ellieslutf1c

[ellieslutf1c]

I feel represented.

Need to interact with some other of her h0es I feel lonely gang💔.

currently crashing out over how attracted i am to bette porter…

[ellieslutf1c]

“𝐏𝐥𝐚𝐲 𝐖𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐌𝐞, 𝐍𝐨𝐭 𝐘𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐂𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐫𝐨𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐫”

Pairing: Shane McCutcheon x Fem!Reader

Setting: Westwood, her place, post-hookup turned situationship (bc she does NOT do relationships🙏🏼)

Tags: fluffy smut, teasing, lingerie, oral (r!receiving), praise kink, fingering, tension → release, flirty dialogue, soft Shane being talked into it, her being a little nerd💕

Wordcount: ~1.9k

⚠️ 18+ only — NSFW content ahead

You met her at The Planet.

Of course you had.

It was kind of her place. Not legally, but spiritually — her body practically belonged to that bar stool by the corner wall, long legs kicked out like she wasn’t ever planning to leave. Leather jacket slung over her chair. Drink in hand. Smile crooked. Always joking around with her friends. Eyes watching everything and nothing.

She’d barely looked at you when you sat down beside her that first night.

“Don’t even try,” she muttered, chin dipping toward her glass.

You smirked. “Try what?”

“To flirt.”

“I wasn’t,” you lied, blinking up at her with feigned innocence. “But now that you mentioned it…”

She’d rolled her eyes. Lit a cigarette. Said nothing.

You ended up in her bed that night anyway.

⸻

It wasn’t serious.

Except it kind of was.

You weren’t dating, not officially. She never called it that. But she stopped sleeping with other girls. Started picking you up from work. Let you crash at her place more than yours. You started leaving a toothbrush there. One day, she handed you your favorite coffee before you even asked.

So no — not serious.

But not not serious either.

⸻

Which is how you end up here, one random Friday night, walking into her apartment without knocking — key tucked between your fingers, lingerie hidden under your coat, nerves buzzing just beneath your smile.

You had plans tonight. A reservation. Something cute and date-coded.

But Shane… forgot.

You find her on the couch, controller in hand, hood on, legs stretched out and eyes glued to the screen. Probably playing GTA San Andreas or something.

“Hey,” she mumbles, not looking away. “Thought you were working late.”

You shrug off your coat.

She still doesn’t look up.

“Apparently you thought a lot of things,” you mutter, stepping toward her slowly.

Still nothing.

God, she’s so into that stupid game.

You stand between her and the TV.

She groans. “Babe—move.”

You don’t.

Instead, you slide your hands slowly over your hips, hooking your thumbs into the band of your silk robe. It falls to the floor.

Now that gets her attention.

The controller clatters to the side.

Shane stares — mouth slightly open, eyes dragging down the curve of your waist to the lace tucked between your thighs.

“Holy shit.”

You smirk. “Now you wanna look at me.”

She blinks like she’s trying to reboot.

“I—I didn’t know you were coming,” she says, voice suddenly a little hoarse.

“I know,” you purr, climbing into her lap. “And you forgot about our dinner. Again.”

“I didn’t—fuck, you look—”

“I know.”

You press your hands to her chest, grinding down slowly.

“Jesus,” she breathes, but she still hasn’t touched you.

You cock your head. “What’s wrong, Shane? Suddenly shy?”

She swallows hard.

“You’re just—fucking distracting, that’s all.”

“Mmh. Sounds like someone’s scared.”

She lets out a quiet, wounded little laugh.

“I’m not scared of you.”

“No? Then why are your hands still on the couch?”

Her hands twitch.

She tries to resist. Really, she does.

But you roll your hips one more time and her jaw tenses, knuckles flex, and then—

Finally, her hands are on you.

She grabs your waist, pulls you down harder, and groans low in her throat like she’s been trying so hard to behave and you’ve just ruined it completely.

“Such a tease,” she mutters, mouth trailing up your neck.

