second to none!

He likes watching you skateboard, or parkour your way up onto the top of a building. He genuinely thinks your hobbies are awesome and it'd be hard to miss the way you rub off on him. He'll try to show off and pull stunts of his own in hopes you'd think he's also cool. While you're out skateboarding in the middle of an empty parking lot he'll join you and do some donuts and weave between street lights as fast as he can, and by the end of it you always catch the way he looks at you, expecting some sort of reaction to gauge whether he was cool or not.

And not only are your hobbies cool but, to him you're righteous! He always listens intently whenever you go on about the inherent value of any and all life or any philosophical topics that spark your interest, but does he truly understand even a smidgen of what you're saying? Ehhh, sort of, but honestly it mostly goes straight over his head (which is amazing given his height). He essentially parrots what you say because he thinks it'll set him a bit closer to being just like one of his idols, but he doesn't truly understand the deeper meaning of your words and ideas.

Arcee

Skateboarding down steep roads, scaling tall buildings with just your bare hands, biking along bumpy and rocky paths, even though she's seen her fair share of shenanigans and trouble with Cliffjumper, you're ironically quite the handful despite your size. Ah, just what will she do with you?

At this point you've no doubt convinced her to go ride down some of the rough and rugged paths out in the desert. It's pretty dangerous, sure, but she'd be lying if she said she didn't find the challenging terrain fun in the slightest. She's confident in her own ability to keep you safe and she trusts you, so all you need to do is grab a helmet and the two of you are off!

When you both kick back to relax and chat, philosophy was one of the last things she thought you'd be interested in, but hey, humans are always full of surprises. Every discussion you have with her about philosophy always delves deeper into the more personal parts of both your lives, or on lighter notes it gets to talking about the interesting cultural differences between Humans and Cybertronians. Either way, when things get too deep or depressing, she's always quick to suggest going out for a drive to clear your mind.

#tfp imagines #tfp headcanons #tfp x reader #tfp optimus prime #optimus prime x reader #tfp ratchet #ratchet x reader #tfp ultra magnus #ultra magnus x reader #tfp smokescreen #smokescreen x reader #tfp arcee #arcee x reader #x reader #reader insert #self insert #weenwrites #[ WOOOO WRITING MOTIVATION IS SORTA BACK!!! ]

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vestaignis · 4 months ago

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Каньон Каранлык или буквально «Темный каньон».

Каньон Каранлык -один из крупнейших каньонов в мире и представляет собой глубокое ущелье с крутыми склонами. Каньон расположен между районами Илич и Кемалие в провинции Эрзинджан, Турция, образован рекой Карасу.

Длина каньона 35 км, ширина у основания 10-15 м, крутизна склона почти 90%. Каньон Каранлык с глубиной 1000 метров входит в пятерку самых глубоких каньонов в мире.

Каменная дорога длиной 7 километров, открывающая любителям приключений изысканные виды вдоль Темного каньона, сейчас используется в туристических целях, а не в транспортных целях. На туристическом маршруте 38 больших и малых туннелей и множество крутых поворотов и обрывов.

Благодаря географическому расположению и природным красотам ежегодно каньон посещают тысячи местных и иностранных любителей адреналина.В каньоне можно заняться активными видами отдыхом на открытом воздухе, включая альпинизм и катание на катере, гребля на каноэ и рафтинг.

Karanlık Canyon or literally "Dark Canyon".

Karanlık Canyon is one of the largest canyons in the world and is a deep gorge with steep sides. The canyon is located between the districts of Ilic and Kemaliye in the province of Erzincan, Turkey, and is formed by the Karasu River.

The canyon is 35 km long, 10-15 m wide at the base, and the steepness of the slope is almost 90%. With a depth of 1000 meters, Karanlık Canyon is one of the five deepest canyons in the world.

The 7-kilometer-long stone road, which offers adventurers exquisite views along the Dark Canyon, is now used for tourism purposes, not for transportation. There are 38 large and small tunnels and many sharp turns and cliffs on the tourist route.

Due to its geographical location and natural beauty, the canyon is visited by thousands of local and foreign adrenaline junkies every year. The canyon offers a variety of outdoor activities, including mountain climbing, boating, canoeing and rafting.