You hum. “Took you long enough.”

⸻

By the time she gets you on your back, you’re soaking.

Shane doesn’t rush — no, she takes her sweet, sinful time.

She kisses down your stomach, her fingers leaving trails of warmth as she goes. You tangle your hands in her hair, whisper praise like spells into the dark.

“That’s it, baby…”

“You look so good between my legs…”

“You love when I get you like this, huh?”

She groans like it hurts.

And when her mouth finally reaches you?

You arch up so hard your back leaves the couch.

Her tongue is slow, deep, purposeful. She knows exactly what she’s doing, exactly how to edge you until you’re trembling under her touch. She moans into you, one hand holding your thigh, the other slipping between your bodies to press two fingers inside, slow and smooth.

“Fuck—Shane…”

“That’s it, baby,” she whispers, lips sticky against your inner thigh. “Say my name like that again.”

You tug her hair harder.

She whimpers — a tiny noise, helpless, desperate — and fuck if that doesn’t make you melt.

She’s so good when she gives in.

So pretty when she forgets to pretend she doesn’t care.

⸻

You cum hard. With her name on your lips and your body shaking under her, you fall apart and she holds you through it, mouth soft now, fingers slowing, kisses drifting upward.

“See?” you murmur after a moment, breathless. “Told you ignoring me was a bad idea.”

She laughs against your stomach.

“Yeah,” she says. “Lesson learned.”

⸻

Thank you for reading.

💌 Show your support here → ko-fi.com/beckywrites

Tips = more filth. Commission for customs.

[ellieslutf1c]

Heyyy good evening , I'd love to ask for an mbj x reader (or oc, I don't mind) fiction where they're dating secretly and the world doesn't know until he slips up and then it causes issues between them so much they have to break up or something like that with a lof of angst and fluff but mostly angst... go crazy !!

Got you! — heartbreak incoming. 💔

I hope I satisfied your expectations!!

“𝐖𝐞 𝐖𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐁𝐞𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐖𝐡𝐞𝐧 𝐍𝐨 𝐎𝐧𝐞 𝐊𝐧𝐞𝐰”

Pairing: Michael B. Jordan x fem!Reader (secret relationship → exposed)

Setting: modern AU, LA / film industry backdrop

Tags: hidden relationship, fame x normal girl, angst, betrayal, miscommunication, slow burn collapse, emotional intimacy, jealousy, break-up, soft heartbreak, fluff memories

Wordcount: ~2.2k

⚠️ Mentions of public scrutiny, emotional pain, media pressure

⸻

It had always been secret.

The quiet kind of love that grows in tucked-away hotel rooms, in late-night FaceTime calls where no one says goodbye first, in photos with cropped-out arms and captions that don’t give anything away.

You knew what dating Michael B. Jordan meant. You knew it the second he looked at you that night at the afterparty — the one you weren’t even supposed to be at. Not famous, not connected. Just pretty, with a sharp tongue and that smart mouth he immediately fell for.

But being with him meant never being seen.

Never holding his hand in public.

Never kissing on red carpets.

Never existing in the light beside him.

You told yourself you didn’t care. That it was better this way. That you liked the quiet.

And you did. Until he slipped.

⸻

It was a stupid fucking interview.

A late-night one, lighthearted, and the host had asked about his “mystery woman.”

Michael smiled. “You know how it is, man. Can’t keep anything to yourself these days — but yeah, I’m seeing someone.”

You weren’t supposed to be anyone.

But you were smart. And so was the internet.

Reddit threads. Twitter sleuths. The blurry reflection in his sunglasses on a vacation story you swore was private. Someone zoomed in. Someone recognized your tattoo. And then it all unraveled.

And just like that —

the world knew.

⸻

At first, it was… kind of sweet.

People were calling you stunning. Lucky. “Finally, a real girl!” they said. “Someone normal.”

But the honeymoon ended quickly.

They found your old Instagram. Dug through your captions. Found photos of you with exes, clips of you dancing drunk at college parties, a ranty tweet about how “rich men date broke women for ego, not love.”

They said you weren’t classy enough. That you were clout-chasing. That you didn’t belong.

And Michael?

Michael didn’t say shit.

He went silent when they tore you up online.

Didn’t tweet. Didn’t post. Didn’t show up at your apartment like he usually did on nights you felt like breaking.

You were left to fight it alone.

⸻

“I didn’t mean to out us,” he says one night, finally, eyes bloodshot and voice rough. “It just slipped.”

You’re pacing in his kitchen. Barefoot. Angry.

“You slipped?” you repeat, laughing bitterly. “You slipped, and now I can’t go online without someone calling me a whore.”

His jaw clenches. “Don’t say that.”

“Why not?” you snap. “You let them say it.”

That lands.

He sighs, rubs a hand down his face.

“I thought we were past this shit,” you say. “The hiding. The pretending.”

“It wasn’t pretending,” he says quietly. “It was protecting.”

“Yeah?” you whisper. “Then who protected me?”

⸻

You don’t break up that night.

You just stop showing up.

You stop answering the texts. You mute his name. You tell your friends it’s fine, but you cry in the Uber when you pass the hotel where he used to sneak you in the back door.

Michael tries, at first.

Sends flowers. Voice notes. One night, you come home to find his hoodie folded on your bed, the one you always stole, and it smells like him, like safety, like things you can’t have anymore.

But he doesn’t fight forever.

Not for you.

⸻

Three weeks later, you watch him on another talk show.

He laughs like nothing’s wrong. Talks about a new role. The host jokes about women again and this time, Michael just shrugs.

Says nothing.

No “I’m seeing someone.”

No “There’s someone I love.”

Just a shrug.

And it’s worse than the break-up.

Because now it’s like you never happened.

⸻

Later that night, you get a message. One line:

“Can I call you?”

You don’t answer.

You do what he did.

You go quiet.

⸻

Thank you for reading.

💌 Show your support here → ko-fi.com/beckywrites

Tips = more heartbreak or filth. Requests always open!

[ellieslutf1c]

“𝐈 𝐖𝐚𝐧𝐭 𝐌𝐲 𝐏𝐫𝐢𝐳𝐞”

Pairing: boxer!Vi x fem!Reader (established relationship)

Setting: post-match celebration, locker room + home

Tags: dom!Vi, rough strap-on sex, spit, face-fucking, deepthroat, hair pulling, face-sitting, humiliation kink, praise + degradation, possessiveness, implied size kink

Wordcount: ~2.2k

⚠️ 18+ only

She won, again. Knocked the girl out by round three.

And now?

Now she’s stalking toward you in the dim hallway behind the ring, her chest heaving, her gloves still dripping blood.

That grin on her face isn’t for the crowd.

It’s for you.

“You liked that?” she pants, voice low, feral. “Liked watching me ruin her?”

You don’t answer. But your thighs clench, and she knows.

“Get in the car,” she says. “Now. I need to fuck the attitude outta you.”

⸻

You don’t even make it all the way home.

She pulls the car into the back lot of some shitty warehouse and climbs over the console into the backseat.

“Take off your panties,” she growls, pulling her hoodie over her head, skin slick with sweat, abs flexing. “Now, baby.”

You hesitate. She narrows her eyes.

“Don’t make me say it again.”

You obey.

“You dripping already?” she asks as she shoves two fingers between your legs, knuckles-deep before you can gasp.

“Vi—fuck—”

She pulls them out, spreads them in front of your face.

“So fucking wet. Filthy little thing.”

She grabs you by the hair and shoves her fingers past your lips.

“Open your mouth and taste how needy you are.”

⸻

By the time you get to the apartment, she’s fully gone. Eyes dark. Cock already strapped on, base glistening with lube.