Источник://t.me/roundtravel,//gocanyons.goturkiye.com/ru/canyons-eastern-anatolia,//ru.wikibrief.org/wiki/Karanlık_Canyon, /www. tripadvisor.ru/Attraction_Review-g781289-d7760471-Reviews-Kemaliye_KaranlIk_Kanyon-Erzincan_Erzincan_Province.html, /gocanyons.goturkiye.com/ru/canyons-eastern-anatolia, //www. aa. com.tr/ru/турция/каньон-мрака-привлекает-в-турцию-любителей-экстремальных-прыжков-/1627648, //www.russianturkiye. com / news/eshhe-dva-tureczkih-kulturnyh-obekta-voshli-v-spisok-yunesko/,/www.aa.com.tr/tr/yasam/adrenalin-tutkunlarinin-vazgecilmez-adresi-karanlik-kanyon/1626876.

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whore-era · 2 years ago

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affinity - part 2

ellie williams x fem!reader

themes: angst, pining, best friends, unrequited love, love triangle

summary: after drunkenly confessing your love to your best friend of five years, you try to move on from her, but your best friend has other plans in mind.

a/n: i think this one is horrible, not my best writing, but the words were just flowin outtttt. this is also very dialogue heavy so my apologies if yall arent into that

word count: 4,204

2/3 | affinity - pt 1

taglist: @sawaagyapong @katiemars @friiida-xx @elorawrites @eringaitskill @helaenaswife @3lliesrifle @elliesconverses @koolguysyndrome @muthafuckingstargirl @whteflwcrs @j-money777 @jolieetoile @elliewilliamsmunch @frasersgf @rumirim @siesie2 @starhrtz @mcu-junkie @yookayyo @viswifetotallyreal @franreadss @catostrophiclesbian @parkersmyth @tweecunt @ilovebasketball3333 @bigmoodyjoody @silhxvette

was i in heaven?

the question pops into your brain, as you truly thought you’d be dead in a ditch after the number of drinks you had last night. you made a mental note to thank dina later today for putting an end to your drunken endeavors from the night before.

blinking your eyes open, your eyesight adjusting to your surroundings, you realize you are not in your own home at all. you’re at ellie’s, familiarizing yourself with her bedspread and decor. you sit up, wincing and holding your head, the pain throbbing in your skull at the sudden movement.

sitting up properly, you scan your surroundings and your eyes stop at the sleeping figure on the couch. ellie was fast asleep on the cushions with a thin blanket covering her body, chest rising and falling at every gentle breath.

in the past, you and ellie would have no issue sharing a bed and sleeping together, as you’ve both done it a thousand times before. you’d usually wake up first, and spend the morning staring at ellie sleeping, which you were thankful she never caught you doing or else she’d never let it go. you were always enticed by the way she looked while sleeping, she was out of her element and relaxed — different from her usual reckless personality.

now, ellie slept separately from you and you could only assume it was because of her new relationship with cat. closing your eyes and recounting the events from the day before, you shook off the tears forming in your eyes. god, so much for trying to forget about her.

standing up quietly, careful not to wake her up, you pull on your shoes and make your way towards the door, opening it slowly and exiting from her shed before gently closing it again. you let out a sigh of relief, beginning the walk back to your own house. shading your eyes away from the rising sun to decrease the intensity of your pounding headache, you lay out your plans for the day.

okay, so i definitely have to shower ‘cause i reek of booze, and then i have to get ready for patrol in an hour, and then- you stop in your tracks, remembering you had patrol today, patrol with ellie. smacking a hand over your forehead, you make a note to stop by the tipsy bison to talk to maria about switching partners.

making it to your house within minutes, you rush to the bathroom and peel your clothes off to shower. the feeling of the warm water hitting your skin and relaxing your muscles was incomparable. it was a small slice of self-care you look forward to every day, as privileges like showers during an apocalypse was something hard to come by.

cleansing the grime off your body, you step out of the shower and pull on some clothes for patrol — a long sleeve, jeans, a thick jacket, and a beanie. pulling on your boots and slinging on your backpack, you head out your door, remembering your keys this time, and make a beeline toward the bar.

jackson early in the morning was something you’ve grown to love when heading out for patrol. the way the rising sun peeked over the edge of the trees, waking up the rest of the town, it always set a positive tone for your day. it was certainly one of the second-best things about this town, number one being a girl named ellie williams.

entering the bar, the bell tinkling as you opened the door, maria turns and smiles once she sees it’s you.