She sits on the edge of the bed, legs spread. “C’mere.”

You drop to your knees. Crawl between her thighs.

She grabs your chin. “You’re gonna gag on it, baby. No whining.”

She pushes in slow—too slow—just to watch you squirm. Your lips stretch around her length, spit pooling on your tongue.

“Deeper,” she commands.

You choke as she thrusts her hips up, one hand fisting your hair. You’re drooling, mascara smudged, throat bulging around her cock.

“That’s it,” she pants. “Fuck—you take it so good when you shut that bratty little mouth.”

You moan around her. She groans.

“Swallow it like a good fucking slut.”

⸻

Later, she’s got you flat on your back, legs over her shoulders, ramming into you with no mercy.

Your whole body’s shaking. Her strap hits deep, unforgiving, each thrust punctuated by filthy words against your neck.

“Who does this pussy belong to?”

“You—fuck—Vi—it’s yours—”

“Damn right it is,” she growls. “You gonna cum just from getting used like this? You’re such a whore”

You nod, tears welling in your eyes.

She doesn’t slow. Doesn’t let up.

“You take my cock like you were born for it, baby,” she pants. “Fucking made to get ruined.”

You cum with a scream, convulsing around her cock, nails clawing the sheets.

She fucks you through it.

Then flips you over.

“You think we’re done?” she smirks. “Nah. I haven’t even sat on your face yet.”

⸻

You’re begging by the end.

Face buried between her thighs, tongue sore, hands gripping her ass to keep yourself from drowning.

She rides your mouth like she owns it. Uses you.

And when she cums, it’s loud, messy, shaking above you, fingers tangling in your hair.

You’re wrecked. Breathless. Ruined.

And she’s grinning down at you, petting your face.

“My good girl,” she whispers, still panting. “That’s what you fucking are.”

⸻

Thank you for reading!

💌 Show your support here → ko-fi.com/beckywrites

Tips = more filth. Commissions open.

[ellieslutf1c]

oh bette...

[ellieslutf1c]

til I cry tbh 💕

sucking her strap like a popsicle

[ellieslutf1c]

“𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐖𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐧’𝐭 𝐓𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐁𝐫𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐖𝐡𝐞𝐧 𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐖𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐌𝐢𝐧𝐞”

Pairing: toxic!Ellie Williams x fem!Reader

Setting: college party, modern AU

Tags: dom!Ellie, exes with tension, jealousy, degradation, fingering, possessiveness, brat taming, semi-public, manipulation, past cheating, toxic dynamics

Wordcount: ~1.7k

⚠️ 18+ only — NSFW content ahead

The bass made your drink ripple.

Lights strobed across sweaty college bodies grinding to a remix of some song you half-hated. You shouldn’t even have come, not really. But your friend insisted. Something about “moving on” and “letting Ellie go.”

So here you were. A little tipsy, smile painted on, teasing some cute guy who thought your laugh meant something. You barely even noticed him, truth be told.

Until the air shifted.

You felt her before you saw her.

Leaning on the kitchen doorway like she owned the house, Ellie Williams looked the same — leather jacket, mussed auburn hair, that damn chain she knew made girls stare. Her eyes zeroed in on you like a sniper scope.

You didn’t flinch.

Let her see.

Let her choke on the fact that you were over it.

(You weren’t.)

Ellie’s jaw clenched the second the guy tucked a strand of your hair behind your ear.

You didn’t pull away.

In fact, you laughed louder.

She was in front of you in seconds. Eyes dark. Smile fake.

“Didn’t know you liked frat boys now,” she drawled, voice sharp, low.

“Didn’t know you were invited,” you shot back, tongue wicked.

Ellie’s gaze dropped, slow and predatory, like she was stripping you in her head.

“Baby, this is college,” she smirked. “Everywhere’s my party.”

You scoffed and turned your back to her. Bold move. Heady move. The kind of move that used to make Ellie bend you over her dorm bed just to remind you who you belonged to.