“just the girl i was looking forward to seeing,” maria greets, holding her broom in one hand and holding out one arm. you smile and give maria a side hug, “g’morning,” you mumble.

“so, how was last night?” the older woman queries, and you let out a groan of embarrassment.

“don’t even remind me,” you beg, “i don’t wanna think about that at all, i’m still dealing with the consequences.” you rub your head, the throbbing still present.

“well, it certainly was a sight for sore eyes,” maria chuckles, “anyways, don’t you have patrol in—” she pauses to check her wristwatch, “thirty minutes?”

you nod, “that’s actually what i wanted to talk to you about.”

“uh, oh. this can’t be good.”

“i just want to switch partners. please. put me with anyone. anyone but, ellie.”

maria sighed, “why? i mean, i’ll do it for you, but why?”

“i just don’t think i can be around her anymore. ellie’s my best friend, well was, and i don’t wanna get in the way of anything,” you say, choking back tears, attempting to distract yourself by fiddling with a loose thread on the hem of your shirt.

the older woman peered her eyes at you, thinking for a moment before speaking again. “okay, fine. you can be partnered up with jesse and ellie with dina.”

you let out a breath of relief, “thank you, maria. i owe yo-“

“on one condition.”

you narrow your eyes at her, suspicious of what her condition entailed, “….okay.”

“try talking to ethan. i think you both would be good together.”

“ethan? the stableboy?”

maria nods, “yup. talked to him yesterday and he may or may not have a small crush on you. poor kid was blabbering on about how badass and brave you are for going on patrol and all that shit, and that you’re real pretty doing it all.”

you let out a laugh, cheeks flushing red, “okay, sure. i’ll— uh— give him a chance.”

bidding maria goodbye and heading towards the front gates for patrol, you couldn’t help but think of what she said. ethan? the shy stableboy? crushing on you? you were flattered to say the least.

shaking your thoughts off, you make it to the stables and walk over to sunshine. ethan was already there, securing her saddles and brushing her brown coat.

“good morning,” you greet, approaching him. he lifts his head up in surprise, a smile settling on his face once he realizes it's you.

“oh hey, good morning,” he says in a sweet voice, “she’ll be ready in a few, just getting her all ready for you.”

“no, no— uh— take your time,” you sputter out, “i’m sorry, i didn’t mean to rush you or anything. just wanted to say hi.”

what the hell was this? the 5th grade? why did you suddenly feel nervous talking to this guy? ethan smiles at you, a dimple poking out from his cheek. was that always there?

“no worries,” he says coolly, “i’m glad you came over here. was hoping to see off the prettiest girl in jackson.”

your cheeks are warm and your face is red. is it getting hot in here?

from the corner of your eye, you see jesse, giving you the perfect excuse to escape from ethan to calm down a bit.

“i’ll be right back, i-i just need to talk to jesse.” you walk off quickly before he had the chance to see the tomato that was your face.

approaching jesse, you poke him on the back and he quickly turns around, preparing to sucker-punch the person who dares sneak up on him from behind.

“well, if it isn’t the little monster.” he gives you a cheeky smile, letting his fists fall down at his sides.

you roll your eyes, “please, i don’t even wanna know how you came up with that nickname,” you breathe out, “anyways, we’re patrol partners now.”

“says who?”

“says me.”

jesse rolls his eyes as you let out a laugh, and joel and tommy gather the rest of the group to make some announcements and set the agenda for the day. from your peripheral, you see ellie appear a few feet away from you, adjusting her jacket and backpack. she probably overslept, evident from her disheveled clothes and her hurried state.

the two brothers dismiss everyone to leave for patrol, and you see ethan walking towards you with sunshine. he hands you her leads, brushing his hands against yours.

“see you after patrol?” he asks smiling at you, his dimple popping out again as he tilts his head to the side a bit. how cute.

“yeah, definitely,” you smile and he nods, putting his hands in his pockets and walking back toward the stables. when he disappears from your view, you see dina speaking to ellie, causing her to turn and look your way.

you quickly turn away, praying she didn’t catch you staring. as you and jesse leave for patrol, you couldn’t help the forming pit in your stomach, hoping that you made the right decision.

that’s how the next three days went. you avoided talking to ellie, you talked to ethan at the stables, and you spent your time patrolling with jesse, which was mayhem in itself, but you tried to focus on the upside of it all.

however, ellie was growing annoyed by the second, fed up with you doing everything in your power to avoid her.