But tonight, you were free.

Or trying to be.

She leaned in, whispered into your ear, breath hot: “You’re doing all this for me, aren’t you?”

You froze.

The boy beside you blinked, clearly confused. “Everything okay?”

Before you could answer, Ellie’s hand curled around your wrist — possessive and electric.

“Come talk to me,” she muttered, low and dangerous.

You yanked your arm back. “Go talk to your little blonde from Psych 101.”

She blinked once.

Twice.

Then smiled.

“Jealousy looks cute on you.”

“Fuck you.”

“You already did, remember?”

God. She was unbearable. And still so fucking hot your knees nearly buckled.

“I’m not doing this,” you hissed, turning to leave.

She caught your elbow — not hard, just enough.

“Just five minutes,” she said. “Unless you’re scared you still want me.”

Your eyes narrowed. “Scared I’ll want you? Babe, I know I’ll want you. That’s the problem.”

She grinned like you’d handed her the key.

—

The bathroom door clicked shut behind you both. Bad idea. You knew it.

Your back hit the wall before you could breathe, Ellie pressing against you like she belonged there.

“You’ve been acting out,” she murmured, hands sliding up your waist. “Flirting. Ignoring me. Making me watch.”

“You cheated on me,” you snapped.

She nodded, unapologetic. “Yeah. And you’re still dripping for me.”

Your slap was instinctive.

Her laugh was instant.

“Missed that fire,” she whispered, grabbing your jaw. “Now shut up and let me remind you why no one else gets you off.”

She kissed you hard, messy, all tongue and teeth and punishment.

You hated how much you melted.

Hated how your legs parted the second her hand slipped between them.

“Skirt,” she muttered, tugging it up.

“Fuck you,” you breathed against her lips.

“I’ll make you beg for it,” she said, slipping her fingers into your panties. “Like old times.”

Your gasp was too loud.

“You’re soaked,” she smirked. “He didn’t even touch you.”

“Don’t—” you started, but two fingers slid inside you, deep and crooked just right, and your brain fizzled.

“Still tight. Still mine,” she growled into your ear.

You didn’t correct her.

Didn’t stop her.

Didn’t want to.

“You’re such a fucking brat,” she murmured, curling her fingers inside you. “Parading around like you don’t miss this. I should make you cum on your knees.”

Your hips bucked. Her palm dragged against your clit. Your whimper was sinful.

“Ellie—”

“No. You don’t get to whine my name like that unless you’re taking accountability, baby.”

“For what?” you gasped.

“For trying to replace me.”

You laughed, bitter and breathless. “You’re replaceable.”

Her fingers curled deeper. You choked on your lie.

“Say it again,” she smirked.

You couldn’t.

You were close.

“I fucking hate you,” you breathed instead.

“Yeah?” she panted. “Then cum for me. Hate me all over my fingers.”

And you did.

Shamelessly.

Ellie held you there, fucked-out against the bathroom wall, breathing hard into your neck.

You hated her.

You missed her.

You’d let her ruin you again.

And she knew it.

⸻

Thank you for reading!

Show your support here!→ ko-fi.com/beckywrites💌

Tips = more filth. Commission for customs.

[ellieslutf1c]

🚫 𝗥𝗨𝗟𝗘𝗦 + 𝗗𝗡𝗜 + 𝗞𝗜𝗡𝗞𝗦 🚫

read this before requesting / reading. or get blocked, idc.

⸻

🔞 BASIC RULES

• 18+ ONLY. minors get hard blocked.

• I’m not your therapist. no trauma dumping in my inbox.

• don’t copy, repost, steal, or translate my work.

• you don’t like my content? scroll tf away.

• Ko-fi requests = priority (commissions open)

⸻

💌 REQUESTING

The priority is for tipped requests (from my Ko-Fi!)

You can:

• send thirsts, prompts, or soft ideas (anon ON)

• ask me for darkfic, angst, fluff, or filth

• be as weird or specific as you want (I judge silently)

But:

• I don’t do reader death (unless it’s horror)

• I won’t write real people underage, incest, or anything illegal

✏️ Want something guaranteed and tailored? → ko-fi.com/beckywrites

⸻

🖤 𝗞𝗜𝗡𝗞𝗦 / THEMES I WRITE

✅ YES / PLEASE ASK ME FOR THIS

• dom!characters / sub!character / character x character

• manipulation, possessiveness, obsession

• degradation + praise mix

• strap-ons / thigh riding / humping

• jealousy / age gaps / authority kink

• rough sex / crying / begging / overstimulation

• corruption kink (esp. shy or virgin reader)

• knife play / breath play / light bondage

• toxic dynamics / yandere / dubcon (consensual)

• size kink / breeding kink / aftercare

❌ NO / DO NOT REQUEST

• underage reader

• incest (siblings, parents, etc.)

• real trauma (SA, CSA, etc.)

• bodily fluids (scat, puke, bloodplay)

• noncon (unless fantasy dubcon with warnings)

• feet kink / vore / petplay

Maybe something else that doesn’t come to my mind rn

—

🕷️ DO NOT INTERACT

• minors / nsfw blogs with age not in bio

• TERFs, racists, misogynists, homophobes, transphobes

• kinkshamers (don’t read what you can’t handle)

• people who start fights in my ask box (grow up)

—

💸 Ko-fi for customs, tip if you’re nasty: ko-fi.com/beckywrites

💌 Requests open. Favorites: Vi, Ellie, Hotch, Joel😇

⸻

[ellieslutf1c]

🖤 𝗠𝗔𝗦𝗧𝗘𝗥𝗟𝗜𝗦𝗧 🖤

⤷ Becky’s dirty little archive

🔞 all works are 18+ | reader-insert | fem & gn!reader friendly (mostly fem)

want more? support me on Ko-fi 💌

I write for: TLOU, Arcane, Criminal Minds, The L Word and other separated celebrities/characters

🧷 most fics include dom!characters, check out the rules tho!

💌 requests: open (Ko-fi priority)

—

🎮 The Last of Us

Ellie Williams

You Weren’t This Brave When You Were Mine - toxic!Ellie x reader

Abby Anderson

nothing yet

Joel Miller

nothing yet

🧠 Criminal Minds

Spencer Reid

nothing yet

Jennifer Jareau

nothing yet

Emily Prentiss

nothing yet

Aaron Hotchner

nothing yet

Derek Morgan

nothing yet

🔮 Arcane

Vi

I Want My Prize - boxer!Vi x reader

Caitlyn

nothing yet

💗The L Word

Bette Porter

nothing yet

Shane McCutcheon

Play With Me, Not Your Controller - soft!Shane x reader

🔥 Other thirsts

Pedro Pascal

nothing yet

Henry Cavill

nothing yet

Michael B. Jordan

We Were Better When No One Knew - irl!MBJ x reader

—

📬 Request something!!

Leave an ask (anon on)

[ellieslutf1c]

my masterlist

my rules & 💰

if you want your requests to be prioritized or want to support me: tip me/buy me a coffee!☕️

⸻

🕷️ ABOUT ME

becky. 18. bisexual (but kinda over men AND women atm lol).

hot girl with rage issues, zero self-control (jk obvi).

proudly single (voluntary celibate lowk). femme4chaos.

🧠 writer of morally unhinged filth — tlou, criminal minds, arcane, tlw and whatever man with hands.

🎧 music taste: I listen to trap. yes, exactly. my Spotify stats just yell Carti.

🎭 classically trained in drama (by life)

I fw true crime shows, drama bs and stuff like that.

📚 love books, hate booktok.

terrible at drawing.

⚠️ sarcasm levels are high. tell me if I’m being a bitch. I probably didn’t notice.

minors DNI. 18+ blog. I post what I want.

⸻