“it’s like we weren’t best friends for years!” ellie vented out, the sound of the snow crunching beneath her boots as she strolled alongside dina, giving the horses a break.

“granted, she was in love with you for almost the entire duration of your friendship,” dina commented.

ellie glared at her, “yea, but still— she could’ve talked to me or some shit. instead, she ignores me.”

deep down inside, ellie felt guilty. blaming everything on herself for how things turned out. even though you never did admit your feelings directly, while sober, she should’ve seen the signs. ellie could only imagine how you felt— constantly having the person you loved for years telling you about their own romantic pursuits. it made sense why you took off the day she told you she was planning to ask cat to be her girlfriend, you were hurt.

“it’s fine, ellie,” dina attempts to reassure, “besides, i’m sure she’ll be over it by the end of the week.”

“wait— what do you mean?” ellie stopped walking, hanging onto every word that dina was saying.

“well- you know- um,” the darker-haired brunette stutters, “how would you feel seeing her with someone else?”

fire ignited in ellie’s veins, anger flowing through every vessel in her body. what the fuck? was this your solution? using some other person to get over your feelings for her? were you actually fucking serious?

“what are you saying, dina?” her fists begin to ball up, restraining the urge to punch a nearby tree trunk.

dina’s eyes widened, realizing there was no hiding the secret now as ellie would’ve definitely found out sooner or later. ellie was perceptive and persistent, and would’ve bugged everybody in town if it meant finding out the truth about someone making plans to date you.

“so, this is a funny story,” dina laughs nervously, “a little birdie told me that they set one of the stable boys up with her.”

if you squinted your eyes and looked close enough, you could see the smoke coming out from ellie’s ears. she was infuriated.

“who?”

“ethan.”

“christ! fuckin’ ethan?” ellie yelled out in frustration, dina in the background grimacing from the sudden increase of volume in her tone.

“keep it down, will you? you’re gonna attract every clicker within a five-mile radius,” dina snapped, gaining another glare from those green eyes.

“ugh,” ellie groaned, “this is a mess.”

“why does it even matter? you’re with cat, doesn’t this make everything easier actually?” dina asks, “the possibility of her being with someone else?”

ellie’s chest tightened. the very idea of you being with someone stirred something inside her guts. maybe it was the thought of them seeing your smile every day that made her sick to her stomach, or seeing you laugh til’ your belly hurt when you watched your favorite 90’s sitcom shows on VHS. it could also be the notion of someone holding you close when you watch the first edition of ‘nightmare on elm street’ because you get terrified every time you watch it that made her want to puke or — was it thinking about someone seeing the intimate parts of your body that did it instead?

“i-i don’t know, okay?” ellie says, “and, i’m not with cat.” she clarifies, hoisting herself back onto shimmer’s saddle.

“huh? but didn’t you tell-”

“i know what i said, but i’m not with cat.” ellie cuts dina off before she had a chance to interject again, “it’s time to head back. c’mon.”

the journey back to jackson was painful for ellie, for she wanted nothing more than to see you and talk to you. every minute she was apart from you, she imagined ethan trying to win you over, swooning you with his corny jokes and suave pick-up lines. god, she was gonna be nauseous if she thought about that horse-boy one more time.

making it back in due time, ellie and dina entered through the tall, wooden gates. ellie was quick on her feet and rushed off to find you, seeing that you were already back from patrol and that you were walking into the garden — your favorite path to cut through.

ellie calls you out by your name, making you turn around but once you recognized who was calling for you, you cursed under your breath and walked faster.

“hey!” ellie yells out, “i need to talk to you!”

your feet pick up the pace, angering her even more. just as you were about to pass the bushels of purple hydrangeas, you felt a hand yank onto yours.

“stop runnin’ away from me! will you?” ellie breathes out, winded from having to chase after you.

“sorry— i, uh—” you weren’t sure what to say, “i just had a long day.”

ellie stares at you for a moment, “bullshit. why the hell do you keep fucking avoiding me?”

you took your bottom lip between your teeth, a telltale sign of your anxiety forming, and if you didn’t look so damn gorgeous doing that surrounded by all the flowers, ellie swore she would’ve fallen to her knees and begged for your forgiveness right then and there.

“i just— i made a decision that was necessary for our friendship.”

you couldn’t look her in the eyes, knowing all the feelings you’ve managed to push to the back of your brain would come flooding back and the butterflies would flutter about in your belly again and your heart would pick up like you just finished laps around a football field.

“so, that’s it?” ellie’s voice is laced with bitterness, “we just forget about those five years?”

you stay silent, eyes focusing on the layer of snow covering the ground beneath your feet.

“you know, you can’t just fucking tell someone you’re in love with them and— and never speak to them again!”

your ears perked up, “what are you talking about?”

“that night,” ellie walks closer to you, “that night you were drunk, you told me you were in love with me.”

fear settles into your body and you didn’t know what to say at that point.

“that’s why i never went through with it. asking cat to be my girlfriend.”

you drag your eyes up, looking at her, and your brows draw together in confusion, “why not?”

now it was ellie’s turn to be tongue-tied, “i-i don’t kno—wait, this isn’t about me!”

“what is this even about, els?” the way the nickname you had for her rolled off your tongue was enough to turn ellie williams into a puddle. it was unorthodox how ellie’s body reacted to every single thing you did, did this always happen or did she just now notice this?

“so, it’s true then? you’re in love with me?”

you hesitated before responding, unsure how she would react to your answer, “it doesn’t matter.”

“why not?”

“because my feelings don’t— they don’t matter,” you reply, irritation growing apparent in your tone, “what matters to me is that you’re alive and healthy and happy, even if it means you being with someone else.”

ellie’s chest felt like it weighed 500 tons. she didn’t know what to do. she wanted to cry, she wanted to envelop you in her arms, she wanted to brush the hair from your face and hold your cheeks in her hands, she wanted to yell at you and tell you that your feelings were just as important and that your wellbeing mattered too.

but she stayed put, allowing her emotions to get the best of her.

“and what about you? are you happy with ethan, huh? does he make you happy?” a devious smirk creeping on her face with a subtle mocking inflection in her words.

“that’s not fair, ellie—”

how she fucking hated it when you said her full name. to you, she was els. your els.

“how?!”

“becaus—” you were about to rip one into her, releasing your true, unearthed feelings that were bottled up over five years, but you felt your hand knock into someone’s nose as you had this horrid habit of talking with your hands when you were extremely emotional.

“auggghh!” ethan groaned out in pain, holding his nose in agony.

“oh my god! ethan!” you rush over to him, putting your hands on his face to get a look at the damage. streams of crimson flowed down his nostrils, dripping down to his shirt.

“i’m so sorry!” you apologized, and the boy attempted to smile but cringed instead.

ellie rolled her eyes, “no, she’s not.” she muttered, only loud enough for you to hear, inciting a glare from you.

“don’t worry about it. it’s fine,” ethan said, his voice sounding congested, “i should’ve made myself known before approaching you, but i came here because i wanted to ask you to dinner tonight— with me, at the diner.”

ellie watched the smile grow on your face and the faded pink fan across your cheeks, and suddenly the world went silent, your lips mouthing the words ‘yes’. watching you wrap your arms around ethan and guiding him towards the infirmary, ellie couldn’t help the lump forming in the back of her throat — wishing it was her taking you out to dinner instead. but she had to stand back and watch you with someone else, a habit you knew all too well.

ellie williams never considered herself a heavy drinker. she was more of a social drinker at most, only drinking one or two beers maximum when there were the usual parties and get-togethers in town. but when you force yourself to watch the girl you love laugh at some smelly horse-boy’s jokes, you needed all the alcohol you can get.

hearing your laugh resonate through the air, ellie took another swig of bourbon, the spicy liquor burning her throat.

“what the fuck could he be saying that’s so funny? huh?” ellie spat, the glass banging on the table, provoking a flinch from jesse and dina.

“well, he’s actually kind of—” dina’s cut off by the incandescent scowl from her penetrating green eyes, “yea, no, he’s terrible.”

ellie’s head couldn’t grasp what you saw in ethan. were you attracted to his looks? he’s a 6.5 at best, is 5’6, and he’s slim. he’s also nice and friendly. but surely, ellie was better.

she knew she was more attractive, at 5’7 with a fit physique from all those hours training in combat and getting in her workout during patrol. she also was kind, funny, and intelligent. however, ellie knew she would be better for you than ethan. she knew you like the back of her hand, she could protect you far better than he could if a situation were to arise, and she could make you feel good, in more ways than one.

which is why when she spotted you and ethan preparing to leave, she knew this was her opportunity to get you alone, and also to cock-block him so he doesn’t end up trying to make a move and kiss you — an idea that immediately made her see red.

“where you goin’ this time?” jesse asks, noticing ellie stand up, taking one last gulp of that liquid courage.

“to get my girl back.”

jesse and dina looked at each other, mouthing a quiet ‘finally’ as ellie marched out the door, hoping she could catch up to you and horse-boy.

spotting you and ethan strolling down the trail, she catches sight of ethan’s hand trailing up to the small of your back.

do not fucking touch her.

ellie calls out your name, causing you and ethan to turn around and stop in their tracks. slowly jogging towards you, “hey, can i talk to you?” she breathes out, winded from her slow run, “alone.”

“um, sure.”

ellie glares at ethan, and as ethan prepares to but in, insisting he can stay nearby, your hand gently touches his arm, “i’ll see you tomorrow bright and early before i leave for patrol. okay?”

ethan reluctantly nods, “okay,” and he leans in to peck your cheek, “goodnight.” he gives ellie one last look, throwing a smirk her way before he leaves the two of you alone.

god, ellie never wanted to beat someone’s ass so badly.

her anger quickly falters once she glances at you again, looking beautiful as ever in your beanie and scarf with your cheeks all red and rosy from the chilly air.

you clear your throat, snapping her out of her thoughts. “here, i’ll— uh— walk you home.”

as you both begin your slow stroll, the tension is awkward and silent. you both didn’t know what to say. after a couple minutes of walking in this god-awful silence, ellie speaks up first, “so. how’s it going with ethan?”

“ellie, please. if you’re trying to be sarcastic—”

“no, no, i’m not,” ellie scratches the back of her neck, “i’m seriously asking. not trying to be a smartass or start an argument or anything.”

you let out a heavy sigh, “he’s nice…and he’s friendly.” you weren’t sure what else to say about him. you didn’t know him that well yet and you didn’t want to admit to her that you didn’t think he was all that cute anyways, despite the dimple.

“yeah? you like him?”

silence filled the air. you wanted to be careful with what you were going to say next, but ellie had a way to make you feel comfortable enough to open up about things you didn’t want to talk about. it was easy to talk to her because you knew she was actually listening.

“it’s not that easy to get over you, you know?” you murmur quietly, but you could tell ellie picked up on what you said. “i feel guilty for— i guess using him as a rebound, to get over what i felt for you.”

“what did you feel for me?”

you scoff, “seriously, els? you’re gonna make me say it?” ellie couldn’t help but smile at the way her nickname sounded leaving your lips. “i had a lot of feelings for you. i mean— we were best friends and you were on my mind all the time. you made my head hurt when i thought about you too much and when i was around you i got those cheesy butterflies in my stomach that people in the movies talk about.” you couldn’t help the small smile that mindlessly crept on your lips when you talked about this, and ellie couldn’t help but feel dumb for not realizing how she felt sooner.

“why didn’t you ever say anything?”

you shrugged, “i didn’t want to jeopardize our friendship and lose you. our friendship meant the world to me,” you looked down, fiddling with your shirt again as anxiety built up inside you, “and besides, it seemed like you never saw me anything more than a friend. i was never gonna be that girl. it was always someone else.”

ellie’s thoughts were running rampant, wanting to say all these things to you and tell you that you were wrong and that you are the girl for her. she wanted to beg on her knees and say she was sorry that she didn’t realize how she felt sooner, and that she was only using other girls to compensate for the fact that she couldn’t have you. but nothing came out.

approaching the front door, you take your key out from your jean pocket. “well, goodnight, els. i’ll see you tomorrow?”

once more, everything in the world went quiet and all ellie saw was you. you were standing in front of her, so clearly. the small details of your face illuminated by the soft glow of the porch light made you look like an angel sent from above. ellie knew she didn’t deserve you, after everything you’ve been through, after all the hurt she caused for you; but she was dumb if she thought she going to let you go so easily. ellie had to fight for you and she didn’t give a fuck who was in her way.

in one, swift move, ellie wrapped her arms around your waist, pulling you in to press her lips against yours.

affinity - part 3 here

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